entrancelogs | [OPEN] hey, you, look around, can you hear that noise it's a rebel sound

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[OPEN] hey, you, look around, can you hear that noise it's a rebel sound

Who: Commander Shepard and YOU! (+semi-closed prompt for CR)
Where: All over the Citadel
When: During the Citadel Event! (April 1st-4th)
Rating: PG-13 for guns and swears, mostly
Summary: Shepard's home, and she knows it's temporary, but she's gonna live it up while she's got it.
The Story:

i. [closed to CR; personal apartment] alive, alive, alive is all I wanna feel

[She wakes up in her bed in the apartment Anderson gave her, and for a moment, she thinks it was all a dream.

She jerks up, looks around, and everything's where it should be. But she can remember. Shepard pulls up her omni-tool in a flash, pushes around the extranet, and... there's Wonderland's network.

It's an event. Her event.

She takes about an hour doing all the recon she can. What year it is, who knows what, where she should be in universe, and she balks when she finally finds it. 2186. The Reapers haven't landed. This apartment shouldn't even be hers, but the recordings from Anderson are around as if the war had already started (and she can't contact him, of course, can't contact anyone except the people in Wonderland, so she knows she's stuck here). So she pulls herself up. Checks around the entire place. And ends up with a cup of coffee, on her couch, watching the cars fly by.

Eventually, she walks into the study, and pulls up the call list, pinging as many friends as she can with the address and a simple message.]

Hey, it's Shepard.
If you've got some time, come up and see my place around here.
Let me know if you're coming.

[And she sits back down on the couch, messes around with her omni-tool while she waits for responses, and tries to hold the feeling of home as much as she can, with the time she has.]

ii. [open; docking bays] oh life can hurt when it gets too real, I can hold you up when it's hard to feel

[The next place she has to check is her ship.

Of course, she can't get through the airlocked door to go get it, and it makes no sense timeline-wise that it should even be docked here, but leave it to her to imagine a version of the Citadel without the war. She remembers standing here, thinking about going back to the war. She was standing in this very spot a year and a few hours ago, when Wonderland took her for the first time.

And now she's back. Almost like she never left.

She remembers that Cortez used to talk about how he loved stargazing here, and she tilts her head a bit to look out at the cosmos. She never thought she'd see this again. And yes, she knows it's fake, but... it's beautiful. The stars always are.

Regardless, if you're looking to stargaze, you've probably found her. And for once, she'll just be happy to talk.]

iii. [open; armax arsenal arena] you better find your voice, better make it loud, we've gotta burn that fire or we'll just burn out

[She sets her high score incredibly early, but that doesn't change the fact that Shepard intends to spend a lot of time in here. So she's suited up, toggling in settings downstairs before heading into the arena. Maybe you're here to play too and wanna tag team. Maybe you've been drawn in by the announcer proudly yelling Commander Shepard, the Hero of the Citadel, the first human Spectre, about to take on the Armax Arsenal Arena! from the speakers outside and you wanna watch some simulated carnage. Or maybe you've just been looking to beat her bet. Regardless, come one, come all, come tear apart some pixelated baddies.]

iv. [open; out and about] and it gets lonely when you live out loud, when the truth that you seek isn't in this crowd

[Shepard intends on going as many places as possible while she's back, so she tries to go everywhere she can think of. Spends a bit of time in middle looking at the huge lake, going shopping at the kiosks, and even (for some reason) sitting in the lobby of the Huerta Memorial Hospital. If you want to find her just around the Citadel, hit her up! She'll be happy to show anyone the sights or recommend a cool place to go.]

v. [open; wildcard] we'll take what's ours for once, and baby, run like hell

[Want a different prompt or starter? Hit me up through DMs or on plurk at

cancerously and I'll set up a new thread for you!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[This is a...bad idea. Probably. They're not good at the FIGHT, not as good as they should be. It's only thanks to how much they've regressed since the Underground that they didn't do more damage, back when they were in Hell.

But no matter how they try, it seems they can't keep dodging forever.

They watch her play, for a bit. Taking down pixelated enemies with a casual, easy efficiency, too set on the tightness churning in their middle, the twisting and pulling at the threads of their sweater, to really enjoy it.

They find her after. Or...between matches. Can hardly look her in the eye. Feels like they've messed up, like they're already messing up, but if they have to learn from anybody - they want it to be her.

She knows what it's like.]

Shepard?

[Clear your throat. Speak up. No one likes it when you mumble.]

[She's messing wth the settings for the next round, sort of off in her own world of being home, doing what she does best, when she hears them speak and stops everything, turning to look down towards them. And because looking down on them doesn't feel right, she crouches, leaving her arms on her knees as she squats down more to their level.]

Hey, Frisk. What's going on?

[Shouldn't be doing this. Still can't quite look her in the eye, even if she's making an effort. Wasting her time and everything, worrying at the edges of their sleeves, chewing on their lower lip.]

Can you...

[They shouldn't be doing this. They shouldn't.]

You don't, don't have to. If you're busy, or, or if you...don't want to.

[Haven't even gotten to what they want, and they can't even spit it out, can they?]

Hey, hey, it's alright. I've got all the time in the world here. What do you need?

[She's a little bit concerned, with how nervous they seem. But it's true; she's never had this much downtime actually out in the Citadel before, and this is all the time Frisk is ever going to get. If she can show them something, she wants to.]

[She's too nice. And here they are, taking advantage. She probably wouldn't say no, because they're acting like this, shy and nervous and scared, which they are, but if they were better at it, better at everything.]

Can you...teach me? How you -

[FIGHT. Defend yourself.

It's too much to ask. It's too much. They're already shaking their head, voice thinning.]

It's...okay. Never mind.

[Immediately, she leans in, going to put a hand on their shoulder and then stopping herself abruptly, instead offering her hand, palm-up, for them to take should they want it.]

Frisk, I'm free for whatever you want to do. I'm here all the time back home. If there's something you wanna do, I wanna help you do it. Okay?

You're not wasting my time, or doing something useless. I promise.

[She opens a hand for them to take. Almost do, but - owe her a look in the eye more. Even if it's hard. Pretend they're Chara, looking at her with Chara's eyes. Deep, red, wine-colored. That's...better.

Easier.]

How...do you do that? Fight like that?

[Huh. That's somehow not the question she expected them to ask, even if she's not sure what she thought it would be.]

Training, mostly. A year of basic, three years in special ops, one all-night invasion bender and 10 years of experience. Just a lot of practice.

[A slight pause, while she puts some things together.]

Why? You want lessons?

[A fidget, pulling at the sleeves of their sweater, picking at the threads and unraveling them. Shouldn't do that. It's a bad habit. What if one day they start ruining one that someone made for them? Drop their hands back to their sides, even if they can't look at her.

Years and years of experience. That's what she has. They have...nothing. Nothing but a Stick and some Determination.]

I shouldn't, um...

[No. Speak up. Be better.

Deep breath.

Breathe.]

Yes.

[She looks at them, curiously, for a moment. Wonders if they're nervous or asking for something else. But it's rare, she thinks, that they ask for anything for themselves, and she's going to take it while she has it.]

Alright. We can do that.

[She considers, for a moment. She's not sure guns suit them so much, and she remembers Chara's reaction to the crack of a bullet.]

What do you want to train with? There's a bunch of different weapons, armor...

You have any ideas?

[Not guns. Nothing that can kill. Weapons, she says, and then armor.]

Armor? Like...like maybe a shield?

[People can use shields to help people. Or some kind of armor to keep people safe, and protect them. That's the sort of thing they could learn to do. To keep themself safe. To keep everyone else safe.

For everyone.]

[Hey, now there's a thought. She stands, gesturing with her arm for them to follow her into the next room over. When they enter, the right has seats outside an elevator, along with a display board with names on who's up next in the simulator. But on the left lies a rather impressive wall of guns, armor, and melee weaponry, like swords, clubs, and staffs.]

Pretty sure there's something in here. I know Cerberus made those little mail-slot shields, but I think they're too big for you.

[They're for firing around, anyway, which necessitates the use of a gun, which is pointless for what they're going for.]

You want something round, or square...? Guess it doesn't matter much, but if you have a preference...

[They follow her, perhaps a little more hopefully than they should, given everything. There's no guarantee this will work out, any of this. But she's willing to try, isn't she? She's willing.

If it doesn't work, it's okay. They won't waste any more of her time.]

Um...round.

[Round edges, softened somewhat. A little closer to an approximate heart shape, and less likely to catch on things.]

[She scans the wall, finally finds something. It's an energy projection sheild; what comes off the wall is actually just a small bar, which she takes and turns to them.]

You can extend it to whatever size you want, and then hit this button on the back to project.

[She hits it for examples, and a bright yellow energy projects forward in a circled shield.]

If it takes too much damage, it'll shut off until it can recharge, so you'll want to find some cover. I haven't used anything like this since training, so I don't remember if it shows you if it's close or not, but there's probably some kind of warning.

[She holds it out for them to take.]

Size it however feels good for you.

[They watch with a furrowed brow, sharp and intent. They lift the thing cautiously in their hand, hefting it. It feels light, but it - it would then, wouldn't it? It's just a bar of something almost metallic. A pressing of a button projects a crackle of kinetic energy, tunneling and dilating until it feels big enough to cover most of them - and small enough to not get in the way.

For some reason, they can't help but feel like it should be green.]

It's...light.

[They mean it in terms of weight, that is, unable to quantify what the shield itself is made of other than some kind of hard light compound, maybe. But it is light, too, looking like it's more or less made of the stuff.]

Yeah, for the most part. It's made of the same stuff as shielding generators, but it should be able to take a lot of fire. It'll stay activated until you deactivate it, too, so you could throw it if you wanted. Actually, you know Steve Rogers? He does stuff like that. I bet he could let you know some good moves.

[Admittedly, she's pretty good at turning Most Things into weapons, but Steve is definitely a shield specialist.]

You could probably customize it, too. This one's just for here, but you can buy ones just like this.

Edited (oops wrong icon) 2017-05-02 22:12 (UTC)

[They nod, only after a moment of consideration. They've talked to Steve, if only briefly. He seems to know Alphys, too, so that's...he's probably okay, isn't he? If that maybe people they know are going to say he's okay?]

You can...throw it?

[They half-lift it, holding it at a horizontal tilt, picturing how it might rebound.]

You'd have to catch it after.

Yeah, that's what he does. Pretty impressive actually, but he might also have magnets or something to get it to come back to him. Really not sure. But it is his primary weapon, and he hasn't lost his yet. Maybe it's special. In the meantime, though, do you know much about keeping your stance? It's important if you're carrying a shield to make sure you have the strength behind it to take a blow.

[Watching Steve rocket his shield between enemies and then back to his hand was nothing short of a masterpiece, but she imagines it took a lot of practice not to lose it constantly. If it were her, she'd put in like, a homing beacon. Or an energy whip. But this is why she doesn't use shields.]

[As it stands, they might simply have to, in layman's terms: "git gud." It might be like...a boomerang, maybe, but possibly more cumbersome, with its shape.

Frisk bites their lip, contemplating, shifting their feet to take the sort of stance they'd assume if they were placed in a FIGHT; squared shoulders, feet wide apart, weight low. Sloppy, and in no way recently practiced, but undoubtedly something they've done many times before.

They shoot her an inquisitive look. Is that...good?]

[That's what happens when you play with shooting games kid, go big or go home.

Regardless, she looks over their form and nods a bit.]

Good start. Remember that you want your feet between your hips and your shoulders. Think of them like your foundation- a strong foundation means a continued line of force through the body. So you want you feet planted where, if you take a hit, they can connect to your hips and shoulders to stop the blow from being too forceful. But you've got a good idea of it.\

[It's obvious they've done this before.

She chases that thought from her mind.]

In that same way, when you've got a shield, you want to make sure your whole body is taking the hit, not just your arm. Like...

[She holds out her arm so that her forearm is squarely in front of her chest.]

This is alright, because your arm will fall onto your chest. But this...

[She moves her forearm just a bit to the left, so it makes a triangle between her shoulder and her breast.]

This brings the strength of your whole arm in, plus your shoulder, which leaves you less open to weak movement points. You understand?

[They watch her as she explains, eyes sharp, gaze intent. Shifting subtly to match her stance, adjusting their grip, the position of the shield. Hold it carefully, so that it forms three points of support instead of just two, because three points make a sturdy triangle while two only form a line.]

Yeah.

[They understand. A brief nod, and they've mirrored her posture almost exactly.]

[She nods at them approvingly, with a smile.]

Good. You're doing great. In general, if you're working on stances, think of adding as many points of contact as you can, and remember that the strongest parts avoid joints. Those are built for speed, not strength.

You wanna try and test the contact? See what it feels like when it takes a hit? I won't shoot at you, promise. Just hands.

[And she won't punch it at full strength. But she's also never going to voluntarily point a gun at Frisk.]

[They barely have to hesitate before ducking their head in a nod, perhaps over-eager to try things for real. The FIGHTs that honed their skills Underground were seldom if ever courteous enough to pull punches and ensure their SOUL wouldn't be bruised in the interim.

Even if it's just hands, it's a good start, if an unfamiliar one.

They square their stance, adjusting their posture, shield at the ready.

Come at them, bro.]

[A comfortable, confident grin tugs at her mouth and she ducks back into her own stance, weight centered on her hips and fists clenched tight. She's still in her armor, which thankfully stops her from needing to wrap her hands or bruising her knuckles, and makes for a formidable punch.

She waits a moment, until she's sure they're set, and swings forward, the flat of her fist connecting at the center with force enough to push them back, should they not contest her.]

[They dig in their heels, shoulders hunching, spine rigid - their posture folds immediately, ceding to the instinct to try and avoid the blow rather than block it. They're too accustomed to dancing around projectiles, too used to the idea that dodging is the only acceptable way to FIGHT.

She's strong, and for all the muscle and determination packed into a small child, that can only take them so far, and they skid backwards several paces.]

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