intro log

[ceoqueen]

who. everyone!
what. entering omega.
where. landing pads
when. today
warnings. none for now

You’re not sure how it happened.

A minute ago, you had somewhere to go, someplace to be. Maybe something important to do, or maybe you were just going out to buy groceries. Whatever it was, it doesn’t matter anymore.

You’re in some kind of transport -- a shuttle, given the turbulence and the sounds outside. You’re surrounded by strangers, some of whom might not even be the same species you are. There’s no point in asking. They don’t know how they got here either. The cockpit’s blocked off, like someone forgot to put in a door, and not even a glance at your omni-tool -- a holographic interface accessible by merely tapping the sensor on your left arm -- is any help.

You’ve only got a minute or so before the shuttle starts descending. There aren’t any windows -- this doesn’t look like a shuttle meant for long trips. When it finally touches down, the doors open automatically.

Before you are landing pads, abandoned equipment scattered about. There are other shuttles landing, and whether you like it or not, you’re going to have to get off before yours dumps you out the door. Turn around, and you’re met with a hazy skyline, only half the buildings seem to be coming from above.

Welcome to Omega.


ooc notes
You’re free to expand past the landing area, but please start all threads here. Please remember that your character will not have housing until Aria makes a post granting it; it’ll be on outsiders and linked here when it goes up.

Comments

[gloriousandfree]

[Canada hums softly, her eyes drifting up to the hazy horizon before she looks back at him. She is just tired now. Tired of the strange things around here. She wants to go home.

He looks familiar. The hair and eyes maybe? Wait why did even his outfit look sort of familiar?] Madeline Williams. Canada.

[fifty]

[America's previously good-natured confusion closed up on itself; he shoved his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket and regarded her with more caution.]

Seriously, though, who are you?

[gloriousandfree]

[Canada's good at body language. She's good at reading people and reading the atmosphere. Seeing him close off at her name makes her close up herself. Maybe he wasn't who she thought he was. Maybe he wasn't a nation at all]

...I'm the nation of Canada. I have been all my life. I promise you.

[fifty]

But I know Canada. You're not him. [America frowns at her, but he's still trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. It's gotta be some weird joke or something, right? Since people usually don't recognize Canada. But why would someone do that with him?] I kind of live next door.

[gloriousandfree]

Him? [She's about to look down at herself, check and make sure she's still female, when his next words hit. Oh. Wait. What? She sputters for a moment, thrown off entirely as she realizes why that jacket looks really familiar]

America?

[fifty]

Yeah? [America realizes, after a few more confused moments, that she hadn't actually recognized him. It's been a long time since that's happened.] You didn't know who I was?

[gloriousandfree]

[How does she explain it. She wants to be articulate, but all that comes out is--]

America has breasts.

[fifty]

[America sputters, self-conscious. There aren't many people who can cut right into him like that, and the tone is familiar, but--]

I do not! I'm perfectly healthy! Look-- [With no apparent regard for personal space, he grabbed her and lifted her up with one hand like she weighed the same as a piece of paper.] See!

[gloriousandfree]

[What is he--Canada sputters and reaches down to push at his hand, automatically fighting to get free. What sort of person just grabs someone and lifts them up. He's annoying her and her voice shows it]

I--what are you talking about?! [She's way too close to this stranger and she just wants to know what's going on!] I mean--America is a girl! Just like me!

[fifty]

I am America! [He does put her down after a moment, since picking up a girl like that is kind of awkward, actually.] So I know who Canada is, since he's been there for like ever.

[gloriousandfree]

[Canada brushes down her elegant gown, flushed and mussed, but her chin snapped up as she was set down. England did teach her a few things about dealing with men and her icy politeness comes out full force]

Excuse me, I'm sorry you can't believe what's in front of your eyes, but I am Canada. [Looking down over her glasses which is no small feat considering how much shorter she is]

[fifty]

[America closes off more when she ices over, pushing more of the full force of his personality into the discussion. He's used to being listened to and while a lot of the times people told him his ideas were dumb or acted like they didn't hear him, this was different and it was annoying.]

I'm America, so there's no way I'm going to believe you're Canada.

[gloriousandfree]

[Canada sighs, an annoyed disinterested sigh. One he's probably heard from his own Canada many times. She doesn't realize how much she's playing into his idea of Canada]

I'm sorry, but I'm Canada. [Her voice wavers] You...act like America though.

[fifty]

You're not bad at acting like Canada, I guess. [America frowns, looks off slightly, and now he sees the polar bear again. It really is a creepy coincidence, that this--Madeline?--has a polar bear, too.]

[gloriousandfree]

...You have her coat. And that weird hair...[Her voice wavers before steeling again] Are you a fake America?

[fifty]

I'm not fake. [America glared at her.] It's my coat and there's nothing weird about my hair.

[gloriousandfree]

I'm not...[ Canada sighed and pulled out a wallet from her bag. At least she still had that, for all she would have chosen more suitable clothing. Flipping through the selection of photos, some in black and white and others more recent, she selects a picture of America in her classic jacket and bikini top summer combination. ]

America. See? Her jacket, her hair. Should i find pictures of everyone else? England, France, Russia and get brothers? I even have Cuba.

[fifty]

Why would I want to see a picture of Cuba? [It takes America a moment before he realizes that's not exactly the point.] Look, just 'cause you have a bunch of pictures of some girls doesn't mean they're England and France and Russia.

Anyway, Russia has sisters. I think they're his sisters, anyway.

[The picture of the girl Madeline was claiming was America is interesting, though. The jacket looks near-identical to his, except maybe a bit smaller, but she doesn't have glasses or anything.]

[gloriousandfree]

I--no. [Frustration is building and she shoves her wallet at him, hands on her hips now. She doesn't want to have to prove her own identity. She doesn't want to deal with this on top of the aliens and strange place and this whole thing. She wants to have a cup of coffee and a pile of pancakes and change into some pajamas.

She wants to be home. But she can't let him see how close to panicking or bursting into tears she is in this situation.]

Look at this and tell me who I am.

[fifty]

[America takes the wallet just because it's shoved at him, though he isn't really sure what she expects out of him. He can't just look through a lady's wallet. He does at least look down at the various cards--identification and that sort of thing--

Then he checks the ID again. On the third check he pulls the card out and looks it over, because she can't be Canada, he knows Canada, so this has to be a fake, right?]

[gloriousandfree]

[She just keeps her hands on her hips and stares him down. She's not letting this get any further.] Well, Mister America?

[fifty]

Well, it's not like-- [America isn't actually sure what he was going to say to refute this, simply talking with the expectation he'd fill in the blanks when he got there, so he stops and instead pulls out his own wallet, letting it hang open to display his own ID.]

It's not like I'm lying!

[gloriousandfree]

[She gives his identification a look. It seems to be in order--She almost expected that. Really, she sort of did at this point. What should she say now. What could she possibly say]

...I'm not sure what to do now then.

[fifty]

[America hands her wallet and ID back over to her while he puts his own away again.]

Well are you from Bizarro-Canada? Like-- [He pauses, to consider what Bizarro-Canada would be like.] Does everyone know who you are?

[gloriousandfree]

Everyone knows who Iam--Bizzaro Canada?! [She crosses her arms now. The look she has is bordering on attempting to bore a hole through his head with her mind alone.] I'm Canada. I am above America who has been a girl her whole life. We met when France gave me away to England, and she pulled my braids and we pushed each other in the mud a lot. I'm fairly sure your Canada can not be that be different.