unfinishedlibrary | It's a beautiful day in the village

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It's a beautiful day in the village - TAKE A LOAD OFF, LOG 1

Who: Readers and Actors
What: Beta Story Start - At the start of any particular Story, characters will be drawn to a section of the Stacks. Those inclined to resist will find themselves there anyway, through the shifts and changes inherent to the Library's structure. The Story manuscript will be laid out neatly on a side table, its pages lit by a faint aura that draws focus and beckons insistently to the Editors. Touching it will bring them into the Story.
Characters can either voluntarily touch the Story to enter it, or the Librarian will eventually sweep them in. Regardless of how long it takes them to enter, everyone will arrive at the same point in time.
When: November 14- November 27
Where: Woodhurst (UK) and the SS Radiance (in space!), 2019
Content warnings: Please tag warnings in comment headers!

In Woodhurst

It’s another Monday morning in Woodhurst, and as is often the case for the United Kingdom in the fall, it is raining. It is, all in all, a rather typical Monday morning. People shuffle off to work, dropping by the various cafes and shops for their morning caffeine. Polite (if meaningless) greetings are exchanged, vague comments about the weather are made. Heads down, trudging along, just keeping things going.

By midday, it’s clear that this Monday is a little bit… different. There are some people who seem especially cheerful and helpful. Perhaps you’ve just been served a free upsize of your morning coffee. Or a stranger held an umbrella up for you. People keep talking about the benefits of yoga? And it’s not just a bunch of people seeming to be having an especially good day and paying it forward (that would be strange enough). Some of your friends and loved ones aren’t acting like themselves, aside from being remarkably cheerful. They don’t seem to remember basic things, don’t know their normal rituals, and are generally just very off. You think one of them might have blinked sideways? Whatever it is that’s happened, it doesn’t seem right.

As for those ‘friends and loved ones’… The novices from the Interstellar Group are largely inexperienced with such a thing as covert operations. Fresh off the ship and with no frame of reference, their human disguises may have a few significant flaws.

However many fingers it is they have, they’re keen to help - perhaps a little too much so. Whatever it takes to make these human lives easier, whatever they can do to help them relax - the Group are on it! Hopefully they’ll catch on quietly.

On the IMW Group Supply Ship: Radiance

No plan survives contact with the enemy, is how the saying goes. But within the Interstellar Mindfulness & Wellness Group, the concept is usually applied to patients. Patients are, almost entirely across the board, unpredictable creatures - and while the science behind wellness is robust, there’s simply too much individual variation for a standardised approach. That being said, this particular plan seems to be going… rather more poorly than expected. It starts to break down once the word ‘kidnapping’ is brought up. It’s such an ugly word to use. The Group tries to avoid it. But in some of these cases, the humans need the Group’s own facilities! The idea was to convince the humans to follow them to a very not suspicious space capsule, or to get them to touch this particularly strange teleportation device, and they’d be on their way to recovery. However, most if not all the humans seem to be reacting… quite negatively to that. It’s almost like they don’t understand that this is for their benefit!

The ship is very nice, and perfectly designed to relax and comfort (--for the species the Group are familiar with, at least). Soothing music plays along the spaceship’s halls, which are lit in a soft violet glow. Potted plants are artfully displayed, though none of them are recognisable as any species found on Earth. For those with a sensitive nose, the flowers give off a bright, delicate scent; not unlike that of lavender and lemon myrtle. An entire stretch of glass is dedicated to the view outside, the Earth looking so serene from this distance; stars shining in the space around it.

For those Aliens aboard the mothership, maybe you’re delivering this hour’s yoga session. Maybe you’re leading a group chant or meditation. Are you perhaps talking humans into resting in the healing spa, or - for those so inclined - are you delving deeper, forming a connection, and really getting to know these humans? For the humans… well, at least the spa looks really nice, right?

[Space Spa Features:
Yoga - you’ve been herded into a room where a flexible alien encourages you to breathe deeply; holding it in your stomach and feeling your heart beat before letting it out in a big sigh. The routine is not very different to yoga on Earth, except… well, if you can’t find your proboscis, maybe that particular pose won’t work for you.
Sauna - the heat promotes circulation, but the temperature in here seems to be a little off.
Spa - you know what a spa is. Or, you thought you did. It looks like the aliens aren’t quite on the same page. Where there would normally be cucumbers, there’s a strange pink fruit. Where you’d expect water, there’s… a viscous fluid, gently rotating through a myriad of colours, that seems to soften and soothe your muscles as you soak in it.
And Others - the aliens have no shortage of remedies for what ails you! Since this is their first time experiencing humans, results may vary.]

Optional prompts (player-run):
An alien adrift, unsure what task to complete? Seek guidance from your leader.

In Woodhurst, unnerved and skeptical? Drop in at your local seedy bookshop to chat with some alien enthusiasts.

[Have a plan to drive the Story direction? Let us know, and we’ll add it to the list!

Info post can be found here.]

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[And he can do nothing but watch as the alien - the actual, real life alien extricates itself. A hopeless feeling seizes in his chest, frustration clenching in his throat.

He can only glare down as the other moves, can't even track what he's doing. Can't even take in the details of that robe, because of how stupidly dark the room is.]

Who are you? [Each word is stubbornly breathed out, these motionless moments spent seething. And then - suddenly his jaw can work again, and Shadow sucks in a surprised gasp; not losing a second before turning his head to look at the alien. Who, disappointingly, just looks like him again. The scowl that takes his face is instant.] Why are you bothering with that disguise? I've already seen you.

[He gives him an unimpressed look.] Well since this building isn't as abandoned as I thought it was, I rather stick with this look.

[Who knows who else is going to wander in here. Which means he should probably wrap this up sooner than later. Relocate. He sighs, turning his back to the other once more. There's a dim light coming from whatever he's facing, the sounds of static and beeping. A holographic screen, with various data scrolling across.

Why has this one not been taken yet...? He leaves the other hanging as he doesn't answer their first question.]

[That light is mocking him. There's clearly something the other is doing, and Shadow wants to know what it is. But no matter how much he strains, he can't move his head enough to get a good view of it.]

You need a secure space to work in. [That's the obvious conclusion. Why else would he be hiding out in the back room of an abandoned store? Shadow's quickly running over the night's schedule in his head. Randy shouldn't be home tonight, and they never take visitors at the house; they're always at the shop. He's desperate to learn more, clutching at straws to keep the alien from going.] I have a house. Nobody will be there. I could take you there.

[He's never had a good sense of self-preservation. A normal person would probably not make this next point. A normal person would probably be far more concerned about the implications of an alien that's choosing to disguise itself as them.]

...And if you're going to be posing as me, you'll need to know where it is anyway.

[Needless to say, Shadow is not a normal person.]

[Were his antennaes visible, they be twitching right now, puzzled by the words the other was saying. They were offering their home...? The dim light disappears as he turns back to look at the other. Curious. He doesn't sense fear or concern from the other. Panic, confusion? Things he would expect from these humans.]

You're strangely cooperative. [He presses a hand against his jawline. Despite Zarnex's relatively calm demeanor, he's feeling the pain from their little tussle.]

[Mostly it's an intense determination that he'll feel from Shadow now. That wasn't a 'no' from the alien.]

So? That benefits you, doesn't it?

[He probably should be worried. But Shadow has all the confidence of youth. The thought that this could end badly for him is, for the moment, an acceptable price to pay as long as it means he gets to know the truth of everything first.]

My cards. My ID. You'll need all of it. I can give them to you.

[He slowly...tilts his head.] Why? [Their behavior is illogical. So let's turn this around onto them.] What is it that you think I'm trying to do?

[Not about what the alien's trying to do, and more about what Shadow's trying to stop him from doing - which is leaving.

He'd rather gamble his identity than let on about his motivations. So the 'why' is ignored completely, a muscle in his jaw tensing as he disregards that question.]

Your disguise can't be a coincidence. There has to be a reason why you look like me. The only thing that makes sense is that you're trying to take my place. [His muscles are starting to cramp from holding position this long, that numb buzzing preventing any shifting. It's annoying, and the bruises settling in are starting to ache with no more squabbling to distract him. But that all drives home a further point:] You wouldn't have bothered with this if you wanted me dead. So you either still need something from me, or you just don't know what you're supposed to do now.

[His eyes narrow. He's in no position (literally) to make demands and yet--]

Let me go.

Edited 2025-11-23 12:28 (UTC)

[Well good news for Shadow, he's not leaving them anytime soon. Not after what they've accidentally seen.]

...That's most of it. [All the more reason their behavior and williness is confusing to him.] Are you not concern about yourself and what will happen to you?

[At the other's requests to be freed, that gets a shaking of his head and sound that could be have been a short amused laugh.] Do you take me for a fool?

[He scoffs in answer to the question about being concerned. He clearly is not. And then a shallow, irritated exhale at the other's refusal to release him from this - frankly, stupid - pose.]

At least tell me your name.

[Again, they don't answer about themselves.] Do you want to die? [It wasn't asked like a threat, more out of curiousity. Technically the question can be considered part of the assessment of humanity's wellbeing?]

...In your tongue, you may call me Zarnex. [He rummages through his pocket once more, pulling out two silver disk-like objects. Flinging them both to the side, they activate some sort of dimensional portal together. With his wand, he waves at the statued Shadow and they proceed to head for the portal. Or at least, he's limping his way toward's it.]

[It turns out that no matter how curiously you ask that question, "do you want to die" is still something a human will balk at hearing. And when it's coupled with a portal being opened, it's something that will get even a reckless teen's heart pounding.]

Not particularly. [His throat has gone abruptly dry, and though he tries to strain, he's still locked in position. It looks like now is when some hint of survival instinct starts to grow in the teen, the reality of a portal to the unknown - which he can't help but be thrilled about, he wants to know more about it - sinking in.]

--Wait! [It's only when they're inches away from it that there's actually trepidation in his eyes. Hard to tell if the clamminess of his hands is sweat or slime. If the alien was trying to call the cool kid's bluff, it's working.] Put me down. I won't try anything. [He hates, hateshateshates to profess anything about himself, but--] I'll go wherever it is you're taking me -- just let me walk.

[ah, that got a reaction from them. Anxious, fear, panic. That coolness facade falling when the need to survive kicks in. He does stop right before entering the portal, listening to the human.]

...You can still do that without walking. [Is he amused by all this? Maybe a little. Shadow can be a little uncomfortable after all the trouble he caused him. And into the portal they go.

There's a cool breeze and it goes dark, but only for a milisecond. Once on the other side, Shadow will find himself inside some kind of large, futuristic cockpit of a spaceship. There were holo screens and buttons flashing everywhere, and there was a view of the outside. Considering how bright the stars appear in the sky, they must be very far from any civilization.

Zarnex will set Shadow down onto a panel. It lights up all around him, some kind of holding cell. With the twist of the dial on the wand, Shadow will finally be freed from the stasis he had been forced into. He finds he won't be able to leave the cell, but he can at least move his body once more. Zarnex meanwhile will flop onto a seat, letting out some air. Damn this teen gave him a beating. He proceeds to work the panel, pressing buttons as parts of the ship whir to life.]

[God, Zarnex is such a bastard. Shadow should've hit him harder.

In the next blink, awe replaces panic in a sharp burst as darkness is replaced by tech he could only ever dream of. His held breath releasing abruptly. Holy shit.

The stars, bright out the large window, are almost enough to distract him from being set down. But he's aware enough to feel a sense of alarm about it - and then relief, as the buzzing in his limbs ceases, and he immediately sits back on his heels to rub his slimy hands off on his jeans. There's adrenaline pumping through him as he takes it all in. Those lights around him - he assumes they're lasers. He's pissed off about that, but also it's really freaking cool. He wants to know what happens if he touches it, but impulse control is staying his hand on that one.

He doesn't miss the long exhale from the other; making a quiet, vicious noise about it. Good. He's glad he's giving you that much trouble, asshole.]

So what now? [Zarnex already as good as admitted that he doesn't know what to do with Shadow. The teen's scowling - how is that goo not budging - ignoring the trepidation still sitting heavy in his stomach.] You finally came up with a plan?

[What a wave of different emotions coming from Shadow that tickle his senses. He says nothing about it though, just noting their behavior does not always correlate to how they feel. Beneath all that apprehension, he could feel their excitement, amazement where they find themselves. It's rather endearing honestly.]

The plan is to dissect you. [Said matter of factly. Something whirs to life, something drops from the ceiling, mechanical arms. Drone-like machines appear from the panels, circling around the both of them. Zarnex turns in his seat, his human disguise dropping while doing so as he faces Shadow.] I'll make this quick.

[oh shit.

Now, usually Shadow's reflexes skew heavily towards 'fight'. (See: the altercation that got him here to begin with.) So freezing is a new experience for him, an undignified noise like a guh catching in his throat as he jerks away from a circling drone. Oh, he dares one to get in the cage with him. At least he'll get to break something before he goes out.

That determination, that anger, sits heavy underneath the cloying fear - a hot glare cast Zarnex's way. Don't give him longer than a second, the teenager's reckless spirit is about to throw himself through the lasers to get one last shot in.]

[Zarnex remains quiet, his expression indecipherable. He seems to be waiting for something, lazily moving his hand over a touch panel on the arm rest of his seat. He commands the mechanical arms to restrain Shadow, phasing through the prison barrier holding him. They go for his arms and his torso.

One of the drones lowers itself near one of Zarnex's arm. A grid-like beam shines over his own injuries, scanning them. It's the same thing the drones closer to Shadow are trying to do.]

[Yeah, he's gonna gamble with the lasers. The movement of the mechanical arms spurs him, but instead of throwing himself into the lasers, Shadow quickly finds that:
1) the lasers are solid.
2) they, thankfully, do not hurt. Though they are buzzing at a rapid intensity, vibrating through his arm and shoulder.
3) his hands are too fucking slippery to grab the bars, or a drone, or the mechanical arms he's just desperately rolled away from.

There is no room to move, not really. One mechanical arm grabs his jacket - he can feel it pull tight around his shoulders as he twists to kick at the bars. Which of course, do not budge. The light from the drones is flickering over him in uneven patterns as he struggles, the second mechanical arm briefly closing on his wrist before that goo works in his favour (finally), his hand slipping free with a grunt.

In the end, the mechanical arms get a solid grip around his jacket - and instead of his arms, they've grabbed a flailing leg. (The other leg is still kicking at that arm, but all he's really doing is rattling his own bruises.)

It's all very dramatic. For a brief second, he realizes Zarnex is being scanned - and that moment passes very quickly under his heart rabbiting in his chest and head swimming with panic. But still cognizant enough to grouse out in a snarl, as he is captured, a whole-hearted:]

Fuck you.

[He hopes he explodes or something on the operating table. >:(]

Edited 2025-11-26 02:14 (UTC)

[There is still no reaction from Zarnex as Shadow continues to flail about in his futile attempt to fight back. The arm keeps a firm grip of his leg as another forcefully gets his shoes off. A drone hovering around his foot to scan it. Even if kicked, it merely flies back to continue it's work.

There are clicks and a robotic voice speaking from the ship. It was in a langauge not human. Finally, after no response or reaction, that gets a hum from Zarnex. Moving his finger on his panel, the drone nearest to the teen's foot beep boops and the light from it changes. It's white, looking more like a laser. And it's inching towards Shadow's foot. It'll feel hot on contact, and it may sting a lot when it goes over his injury. But the heat will eventually lessen, and Shadow is going to notice his foot, though a little tingly from the lingering bit of heat, no longer hurts.]

[Oh, that drone gets kicked plenty. Especially when his shoe gets removed. The heat from the drones's light sparks a renewed struggle, and there's a sharp pain in his knee as he twists hard enough to sprain it in an effort to break the mechanical grip. He doesn't even get to register the alien language of the ship, occupied as he is with the blood rushing in his ears as he continues his one-man struggle. Heat gives way to stinging, like a bruise being poked, and he grits his teeth in preparation for what comes next. (What will it be? The foot is a weird place to start. Is it a sedative? A paralytic? --An alien bug that's going to dive under his skin and map him from the inside out?)

It starts to feel weirdly better, which is more alarming than the alternative, and does not dissuade him in the least from stretching to kick the drone again - twisting to fling its trajectory down with his free foot, where he's hoping to pin it. Which is a poor plan, really - leaving him held around his torso, arms relatively free but hands covered in slime; one leg captured in a mechanical arm, shoeless; and the other trying to hold down a drone. Effectively trapping himself with that move, unless he wants to let the drone go. (He does not.)]

[A drone trapped beneath the other's foot is of little concern when he had plenty more to use. His antannaes twitch when a rush of panic reaches him while he was tending to their foot. But they are fine, the foot is clearly healed and they're just being difficult.

Using the knowledge he gained on their injuries, he commands one of the arms to apply pressure onto a wound on the other's arm. More of a distraction to their senses while he places his attention on his other injuries. The jacket needs to come off, so does their shirt. A challenge while the other keeps fighting back.

Another mechanical arm joins the fray, grabbing his jacket from the below and lifting it upwards. The other arms try to grab hold of Shadow's, lifting them upwards for ease of the jacket and shirt coming off. In theory anyway. That depends on Shadow's cooperation or lack there of.]

[~~You're supposed to buy him dinner first, Zarnex--~~

If these arms weren't mechanical, they would have been bitten by now. As it is, they're currently experiencing a very human problem. Have you ever tried to change an angry toddler's shirt? It's that, but levelled up to the existential anger and fear of a feral teen fighting for their life.

He's absolutely covered in scrapes and bruises - scabs from last week's mishaps healing up here and there, everything you'd expect from someone who lives and breathes perfecting risky tricks at the skate park. But the pressure to a fresh scrape does not outweigh the very instinctual need to keep his internal organs inside, and the sting of blossoming blood as he wrenches in the arm's grip is ignored. There is absolutely 0 cooperation happening - Shadow crossing his arms, trapping one arm against his chest; locking the other forearm under the opposite armpit. Functionally a front-bind.]

Why don't you do this yourself? [Says the out of breath, huffing and puffing, absolutely-not-in-the-right-position-to-be-shittalking teen. He's pressing as much weight as he can onto the drone beneath his foot, the rolling motion somewhat grounding; and he scoffs, breathless.] Scared I'll kick your ass again?

[do him a favour and ignore the tremor in his limbs. Bravado is all he has left.]

[Zernax lets out a long sigh, watching this punk continue to fight back. Well, he did threaten to dissect him, so that's only an understandable reaction. He at least got his answer that this kid does actually have a desire to live.]

I have no interest in picking a fight with you. [Stop the arms and drones all he wants. There's more of those and one of him. His eyes gives the other a once over, staring at the injuries the other has sustain, older ones not from their tussle. Just as one of the drones that was working on his own injury finishes healing his foot, he sends that drone in to start work on what injuries he can reach with the other.] Would you quit squirming? You're going to give yourself new injuries.

[He would gnaw his own arm off out of spite, if only he could reach it. Instead, he raises his middle finger - though it's not extremely visible, with his arm crushed against his chest like this.]

You're a coward. [It's hard to snarl out a good rebuttal when there are more mechanical arms trying to wrestle your jacket off you. And when you're trying to jerk away from a drone that's hovering in front of your eyes, shining a hot light on the aching bump on your forehead from someone's hard skull.

Having a drone lined up with your head in this sort of situation is never a good thing, and Shadow's eyes flinch closed to instinctively brace himself. The bot beep boops, and hot stinging commences. No matter how he turns his head away, the drone follows; the heat from its laser not losing target.

Is it telling, that what he thinks are his last thoughts, are that old man better take care of Charles and Mitch is gonna be so pissed and we never got to see the aurora - 'we', in that case, being as a group with his particularly dysfunctional 'found family' unit (as Mitch would put it).

Weirdly, the dark of unconsciousness and/or death does not come. Instead the stinging turns to a tingle, which fades and takes the ache with it as the drone moves away.

Leaving Shadow to squint his eyes open dubiously, unsure about what the hell just happened, and with the newfound baggage of having to eventually unpack those 'final thoughts' of his later.]

Edited 2025-11-27 11:46 (UTC)

[In which Zernax just rolls his eyes, rubbing his temple. Due to the headache this kid was giving him, the numbing pain from hitting the other's head, and the feelings of desire, sadness coming off the other. Wistfulness.]

Having regrets? [He retorts, ignoring their insults. During the other's moment of confusion, an arm will grab him by the leg that has the drone still stuck underneath his foot. It will attempt to lift him up, effectively flipping him upside down. Hope he doesn't have anything lose on him as he's shaken slightly. If the mechanical arms are freed from the other's grasp, they will once again, try to strip him.]

I should have hit you harder. [See it takes a while, but eventually those inner thoughts come out. He's darkly satisfied to see Zernax rubbing his head. He hopes aliens can get migraines, and that he's going to cause the biggest one the other's ever experienced.

He won't admit to it, but the noise that comes out of him when he's yanked upside down can only be described as a yelp - affronted and insulted as it is, his dignity absolutely trashed. The back of his jacket flops down, hitting the back of his head with a resounding thwap; and as he's shaken (like he owes these arms money or something), his phone starts to jostle loose in the pocket of his pants. It hangs precariously for a moment, the tight fit almost keeping it secure, but one more good shake sends it tumbling to the platform with a clatter.

He doesn't free up his own arms to catch it, instead trying to fend off the machines as they try to tug at his shirt and jacket. He even makes an attempt to lift himself up towards his legs - and succeeds, bending up and forward - but when he tries to grab the arms holding his legs, the stupid goddamn slime causes him to immediately lose his grip. And in the process - he finally loses the battle against the machines trying to capture his arms. (Though not without a fight, jerking his arm out of one machine's grip for a brief second before it's recaptured, pulling him back down.)

Huffing and puffing again, one last attempt to kick his leg out of a solid metal grip - and it's pretty clear he's not getting out of this one. As if to cement it, even his shirt flops lamely down; him having to shake his head loose from the fabric gathering over his face.]

Why are you doing this? What's the point? [F in the chat to his jacket, and for the chill of the air when his shirt's yanked off (at which time he makes another futile bid to evade re-capture, turning away from the mechanical arms. Alas. It was never going to work.) At least his glare's no longer obstructed, face and neck reddening from the upside down blood flow.] If you want to know what's inside a human, pick up a damn book -- we've already figured it out.

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