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Post by syrano on Jan 27, 2019 21:35:45 GMT
[ Oto Syrano | Some damnable station |The floor | Sometime long ago... ]
It had been weeks, if his memory served him correctly, though the days blurred together into the nights. This forsaken station had a day-night cycle, but he could tell it didn’t line up with Pallucian days and nights. It made him groggy, tired. Syrano stood out here. The station was all greens and flowers and plantlife, and the Pallucia’s natural coloring was vivid colors—shock blue, cyan, indigos, violets, even just a bit of UV coloring across his face and arms. Freckles, that only he and his kind could see. His cerata were white and nearly-opaque, streaked with touches of green and orange. He was bright and loudly colored. Still, nothing had seemed to come out to attack him yet. Right now, he was standing the best he could, given how sharp the pain in his left leg was. It had broken some time ago and he was still limping on it, because he had no other choice. He had to find some sort of large water source. He was standing among plantlife that was alive and thriving, looking overhead at a massive pipe. Glowing fishlife swam about, perfectly content in their contained lives. If he could only find where this pipe went, he could likely survive. He hoped he could. He was hoping for salt water. If it was fresh water, he would likely live a few months more, but with salt water he could stay alive for as long as he had food. As it was, he was already feeling his body call out. It was humid here, yes, but he needed something to filter through his gills, something to keep his skin moist. His mucosal layer was drying and he felt it as a great pain throughout his whole body. He’d been following this damned pipe for days and couldn’t figure out where it was coming from, or going to. Something told him he was almost there If he could just get over this awful, huge tree root without taking another tumble, maybe he could. He was leaning on the tree, hands grabbing onto it to keep him steady. He had to figure out how to do this without putting weight on his left foot. Maybe he could jump over it? With his skirts curled up around him, hiking themselves up to clear his feet—foot, really—he prepared to make the move… Syrano made the hop, but couldn’t clear his right foot over the root in time. He fell, landing, once again, on his left leg. The noise he let out was an awful scream-cry, the pain was such that his vision went white with it and he hoped he would pass out. That’s not even to mention how he had landed on his skirts, effectively bruising them once more. No, he was not blessed with passing out today though. He was still awake, laying on the ground. He felt blood on his good leg. He must've punctured his skin.
Maybe this is how he would carry out his punishment. Those unjust, cutthroat bastards, they had sentenced Syrano to this, and for once in his life there was nothing, nothing at all the former master could do about it. He was useless on land, hurt badly. Nothing he said or did, no amount of sweet talking, money, bribery, blackmail, nothing would ever save him from this stupid, cruel fate.
He hoped he would die here. He had never prayed before, but he did now. If he could die right here, alone, in silence, where nobody would know where he was and nobody would ever hear his name again... |
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Post by Absinthe on Jan 31, 2019 7:32:23 GMT
Since the creature had arrived it had never left the sight of the station's all-seeing AI. Claudius, the name he had not gone by in long ages, watched the creature's feeble attempts at survival with some disdain. His purpose did not involve the creature so his observations were, for the most part, a mild amusement. He had advised the Hanja, Parma, to inform the Lienati to avoid the creature. It was clear it was of little threat to any of them.
And now it was likely the creature would die. Clearly damaged from even the smallest of falls, it was clear it would not be long until the creature succumbed to its injuries. It was the nature of life and Claudius felt nothing but a mild pity for the creature. But it was far more important he preserve the Lienati than he risks anything by allowing the creature to continue to live within the confines of his halls.
He was disrupted from his viewings when he became aware of the Lienati moving toward the creature, against his express commands. He knew only one being could have gone against him. He had trouble with Parma before. Parma had a mind of her own and did not listen when he told her to and acted when he told her not to. He wondered if she was evidence that the Lienati had grown beyond the need for him, yet he would continue to advise her, even if she listened less and less.
The Lienati gatherers emerged from the brush and moved to the alien creature as Claudius watched. He knew that at this point it would make little difference. The alien was of little threat and from his observations, even Lienati gatherers would be able to fight it, if the need arose.
"<What is it?>" the youngest of the gatherers asked looking to her elders.
"<Hanja has said to take the creature to the chamber of still waters, we are not to ask beyond that,>" one of the elders replied as they carefully lifted the alien creature.
"<Is not the chamber of still waters dangerous?>" the young one asked.
"<Only if you drink from the waters. Believes this creature is of the still water, so it will be placed in the still water,>" the older replied and carefully they began to move alien, carrying it into the tunnels they had carved through the debris, the fastest way around the station.
They arrived at the chamber of still waters within minutes and found the Hanja there waiting for them. She gestured for them to carry the alien creature to the edge of the water. She had defied the Will of the Station, something she had done before, but only when she felt his words did not bring her people closer to the light. Now she did it because she could not believe that her kind was meant to water some alien creature die.
She moved to the alien and held up her hand, speaking in the language now long gone, an ancient tongue. "Peace Creature of the Deeps," she said, her words unknowingly being translated by Claudius. "We will not allow you to perish so easily."
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Post by syrano on Jan 31, 2019 8:16:07 GMT
[ Oto Syrano | ? ?" ? | Water tank | Sometime long ago... ]
His left leg had been broken twice now. He couldn’t keep his skirts covering it, as much as he tried. It hurt too much. Even now, unmoving, it was a strong ache. At least it was constant. He took a deep breath through his mouth and closed his eyes.
With his eyes closed, he saw nothing. Nothing but flickers of light in the sides of his vision. As he lay there, time began to lose meaning. The line between reality and dream began to bend. He was not yet on death’s door, but he hoped he would pass in his sleep here, so he didn’t have to face it.
He didn’t sleep though. The ache made sure that he would stay awake. Instead, he just thought. Memories replayed in his mind. For the billionth time, he was on the star ship Iel Ya. The water there was always nice, perfect temperature. He heard laughter. Drinks were passed around, the finest vintage he’d had in ages. The CEO of a ‘competitor’ group speaking, Oto Ferrin. He had an accent that others found irresistible. He heard it clear as day.
“...and they added the clause into the ruling, minutes before the file was to be reviewed in court...”
Yes, he remembered that bit. This was when Syrano had his eighth drink. Things were swimming in front of his face, and it wasn’t because the entire ship was filled with water. This was the moment he condemned himself. Ferrin was boasting about what he had done. Syrano had enough of it. He decided to show him who the bigger man was. The more powerful man.
He was powerful. He was so powerful back then. He didn’t even own his own company yet, and yet he could control so much. Let slip a few secrets, tell the truth once in a while. Speak to the right people, and his enemies would ‘go away’. He missed that rush. It felt like running water, running water under his fingers, his skirt, his gills…
His eyes snapped open, the lower set first, scanning for any danger before opening his upper set. He was not where he was originally—he must’ve dozed after all. There were creatures here. Small, warm...Not fluorescent. Not deadly. He opened his second set of eyes and saw them in full color.
It was...furry. Hideous in that regard, like some mammal. But, it had these...these growths, coming from it’s head. It spoke, perhaps not knowing he awakened. Or perhaps it did, and was speaking to him. In his own language, even. He would not...perish.
He felt his body right itself naturally in the water. It was...not right. It made him uncomfortable and fidgety—not enough salt. And something in the water was mildly irritating to his gills, but he’d manage. His first thought was how foolish these creatures are, dragging him to the waters. If it were him, he would not hesitate to ignore their dying. One less predator in the waters, after all. But they were not in the waters, metaphorically and literally. They weren’t pallucia, like him. They were...something else. Aliens.
First contact, he realized. He was the first member of his species to make contact with an alien. And of course, he had to be in exile too. The money he could make, selling out these creatures and their secrets...money that he’d never have. He was not getting picked back up. None of his tricks would have any meaning here anymore.
As he thought, he was watching them in relative silence. His gills had air bubbles in them that occasionally gurgled, but he did not make a sound, not yet. He began to move forward to see better, his skirts propelling him gently, his legs bending--
“Ah!” He hissed, flinching and moving to protect his leg. A thin, whispy trail of white-ish liquid came from under his skirts, which had spasmed with the pain of his agitated leg. Knowing that he could not come closer and see what these creatures are, he simply glanced up at them again, all four eyes concentrated on the one that was closest. His skirts covered his legs, he allowed himself to drift backwards. He was attempting to hide his pain. No weakness, young man.
“...Who are you?”
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Post by Absinthe on Jan 31, 2019 10:10:13 GMT
[ Hanja Parma | Chamber of Still Waters | Restricted Zone | Arcturian Station ] When the creature moved, falling gracefully into the murky waters and disappearing for a moment, there was a brief pause as the Lienati waited. They looked to the presence of the Hanja and how she reacted to guide them. Parma remained motionless as she watched. If the creature did not emerge she knew she could not wait forever, she would leave a constant guard there, to wait for the creature to emerge, unless it truly was too far gone. It was only a moment or so later the creature emerged from the depths and looked with its alien eyes at them. Some of the Lienati stepped back from the creature, it features beyond what they were prepared to deal with, so far were they outside of anything they had seen before. But Parma remained motionless. She could not show fear, she would not allow herself to do so. When the creature spoke, it's first sounds were not in a language Parma could understand, but then it became clear and she heard a question. “...Who are you?”At that, she straightened herself up and then inclined slightly, in a not so low sort of bow, almost a curtsey. " I am Hanja Parma of the Lienati," she said in a calm and measured tone. She was uncertain of the creature, but of what she had seen it was unlikely he was any real threat to either her or those of her tribe who now stood behind her. " We found you in the deep forest and brought you here, to the Chamber of Still Waters." She leaned her head slightly to the side, the few jewels that hung from her antlers catching the light and glimmering. " You seemed wounded. If you wish it I will summon healers, though we have seen none of your kind before. I fear we know nothing of how to heal you." |
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Post by syrano on Feb 1, 2019 3:36:30 GMT
[ Oto Syrano | Chamber of Still Waters | Sometime long ago... ]
Lienati? What was this word that did not translate? And moreover, how did they know how to speak Sellarian? They clearly did not have the voice for it, and yet there it was, sounding just as clear as if he had heard it underwater, spoken by his own parents. What sort of technology, or perhaps even sorcery allowed this creature to speak a language she could not possibly know? There were more questions too. What could she want from him? Was he being held prisoner? Would he be killed or enslaved? None of these questions really meant anything at the moment. He was as good as dead if he remained in this water with his leg so severely broken. She had bowed to him, a gesture that meant respect in his own culture, but he still could not trust this creature. He would not be so merciful as to offer medical services free of charge, after all. He regarded her and her...employees? With suspicion. It was a long, heavy silence that he watched them all as if they would harm him, then glanced around the rest of the room in case there were more, or perhaps, a trap. He wanted to say no, or to retreat...but the pain kept throbbing. It was sharp and made him want to remove his own leg just to stop the pain. Problem is, legs don’t grow back, and he would need whatever land mobility he could get to make this...chamber...livable. Or find a new living space, if he could not reside here.
It seems, no matter how he considered the situation, there was no choice.
“...I...accept your medical assistance, under the condition that the payment required of me is feasible.” |
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Post by Absinthe on Feb 1, 2019 10:38:00 GMT
[ Hanja Parma | Chamber of Still Waters | Restricted Zone | Arcturian Station ] With a nod to one of the gatherers still there, Parma spoke again, " go to the Houses of Healing. Speak to the Fahkir and tell him to bring what is needed to heal a wound of flesh and of bone." The gatherer bowed and quickly left. Parma turned her attention back to the strange creature. She had it placed in the water here as she had seen creatures like it in the deep dark depths of the lower levels, in long forgotten and forever darkened pipes. This chamber was once connected to those pipes, long ago. The water in the chamber was the same. It did seem to revive the creature well enough. Though his words were known to her, he seemed to be asking her something she was uncertain of. " Payment required?" she asked with a tilt of her head. Her voice was polite and cordial, seemingly more patient and kind. The ancient texts had spoken of beings from beyond their walls, from far distant places, but she had never seen one before. This creature was nothing like she had imagined. She had indeed thought of the life outside the walls of their home much like the life inside them. " I know not of what you speak. My healer will see to your wound and we will assist you. The Will of the Station is that you are to be left to die, however, I cannot allow this. You are from elsewhere, I have questions I would ask you, if you are willing to speak of matters beyond these walls." |
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Post by syrano on Feb 2, 2019 2:07:00 GMT
[ Oto Syrano | Chamber of Still Waters | Sometime long ago... ]
The way she spoke reminded him of old, racist cartoons. At least, they were racist to his kind. The tribal-like names just seemed to be the way these people spoke. It’s what they were. If that is what they were then, then he may not have to pay these people anything for the medical attention, but did he want to risk that they would not come back, citing debts owed?
Also; who exactly was this Will of the Station? He knew he was on a space station, but stations aren’t supposed to have wills. They were items, things. Who was the Will, and why would it attempt to let him die? Did it...know? Hah, he decided, that was impossible. There was no way anyone aboard the Iel Ya had permission to update his criminal record before he was exiled. No one would know unless this Will was a mind-reader.
“...I will answer what I can, if you will answer my questions as well.” He settled into the water, it was up to his shoulders now. Most of him was still focused on hiding his legs, his body. He supposed they were visible earlier. He hoped no one saw his...parts.
“Hanja-Parma-of-the-Lienati, as the initiator of this...mutual agreement, you may present your demands—or queries—first.” He spoke, the words a slight alteration of declarations he had long since given. He wondered if it would be too much for these...furry little demons. He still regarded them with some fear, some mistrust. No matter how much bigger than them he was, he was far weaker on their land, just as they might be in his waters.
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Post by Absinthe on Feb 9, 2019 8:54:48 GMT
[ Hanja Parma | Chamber of Still Waters | Restricted Zone | Arcturian Station ] attn: syrano There was a slight twitch in her face when he spoke her name, a faux pas, though an unintentional one. Parma made a note that the linguistics of whatever culture he came from was different. He had spoken her title and name as if they were a single long name. " Please, my title if Hanja, that is all," she said politely. " My people are the Lienati." She studied him as he moved in the water. He was different from any creature she had seen before, even the deep glowing creatures in the deep pipes low down in the station where not quite what he was, much less in size and color. " You are not from this place, are you?" she asked, her brow tightening slightly. " How did you come to be here? Did Those That Came Before bring you to us? Are you a messenger of them?" She had heard once of messengers, of creatures from the stars who brought gifts and news. But that was long before her time, long before her mother's mother's time. |
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Post by syrano on Feb 19, 2019 7:00:45 GMT
[ Oto Syrano | Chamber of Still Waters | Sometime long ago... ]
How strange these creatures were. Covered in fur, their faces twitching and spasming. Hideous, really. No horror movie could’ve prepared him for something as dreadful as this. Still, they were not really horror villains. Rather than trying to kill him in overly dramatic ways, Hanja just...wanted to ask him questions. Her questions made him think of a child, more than an alien. He analyzed the risks, and really, there was nothing to lose nor gain from explaining these things to her. So why not? Perhaps he could make an ally. Goodness knows he needed one.
“You are correct. I am not from this place. I do not know who Those-That-Came-Before are, nor do I carry any message from anyone. I am from a planet called Pallucia. It is...much larger than this station.” He couldn’t help but smile, there’s really no way he could explain just how much larger his planet was compared to a puny station like this. Shame he’d never go back.
“I was given the chance to leave my planet and travel across the stars in a space-ship. It was called Iel Ya. Some of my kind, you could call them Pallucians, travelled with me aboard this ship. However, they had ill will towards me. Though it is considered cruelty in my culture to do so, they elected to leave me here to die, and continued their journey without me. It is likely they are long gone by now.” He concluded, though this was the short version of the story. He couldn’t afford to tell her exactly what had happened, in case Hanja would finish the job that his own peers had started.
“It is my turn,” He began again, all four of his eyes trained on her nose. It looked weird and jutted out from her face like a growth. As repulsive as she was, he had a strange urge to touch the nose. He couldn’t fathom what purpose it served, but it looked pokeable.
“What is the will of the station, and why does it wish ill on me? Have I done it some sort of disservice, or offended it? I would seek to make recompense as soon as I am able--” He leaned forward, in an effort to swim closer, into a more appropriate speaking distance, but he stopped. Any movement could disrupt his leg, and he already saw a cloudy white stuff in the water. His own blood. "...After all, I am a guest in your domain."
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