caveofsapphires | Today is the first day of the rest of your lives [ opening post ]

Today is the first day of the rest of your lives [ opening post ]

WHO: EVERYONE. NPCs will be around to actively engage if you so desire.
WHAT: Sleepers wake and begin to figure out just what, exactly, they are supposed to do with themselves. tl;dr: REACTION POST for new characters to get out and mingle.
WHERE: Everywhere. Mostly the living quarters, but really: anywhere you want.
WHEN: The first week, April 1st through April 7th.
WARNINGS: Travis Touchdown (Ryan LeCourt) has quite a mouth on him.
NOTES: This is a serious game, guys. WE’RE SUPER SRS HERE. ~~This may be a lie.~~

Shimmering blue blanketed the underground city as the light reflected off the sapphires in the ceiling. It cast its eerie glow, almost mimicking the effect of light on water without the sort of freeing peace one might feel with the soft ocean waves. Figuring out how deep down the city was located was near impossible when the air was obviously heated to something approaching comfortable, and nothing seemed to echo too far past the quiet hum of the city.

Workers made their way down the street, every one with a Sleeper in tow. Something that would have been unheard of only a few days ago, now more likely than one would think. They intended to start slow, but considering how many others were still in cryo, this was a laidback pace.

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“Chief sure is stressed out since the Sleepers woke up, have you noticed?”

Anyone passing down the main street in the Cave, the one that went from the entrance all the way to the cryogenics and broke off in the center toward the greenhouse in one direction and the supply depot in the other, had the chance to overhear one particular guard force lackey shooting the breeze. He currently had his helmet off to wipe the sweat off the side of his face and run a hand through long, spiky locks. Next to him was another of the mooks, though this one seemed to be much more comfortable keeping his helmet on.

After only receiving a noncommittal nod and grunt from his companion, Blondie continued on, “He doesn’t like to let people see — and I mean anybody — but I can tell. Maybe I’m just good at that.” He grinned. It did not get much reaction from his friend.

“Guess it’s just me,” he decided after a suitable pause. “Did you hear what Ryan did a couple of days ago? With the bat?”

That prompted a chuckle. The reticent guard acknowledged the memory with an indistinct, “Yeah, heard that one.”

Blondie laughed along, then let it develop into a sigh. “He gets all the fun jobs.”

It's been a hell of a week, if Shepard's honest (and, usually, she is). Waking up in a strange place is one thing, but the fact that no one will give her a straight answer as to what's going on has begun to wear on her. She's questioned the workers, the guards, and all of them have told her the same thing: she's been asleep for the last century and a half, nothing she experienced was real, and she'd better not make too much noise about it. It's bullshit, but she's figured out she shouldn't say that too loudly. She can work within the system, for now, until she can find a way to work around it.

What she really wants, more than anything right now, is to be back on the Normandy — but even if she could demand someone give her an open comm channel to contact her ship, even if it worked, it hasn't been her ship for a couple months now. The Alliance impounded it. And that rankles, enough that she shoves those thoughts out of her head before they can get the better of her.

So she's frustrated, and the so-called authorities here are stonewalling her at every turn, and she needs something to do to take her mind off it. The rec hall seems like a decent distraction; she bypasses the game rooms and heads straight for the gym.

If anyone comes looking, they'll find a tall, lean but muscular redhaired woman, engaged in a sparring match with a punching bag. Needless to say, the punching bag appears to be losing quite badly.

Malcolm almost skips over the rec hall entirely, figuring it irrelevant at the moment, not when he has so much to learn and figure out. But damn it, he is a creature of habit, and simple exercises in his quarters are not cutting it for him. And now that he's gone around the cave front to back and side to side, he's not spending all his energy running about. Besides, he has to check out every building he could at least once. Just to see. Just in case. Perhaps he'll even find someone to spar with.

Although, perhaps not the redhead pummeling the stuffing out of that bag. "What did that poor sack ever do to you?" he asks while glancing about the facility, deciding where he wants to start. The whole place together has, predictably, more than offered on Enterprise. At least this cave and their captors seem to want to treat them all well enough. It's the most light-hearted thing he's said all week, though. Hopefully he wouldn't find himself getting comfortable here.

For a few moments she doesn't seem to notice him, apparently focused on what she's doing. Eventually, however, she stops, sets her hands on the bag to keep it still. Her breathing is a little fast, but she doesn't seem at all winded.

And normally she might find his comment funny, but she's not in the mood right now. "Better than hitting a person, isn't it?" she says — though her dry, unenthusiastic tone indicates she's not quite sure she believes that right now. She'd sort of like to just punch someone in the face, though what self-restraint she can manage right now keeps her from doing that. She needs to stay on their captors' good side if she's going to have a shot at figuring out what's really happening here.

Her gaze turns to Malcolm, straightforward, assessing. It's hard for her, right now, to divine much about him just by looking at him; he's a little older than she is, if she had her guess, and he doesn't seem uncomfortable with his surroundings, suggesting he's familiar with facilities like this.

"Looking for a distraction?"

She can only assume he's here for the same reasons she is.

He likewise attempts to discern as much about her as he can from looks alone once she's done beating on the bag. Very likely military, but failing that, a profession requiring strength and stamina. Good form. Hard to tell if her stoicism is natural or a byproduct of the situation.

"You could say that. More familiar environment, equipment, always helpful. Better than taking yet another walk about the cave, at least." Besides, he hadn't had a good chance to work off any of the wound-up stress from where he'd come from. He might have used sheer physical exhaustion to help deal with the ship, and Trip...

"Our captors seem to want to give us all the creature comforts of home. It'd be rude not to accept." Dry humour helps, too. Sometimes.

If there was anywhere Sal was sure he could feel at least a little bit normal, it was in a bar. He'd traveled a fair amount in his line of work, and he always felt a relief from any culture shock he might experience once he found a place that served alcohol. Maybe it was the alcohol itself that relieved the tension. It didn't really matter either way, did it?

This bar wasn't exactly the sort of place he would've gone in his old life.... Maybe this Stefan person went here all the time. The music playing over the speakers didn't trigger any memories, though. And the machinery of the place definitely didn't.

Well, maybe it'd seem more welcoming to him after a few drinks. He put on a smile and went to sit at the bar. After nearly a week of feeling lost and out of place, he needed desperately to relax. Not to mention, he hardly ever went this long without imbibing something to loosen him up.

Sal's smile was soon returned with one from the man behind the bar. Liam still had to make the constant effort to remember that he couldn't hide now and react to the happenings around him rather than simply observe from his spot on the ghostly plane. That he was on the job at least helped keep him in the mindset.

"What can I do you for?" he asked, both tone and stance congenial. Maybe he was a touch nervous, but that didn't mean he had to be rude — especially to someone as handsome as the current customer in front of him.

Sitting away from Sal at the bar was Ken, who was watching both men carefully with an unreadable expression. Whatever he was thinking, he wasn't planning on sharing any time soon, perfectly content to drink and keep an eye on Liam. (Ken was drinking water, not alcohol. He didn't want his husband to make a fuss, especially since they might actually be getting customers now.) He would be up at the bar right now, but as both Liam and Ken knew from their 'dreams,' standing up for long periods and Ken didn't exactly go together, so he was going to sit quietly and try to stay in the background like he always does.

Perhaps he should have embraced this new start with a new drink, but he found himself saying, "Scotch. Neat." He laughed a little. "Or whatever's closest, if that doesn't exist here." His tone was light-hearted enough, but there was an undercurrent of anxiety. Uncertainty was something he absolutely detested, and he hadn't stopped feeling it since he 'woke up.'

Allowing his accent to briefly return to its natural Scottish inflections, Liam agreed, "Excellent choice." He turned to the row of bottles behind him to quickly scan the labels and see where the Scotch was. He remembered noticing it yesterday... Pulling his ID from the pocket of his shirt, Liam swiped it along the reader at the side and watched as the glass partitioning the drinks slid up into the ceiling to provide him access. Still pretty nifty, even if he was sure the novelty would wear off soon.

Deft hands retrieved the bottle from its place on the shelf and a snifter from somewhere underneath the bar. He carefully measured out the serving (perhaps giving just a bit extra) and set it in front of Sal.

"Here you are, one neat Scotch."

There's a soft snort of amusement from Ken at Liam's antics. He's not at all surprised by it, but it's been a while since he's seen him like this. Taking a drink, he continues to watch the two carefully, thinking about what he might finally say. He's not one to talk, so maybe he'll just wait for someone to talk to him instead.

Sal took a deep breath and a slow sip, savoring it before he swallowed and let the breath out again. "Well, at least that isn't different."

He looked up at Liam, then laughed a little and looked down, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, uh. I'm... Stefan." He only stumbled slightly before giving the name; he was used to lying about who he was inside.

He glanced around. There was someone else there, but he didn't seem as friendly as the bartender. "I have to ask. Are you used to-- I mean, in the dream, your dream, was everything like this? Everything's so automated and... To be honest, I feel like a caveman wandering around New York City." He laughed to mask his anxiety.

Liam's attention flickered to Ken at the amusement; it only served to encourage Liam further. He gave a bright smile, then turned back to Sal without letting it diminish.

"No," he answered honestly, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders to emphasize the point. "This is well beyond my understanding of technology these days, but it's simple enough to follow the directions." Hand raised, he flipped it out to make a what can you do? gesture as if to convey just how helpless he would be without the on-screen prompts.

"You can call me Owen if you want, Stefan," he offered after a moment of thought. While he and Ken had simply been dancing around the name issue entirely, that wasn't exactly an option with strangers. "Or Liam, if you don't mind us both getting into a spot of trouble."

Ken might have been amused, but he was also an incredibly possessive man who just got his husband back from the dead. It didn't help that Liam was starting to flirt with Sal. So surprisingly enough, instead of waiting to be spoken to, Ken decides to say something.

"Don't listen to him," he said conspiratorially to Sal with a slight grin on his face. "He couldn't even figure out the machines without my help. Kept smacking it."

Then he turns his attention back to Liam, looking half amused and annoyed by his introduction. "How about you not get a customer in trouble during our first week awake, dear?"

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Today is the first day of the rest of your lives [ opening post ]

6th, Friday

rec hall (also clearly I am the slowest slow tagger to ever slow)

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the bar

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