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

[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.]

[She stops the force when she sees them going backwards, not following through with the heft of her punch.]

Good stance, not super good execution. Remember, if you're using a shield, you have to be ready for the hits as they come.

[She brings herself back up, into her stance a second time.]

Reset. Concentrate on absorbing the blow, not just letting it go by. I'm pushing, and you wanna push back.

[Absorb the blow. Flow with it, maybe? They chew on their lower lip as they concentrate on the instruction, then dip their head in a nod.]

Okay. Move...with it?

[They're smaller than her. They don't have the kind of muscle and raw power that she does. It's like dodging, but with a barrier between yourself and what you're avoiding, a little bit.]

Yeah. Take what I'm giving, and feel the momentum. You can use someone else's raw power against them if you redirect their flow, rather than move yourself.

You ready?

[She waits for their signal, and then throws another punch to the center of the shield.]

[They're ready. A nod, and she's coming at them again. This time they slide backward, rocking on their heels, as though anticipating the blow. Too much of a dodge, and not enough of an actual attempt to blockade her, but they shift their stance to try and circle in recompense.

It's not quite a counterattack, but it's a start.]

[She stops pushing when she feels the resistance, backing up a bit and shaking out her hand.]

Good, good. You're doing better. Remember what I said about contact points, though. Don't take the pressure in your ankles, keep it in your knees. Think of it like... pressure on a spring. If you take it in, and get coiled up, suddenly you have all the potential power and they've run themself out. Make sense?

[Keep it in your knees. Keep it like - like a battery, charging yourself in the lightning strike of someone else's fists. Like a Torn Notebook or a pair of Cloudy Glasses that could flicker, extending the time it took to recover between blows. Twisting, torquing the pain to their advantage.

It's familiar, in its own way. Frisk nods once more, shoulders set.]

Yeah. Yeah, it...that makes sense.

Cool. You're picking up on this really fast though. Remember, like any good skill, the more time you put in the better you're going to get. But you've already got what you need.

[She can see it in them. No fear. The will to charge forward, to change fate.

Not everyone can be a warrior. But those who can protect, should. And she thinks they can. She thinks they want to, or they wouldn't have asked.]

You wanna try one more time? I can be here all day.

[They could train, couldn't they? In one of those rooms in Wonderland. They've not really devoted themself to that sort of thing, but they'd never had a reason to. With any luck, maybe they can take the shield with them, back in Wonderland...?]

You don't, um...you don't have to.

[She crosses her arms, grinning down at them warmly.]

Yeah, but I want to, so I guess you're stuck with it. It's not every day someone asks me to punch them.

[A moment's pause.]

... Don't tell Toriel I said that, she'll never forgive me. Especially against you, jeez.

[They have to stifle a grin, at that, biting down hard at the wall of their cheek, endeavoring to keep a straight face as they nod, politely.]

Of course not.

[But then, because they can't quite resist, because they're just like this, because there's no preventing the tiny smirk that pulls at one side of their mouth, they tilt their head to one side and add, slyly:]

You guys are really cute together, you know.

[Almost uncharacteristically of her stature and attitude so far today, Shepard blushes, looking away a bit as if somehow that would hide that fact.]

Yeah, yeah, laugh it up kid. Don't be mean to your second, less goat stepmom or I won't teach you how to hit things real good like your real mom doesn't like.

[She chuckles at herself for that one, if only because she's not so... informal with them, usually. Not quite this level of it, at least.]

I uh... don't really know what else to say about us that isn't that, though. She's nice.

[She blushes. It's...nice, to see her genuinely happy over something like this. She really does have more in common with Chara than either of them want to admit. But she's wrong about one thing.]

She's not my mom.

[She said it herself. She can't be that for them.]

It's okay.

[Huh. Well, only one answer to that, and it comes out before she has the chance to think of the implications.]

Well, guess I'm the real mom now.

[Toriel's got her own hangups about Frisk, she knows. But she doesn't. Hell, she's been here a year now. What's a few more commitments, when she's shed so many of her old ones?]

I mean. Dunno how good I'll be at doing mom stuff, but. I've been looking after you anyway.

[One side of their mouth twists at that. Shepard, as a mom. As their -

She's not the same as Toriel, really. They're a bit like opposites in that regard. Toriel was, is, warmth and fire that doesn't hurt even when you touch it, tools blunted down, the sharp scent of cinnamon and the soft fuzz of a paw wrapping around a child's tiny hand; a gentleness hiding an iron core.

And Shepard, she's...different. She's segmented armored pieces and unchecked brisance and flying chunks of shrapnel, a softness sheathed in an implacable edge.

Both of them so very, very like Chara.

What reason do either of them have to bother with a cheap copy of the child the really love? What business does Frisk have, inserting themself into a narrative that never really concerned them?

They smile anyway. People like you better when you smile.]

And Chara.

And you.

[You're not weaseling out of this one, Frisk. She knows this song and dance. They've done it around each other one too many times.]

I'm here for you, Frisk. I mean it.

[They'd shy away from it, but...but that'd be mean, wouldn't it? They're supposed to be making her happy with this, and they've already been a bother, so they might as well - they shouldn't be more of a bother than they already have.

Shouldn't impose. Shouldn't ACT the wrong way, and make the encounter go south. Just smile, and ACT how she wants you to ACT. This is...it's what she wants.

Right?]

Like...a mom?

If that's what you need. I just...

[Man, how does she explain this. How does she even begin. There's a vulnerableness in talking about her childhood, in any part, about this part of her that seems so far away but also almost like it wasn't even her to begin with.]

When I lost my parents, I didn't have anybody. There was someone making sure I was, y'know, fed, and had a place to sleep, but... it hurt a lot, to do all of that on my own, when there were adults in my life I thought could've cared more. Should have.

You deserve someone in your corner, I guess is what I'm saying. You don't... have to worry about never having backup, or support you, whether it's, y'know, stuff like this or stuff like... getting dinner, and making sure you get a kiss goodnight. The small stuff that ends up meaning more than it actually is.

[The longer she talks, the less they have any idea what to say. She lost her parents. She's been alone, and she made a family of her own, maybe, but a loss like that will still leave a wound. Perhaps raw. Perhaps unhealed.

Maybe it's how Chara said. That fierce, lion-hearted desire to ensure that no one else goes through what you've been through. Because no one else deserves to go through it. No one else should have to endure.]

Sorry.

[They're...ha ha, why are they apologizing? Apologies are pointless, and everyone knows it.]

Is that...is that why? 'Cause you don't want anyone to, to feel what you've had to...?

[That's always the feeling, isn't it? Going through the fire and getting burned so you can hit the sprinklers. Learning how to use the hose so people don't need to keep hitting that cycle of burning and recovery.

She remembers, somewhere far off, someone jokingly referring to her as a phoenix, reborn from the ashes of Mindoir, again by Cerberus, over and over in a cyclical loop. For herself, though, Shepard's not sure that after the first bit of Mindoir began to burn, that she ever stopped being on fire.]

Yeah, I guess so. I resented them for not doing it, and now I'm in a position to be doing it... feels shitty if I made those same mistakes. If I really wanted to be better. And you're a good kid, Frisk. A great kid. Someone should be there for you.

[A good kid.

It'd be...better if they could believe it, wouldn't it? It'd be nicer, and they could accept everything and be exactly what they're meant to be. Someone should be there for them, but everyone who's tried has been hurt, killed, worse; pieces in their own personal board game. That's what happens to people who try. They become tools, toys, for the cosmic entity so profoundly bored with itself that it decides to experiment.

Because it was never good enough to know that people's lives aren't meant to simply be played with.]

What about you?

[Someone should be there for her, too.]

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

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