EVE'S HEART

[aprettygirl]

A dark veil slips over you, obscuring your vision; it’s cool and clinging, and blocks out all outside sensation. You drift downward . . . as you do, you grow more and more aware of the pulse of your own heartbeat, until it’s a ringing, unpleasant throb in your ears.

. . . after some time, it’s interrupted by a soft splash, and you feel solid rock underfoot.

((Please join #fleshbloodbone. All your character’s skills are on and uncapped; they will also have access to any items they carry normally!))

Comments

Re: players

[aprettygirl]

"Hmm . . . is there something that would be of particular interest to you? If there is, think of it when you try the doors of the ship. If there isn't, you'll go to an area that's suitable.

You should take a notepad, too."

Re: players

[rebells]

A notepad? For--recording?

Re: players

[aprettygirl]

"Recording or asking questions."

She offers you a small, flat handheld computer with a wrist strap; it's a very simple device with a digital keyboard and a single open program.

"Part of the heart is monstrous in nature and shouldn't really be confronted. If you find yourself there without a way to get back, you can contact Eve on this as well."

Re: players

[rebells]

[taking and peering at closely]

How strange . . . [wait] Monstrous?

Re: players

[aprettygirl]

You get BASIC COMPUTER AND CHAT PROGRAM KNOWLEDGE when you touch it, helpfully!

"Mmm, the Crusnik is here as well."

Re: players

[rebells]

[I SEE I HAVE MISSED SOMETHING . . . several somethings . . . . ]

--If I ask later, will you tell me?

Re: players

[aprettygirl]

"I hadn't realized . . . mm, I'm sorry. Yes, I will."

She looks genuinely contrite; oops . . .

Re: players

[rebells]

[looks--kind of bemused at that, actually]

It's all right . . . I don't expect you to tell me everything at the nearest possible convenience.

[and glancing around him again]

Is there anything else I should know?

Re: players

[aprettygirl]

"That's . . . probably everything?"

Re: players

[rebells]

[heh]

All right.

[strapping this weird thing on and moving to examine the wreckage of the ship more closely, then]

Re: players

[aprettygirl]

The ship is reasonably whole, but badly damaged enough that it won't fly again without some serious work. Its name -- scuffed, scratched, and obscured, but still legible if you squint past the things obscuring it -- is THE NIGHT LORD.

The vines are a riot of colours, with a variety of species, many with colourful blooms. Oddly, you can see wire threaded through their stems and leaves, and a metallic sheen to parts of the leaves and flowers -- they're partly artificial.

There is a web underneath them, of what appears to be a latticed web of . . . flesh . . .? that anchors the ship down just as firmly as the vines do. It's kind of gross.

Re: players

[rebells]

[f-flesh . . . .

peering at this flesh web some more, trying to determine what exactly it is and where it's coming from.]

Re: players

[aprettygirl]

It's just . . . it's a net that happens to be made of flesh. Like the vines, it appears to be rooted down way below the water level.

Hearts are weird.

Re: players

[rebells]

[i. touches the flesh???

eww.]

Re: players

[aprettygirl]

It's almost feverishly warm and has a pulse.

Re: players

[rebells]

[well

okay

I guess I will walk up to the doors now then, since that doesn't seem to be yielding much]

Re: players

[aprettygirl]

They are closed, but there is a palm print scanner by them.

Re: players

[rebells]

[such technology. presses his palm to the scanner]

Re: players

[aprettygirl]

There's a little tingle and hum under your hand, and a green light shines through the crack between the doors.

Off you go.