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3, 2, 1...
WAKE UP
The soft, rhythmic whoosh, whoosh of air is what you hear first, perhaps it's a breeze? The cyclical beep beep in the distance doesn't really jive with a lot of nature scenes, though. A moment or two later your vision comes back to you, blurry in the beginning but becoming clearer with each breath you take. All around you is an opaque blue dome, and when you can wrest your limbs to move, the blue retracts and you're met with a staid metal room.
What happened? Where are you? Your memory is fuzzier still, there being no easy way to jog it like your vision. What you can remember is that there was an accident: one minute you were in your home world, and the next you were in this foreign place surrounded by people you've never seen in your life. Not just any people—scientists, who were trying desperately to create matter, to break the laws of physics and chemistry, in order to save their world. Because their world was dying, and they had tried everything else and then some. Their experiment was a failure, but not all is lost—translocation is a valid solution, after all. They could just send all their people to a non-doomed world, and start anew. And they would have, if the machine they used to bring you here hadn't short circuited. Your combined luck isn't terrible, though, somehow, because there exists one more copy of the machine squirreled away in the space colony floating in a distant solar system somewhere, the Plan B of this dying civilization.
That's why you're here, waking up in this pod in a cloud of cold air and colder remembrances to the murmuring of other strangers around you. You don't recognize any of them (vaguely you remember something about keeping the other travelers separate for quarantine purposes), but a soothing, sonorous electronic voice interrupts your thoughts.
Also, stand by to meet your friendly neighborhood NPC on Sunday at 1 PM EST. Be there or be square!
What happened? Where are you? Your memory is fuzzier still, there being no easy way to jog it like your vision. What you can remember is that there was an accident: one minute you were in your home world, and the next you were in this foreign place surrounded by people you've never seen in your life. Not just any people—scientists, who were trying desperately to create matter, to break the laws of physics and chemistry, in order to save their world. Because their world was dying, and they had tried everything else and then some. Their experiment was a failure, but not all is lost—translocation is a valid solution, after all. They could just send all their people to a non-doomed world, and start anew. And they would have, if the machine they used to bring you here hadn't short circuited. Your combined luck isn't terrible, though, somehow, because there exists one more copy of the machine squirreled away in the space colony floating in a distant solar system somewhere, the Plan B of this dying civilization.
That's why you're here, waking up in this pod in a cloud of cold air and colder remembrances to the murmuring of other strangers around you. You don't recognize any of them (vaguely you remember something about keeping the other travelers separate for quarantine purposes), but a soothing, sonorous electronic voice interrupts your thoughts.
GOOD MORNING. WELCOME TO THE WILD DELIVERANCE. THE ONBOARD TEMPERATURE IS 25 DEGREES CENTIGRADE AND THE DAY IS SATURDAY. WE WILL BE ARRIVING AT OUR DESTINATION SHORTLY, SO PLEASE SIT BACK AND RELAX. THE CAPTAIN WELCOMES-OOC: Welcome to Convive! All characters wake up in the pod room, completely naked, though their color coded space suit and personal effects are in a storage compartment attached to their pod. Additionally, all characters will naturally understand each other due to a totally innocuous implant!
No I fucking don't. Wakey, wakey, you formerly comatose cryptids. We've got a bit of a problem, and no I'm not talkin' about the end of this world, or how you miss your bed and just wanna go home. It's a bit more immediate and simpler than that, ain't that grand?
There's fucking parasitic aliens on this ship and they're not friendly. Just ask our two engineers, Kelvin and Calli—wait you can't, because they're DEAD thanks to our local alien assholes.
Don't worry though, I've got a plan. But hey, if you can solve this on your own go for it—might wanna start with the basic profiles on your new fancy PDA. Maybe you can just ask someone if they're an alien? Hahahahaha.
Talk to ya later!
Also, stand by to meet your friendly neighborhood NPC on Sunday at 1 PM EST. Be there or be square!
no subject
Oh?
[ lmao what ]
As a fellow musical artist, you've piqued my interest...! And I suspect we will have enough time for the long version if you're as eager to tell it as I am to hear it.
no subject
[ She also... doesn't know a lot of guys, period. The curse of being from a cute-girls-doing-cute-things canon. ]
Okay, well, you asked for it. I guess... I should start with why I have this mascot costume in the first place.
[ Deep breath. ]
Honestly, it all started because I needed a little extra cash, so I figured I'd sign up for a job downtown. A nice, normal job, handing out flyers and stuff, advertising some store, I don't even remember what it was. Anyway, I get there, and the owner walks me through the basics, and I'm thinking this is going to be a pretty easy gig... before he whips out, well. This.
[ She gestures to the two halves of the costume with her free hand. ]
See, I guess he conveniently forgot to mention in the ad that this job also involved dressing up as [ she puts on a voice of ironic cheer ] everyone's favorite bear, Michelle! So there I am in this hot, sweaty pink bear suit, trying not to get knocked over by all the little kids mobbing my ankles, when there she is, suddenly, in front of me. Kokoro Tsurumaki.
[ A long-suffering sigh. ]
She shoves a bunch of flyers into my hand - uh, paw - for some band she's trying to start up. Then she goes, "You can be our band bear!" Band bear. To this day I still don't know what that is.
[ And a brief pause as she turns to Ibara in hopes of commiseration. That's weird, right? It's weird?? ]
no subject
[ He'll pretend not to be insulted if she hasn't, though.
In the meantime, he will listen attentively to this tale of woe. ]
Band bear...
[ Just repeats it because, yes, that's weird. He kind of sympathizes, though; he's no stranger to working with odd spacey types. ]
So you wear this costume when performing with your band... I see!
[ So her company allows her to wear it to promote other brands off the clock? Are they just being progressive or hoping to avoid negative press about their working conditions...? ]
Do you just act as their mascot, then, or do you play...
[ Looking at one of the "hands" of this costume... This thing has, what, one finger and one opposable thumb on an otherwise rounded paw...? ]
...Well, I'm not really sure what you would be able to play in this. A honey jar xylophone?
no subject
[ Misaki gives an apologetic one-shouldered shrug, completely oblivious to any feelings she may be hurting in the process. ]
I have some friends in the idol business, though! Pastel*Palettes, if you've heard of them? I'll have to ask if they know your work if... we ever get home...
[ Oof. It's just now hitting her that she doesn't know how long they've been in cryosleep, and that even if they do somehow make it back to Earth, her friends and family could be long gone by now. Misaki turns her gaze to the nearest wall, swallowing hard, before Ibara's question snaps her out of it for the time being. ]
Oh - I'm actually the band's DJ! Yeah, don't ask me how it works with those paws, either. I've had a lot of practice. I'd give you a demo, but... I guess it's too much to ask for the rec room here to have a set of turntables. And don't mention that xylophone thing to Kokoro. She'll get ideas.
no subject
[ Not his fault this girl apparently lives under a bear-shaped rock!!! ]
I'm unfamiliar with your friends' group as well, though I will confess that I tend to focus on units who could be in direct competition with us.
[ So he's pretty "whatever" about girl groups. ]
I also wouldn't have considered a DJ to be a typical role within a band... very interesting! Clearly I have much to learn about your corner of the music world!
Though it does sound like we have a few things in common... Managing your Tsurumaki-san is a job on its own, hm?
no subject
[ Misaki's tone is politely interested, but she's clearly still not at all familiar with the idols in question. Sorry about your fame not being enough to span worlds, Ibara.
At his last point, she just sighs and shakes her head. ]
Buddy, you are telling me.
[ Wait, that was a little inappropriately casual, wasn't it? Misaki quickly slaps her veneer of social politeness back on. ]
Um, things in common? Do you have someone like that in your life too?
no subject
Hm, that is an interesting proposal...! Who can say what the future has in store?
[ But probably not that. ]
Ah, yes, his Excellency is the quintessential eccentric genius type, you might say. It isn't unheard of for him to show up late to practice covered in mud because he found some interesting rocks he wanted to bring back to the dorms to examine.
no subject
His Excellency...? What is he, an ambassador or something? And yeah, that sounds like something Kokoro would do too, except she'd throw in a few backflips in the process. Or she'd have been putting on an impromptu one-girl concert because she saw someone who looked mildly unhappy on the way there.
[ A wry smile. ]
We've both got our hands full, huh?
no subject
In any case, it does seem that way. Of course I would not wish for any changes that would dampen his creative spirit, but as his partner, his behavior can be quite troublesome at times.