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Futuristic 〘POLARIS.〙



please curb my ham ham pang pangs

"From ashes you came, to ashes you return."

Mathew 4:1-11

. . .

When one is unwillingly born into this agonizing world, forced into existence and consciousness, can one ever remember what nothingness felt like before? If Tiphereth was about to be reunited with some of her siblings somewhere in the Great Sky Above... why was she still able to think and process things?

"...I should be dead. Shouldn't I?" she blurted aloud, a tame response for someone recently deceased. It was as if the act was such a foregone conclusion.

She looked around her surroundings. White, all white. The shade of purity, of untarnished and unchallenged ideals-- their nascent state lacking the color of substance. She turned her head counterclockwise and then--

"--Kyaaaa!" from on high, it was as if the sky had fallen upon her to mark the end of her days, a figure of black crashed onto the same plane that Tiphereth's feet rested.

"...And you should be dead too," she instantly recognized her, in combat circles and God Program Fan Clubs, that jet black suit paired with space grey hair, and eyes a pure piercing blue, one could consider them--

*SMACK!* Leather glove made full contact with Tiph's now-mushy face, her sibling Sephiroth puffing their cheeks indignantly.

"That's so mean, Tiphhhh! You really make your older sister sad when you say mean things like thaaaaat."

"I don't think that's possible. I'm pretty sure you're just my cognition of the real Keter, ergo-"

From Keter's black gloves, a white lightning surrounded them- but unlike Tiphereth's unstable, wild use of their shared God Program, this seemed more controlled, focused even. In her sister's hands materialized a great spear, the same length as her own failed creation, curved to a sharp point-- worthy of the name as the Lance of Longinus. Truly, Tiphereth did believe that the legend hailed by so many standing before her was really just an angry child.

"...That's quite enough, both of you."

Another figure in black intervened. Long hair draped over their left shoulder with yellow highlights facing towards them, they strutted their way to diffuse this mess, clicking their tongue at all the ruckus they (Keter) caused.

"...And you too, Binah. Why is it that you still persist in my head? Curse my lucid dreams, I would have preferred oblivion over an eternity with family," the last word was uttered as if it were some profuse vulgarity.

The gloved child released some of their grip on their spear, her face hardening as she deadpanned.

"That is strange you know-- I'm pretty sure I'm the one who's supposed to torment her for trying to use that too early."

"Perhaps a mutual tormenting is in order?" Binah tilted her head.

"No way, no way, no way~! I got first dibs." Keter frowned, shaking her head. Tiphereth could literally see the eye twitching movements from the calmer and more reserved Sephiroth. Binah clenched her fists as yellow electricity sparked in her hands, clasping them together and expanding them out as if it were a weaved tapestry.

She buried her face in her hands as she watched the shitshow carry on. Truly, quality family time was a fitting fate for someone who has spent all their time trying to push others away.

"...God. Fucking. Damn. it." she scowled.
Is dead, for now.
Code written by: Pyosimros


Cresion Breezes

Beta Tester of Life


There was a long silence from Nexian as he realized what had happened as well. He was still holding onto the box, but seemed much more relaxed now that everyone has returned inside the caravan. ‘Clunk’. A soft sound rang out through the caravan’s interior as the container was set down on the silicon-matted floor of the vessel. It was placed with the wide-area side up and with a few more mechanical sounds the various sealing mechanisms were undone by the young man that held it. It was getting clear from the dimensions of the box, it was clearly the perfect size to fit a person.

“...I’m sorry about your teammate…I…” Nexian said, not really knowing what words he should choose for the next portion.

“...I don’t want to get your hopes up but, there’s a chance, they might not be completely dead.” He added calmly, or as calmly as possible, there was a slight shake in his tone.

“Although I want to make this request of you all, please please, please. Keep what you are about to see a secret. You helped me…us, so I want to repay this favour, but I hope it won’t be at the expense of me or others.” The boy finally added after what seemed like a long period of consideration and reconsideration, as the box from the wasteland finally opened.

The interior of the box made clear what it was — a portable stasis chamber. It was beaten and batter and clearly modified in an amateurish way, but still recognizable as what it originally is. Inside the box laid Outpost 115’s most important “cargo”, it was a person. From their fairly androgynous look, it was likely that this individual was also a series, they had sleek black hair that curled slightly at the end, and were wearing an outfit reminiscent of field medic uniforms. The icon on the armband of their uniform was similar to the medical corps’ as well, underneath embodied the letters “CCU - Critical Care Unit”.

The series opened their eyes and stared at the ceiling before suddenly sitting up and gasping. They looked around at the caravan’s furnishings and at the recuse party, before turning to Nexian, seemingly unable to collect their words. It was difficult to see under the caravan's dim fluorescent lights, but there seems to be tears roiling in this person's eyes.

“N-Nexi! W-we...we're...?”

“Yeah, this is a Polaris caravan, we made it…but…” Nexian looked into the back of the caravan where Tiphereth’s body was taken to for storage. “...not all of them did.”

After a brief explanation of what happened with the seismic event and the rescue team’s escape from the chasm, the dark-haired series nodded in understanding at what has occurred.

“I understand, if Nexian believes this is the right thing to do, then I have no reason to not comply.” The series took a small bow after getting out of the portable stasis box, seeming much more composed and distant now. “Please show me the condition of your teammate, I will do what I can.”

Mavi looked slightly confused, but she offered to guide the somewhat surprising newcomer to where Tiphereth was stored in the back anyways, though she did gesture for anyone else who wanted to come with her to follow.

“We’re gonna be on auto-pilot for the return, a lot of stuff happened out there, you should all take it easy for a bit.” She exclaimed, though her clearly excited bouncy footsteps towards the back area said otherwise.

“Oh yeah, I don’t know about you guys, but I sure want to see what this medic-looking one can do. I’ve seen plenty of restoration-type GPs but Miss Tiphereth, she’s like…dead dead...right?”

After those who wanted to see whatever treatment Tiphereth would be getting left, Nexian stared at their direction for a while before letting out a deep sigh. It was clear that whatever happened outside had built up a huge amount of stress on him, and he could finally take a breather now knowing that things would likely be fine from here.

“I suppose I owe you all an explanation.” He said rather apologetically to whoever remained. “There’s still a lot of things I’m unsure of myself, but if you have questions about this whole… situation, I can try my best to answer.”

Nightcrawler Back Area - Medical Bay


The medic-from-a-box looked at Tiphereth’s corpse, they held her now ever paler hand and felt the rigor mortis’ onset, a bit of her now discoloured apotheosis fluid—her blood dripped out. Only the faintest white hue remained. There was no breathing, no pulse, no sign of regeneration of her already sustained wounds, but overall the series examiner seems fairly relaxed, or even relieved at her condition.

“I see. From the description, I thought she was torn to shreds. It seems like the remains are well preserved, her head doesn’t seem to have suffered massive external damage…” They let out a sigh of relief.

“Fluid discolouration hasn’t onset completely yet, it would appear she has only been clinically dead for around an hour…yes. I need to prepare an apotheosis fluid transfusion with her, I assume there is the needed equipment here. This is much better than what I assumed, the physical and environmental conditions are about as in her favour as possible, there isn’t much we can do here to improve her chances…Oh.”

The dark-haired medic looked up at Mavi and the others that followed them here before realizing there were actually other people around. “Oh, I apologize, I’m not very…good with people, I…I’m not good at being with other people…uh, alive people, but Nexian gave you his approval, so I think I will be able to tell you some things, well, umm, you have to ask though.”

“Umm, oh. My name is Xun Allore, I’m a…uh…I’m a GPO of Solaris, yes, that’s...what I am.”
They added a bit nervously.







There was something akin to a hologram in front of her as Tiphereth awoke. It was a space similar to her lucid dream of leaving the mortal world, pure white, and she awakened somewhere. It was like taking a nap on a long park bench on a day when the fuel for the artificial lights on Polaris was plentiful, there was a gentle warmth in this place. The gentle warmth of death’s embrace.

The holographic screen has some characters written on it, seemed like a language, although it wasn’t one that Tiphereth could read. Beyond the cryptic characters’ screen were two shadows, silhouettes that were only a bit greyer than the pure white world, barely visible and barely audible. She would recognize those shapes as her predecessors, the 1st and 2nd generation users of Don Quixote.

The leftover data of residual consciousnesses. Too far beyond repair.

There was a voice…a “voice”. It wasn’t a real voice that was audible, instead, it was like words being projected into Tiphereth’s mind, as if she was having an involuntary inner monologue, or reading words written on a book with no book in front of her. Another shadowy figure, or perhaps it's more apt to call it a light-y figure sat beside her on the metaphysical park bench. It wasn’t possible to tell what type of appearance it had, its shape and size seemed to be distorting constantly, its colours obscured, its sounds muted into a muffled monologue within one’s imagination. But it was warm, it was a gentle warmth of a living thing, a living human.

Ah, I suppose this one is too far beyond repair too, without the methods at least…Oh, you can hear me?

The featureless figure moved a bit, somewhat like a human turning its head in Tiphereth’s direction.

I didn’t expect that, I thought our compatibility was too low. Well, you can’t “hear” me, but you can feel some of these lingering thoughts of mine.

The thoughts fell silent for a moment.

I’m sorry it had to come to this.

I was full of hope once, but --- it --- nothing was expected --- I didn’t think it would --- but --- I didn’t despair.

When people lose hope---or never had any in the first place, they can choose to despair, but they can also choose to accept that this world is one full of different things, some full of hope, some void of it.




The unreadable holoscreen continues to have its characters change as time went on, until it stopped. A new string of characters appeared, still unreadable, but Tiphereth would feel something different. It appears now that she had a choice, a choice to go back to where she went from. Away from the gentle warmth of death and the mysterious entity, and back into the cold lifeless surface of the Shell, that endless Samsara of dark steel.

Oh. I didn’t expect that. Perhaps I was wrong, the methods do exist here, it's just unfortunate it’s not always present, it wasn’t here for them.

A wispy string of light moved off of the figure of light, like an arm of a finger, pointing at the ghastly residues of her predecessors.

I won’t blame you if don’t want to return. I didn’t expect this. I didn’t want this. I expected so much better. So I understand.

But. But. And yet. And yet. And yet.

I want you to go on.

Go on. Go on. Go on. Go on.

I want this for you.

Because I have made the decision to love you. I have made the decision that you are my God.

No matter what.











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Lucius Cypher

Delicious Friend


Interacting with: Nexian ( Cresion Breezes Cresion Breezes )

Chomp gave Solline a node when she recovered from her panic, though he had a feeling she had not truly recovered and is simply in a less panicked state. He would need to check and figure out how to properly handle her mental injuries, since Chomp lacks the knowledge of how to deal with such ailments and the only person with any idea of how is dead. Soon the Nightcrawler was on the move, so to ensure that no one else died today he returned to his armor and strapped himself in. Not long after however something strange did happen. As if today wasn't odd enough. The box that Nexian had been carrying opened. Unsurprising to Chomp there was a person inside of it. The person inside was a frankly unassuming looking organic, a series if Chomp had to guess. She seemed to be part of some sort of Critical Care Unit, so at least that could explain why she was kept alive: She was one of the few people who had the means and knowledge to deal with someone in a critical health condition. Though too late, as far as Chomp was aware, as Tiph was medically dead.

A short exchange between the mysterious person and Nexian ensued. They seemed familiar with one another, and it seems like the dark-haired Series may have some means to help Tiph. This confused Chomp slightly. Tiph was dead. What could possibly be done? She had the strongest regeneration factor out of anyone in this group, and she had managed to overload it via her descent into the chasm, and getting overwhelmed by the horde. While the physical injuries themselves aren't devastating, she bleed out regardless. If there was nothing her own GP could do, what could this person do? Then again... It's not as if Chomp knew the full extent of this person's power either. She was kept alive for a reason. Maybe she could bring Tiph back from the other side.

As Chomp was firmly strapped into his seat, and wouldn't be able to eject his Black Box without undoing said straps, he had no choice but to stay here and question Nexian. Surely the others would go to the medical bay and observe what will happen to Tiph. Chomp had some questions for this Director Sentinel. Chomp made a list on his communicator of his many questions, and would be recording answers for future study.








Literal No One
Roleplay Type(s)
Nor Clyde
Interactions: None.

No. She was definitely alive when I picked her up and started scaling the canyon.
Does that mean... I was the one who killed her?

I didn't want to.
Even when she was pointing a gun at me.
I didn't want to!

The stoic expression Nor Clyde wore was different from the quagmire occurring within the depths of her own psyche. In fact, even back at the rover she was still gripping the liquid ration that Chomp had handed her. Empty but utterly being crushed to the point that some of it's seams were open. Having been grinded apart forcefully by the force of the operator's grip. Nor couldn't even realize that there was a mix of glowing and normal crimson stained on the lighter parts of her outfit. Grizzly in appearance.

For a time, everything felt like a void.

She... killed one of her teammates?
She really did that?

This was supposed have just been another mission. Another job.
She'd spared Tipareth because she didn't want to hurt her.
But in the end, Nor had ended up killing her anyway.

It wasn't fair. Not in the slightest.

The operator was so beside herself that she simply took a seat on one of the crawler's transport seats. With all the commotion going on aside it was easy for her to keep on the wayside and out of notice. So she sat there. her bangs hiding her pink eyes, dilated with the burned imprint of newly branded trauma.

Solline overcome with emotion and comforted by Hiberius. The girl in the box. The highly secretive event currently unfolding in order to bring their teammate back from the brink. Chomp logically attempting to gather more information to asses the situation. fell on deaf ears when it came to Nor.

The traumatized operator simply sat.
Time moves forward as she still tries to process these new feelings that had come over her.
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please curb my ham ham pang pangs

"...They could have been revived too?" her voice broke. Normally, people are excited when they get second chances placed right on their lap. But for Tiphereth...


Trauma -- both physical and mental, leave wounds that quickly reconstruct themselves into brittle, rigid, immovable scabs. It is the body's way of letting someone keep carrying on during battle.

All that time, when our Albino Psychologist has had her problems taken care of instantly, where all her attempts to throw herself into the pits of firey failure utterly only see her able to survive another day...

All that regenerating from that trauma, both physical and mental, but can one ever say she has truly healed?


Her face hardened as if the thought of waking up again offended her. "If I embrace you, will I be forced to remain conscious in this limbo? Is this my karma? Will I never know the peace and rest that comes with nothingness?"

She stood up, pacing a couple of steps away from the park bench to turn around and face the mysterious presence.

"Tell me, oh Don Quixote. Even after I expire upon that pathetic metal shell, will I witness my successors enter into this plane carrying the same hope and romantic hopelessness as I?"

"Well? IS IT!??" Her shriek pierced the stagnant air around them; she was grinding her teeth, her eyes full of fury.

Why, oh why, can't she die? Her right arm surged forward, grasping whatever that silhouette could call a neck, sparking with blood-red electricity.

Pause. Breathe. From the diaphragm. In for four. Hold for seven. Out for eight.

Notice any tension in the body, do not react yet, but notice it.

Now that you are aware let it go.


She loosened the grip on her wrist to let the white silhouette slump back on the park bench. Still, her fury has not abated, but she turned her focus towards the chicken scratch that supposedly invited her to the outside world. Her eyes slanted, and dark bags formed under her restless, tormented form. While she carries herself as someone whimsical-- she keeps her grief muted and under wraps most of the time.

Still unsure of what to do-- she wanted to get a rise of this ghost.

Is dead, for now.
Code written by: Pyosimros


*Gears turning*
Roleplay Type(s)
Screen Shot 2022-08-04 at 12.09.14 PM.png
Interactions: Nexian ( Cresion Breezes Cresion Breezes )

Solline dusted herself off after getting up from the floor, still trying to avoid any eye contact with anyone else. That was until she heard the Solaris operator speak again, turning her head in his direction after hearing him utter that Tiphereth might not be completely dead, a look of disbelief on her face. ...What...? Before Solline could ask what exactly he meant, the box he had refused to let go of since the moment they found them up to a minute ago opened, but not before Nexian implored the team to keep what they're about to see a secret. The contents of the box turned out to be a person, a Series based on their appearance, and a medic at that, given their uniform as well as the words "Critical Care Unit" on their armband, if it wasn't obvious enough. After a little exchange between the newcomer and Nexian, to which Solline was still too out of it to really pay attention to, the Series in the box vacated their capsule and was led to the back area of the Nightcrawler by their driver, who herself gestured for some of the team to follow. The image of Tiphereth's body flashed through her mind for a split second, along with it the associated feelings from her traumatic episode, though no where near as intense as during it. A slight dizzy and nauseous feeling washed over the blonde, holding a hand to her head and taking a few deep breaths. She was in no condition to view the body again, else those awful voices might return.

Opting to stay, she took a seat a bit near where Nexian was. After the barrage of questions from Chomp, Solline sighed, attempting to regain her usual facade. "Well, I don't have a problem keeping the Series in a box a secret... Though..." She crossed her arms and reclined in her seat, mostly in order to prevent herself from subtly shaking as she spoke. "What'd you mean she's not completely dead?" Solline took a short pause, exhaling deeply before clutching her fists, her fingernails slightly digging into the palm of her hands. "I know your... um... friend is a critical care unit but... even critical care can't help someone without a pulse... So? What are they even supposed to do? What can they even do at this point?"


Worthless pleb
Hiberus Shaw, Phobos Itself
Interactions: Cresion Breezes Cresion Breezes Mentions: Chomp, Tiphereth, and Solline;

The instant Solline's senses were recollected, Shaw's hands broke away with glacial speeds. It puzzled him in a way. The tales or instances of traumatized GPOs was not the culprit to his bemusement, but the measure of it. If he had known that GPO mentalities could be so fragile, as tearable as silicone then that would, naturally, change the way that he went about it. The method to his excursions on missions and in relation to GPOs in general. Solline had taught him a valuable lesson, albeit wholly unintended on her part. He would offer a hand, but the sniper had risen without aid. So be it, he'll have to schedule a later appointment for what exactly troubled her.

Which was when Shaw caught himself. Schedule an appointment? The words lingered in his head on repeat, not too dissimilar to an audio feedback loop. Has Tiphereth's death truly affected him so that he expressed a... professional concern towards another operator. That he'd take up time to examine the root cause? Flamingly droll. He steps away and sits on the edge of a seat, rubbing the Midnight streaks for lenses as if they were his eyes.

Still with eyes closed, Shaw heard Nexian exchange words with a mysterious figure. Shaw's head scrolled up to see the Series guided by Mavi to the medbay. He shot a stare, one most uncomfortable to Nexian. The Solaris operator offered explanations, though only if they ask them. His fingers didn't so much as twitch as they shook from the micro contractions. A click was heard from Shaw's helmet, covertly recording this interaction. Just in time for Chomp's list of questions in fact.

"What was the outpost's purpose on the shell?"

"Are you certain there are no other survivors from your retinue?"

Once Nexian answered all of these questions, Shaw would step aside to join whoever else ventured into the medical bay. He is quite curious to see how Tiphereth could be revived from her medically dead state. And if he could help the process in any way.

Cresion Breezes

Beta Tester of Life


Nexian leaned back into the seat and stretched out before letting out another deep sigh after the questions all differing in tone and attitude.

“...You Polaris sorts are demanding indeed, is that what living under a Captain does to you…No, sorry, it’s my fault, I’m still not used to…well, this.” He took a deep breath, GPOs aren’t supposed to be easily exhausted, especially not by a simple chat, but it was clear that there was a heavy weariness weighing upon this young man.

“I should’ve expected this, it’ll be best if I start from the top.” Nexian held the damaged ID in his hand and looked down at the piece of plastic and metal, like an elder trying to recall something from eons ago. “As you saw, my name is Nexian Allore, I’m the director sentinel of outpost 115, the purpose of this outpost is…it’s to transport “cargo”.” This was a common thing for outposts, the trade of specialized information and items between Solaris and Polaris was the main reason why the outpost system was created, most outposts carry cargo of some sort. However, the way Nexian spoke the word “cargo” and the truth behind that box he carried seems to speak otherwise.

“Well, this is supposed to be classified information, but I’m not going to think any of you would be so easily fooled, you’ve all seen Xun already. They’re 115’s cargo.” It was also common to have personnel transfer between vessels through outposts, but those people are generally not referred to as being cargo, whether they go into cryogenic sleep for the process or not. Nexian’s demeanor was difficult to read while speaking about the matter, it was a combination of exhaustion and many other emotions mixed together as he continued on. “Xun is the current operator of God Program Asushunamir.”

“It’s a God Program that can revive the dead. It has to be kept a secret because it’ll bring a lot of trouble if the existence of it goes public, for everyone involved…and especially for Xun.”

The young man paused for a moment, seemingly realizing that he likely just said something quite important. He sat up a bit straighter and changed to a more energetic tone quickly. “Uh, according to what we know about it right now it has a lot of limitations too! I don’t want to make it sound that important…but…” The energy faded from his words back into the solemn melancholy. “...But it’s still important…it can save a lot of lives…yeah, it can.” He muttered as if trying to convince himself of something. “That’s why there was an order to bring them to Polaris, it’s for the next Excavation Festival’s deep dive, a lot more new machines are being discovered, having Xun around can mitigate a lot of losses.”

“My outpost was attacked by…to be fair, I’m not sure either, and I don’t want to cause any panic either. It was similar to the seismic activity from earlier, but much stronger. Me and Xun tried to salvage what data we could, I’m planning to give it to Polaris’ Captain and any teams that could put it to use. The entire underground structure was almost torn clean in half and the machines poured in…most people died immediately, the rest were mauled by the machines or environmental exposure. Even my sister was also…”
It was a heavy subject, indeed Nexian’s tone was also heavy, but there was a sense of calmness to his words as well, like it all happened so long ago that he had made peace with it already. “She’s a GPO too, but she was in the area that was torn off, she fell into a deep chasm, there was no way I could recover her body…or anything at all. I only survived because I…I-” He closed his eyes for a moment. “-I was breaking protocol and was in a restricted area, I’m the strongest person of 115 so I thought I could get away with it…I guess I did huh? That’s why I was spared, and why I could recover Xun’s stasis pod.”

He then glanced up at the caravan’s internal digital display, specifically at the Polaris vessel's date and time on an LCD screen. His eyes widened for a moment, but the surprise quickly faded as he returned his gaze to the broken ID. “I was out there for…I think nine, perhaps ten weeks. I knew even as a GPO I wouldn’t be able to make it to Polaris on foot, but I had to try. I used Xun’s ability, we hooked up the stasis pod to my vitals, and if I were to die, it would release Xun so they can revive me. That’s the only reason I survived.” The weariness on the young man’s face was better explained now, it was the weariness of death. “I survived by not surviving, ha ha. Xun even praised me, they said so many people would refuse to come back from even their first death, but I…I…ha ha. There’s no way anyone else would’ve made it…I died…how many times again? How many times over? Just to make it here, there’s no way…no way.” The dry laughs that came out seems to be his last resistance, or his last shred of sanity slowly slipping away.

“I-I I can’t anymore! I can’t. I don’t need your apologies! I don’t need your input! It doesn’t matter! It doesn’t matter what happened to them, they’re not me! I’m going back, I’ll go back. I always do. Nexian covered his face with his hand to block out the dim fluorescence of the caravan’s lighting while muttering something semi-coherent. It appears that the weight of what happened to him never really registered until now.

The medical bay door slid open as Mavi and the mysterious medic walked out. Through the open doors, Tiphereth’s body could be seen laying on an examination table, still quite silent and dead. Xun dashed up quickly to Nexian and the others.

“Ah, Nexi…he offered to talk about what happened to us…right?” Xun said in a rather sad yet not surprised tone, “It’s probably not the best for his mental state to talk about it, he’s just pushing himself to do things he really shouldn’t be.”

The series sat down as well, pointing towards Tiphereth’s body from beyond the medical bay’s doors. “About your teammate, I did everything I can already. I assume Nexi told you all about my ability, but it has limitations. Most of them don’t really apply to your teammate there, her physical condition is quite good actually, but…”

Xun’s hands were clenched a bit tighter as they spoke. “...There’s still a chance that she won’t come back, and I just want to tell you it’s noone’s fault if she doesn’t. It’s her choice. And it would be the best for her.” The words were soft yet determined.

“My ability allows the revival from clinical death in certain situations, but it has a disproportionate rate of failure in certain types of patients even when there are no other limitations.”

“Those with suicidal tendencies, and lack of attachment to life. That’s why it is theorized that it's the patient’s personal choice whether or not to return…I’m sorry, I don’t know what your teammate was like when she was alive, but it’s up to her choice now.”


Forgive me for my cruelty, the dark-haired series said to the lifeless one.

Forgive me for my callousness.

Forgive me for trying to tell you to live in this world.

I am not your salvation.

I am the murderer of your salvation.

But despite everything, I am here because someone wants you to live.


The entity did not seem fazed by Tiphereth’s sudden outburst, it could not be hurt, its energy tendrils simply waning a bit in the eternal soft white light in this monochromatic plane.

No. This is naught but a rest station for you.

A wispy limb stretched out of the entity again and pointed towards the unreadable holographic display in front of the two “souls”. A few of the characters looked different that when Tiphereth first arrived, and while she stared she would notice another change in a rather rhythmic fashion.

When that countdown finishes, your residual consciousness data would become unsalvageable, just like them.

It pointed towards the ghostly shapes of her predecessors. The white flames flaring up and waved a bit in the thin air.

You will no longer be alive, not here, not back where you came from. I do not know where you will go, I’m just a normal person, what made you think I know what happens beyond the true death?

It sounded a bit angry…well, it sounded more like Tiphereth was angrily monologing to herself. It withdrew its wispy limb, the wavering white flames seeming to calm down a bit.

You will never be trapped here, because I have chosen to be here. I made the decision to carry hope here, and so here I remain.

I cannot speak for your successors, just like I cannot speak for you to your predecessors. I can only speak for myself and my own decision. I have no right to interfere with your’s either, I’ve seen your life upon the surface, it is not something I can decide.

The wisp swirled around a bit more.

It is cruel to force someone to live, the me who chose to come here would not have agreed, but I understand now.

I don’t know what happens once you chose the true death, and I don’t know what will happen if you chose to return either, but I will respect your choice regardless, because I can understand why you chose to do so.

The caravan moved rapidly on the hollowed shell of a planet’s surface, kicking up brief bits of white dust that shimmered slightly in the soft horizon’s dawn light. Mavi had returned to the driver’s seat and stared at the autopiloting mechanisms, there was no need for a driver to pay much attention in their current state, and it was clear she was staring out at the dawn horizon and spacing out.

Nexian fell asleep for a long while, days on end on the return journey. It was not surprising perhaps, for someone who’s only slept in death for the past months to actually want to take a break.

Tiphereth was similarly sleeping, but it was still unknown whether or not she would “chose” to wake up as the dark haired medic said. Her remains were in good shape due to the apotheosis fluid transfusion from Asushumanir, it looked like she was actually just sleeping soundly most of the time, regardless of where her “soul” may have been in this period. Xun would often look at her, as a medic who’s more comfortable with being with corpses than live people, even if their job was to turn those corpses back into the living. They also constantly at the horizon where the Polaris could appear at any time, fidgeting with the corner of their clothing in an unease fashion.

It took quite some time for the Nightcrawler to return to Polaris’ communications range, it appears that some damage was dealt by th seismic event days ago. Repairs were only finished after the team have entered the proper range for a good while.

“Hey guys! Look!”

Mavi pointed at the odd yet familiar shape on the horizon to anyone near the driver’s cabinet. It was the silhouette of the Polaris against the eternal dawn’s light. The mass of darksteel with a small refraction of light from the glass observation deck cruised on the accursed planet’s surface, it was like they never left.

“...Ah.” Xun looked onto the dark silhouette.

As the Nightcrawler pulled closer to the Polaris’ docks, a flurry of communications came over towards the caravan.

[Woah woah woah, it’s that team isn’t it?]

[They’re back! I knew the commander knew what he was talking about!]

[You guys sure are in luck, we did emergency repairs on the Nightcrawler docker immediately after the quake.]

[...Wonderful performance, everyone.]

[Medical team is on standby. *yawn* Can I go back to my lab? This is a full GPO team right, why am I even here…Yeah yeah I know the communicator is still on, I don’t care if they hear me.]

Mavi looked at Tiphereth and thought about the words about choice spoken by the outpost’s medic.

“We have rescued survivors of a distant outpost, the team’s casualties are…”



Welcome Home.


“Thank you for your help, truly. It’s really a miracle that we were found.” Nexian, who seems to have recovered a bit after sleeping for days on end has returned. He looked a bit lost in thought as he recalled what happened the past few days. “I apologize for weighing you down, it is unfortunate we had to meet while I was at my worst. If we ever meet again, I'll totally be more useful” He gave a small smile and took a shallow bow before preparing to disembark from the Nightcrawler along with Xun, before suddenly pausing as if he remembered something.

“Oh right, back then you guys mentioned a distress signal...We…I…I don’t remember sending out any distress signals.”

Lucius Cypher

Delicious Friend


Interacting with: Shaw ( Worthlessplebian Worthlessplebian )

The journey back to the Polaris felt longer than usual to Chomp. Probably because in a rare occasion, Chomp was not in his armor for most of the ride. He had elected to maintain in his base form, sectioning an area off for him to work on his armor. Primarily, cannibalizing parts of the stasis pod that Nexian had brought with him to adapt into Chomp, replacing his rocket pack. It was still perfectly functional as it was, but there was a reason Chomp decided to do this: Chomp was going to take Tiph's body back with him. After hearing what Nexian had to say about him and the mysterious GPO, Xun, Chomp was curious about the power to bring the dead back to life. For example, does it work on Auxilaries? Indeed, Chomp's interest was largely selfish, but at the same time he does intend to help them for his own gain. But to see how this power would work they would need a dead body, and who's body was better for this task than Tiphereth? It wasn't as if she could refuse, and Chomp could see no particular reason why she would want to die. Indeed, her death he largely attributed to her own carelessness. Twice she had harmed herself due to poor decisions on her part. If she truly wanted to pass away, there would be quicker, more efficient methods than the ones she choose.

But then again, maybe, just maybe, Chomp didn't want her to die. Not that he would ever admit to this.

Converting the stasis pod into something resembling his rocket was easy enough, but making it function as one was a different matter. Chomp was no stranger to making his own equipment but the amount of alterations he was making to the stasis pod just to disguise it was already damaging it's structural integrity. And while Chomp ultimately succeeded in making sure the stasis pod will work while strapped to his back, it's effectiveness was far less than it could've been. While Chomp can continue to power it indefinitely like how Nexian did, it's ability to maintain the proper conditions were cut down to hours at most, so if Chomp were to smuggle Tiph away from anyone who would want to recycle her remains, he would need to do so quickly.

Because from what Nexian had told Chomp, none of the GPO's on this mission were suppose to know about Xun. Her powers, if they functioned as Nexian said, was powerful indeed. While Chomp has heard of many GPO's with regenerative powers that allowed them to come back from mortal wounds, with Xun one could effectively be immortal. But at what cost? The mental strain had obviously damaged Nexian's psyche in ways that Chomp could not comprehend. Indeed, if Tiphereth were to come back to life, would her own mind survive the revival? Would she be physically alive, but mentally dead? Such biological functions Chomp could not understand. More tellingly, if he were ever to die and come back, would be too fall under some madness? Was this something he wanted to find out?

Questions that had no answers. Maybe it would be best if he never knew. But regardless he had a mission. As the Nightcrawler approached the Polaris, the comms came abuzz with life and communication. Most of it chatter, which made Chomp wonder if the Polaris had been waiting for them this whole time. And suddenly, Chomp's plans to smuggle Tiph's body out just got a lot more complicated. A lot of eyes were on the Nightcrawler now. Folks wanting to know how they were doing, and likely wanting to know what the status of the crew were. And if any of the GPO knew what exactly what Nexian and Xun were capable of. Chomp was almost certain that upper brass knew about this. The Caravan Commander definitely. He had to act fast. As Mavi spoke, Chomp jumped onto comms to speak.


Eating the remains of his rocket to clean up any signs of his scheming, Chomp went to retrieve Tiph from stasis. He moved her body into his stasis pod, activating it to maintain her body's health. He can put her into a proper stasis pod once he got back to his house. For now, he'll just have Nexian and Yun distract everyone with their presence while Chomp seemingly goes home. But to cover his own tracks as well, he turns to Shaw. He was one of the few people here who knew Tiph very well, and may have a vested interest in keeping her alive. If nothing else, his cool-headed attitude would make him a better liar than Chomp.



please curb my ham ham pang pangs

This was not the explanation that the Albino was looking for. Who was this person, this white eminence standing before them? And this being a resting place? At least they were being patient with them.

And they didn't correct her when she called them Don Quixote either.

"I see; forgive my assumption that this was the afterlife. I'm more interested, though, in why you desire me to live so badly. Perhaps I may never find the answer that will heal my fragmented heart in this life of mine. But equally, as such, I will lose the chance to seek closure if I lay down to rest here and now" she turned her head towards the cryptic system that could revive her from her downed state.

Her face quirked into scorn towards the glimmering figure, her residual anger at being pushed forward when her mind and body cried out for her to cease still lingered. But she knew that fury was misdirected, or at least, she could not be sure she was pointing it in the right direction.

Yes, she must carry on to know, to understand why is it people suffer.

To understand why she suffered.

To understand why she was so empty inside, yet at the same time so full of--

And when she has the answer, she will--

. . .

“We have rescued survivors of a distant outpost; the team’s casualties are…”

"...I think they're zero unless there were some complications on the transit back," she uttered, rising slowly, stretching her arms and rubbing her eyes as if recovering from a deep sleep. Leaning her head against the wall orthogonal to her medical bed, yawning as if nothing had happened.


Code written by: Pyosimros


*Gears turning*
Roleplay Type(s)
Screen Shot 2022-10-18 at 9.22.02 PM.png
Solline Nova
Interactions: Open to Interaction (Currently in the Cat Shack Saloon)

As Xun explained their ability and its limitations, the blonde sat in stunned silence. Death was, no, is, absolute. It's something everyone must face at some point, some sooner than others due to some terrible accidents or events, like what had just transpired during the mission with Tiphereth. And once you were dead, that's it. It's over, you can't come back from it. Those who have died too soon before their time can't be brought back, no matter how those they left behind mourn, dispair, and yearn for their return. That's how it should be. And yet, there Xun and Nexian were, the latter even being living proof of the contrary. And now, if the revelation that the dead, or at least some of the dead, can be brought back wasn't mind boggling enough, apparently it was Tiphereth's decision to return or not.

Her choice...? Those words rang again and again in Solline's head. From the way she was acting during the mission, it's almost as if she was actively trying to get herself killed. Solline didn't know jackshit about her, but from the simple fact that Tiphereth was also a series would allow her, or really anyone else for that matter who knew what kind of upbringing most series batches had, to gauge what kind of trauma she had lurking under that dead stare of hers. In that case, why would she want to return? What would she gain out of returning? What would anyone gain out of returning to a reality where trauma is omnipresent in their lives if given the choice?

Solline sat in silence, almost completely zoned out, for much of the return trip back to the Polaris, her attention only being snapped back from her thoughts when the flurry of radio communications broke the silence, with Chomp joining in on the chorus to give a response. As the team disembarked from the Nightcrawler, the Solaris duo revealed that they didn't actually send out a distress signal, a mystery which kept Solline's mind active all the way on the walk home as she silently separated from the group around the time when Chomp did the same. She was mostly walking on autopilot all the way back to her apartment, until the voice of one of her complex's staff managers alerted her that she'd reached her destination.

"Oh, Ms. Nova, you're back from... uh..." The man appeared to struggle with his words, no doubt still reeling from both the quake and the fact that an administration member visited the place. She narrowed her eyes at the man. "It's none of your business. Also, I've told you lot before, I prefer to use my first name." "Right... well when the quake happened we tried to contact all residents but you-" "Does it look like I'm dead or injured to you?" She spat back before he even finished his sentence. "Well..." He glanced over her, parts of her uniforms still in tatters and blood stained from the mission obviously said otherwise to the latter part of her statement, however the glare from the blonde and her lack of any visible injuries prevented him from saying anything else. "...I'll just be on my way then... Have a good day Ms. Nov- er, Ms. Solline. Apologies." As the man walked away, Solline sighed as she entered her apartment. And here I was trying to keep my GPO status on the down low here... or at least have people not react to me like one...

After a quick shower to wash off whatever grime and dried blood was on her skin from the mission and throwing out the tattered uniform, Solline changed into her casual clothes and departed from her apartment once more. She wasn't headed anywhere in particular, just walking around the Residential Sector just for the sake of walking around. It does good to take an aimless wander around to help clear her thoughts. After a while of wandering, she came across an establishment with a peculiar sounding name. 'Cat Shack Saloon?' I feel like I've heard about this from somewhere... Just as she thought that, she recalled one of the articles she had swiped past during the initial caravan ride to the distress signal site, one about patrons of a residential sector saloon running out in apparent panic after something happened inside. Her curiosity peaked, and figuring it would be a good distraction from her own thoughts, she headed inside, sitting at the first empty seat she could find and pulling out her phone to look for that article again, opting not to order any drinks, at least not just yet.
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Worthless pleb
Hiberus Shaw, Phobos Itself
Interactions: Clockwork_Magic Clockwork_Magic Mentions: BnemonicDevice BnemonicDevice Lucius Cypher Lucius Cypher Cresion Breezes Cresion Breezes ;

The return journey to Polaris felt agonizingly long to Shaw. He could not tell why. Noxian's involvement and Xun's abilities threw an interesting wrench into the man's cognitive gears. Despite his proclamations of innocence, Nexian is not to be trusted. The deluge of information while helpful does not absolve him. Shaw will watch him. Keener than a laser's point. However, a twinge of worry crept into the steel nerves of the butcher. Death is not a state that should be breached, it defied the natural order of things. It defied him! He did not wish for Tiphereth to live. Much as he would miss her acerbic wit, her inquisitive mind, and she was certainly a sight for sore eyes; there are always consequences to these matters. Consequences that are paid in full now or at a later date. And for the first time in his life since Apotheosis, he does not know where this path would lead.

In the end, it is not for him to decide this. As Xun said: Tiphereth is the master of her destiny now. A sobering thought. Yes, Shaw liked that notion very much. It caused a cheeky smile to spread across the countenance. The grime-stained, gloved hand touched the edge of his helmet. For a moment, reprieve. Harmony. Forgetting those pesky troublesome presumptions. Reservations for resurrections aside, Shaw found a belief that resonated with him even if he gave a stern critique. And he knew intimately that Tiph would've accepted to return; an instinctual feeling.

There was still time before they had arrived on the Polaris, Shaw saw fit to cannibalize his jacket for spare parts. His hands ripped through the tear-resistant fibers. The internal circuitry and micro-components were garbled into a mesh of wires, broken bits, and plasteel caps. He cobbled together a fidget toy that produced an electric arc to pass the time. It is a crude creation, but could also deliver a shock capable of stunning a normal organic. Only useful for time-wasting and hobbyism. Though engineering should've never become a hobby, he finds he rearranges internal organs rather than mechanical components these days.

The Nightcrawler screeched to a halt in the Polaris' docking bay. Shaw stands up, picking up the tatters of his jacket. Shaw noticed Chomp retrieving Tiphereth's corpse in the stasis pod, modified by the auxiliary to fit onto his massive frame. Good, if Nexian had wanted them to hide the fact that an operator perished then secluding them from sight would be the best course. Shaw possessed a similar idea. The bliss of the moment passed, his mind reclining to darker thoughts. If she does return, will she be damaged? Nexian appeared to suffer from certain psychological frailties that Shaw suspected to be induced. Whether it was because of his traumatic experience with Xun's retrieval or because of his death, Shaw could not tell. Which circles his mind back to Tiph.

He stops that line of thinking when the Caravan Commander asks Mavi to explain their situation. Chomp had been quicker on the draw.

Shaw departed from the Nightcrawler with the others, he intended to give a report directly to the Commander until Chomp pulled him aside.


The only response from Shaw was a nod from his head. Before approaching the Commander and the others waiting for them. He explained in an austere, formal tone. No detail, save for that which could incriminate them of Tiphereth's apparent demise, was left out of his report. In the years since his transcendence, he had become quite adept at lying through his teeth. It helped that his mask, the ghul-star, unnerved most people. Even the slightest crack in attention could be abused for a lie, small or large. He heard out their words, replied to any question then excused himself.

He gets tired as well, a simple walk would do wonders. A few stares did not bother him. Shaw dumped his tatters into a filthy disposal unit before arriving home. A long and cold shower awaited him. The icy water was like a fire upon his pale face. It felt good, it washed away the stains of time and battle. But he did not linger. He left as quickly as he entered, throwing on a long sleeved shirt and cargo pants in place of his routine attire.

He did not remain home, instead he traveled to a destination that he had been before. The Cat Shack Saloon. Where he met with Tiphereth and Chomp on that one odd occasion. The choice in locale had not been because of preference, he preferred to peruse his own watering holes. The decision was born out of Chomp's preference for it. He would call the auxiliary to meet him here. But instead felt a presence shadowing him. Swiveling around, Shaw saw nothing but ordinary people staring at him. "Déjà vu."

A peck of surprise found him when he spotted Solline sitting alone on her phone. Scrolling like before in the Nightcrawler.

"Hello, Solline." Said Shaw in a light, inviting tone. Not the renowned Hiberus whisper, but it imbued a clarity even through the commotion. His mask did not project that terrible visage as well. It was now that the regular patrons noticed Shaw's presence around Solline's, a few of them groaned. He is not fondly remembered since his last foyer into this place. He cannot rightly blame them. Unlike Chomp who regularly invested into this establishment, Shaw is closely associated with Tiph who pulled a gun on their favourite customer and scared another away. Still a paying customer, one with a mildly heated reputation, won't be denied service. "Order anything?"


*Gears turning*
Roleplay Type(s)
Screen Shot 2022-10-18 at 9.22.02 PM.png
Solline Nova
Interactions: Shaw ( Worthlessplebian Worthlessplebian )

It took a while to finally find the article she was looking for, on account of the dramatic increase of articles on the net after the quake in comparison with the last time she checked, but it was definitely an... interesting read to say the least. Solline sighed. Just how drunk was she to pull a gun in a middle of a crowded saloon? Before her thought processes could have the chance to wander back to the state of the albino operator, the atmosphere in the building suddenly shifted. Looking around revealed that most of the patrons had turned their attention towards the entrance of the building. She heard a familiar voice greet her, accompanied by the groans of several patrons around her.

She wordlessly turned to look at Shaw, who then asked her if she had ordered anything. "No. Well, not yet anyways." Putting down her phone face down on the table. "I kind of want to enjoy whatever off time we have sober for a bit before I get myself blackout drunk. Besides, I'm not familiar with this place or its menu. You on the other hand..." She took a pause, looking around at the patrons around them, a few of which were still starting at the duo, mostly at Shaw but some directed at Solline as well. She gave those patrons a glare that was the embodiment of the phrase 'what the hell are you looking at,' causing them to return to their drinks, food, and whatnot before turning back to Shaw herself. "I guess hanging around a psycho that pulls a gun in a public saloon carries with it a certain reputation, huh?" Solline went silent for a bit after uttering that last statement. Her mind wandered to what Xun had said about Tiphereth having a choice and wondering what she would choose, but only for a moment before she shook the thought off. It wasn't her decision to make, so why was she spending so much time fretting over it? They're probably going to find out the outcome of that decision soon enough anyways, so the blonde changed the subject. "Well, anyways, what about you?" Having given her answer to his question, she figured it was appropriate to return it. "You gonna order anything?"

Lucius Cypher

Delicious Friend


Interacting with: Tiphereth ( BnemonicDevice BnemonicDevice ), Solline ( Clockwork_Magic Clockwork_Magic ), Shaw ( Worthlessplebian Worthlessplebian )

Chomp had already cleared out from the area and was on his way back to his room when he felt some shaking on his back. At first he did not pay too much mind, thinking that it was just the life support dying faster than expected. But then he heard some banging from the inside and went into a large alley to remove the stasis pod and opening it up. Inside of Tiphereth, alive and well. Despite being pronounced dead hours ago and having all of the apotheosis fluid leaving her body, she seemed... Okay. But Chomp had many questions for her. Wondering if she was truly still alright. But he didn't ask. He simply gave Tiphereth some water he had on him, and left her in that alley way to figure out what to do with her life now. He said nothing as he continued on his way to his Science Team to drop off his equipment, request a new rocket back, and report some combat data. It was a short and routine conversation that Chomp finished in a few minutes. Afterwards he had a lot of time on his hands. So he did what he always did in his spare time: Visit the Cat Shack Saloon.

In the Cat Shack Saloon, the bar's band gathered together for another performance. Business was slow, so they had little choice but to play a gig at their usual place. It was popular enough, though recently folks have stayed away due to some bad rep about GPO's fighting there. It invited the wrong kind of crowd, the sort that came looking for trouble instead of good music and tunes. But on the other hand, maybe it'll invite more GPO's too. The front man of the band went through the usual pattern of thanking those who were here before playing their opening song. They always played something somber to start with, to get people chilled out before they would play more upbeat songs. It was serendipity that Chomp happened to enter as soon as they started playing. Unlike with the previous two GPO's, Chomp hardly garnered anyone's stares. At this point he was such a regular here that his appearance was literally clockwork: his table was already prepared with his usual drink of choice, along with a plate of flan. There was something to say about enjoying the scheduled normalcy, after the insanity that Chomp had gone through the past day or so.

As the metal behemoth moved over to his disgnated table, a dark-haired man with a limp walked over to where Solline and Shaw were seated at the bar. "Afternoon. What can we get you two started with? We got fresh Shell Citrus Soda if you want something sweet and bubbly, or we can get you some Wormbus Sweat on the rocks. The house signature." As the bartender, Ryo, spoke, a small sife cat girl was already hard at work busing tables, taking orders, and zipping around the bar with people's orders. After the music started and drinks were dispensed, it seemed like folks who were frosty to the GPO's presence began to eventually relax, if only for their own sake. It wasn't as if they could actually do anything about them, if they were to cause trouble. Solline and Shaw were presented with laminated menus that had a large array of drinks and cocktails, as well as some pub food. Most of it various forms of fried protein meat alternatives in the form of burgers, sausages, or meat pies. Tasty enough to make you forget you're technically just eating vegetables. But there were also synth meat at a higher cost, but they had some of the finest synth meat on this level of the residential district. Fish and chips, BBQ ribs, and sirloin steaks. Thanks to the genius of the saloon's resident food scientist, the meat looked real enough that you might think it was still alive. A bowl of salted popcorn was given to both Solline and Shaw by the cat-sife. "Enjoy!"


Literal No One
Roleplay Type(s)
Every muscle in Nor's body ached from today's training.

Each time her brain commanded her body to move, the responses to those commands were sluggish, and very much full of complaint in the form of pain and aches.

Was training THIS hard really that necessary?

"We are Sifes, Nor. One night of sleep with some nocturnal stimulant and you'll be chipper by the time you wake up in eight hours. But you already know that."

Of course, Nor knew that. This was the hellish life she had been thrust into. The seemingly endless cycle of train, train, train, and more training. Nor liked the days of simple book learning and listening to her Template, Sinnora's lectures. But, that old bag had came up with the incredibly cruel 'streamlined option' of performing lectures while doing physical training!

This was really hard!
Why did it need to be so difficult!?

They were already in a comfy abode towards the top of Polaris. Sinnora had enough money to live cozily. Nor didn't HAVE to go on the profitable yet dangerous missions! She could just get a normal job!

A portion prepper, a courier, ideally someone who just sat at a desk all day. Oh a desk, that would be such a dream... but no. Nor had to go outside of the comfort of the Polaris and brave the substantially dangerous and hostile outside world.


The answer to that was simple.
The reason why she was subject to the desires of her original template, who had no qualms about exerting their will over what they had paid for.
Nor's purpose... Sinnora's wish.

All this hard work would've made a non-operator puke ten times over.

Nor Clyde
Indirect Interactions: Lucius Cypher Lucius Cypher
Mentions: Clockwork_Magic Clockwork_Magic Worthlessplebian Worthlessplebian BnemonicDevice BnemonicDevice


Nor's shoulders heaved over the toilet as her body purged itself of the overabundance of alcohol it had consumed. It was pretty irresponsible for her to be drinking this much. In fact, she never really drank that much at all. Tending to prefer things more sweet and smooth. But, at this moment, the ability to numb the whirling emotions in her head were worth the price of causing another chaotic sort of whirling in the depths of her stomach.

What a pitiful sight she was. Nor could mentally see herself right now. Leaning against a bar toilet bowl, just waiting for her body to decide it wanted to have another round of heaving it's contents back out.

Why did that errant healer have to be the one to help her earlier? Why did she have to be the one to die? Why did she have to die while being extracted by Nor? This whole idiotic setup was just the right formula to make the otherwise apathetic Nor give a damn. More than she ever had before. Death wasn't anything new to the comparatively young operator. She'd seen teammates and other operators die before. It was unfortunate, but ultimately part of the risks of the dangerous line of work that was being an operator. But, this was the first time she had ever cared. Nor hated it.

She kept on thinking over and over again at how if she had just done one thing differently.... just one single thing, then Tiphereth's death could've been avoided.
The operator couldn't wrap her head around the anguish she was feeling. Of all the things that Sinnora had taught her, this wasn't one of them.

Again, the muscles in her stomach lurched as it tried to squeeze out more of it's contents out of the distressed operator.
Just how much liquid did her her stomach hold? Damn it!

Spitting some residuals into the bowl. Nor smiled at her own foolishness. She had made right for the bar, not even stopping to bring some acquaintances along. She was going to need to stare in the mirror for a bit. Long enough for her slower metabolism (for an operator) to work out the rest of the alcohol in her system. So, flushing a few times, she stepped out over the unconscious body of another female-type operator who dared to criticize Nor's capacity to get alcohol poisoning and taking her sweet time puking in the only available stall.

Washing her face, fixing her messy hair... Nor stared at herself in the mirror and began breathing exercises. Steady and deep. Her metabolism as an operator was poor, but she was still an operator. Her body would be able to work through the rest of the alcohol in about 30 minutes or so if she was remembering correctly.

The time passed. While the ill effects of the alcohol wore off, the negative feelings Nor had did not subside along with that alcohol.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that she immediately encountered her last mission 'team' right in the very same bar right as she exited the restroom. Chomp. Solline. Hiberius even.
She didn't visually see them - but her head bangles still safely attached to her head are still calibrated to keep track of their positions. They had pinged into view while Nor was recuperating in front of the sink. Nor had decided, as she stared at herself there in the bathroom, that the only reason that things went south was because she was paired up with an Unlucky crowd. It was best to avoid them from now on, probably. In any case though, it was probably a good idea to pay up her tab before heading out, considering how much she indulged away into the toilet just now.

Nor walked up over to one of the free attendants and paid off her immediate debts. The whole 'drink your problems away' thing was not working out of her, and she was not planning to go through this adventure again.

"Oh and, you see that metal guy over there eating the flan? Go ahead and put his meal today on my account. I owe him."

The attendant understood.
Chomp was probably able to make mountains of bullets without a sweat but Nor felt like she should at least show some appreciation for the help, even with a small gesture like this. In any case, she needed to make her exit before any of her former team flagged her down. That would be very awkward after all that had happened.


Worthless pleb
Hiberus Shaw, Phobos Itself
Interactions: Lucius Cypher Lucius Cypher Clockwork_Magic Clockwork_Magic Mentions: BnemonicDevice BnemonicDevice ;

Pulling up a chair opposite of Solline, Shaw sat down. He planned to immediately digitize a message to Chomp, only to decide against it with Solline here. It would not take Shaw's infamous amnesiac-precognition to know the Auxil's habitual routines. After their excursion onto the platform, the Phobos user dug around the Polaris network to educate himself on the GPO's present. It was not the only method that he would use to gather information; next was stalking them! Unfortunately, he hadn't gotten around to that part yet. The atmosphere, the stares, and nascent thoughts impressed themselves on Shaw like droplets of water on an exposed back. You know they are there, but ultimately? An annoyance. Solline, on the other foot, had an interesting reaction with an aggrieved glare of her own.

"I understand and contrary to my visits, I am not all that familiar." Shaw lightly motions with a hand towards the rest of Saloon. "With this place, I mean. Not my preferred watering hole." A dry, ice-tinged chuckle, uncharacteristic and unseemly, escaped from the monolithic murderer. The patrons closest felt an arctic grip on their spine as hairs stood on end. "Oh, that. Unremarkable, though in their eyes probably not. I know what you thought when you first heard or read about the incident. How drunk was she?" Shaw crossed a leg, pulling out that cobbled fidget toy that produced sparks whenever you strike it with your thumb. He thought back to that day, a hidden smile underneath his helm. "Very much so, more so than her usual self. You see we, Tiph, Chomp and I, began philosophizing about our world. Laid our beliefs bare, discussed them then hammered critiques into them. All that culminated into Tiph attempting to frighten or elicit a reaction out of Chomp by pulling her gun at him. After that I escorted a half-sober Tiphereth to her domicile and my memory of that day ends there, what happened next is open to... Interpretation." Vague at the end, but succinctly put about what actually happened that day.

A limping man offered them a choice between drinks, Shaw contemplated only to decide on: "Actually, I'll take a Corpse Reviver, number one." He then looked to Solline. "Too soon? She would've loved it. Or will love it anyway." A lurid, private joke between him and the sniper.

"I intended to meet Chomp at this place, it is his favourite after all to ask..." Shaw turns his head at the sound of familiar thuds through the music's overlapping acoustic layer. "Speak of the Devil and he doth appear." Spotting the auxiliary eating a plate of flan just as before. He looked to Solline, tapping the side of his helmet, producing an audible ping as he sent a message to the hungry intelligence.

["In the Saloon, Tiph's status?"]

Message sent, now he waits. He expects Chomp to see him or text him back almost immediately anyway.


Hit Me!
Nero Argent "Janus"
Location: Polaris Residential Sector
Interactions: No one

After that crazy earthquake that happened, many GPO's were on call in case anything happened because of it. Even if they don't know the exact cause, usually when something like that happens it's always followed by a swarm of machines coming out to raise hell. Fortunately for the Polaris, Nero had come back from a caravan job. It was positively boring since beyond a few sightings, the entire trip was done quickly and safely. While Nero can't hate a job well done, she did feel pretty useless. So being told to help clear out some errant machines was a big mood booster for the battle-hungry GPO. Though swarms of carriers and wormbus' were hardly much of a challenge to her, even alone. Still it was something to shoot at, and when the job was done, she certainly didn't mind harvesting some juicy wormbus meat for herself.

A little culling got the blood pumping even if it wasn't that much of a challenge. This would have to satisfy Nero for now, plus she was starving. They've been eating nothing but travel rations for the past few days and despite all the artificial flavoring they put into it, that stuff just didn't taste the same as some machine meat. And since they never fought anything, they couldn't hunt either, so Nero was really looking forward to putting this on the barbie. Heading back inside the Polaris, Nero also got updated about another caravan that just came in. Seems like they showed up after the earthquake but no worse for ware. Maybe this quake was nothing after all. Doesn't seem like anything major came from it. Though Nero hoped to find their GPO's and ask about their journey anyways, it's bound to be way more exciting then her last job.

Nero went into the residential sector near her home. Even though it was crowded and loud, Nero liked the company. The folks who lived at her boarding house were nice enough without being a bunch of sycophants: A lot of them are older and experienced workers who knew to be honest with Nero. Plus they knew how to grill up a mean wormbus. Not only that but her home was right next to a park. It wasn't a very big on, barely 1000 square feet, but it had a little gazebo, a playground for kids, and some artificial turf to make it safe to play on the ground. It was here that most folks at the boarding house met up, eat, and relax when they aren't working or at school. Nero showed up with some wormbus meat and the folks there were eager to help cook them up. They'll have a wormbus boil with corn and potatoes, plus lots of pepper. Soon a delicious smoky aroma wafted from the park as Nero played with some children while the parents cooked. She used her GP to create portals that sent the kids flying into the air, before catching them in another portal and eventually slowing them down enough to safely catch and put on the ground.

"Great job kids! Keep this up and one day, you'll be a GPO too!"


please curb my ham ham pang pangs

. . . *CLANK* *Squeeeak* *thud*

Tiphereth tumbled out of the stasis chamber Chomp had made for her, trying to pull herself together, solemnly accepting the water they offered her. She pushed herself off the ground, and before she could say a word, the mechanized unit was already far away.

Her legs felt weak, and several days of tense muscles due to rigor mortis came to her instantly. White-and-red sparks seared through her thighs, and she performed a firework show with every step.

Those red sparks brought back the recent memory of her strangling that white blob, ghost? Maybe the word apparition was more her vocabulary level. She could feel her legs slowly work their way back into being functional limbs. However, she noticed that it was taking too long for her to return to some homeostasis.

She tried to lean up against a building's wall, limping through the residential sector. Still, when she reached the corner of a block, she nearly collapsed, her nascent combat instincts conjuring up the same blade she manifested in the chasm, a Zweihander that became her walking cane. Her eyes found a suitable target, a park bench--, meant for her to sit down and rest.

She dragged her feet, step by step, in the direction, sinking into the wooden bench and reclining her back. She probably didn't have enough energy to go home just yet-- so for now; she'll enjoy the serenity of simulated wilderness in an urban environment--

"Great job kids! Keep this up one day, and you'll be a GPO too!"

Her face quirked in displeasure at finally registering her surroundings. Tiphereth can't catch a break now, can she?

Norschtalen Norschtalen

Code written by: Pyosimros


*Gears turning*
Roleplay Type(s)
Screen Shot 2022-10-18 at 9.22.02 PM.png
Solline Nova
Interactions (Solline): Shaw ( Worthlessplebian Worthlessplebian )
Interactions (Vesta): Nero ( Norschtalen Norschtalen ), Tiphereth ( BnemonicDevice BnemonicDevice )

Solline's eyes tracked Shaw as the masked figure took the seat opposite of her and sat down while she reclined back in her own chair, crossing her arms as she did so. The blonde sat still in that position as Shaw recounted the incident in question after rhetorically asking the exact question that was on Solline's mind when she read the article. Philosophy, huh? I guess it shouldn't be that surprising coming from a psychologist, psycho or not, but Chomp too? Didn't have him figured as the type to discuss those kinds of things.

A bit perplexed at the vagueness at the end of Shaw's story, Solline was about to press him further on that point when a dark haired bartender approached them and offered to get them started. She looked down at the menu she was presented as Shaw ordered a Corpse Reviver, which earned the masked man a bit of a prolonged glare from the blonde before he turned to look at her after placing his order and made a follow up remark. "'Will?'" His use of that word had her a bit confused. However, realizing that it was now her turn to order, Solline shook off the inquiry for the time being, cleared her throat and turned to the bartender. "Yea, I'll have a Wormbus Sweat on the rocks for a drink and..." Her voice trailed off as the sudden onset of a tapping sound distracted her, quickly glancing at the source of the sound sitting across from her. "...an order of fish and chips too." A ping sound cut through the music being played by the saloon's band as she finished ordering and turned back to Shaw.

"Well..." She started, returning back to the topic of the saloon's incident a few days ago. "I guess I could see drunks getting into a philosophical discourse, though I don't see how that'd lead to her pointing a gun at Chomp of all people. She trying to see if he feels emotion or something?" She let out a sigh and paused for a split second before continuing. "A bit much for that though, not like it would even do anything to Chomp with that heavy armor of his. Besides, he may be metal and hardware, but does the fact that he's not flesh and blood necessarily equate he's not capable at feeling the same emotions as orga- er... non-hardware based people?" She looked over where Chomp was sitting, who was in the process of eating a flan several times smaller than him. "I'd say not. A person's a person whether they're flesh and blood, metal and hardware, organic... or artificial."

"This is bullshit!" The voice of a man filled the crowded briefing room, startling a few of his fellow colleagues in uniform, whom looked like they were about to pass out from exhaustion right there and then. "You expect me to still do an afternoon right after you forced the graveyard shift onto me right before my morning rounds?!" "It's just to make everything is in order after the quake, Office-" "Cut the crap! I'm going home!" The room fell silent for a few moments after the young man stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. The silence was broken when another officer, a red eyed aesthetically female series, raised her hand. "Yes, Officer Nova?" "I could take his shift, sir." Her offer garnered a few surprised glances from her sleep deprived colleagues before getting a response from her superior. "By all means, please do. Now, if no one else has any comments, you're all dismissed!"

Several dozen minutes after the briefing was over, Vesta began to make the rounds she had volunteered to do which took her to a somewhat familiar part of the residential sector, sometimes coming to this part of the sector to do some grocery shopping in a commercial area. Walk home from here shouldn't be too bad. Oh, right! I need ingredients for curry tonight! Could use wormbus meat for a change, that'd be nice! Those 3 would- She cut off the thought, a soft, slightly sad expression formed on her face. Right...

After a while of walking, Vesta regained her usual composed and stoic officer facade and reached a small park, where the aroma of an ongoing outdoor barbecue filled the air. "Great job kids! Keep this up and one day, you'll be a GPO too!" Turning her attention to the source of the voice, she saw what appeared to be a heavily augmented GPO playing with some children. Vesta smiled a bit as she approached the GPO. "Good to see everything's going well around here, ma'am!" She placed a hand over the middle of her chest, right next to the name tag on her uniform that read "V. Nova." "Officer Nova, pleasure to meet you. If there's anything I can help with, let me know!" As she finished her self introduction, another figure on one of the park benches caught her attention, her appearance giving Vesta a bit of concern. Well, it was her duty to check if everything was in order. "Sorry, excuse me for a moment." As she got closer to the figure on the bench, the state of her apparel made Vesta assume that she probably was involved in some sort of fight. "Excuse me, ma'am? Are you alright? Do you need medical attention?"


Hit Me!
Nero Argent "Janus"
Location: Polaris Residential Sector
Interactions: BnemonicDevice BnemonicDevice Clockwork_Magic Clockwork_Magic

As Nero was moving between entertaining the kids and helping the adults with the cooking, she noticed a newcomer to the park. A white-haired woman that Nero felt like she recognizes, but couldn't quite place. She also seemed in some sort of daze and carrying a sword. "Must be a GPO. Was she part of that group who were still out during the quake?" She didn't seem like trouble but you can never really tell with this GPO's. And then Nero realized where she saw this woman: She was on the news! The white-haired woman started a barfight in the residential area after pulling a gun out on another GPO. Lots of people ran away though ultimately no one got hurt. Still Nero was wary that this woman was going to try and pull another stunt like that here. Though she also seemed hurt. Was she drinking recently? Must've been something real powerful if it could affect a GPO. Nero knows she's always up to experiment with shady cocktails, but this wasn't the place to chase that buzz.

Before Nero could go talk to the lady however, a security officer showed up. "Ah, hello officer. Nero Argent, thanks for stopping by." Shortly after the officer introduced herself as Nova and went to go talk to the Silver-Haired GPO. Worried that the stranger might do something, Nero approached. She didn't have her CZ53 equipped, she still had her Janus, which should be more than enough if something happens. "Howdy there miss, beg pardon but you look exhausted. I could set you up a place to rest in boarding house. It's a bit loud out here what with the kids and all."


Worthless pleb
Hiberus Shaw, Phobos Itself
Interactions: Clockwork_Magic Clockwork_Magic Mentions: Same as before ;

The masked man rubbed the end of his fingernails while Solline glared incendiary rounds into him for that odious joke with the beverage. Then stopped when the blonde sniper ordered her drink, taking time to send out that message of his. The engineer crossed a leg over another, then waited patiently for either Chomp to answer him or the crackshot sitting across him. One of them would answer and would prove vastly more entertaining to him.

And indeed, Solline rose up to the occasion by continuing the conversation of the incident. Shaw nodded just off-beat with the music, but in reality becoming engrossed with the sniper's thoughts laid bare on the table. He paused for a moment to digest them then answer. "Yes, her goal had been to produce an emotion. Anything, really. Fear, surprise, happiness, sadness. As for how effective the calibre of her gun would've been, that isn't entirely pertinent to her aims. For all we know she could've drawn her clipboard and threatened to jab it into his core. Shaw dismissed the wounding notion with a flick of his hand. "You see..." A wisp of wind whipped through the filters and cartridges of Shaw's mask, hissing eerily. "we, the non-hardware people, possess micro-expressions that subconsciously betray how our emotions affect us or even the very thoughts we think through our faces and body movement. Chomp and, by extension, the auxiliaries do not, necessarily anyway. Their thought patterns or how they're constituted is nigh-alien to another and entirely alien to us." A pause in his speech to allow Solline to understand. "What Tiph attempted to do was not just make Chomp feel an emotion, but to express an emotion. This is my conclusions, operating within current hindsight."

"I agree with you, through anecdotal experience." The waiter finally delivered Shaw's Corpse Reviver, Solline's Fish'n'Chips and the Wormbus Sweat on the rocks. Shaw took the glass by the neck, before his mask's mouth piece clicked open and he took a drink. "I didn't figure you for liking it on the minerals." Pointing with an extended finger to the ice in her drink.

Cresion Breezes

Beta Tester of Life


Captain Valarie’s Conference Records - Incident 115 Follow-Up

“Umm..Hello, uh, Captain Valarie, sir?” A white haired young man nervously looked at a candid and seemingly apathetic woman sitting behind a heavy darksteel desk. This was the top sector of Polaris, one of the mostly off limit areas, the Captain’s office. It was admittingly a lot less impressive than what the boy had imagined, the Solaris navigation council’s parliament halls and offices were always massive, and according to the rumours the captain of the Polaris was only more absorbed in her own power. The actual office itself however, seemed almost too unassuming, with some rather bristly or even crusty carpet and a desk with corners that seemed unpolished and chipped away at for decades. A few couches was laid around the office along with a few boxes holding unknown stuff, they were spread out without much consideration for interior design as if they were just propped on whatever available space there was. Most strangely, a child laid on one of the couches playing on some sort of handheld gaming device, seeming as apathetic as the Captain herself. The boy instinctively shielded his companion, a dark haired series standing behind him a bit and looked at the child.

The woman sighed and rubbed her dark wine coloured eyes beneath her glasses, her demeanor of apathy quickly gave away into exhaustion. She didn’t look like she wanted be here, but likely not due to whoever was standing in front of her, she just didn’t like this in general. “No need to be too formal, I’m not into that stuff anyways, Operator Allore.” The supposedly all mighty captain of the Polaris stretched out of her desk before adding, “Or Nexian, I should try to follow my own word. And don’t mind her.” She gestured at the child on the couch. “You can say this is just how we do things on Polaris.”

“Ah, thank you. It’s just that…” The young man in question still averted his gaze despite the atmosphere loosening up slightly. “...I’ve never…talked to anyone really important before.” He kept his head down and kicked the crusty carpet a bit, it actually stirred up dust. It really went against his impression of Captain Vinn Valorie that Solaris has bred in him, the supposed tyrant of Polaris who rules over everything upon the ship.

“My job is to pilot this vessel, nothing more, and nothing less. Anything beyond that is overtime.” The words were once again quite casual, but the Captain returned to a more serious tone. "Now, I believe you’re here about…what is it again?” She scrolled on the various holoscreens around the desk, searching for something.

“The Asushumanir Ethics Council. Captain.” Nexian replied, cutting off the other’s bored looking searching spree.

“Right. I have to organize that don’t I.” The Captain sighed again, her scrolling through search results slowed down as she seems to be reading something now. “Well, that might not happen for a while.” She added, as she said this Xun poked their head out from beside Nexian’s back and looked at the woman, their eyes seem to be glimmering.

“According to the remaining data you and your companion have managed to recover, the analysis department has formulated a fairly possible hypothesis.” The content of the screens was projected onto the wall nearby, there was no specific setup for a projector. It was some sort of 3D rendering that Nexian recognized partially as his now destroyed outpost.

“It appears that Outpost 115 was built right on the cusp of an ecology-class hostile machine, it was dormant, however once it became activated for unknown reasons it was more than capable of tearing our structures to shreds. The subsequent seismic activities and the activation of nearby machines were also likely due to the awakening of this ecology-class.”

Neither of the survivors of the incident responded, only looking at the recreated data of what once had been a part of their lives.

“Once the course of the Polaris approaches the ecology-class in due time, we will be launching a full-scale raid. And thus the matter of the Asushunamir Ethics Council will need to be put on hold for the time being. You two are free to go, spread this information or not, it doesn’t matter, it will be announced to the public soon anyways. I just felt like you two should know, or else I wouldn’t have gotten out of bed for this meeting anyways.” The Captain yawned and stretched out, seeming distracted and scrolling something else now.

“Thank you, Captain…Vinn? Me and Xun-uh, I mean, Xun and I will make sure to do our best in the raid too.” Nexian said, still a bit unsure but much more confident than before.

“Oh yeah.” Vinn seems to be enlarging something on her screen as her brows furrowed a bit while reading it. “Make sure to take care of your…friend? The 35th Asushunamir over there.” She gestured towards Xun. “The 34th gen Asushunamir was also transferred to Polaris once in the past, that was some time before I was captain though, and something…unfortunate happened to them while they were here. I must leave it as that, to spare you the details, they're not something anyone should know about.”


“Really? That was it?” Nexian sounded quite annoyed and partly angry as he walked down one of the hallways in the top sector’s governmental compound. “And I started to think she was nice! Of course important people are always hiding this and that, they're all the same up there.” He grumbled a bit more, obviously not happy with just getting some nebulous warning about something bad happening to the previous Asushunamir operator without any details.

“...I wasn’t officially in the Asushunamir program for as long as others, but…I’ve never heard of anything like that.” Xun quietly added. “There was never any mention of anything bad happening to the 34th, to us 35th candidates at least. As far as we knew, the 34th was the model Asushunamir operator, no one even knew how they became so perfect…”

“Hmph.” Nexian crossed his arms, “it was probably covered up, considering the way they treat you guys is…Ah, sorry.” He fell silent soon after the sentence trailed off.

“It’s alright. I’ve grown to accept it, or well, I was grown to accept it better than most.” Xun said in the same quiet and unemotive voice as they looked out of the building’s windows into the bright blue-pink soft dawn sky. They smiled and even gave a small laugh. “Besides, there’s no council in charge of me for now, so I get to do what I want for a bit, right? It’ll be nice, getting to know Polaris…and living life in general I guess.”



After shooing out the two survivors of 115, Vinn Valerie sat back in her chair and let out an exhausted sigh. “I knew I didn’t want to get up for this today.” She said as she threw off the stuffy suit jacket and the dark red tie embroidered with the sigil of the Polaris High Council, it seems to be a clip on tie.

“Would you really call what happened to that 34th Asushunamir ‘unfortunate’?” The child that was curled up on the couch asked, still seemingly engrossed in her handheld game’s screen, though her hand motions indicated that what she was looking at is likely not a game. “It seems kind of like the best outcome for everyone…well, everyone except for-”

“Now now, remember ‘the preservation of humanity-’”

“‘-is not just the preservation of flesh.’” The adult cut off the child only to have her sentence finished for her as the child added more. “But reviving the dead is kind of different, isn’t it? Or maybe there’s no difference, who knows.”

“...Yeah, who knows. It's not my job to figure that out,"

"My job is to pilot this vessel, nothing more, and nothing less."


At the corner of the park sat a rather disheveled-looking man, he had strange ash violet hair with matching eyes…or eye. One of his eyes was also the same violet tone, while the other was more of a dull green with a violet limbal ring, dressed in a white lab coat akin to a doctor or researcher. He looked at the park while scribbling something in a notebook he was holding. It was quite unusual indeed, it wasn’t even a digital notebook with a handwriting tablet function, it was an honest-to-goodness paper notebook. One that didn’t back up anything you wrote and could be burned away without a trace by a single electrical spark. Some artificial greenhouses made these things as a novelty, it wasn’t so uncommon it would straight up turn-heads, but it was something for a niche audience nonetheless.

The man’s odd eyes were draped in a strange melancholy for anyone who would approach him, although he looked quite young there was a sense of weariness to him. GPOs. Older GPOs, despite their youthful appearance often had a peculiar aura to them that allows others to tell their true age, especially other GPOs. Some of them hide it better than others, but this man clearly made no effort to hide it at all.

He looked up at the park ground for a moment before scribbling more down in his notebook, on the other side of his line of sight was a familiar face. One of the members of the expeditions that have just returned, more specifically, the one that “returned” from more than just the mission. Tiphereth, one that was reborn through the power of Asushunamir.

Private Notes of Dr. Levin P. Churchland

It was good that I didn’t go back to the lab directly.

I didn’t expect the 35th to be on it, the 35th had a stage 4 with them too.
Very valuable, alive stage 4, rare.

Also stage 0 subject developing. (GPO) Break in memory is clear, deep coma or death likely.

Regeneration factor: unknown
Degree of recovery indicates: [Something is scribbled out]
Degree of memory break: 80% chance of clinical death occurring

Signs of being subjected to the 35th’s abilities.
No long term observations possible.

Current: physical/mental deterioration, unconfirmed related to Genesis Syndrome
Suggest to keep on observing

Stage 0 - non-symptomatic

Possible treatments
Only suggest treatment if symptomatic*

*Condition/potential death of particular GPO was unreported (<-problematic for proceeding)

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please curb my ham ham pang pangs

The albino Psychologist took a deep breath in. If she counted correctly, there were a bunch of screaming children, two other women trying to see what was up, and a guy looking suspiciously at her from the corner of her eye.

She meekly clasped her arm around her sword, trying to clench as tightly as possible before she willed it out of existence again. It disintegrated into a pinkish, reddish light before being reabsorbed into her body. She picked up her legs off the ground, crossing them on the park bench, trying to keep as much of herself to herself.

"...I wouldn't bother calling for it if I were you. I don't intend to have a metric ton of painkillers injected into me tonight, especially given that it's ineffective to those in the line of fire." she deadpanned. Yet, a curt smile formed on her lips even as she lay there, writhing in electric pain of an unknown origin. "I appreciate your concern--" she tilted her head towards what was a fellow Operator; no average civilian willingly had that many cybernetic enhancements on them.

"Besides, they already discharged me after the previous expedition to the Outer Layer. I've overexerted myself; even having the pinnacle of a regeneration factor is barely keeping me functioning," she continued to meander. "But I would appreciate a shoulder to lean on as I stagger myself back home" a wry, coy smile formed on her lips, masking her inner torment.

But, even as she put on airs, her right arm had visible electricity flowing through it; lightning currents sparked down from her shoulder to her fingertips. Her sympathetic nervous system immediately caused her to clasp at it, biting her lip as she winced. In the back of her mind, she could hear a faint murmur from someone other than herself, trying to say something. . .

Norschtalen Norschtalen Clockwork_Magic Clockwork_Magic

Code written by: Pyosimros

Lucius Cypher

Delicious Friend


Interacting with: Solline ( Clockwork_Magic Clockwork_Magic ), Shaw ( Worthlessplebian Worthlessplebian )

As Chomp was eating his meal he received a message from Shaw asking about Tiph's status. His message was fairly short and written in regular letters. "She chose life. I gave her some water. She likely doesn't want to be questioned about what happened, so I left her alone." Chomp had no doubts that Shaw would want to continue this investigation himself. He seemed to be closer to Tiph considering their interaction last time they were in this bar, so Chomp would give Shaw the coordinates of the stasis pod he had left Tiph in. Chomp wasn't sure if she was still there, but in her current state the auxiliary doubts she could've gone far. For a moment he wondered if perhaps he should've stayed to attend to her, but he internally justified that he lacked the proper knowledge to deal with the psychological trauma of death and resurrection. Anything he would say likely would only drive Tiph further into the depths of madness, more so as he was present when she died. In a way, Chomp felt somewhat guilty. He should've noticed that she had died earlier. However he did not dwell on it for long as he drank his Citrus Soda. Chomp did what he had to do, and Tiph went out of her way to kill herself. Her death was ultimately her own making, and Chomp had little to do to prevent that. Hopefully a second chance at life would give Tiph motivation to be less reckless... Otherwise, she was a problem who was going to sort itself out sooner or later.

Chomp's peace was soon disturbed however. A blond woman walked to his table. Unlike most who approached Chomp with fear and apprehension, this woman looked stern, confident, and fearless. She carried a weapon that Chomp feared more than any gun: she had a clipboard with a pen. "God Program Operator Chomp, my name is Retsu Asahi, Journalist for The Web. I understand that you just came back from a mission. I have some questions for you." Chomp wasn't sure if he should run or fight. Certainly, he could easily ignore this woman and overpower her. But she also introduced herself as an Asahi, which was the family who owned this establishment. If he harmed her, he would no doubt never be allowed back here. He was truly trapped. Seeing no other option, he motioned for another drink or four and looked to the pale blond. "ASK YOUR QUESTIONS."

Meanwhile Ryo would get Solline and Shaw's order ready. The drinks he was able to mix easily enough, and his wife received the orders to start cooking. When the order was ready, the cat-sife would stop by to delivery the food and drinks to the two GPO, chatting them up a little bit as well. "Nyahallo! You two talking about the big guy? You know he normally isn't really much of a talker! Usually he just tells us what he wants and pays for it. A good customer, but not much of a chatterbot." Despite being half of Solline's height, the smaller girl was somehow able to lean on the countertop and continued to chat with the two GPO's. She looked to Shaw with a hint of mischievousness. "When you and your girlfriend came to the saloon, that was the most any of us has ever heard him speak! This might be hard to believe what with folks turning away from your all scared like, but the people in the saloon actually like the GPOs, and we'd love to hear more of your thoughts and stories! Most folks here just don't know when or how to talk to y'all since you're important to the Polaris, but that philosophical conversation you all had really opened people's eyes to the fact you're all people too. Maybe not normal people, but people still!"

The cat girl hopped away as she needed to tend to other customers, but she had some parting words for the duo. "Now I may just seem like a regular ol cat to you two, but I've been around the block to know that every the toughest have our weaknesses, and need to get some weight off our chests. The Cat Shack Saloon's here to be your home and haven, and if you ever wanna tell your story, speak your mind, never be afraid to go up stage and tell it how it is. People may not agree with ya, hell you may even make some new enemies, but words have the power to heal wounds no god program can."


*Gears turning*
Roleplay Type(s)
Screen Shot 2022-10-18 at 9.22.02 PM.png
Solline Nova
Interactions (Solline): Shaw ( Worthlessplebian Worthlessplebian ), Cookie the Cat ( Lucius Cypher Lucius Cypher )
Interactions (Vesta): Tiphereth ( BnemonicDevice BnemonicDevice ), Nero ( Norschtalen Norschtalen )

Solline nodded a bit as the masked operator sitting across from her elaborated more on the psycho albino’s aims for disturbing the peace in the saloon that night and subsequently a little speech about the expression of emotions. “I see… I guess that makes sense. Never really thought about the nuances of expressing emotion before. Well then again, this stuff has never been my field of expertise.”

Before the conversation could continue, their order was brought to them. “Oh, thanks...” Are those… actual cat ears? She took a sip of her drink, at which point the masked man commented on her drink choice. “I usually don’t get them on the rocks, but these days have have hardly been usual.” The blonde would continue taking sips from her drink as the cat sife continued to talk with the two of them before the sife in question turned to Shaw, seemingly teasing him about the incident with Tiphereth, to which Solline quietly let out a small chuckle. Well, that'd be something alright. The series' teal eyes followed the sife girl as she hopped away to tend to other customers, giving some parting remarks as she did so, the latter part of her statements catching the blonde's attention.

‘Words have the power to heal wounds no god program can’… huh? Those words from the cat-eared sife girl echoed in her head as she swirled her drink in her hand as a few memories flashed through her head.

The stillness in the home that for nearly 3 years she stayed as she quietly made her way to the entrance during the early morning twilight of that fateful day, her hand hovering for several seconds over the doorknob before hesitantly grasping it. The faces of the 3 unfamiliar series she met shortly after she attuned. The faces of series that gradually became more familiar over time. Series that she shared that home with for nearly 3 years and that she still shared a surname with. Series whom she was supposed to call her sisters, but left them without so much as a goodbye note explaining herself.

The blonde clenched her free hand lightly. Could words alone really have the power to heal something like that? “If only it were that simple…” She uttered under her breath to no one in particular before she turned the glass bottoms up and proceeded to drain her glass in a few gulps, putting the now empty glass down onto the table. She sat in silence for a few moments before speaking again. “Say Shaw…” She picked up a chip, feeling just a tad bit woozy as a result of the alcohol she just downed. “… what does the term ‘family’ mean to you?”

Vesta watched on as the GPO on the bench seemingly absorbed the sword she was carrying after it disintegrated. It certainly was an interesting thing to see happen, but not all that surprising, after all she was no stranger to GPOs or their nature. “You sure? Alright then…” A look of concern formed on Vesta’s face as the operator refused her offer to get medical help despite her looking like she’s in pain. Granted she’ll probably be fine because of that GPO regeneration stuff, but surely painkillers would help? Her concern only grew when electricity seemed to flow through the woman’s right arm. Even if she still had her concerns, if the woman refused medical help then that was that, unless of course she fainted sometime later. For now though, she could at least help the woman get home. “Well, in any case, ma’am, I can help you get home.” She extended a hand out to the seated albino before turning to the other operator who also came to see what was going on. “Care to accompany, Miss Argent?”
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