This is bigger than us.

@eel-infested-sailor

I just want to live.

50 posts

Please, I didn't know.

Simon Edenson. Sole occupant of the SM-13. I took the mission to repent. I didn't know. Nobody told me this would happen.

#.messaged recieved.#.I'm going crazy here!#// ooc

Mary's voice startled Ryland out of his accidental catnap at his desk.

"Blip-A detected."

There was... a ship? Not a spaceship, a ship ship. Like, it goes in water. Submarine, maybe? How the helium was it in space??

..Was there anyone on it?

@eel-infested-sailor

Grace snorted awake at Mary’s voice echoing through the ship. Blip-A? They weren’t anywhere near Rocky’s ship— oh, wait. Right. Blip. There’s something outside. Grace started to drift off again when the realization actually settled in.

“There’s something outside!?” He explained, jolting up from his desk. Hurrying to the window, he pressed against the glass to see— a ship? Old and rusty— definitely not safe for space… and did it have— was this a submarine!?

Grace scurried up to the control room, ignoring Rocky’s confused tones, and looking at the sensor. The submarine(?) wasn’t getting any closer, so he’d have to get closer to it. So he did. Turned off drive. Pushed closer to the submarine, and lined it up with the airlock.

With some struggle, and use of the space suit and Rocky’s help sealing the sub to the airlock with xenonite, the sub was aligned and secured against the Hail Mary.

Grace drained the airlock, putting on his space suit just in case the atmosphere inside of the sub was different than his, and got to work with his laser cutter to make a large hole in the sub. Once he detected oxygen leaking from the sub, he filled the airlock with the right atmosphere, took off his helmet, and finished making the hole.

“Uh— hello? …is there anyone in there?” Grace called as he began prying the hole open.

eel-infested-sailor

It's filled with a red liquid. Is that..? No. no that's- that's way too much blood to be feasible.

When Grace turns the corner, theres a figure laying in one of the drier spots. They're soaked, shivering, and...

Wait.

They're shivering. They're alive.

Barely conscious, but living. Their chest rises and falls in rapid, shallow motions.

Grace gagged at the smell and vast amount of blood in this submarine. He tried to only open up the hole to the top of the layer of blood once he noticed it, but some splashed into the airlock, despite his attempts.

Climbing inside reluctantly with a quiet repeated ‘ew ew ew ew’, he looked to see… a person. Alive. Covered in blood.

Shoot.

Grace hurried over to them, unsure if they were even conscious, and leaned down to lightly touch their arm. “Hey, hey— I need to get you out of here,” he started quietly, grateful he was wearing gloves as he gently moved their head towards him so he could see if they were conscious or not.

eel-infested-sailor

There were teeth jutting out of their face.

The stranger muttered a weak protest, something about the blood and not to touch him.

“Oh my gosh— oh my gosh—“ Grace mumbled under his breath at the sight of the stranger and the— teeth jutting out of their face. Forcing himself to take a breath (and getting a huge whiff of blood-smell again, egh), he moved forward.

“I’m sorry. I need to get you out of here, so there’s going to be a bit of touching,” he apologized, scooping up the very muscular but definitely injured body of the person into his arms.

He climbed out of the sub, resealed the airlock, and brought the person into the Hail Mary, now hurrying to bring him to Armando, setting him on one of the empty cots. “Uh— Mary. Add new person to the manifest. Then— uh— Armando. Can you..?” He looked up. The robot whirred and started moving, cleaning off the blood and inserting an IV and— cleaning wounds and stuff.

Grace stepped back with a huff. Where the heck did this person come from??

eel-infested-sailor

He groaned as he shifted, all nerves on fire. He could barely think. Was this Hell? Was he dead?

The person tries to speak again.

"Th'blood. getit off y'r-"

That's all he can get out before a coughing fit overtakes him. He's surprisingly pliant to Armando's movements, likely too exhausted to protest.

Oh, they’re awake. Armando agreed with Grace’s silent sentiment, whirring and trying to wipe off the person’s face and put an oxygen mask on them.

“The blood… what?” He repeated under his breath, not hearing all what the person had said.. “I know. There’s a lot of it. We’ve got stores of O-, so you’ll be okay. Just focus on breathing. You’re safe now.”

“…I am going to power wash this suit and the entire airlock after this, though. Glad I didn’t touch any of the blood. Eugh,” he added under his breath.

eel-infested-sailor

The stranger must be satisfied with this answer, because their eyes slip shut as sleep finally overtakes them.

Looking closer at the person, they're male. Probably a bit taller than Grace, and definitely more muscular. Dark hair, though it's matted with coagulating blood. They're missing an-

What the-

They're missing an arm. The left arm, to be specific. Okay, don't freak out, Armando's got this, right?

Grace stared at the stump of an arm the man had left, horrified by the torn-off look of it. He put the cloth he had been using to help Armando clean the man into the bio waste bin, and turned. “Okay. Nope. Armando’s got this,” he said under his breath, starting over to the next room. “Mary, let me know when he’s stable. I’m going to go clean up.”

While Armando worked and the injured man slept, Grace checked through the sub, grabbing anything that seemed to possibly be important— like some odd pendant with a seed in it— before detaching the sub from the airlock. Grabbing the harshest cleaning supplies possible, he deep cleaned everything the blood had touched, then sprayed the area a bit with a dry ice mixture for good measure.

Then, a couple hours of work later, Grace settled in at the corner of the medbay, listening to the slow beep of the heart monitor. Rocky had agreed to stay in the lab until they were sure the new human was awake and ready to meet an alien. No need to freak him out.

eel-infested-sailor

Grace must've nodded off himself, because the next thing he sees when he opens his eyes is a broken test tube, pointed directly at his neck. The lab's been trashed, and there's a mess of blood and bandages everywhere.

"Who the fuck are you?? Huh? Did the COI send you??" The stranger shouts in his face, eyes wild (and still a little affected by the painkillers Armando put him on).

Blinking awake with an annoying crick in his neck, he blearily blinked at the man standing over him for a second. Finally, realization set in and he woke up fully. That was glass. Very sharp. At his neck.

This is probably fine.

Slowly putting his hands up, Grace gave a sheepish, nervous smile. “I’m Dr. uh— Captain, too, technically— Ryland Grace,” he stared at the other man. “I don’t know what the COI is. I, uh— found you in a submarine. Floating in space. Armando patched you up.” Geez, he needed to talk less.

eel-infested-sailor

"How the fuck did you find me?!"

He's going back to prison. He's dead and this is Hell. This is the Eels' doing. This isn't real. All of this is fake. Simon's dead and this is his eternity.

Grace shank back at the aggressive tone of the man’s voice, placating smile fading a bit, and nervously glancing at the broken test tube again.

“You were just drifting in space! My ship detected the sub— I don’t know how you got out there—“ he stammered out. “I promise I’m not lying. Can you please move the glass away from my throat..?”

eel-infested-sailor

The stranger stares at him for a few moments more. Then, he slowly moves the makeshift blade away from him.

"..You really aren't COI?"

Grace shook his head adamantly. “Nope. Don’t even know what that is,” he insisted. “Technically, I’m NASA, if you get into the specifics.” He added dismissively.

Slowly relaxing his arms, Grace watched the man pull the glass away. “We cool now?“ he let out a huff of breath. “Uh— what’s your name, by the way?”

eel-infested-sailor

Maybe it's another station. He doesn't ask.

"Simon." he mumbles. "I'm not sure if we're 'cool' yet."

This could all be a ruse. What if this is all some sick joke the Coalition's pulling? Maybe they made a better Lung, one that can fit two people. Yeah, that must be it.

Grace let out a breath. The guy seemed to be calming down, thankfully. Rocky probably would have burst in if the situation got too tense. That wouldn’t have helped.

“Nice to meet you, Simon,” he paused. “Could you, uh— maybe scoot back a bit… so I can stand up? Also, you are very injured and you should probably sit down and let Armando fix your bandages…”

eel-infested-sailor

"They're fine." he snaps, but leans back. He doesn't want that damned robot touching him any more than necessary.

He stands, struggling a bit with the off-centered gravity now that his atm was missing. He's gonna have to get used to that, huh.

Grace gives him an incredulous look and sits up as Simon backs off. “I don’t think so. Your arm is bleeding,” he said flatly, raising an eyebrow and propping his arms up behind him.

“I could try and bandage you instead, if you’re so against Armando. Or you could do it, but that seems a bit hard with one hand,” he offered.

eel-infested-sailor

"You just have bandages?" He mutters. He's alive, isn't he? Why waste them when they're scarce enough as is?

"What station are you from?"

“Uh— yes? They packed the ship with tons of bandages. Reusable ones, too. Just in case,” Grace blinked confusedly. He scooted back, leaning more against the wall and trying to fix his glasses.

“Station..? Like… NASA, I guess? If that’s what you’re asking,” he raised an eyebrow.

eel-infested-sailor

"Nasa? Where-? What is that?"

Does this guy not understand the question?

"I haven't heard of a Nasa station."

“It’s more like— a base. On Earth,” Grace said, a bit confused how Simon didn’t know about NASA. he thought everyone learned about the space race.

He shook himself. It’s not important right now.

“I mean— where are you from..?”

eel-infested-sailor

"That's not funny."

He stands, a bit unsteady. He needs to get out of here. This is just another fucking sub. They're lying to him again. It's just the COI playing him.

"That's not fucking funny, man."

Grace blinked. “I’m not… making a joke..?” He mumbled, trying to get up to his feet himself. “I swear, I haven’t said anything that’s a lie from my knowledge.”

“Hey, be careful, you lost a limb, you’re going to be unsteady for a bit—“ he started, trying to calm the situation. He didn’t understand why Simon was panicking like this.

eel-infested-sailor

"Yeah, cause you're from Earth. Nice one. I may have a concussion, but I'm not a fucking idiot."

Simon braces on the wall, glaring at Grace. "You think you can just- what? keep me here? I did my dive, I'm not fucking going back, You can't make me."

“What..?” Grace mumbled, staring at Simon anxiously as the man grew more and more frustrated.

“Hey, nobody is making you do anything, okay? I don’t know what, exactly, you’re talking about, but I’m not going to do anything to you. Please just listen to me,” he tried, straightening up slowly. “If you get your wounds wrapped and agree to an IV treatment for your radiation poisoning, I can show you the ship. The window. Everything. Proof that I’m not with whatever you think I am.”

“Please, Simon.”

eel-infested-sailor

"that's bullshit."

Simon stares at Grace, trying to read him. He can't tell if he's telling the truth, or just really good at lying. Doesn't help that he's only got half of his vision.

He sighs, resigns himself to his fate.

"No IV."

Grace let out a slightly annoyed huff, but it was pretty clear he didn’t mean it for anything other than chastising his language. He gestured to the medical bed.

“Alright, sit down. Let me grab the stuff,” Grace turned to look pointedly at the robot. “Armando, just stay there. He doesn’t trust you.”

Rifling through a couple of drawers, Grace continued talking. “If you aren’t going to take the IV, you’ll have to drink this gross slurry stuff once or twice a day. Otherwise your body won’t have enough to fight off the radiation, yada yada, you’ll be sick for much longer,” he poked his head up with an armful of bandages and antiseptic stuff. “I’ll even drink a sip before you if you’re nervous about it.” He dumped the supplies on the other side of the bed.

eel-infested-sailor

Simon shrugs. He's used to eating for survival, not taste, so he could really care less about the flavor. He'd much rather do that than be tied to an IV stand. It's harder to run with.

"You named that thing Armando?"

Grace grabbed the antiseptic, assuming that Armando had already used some sort of numbing cream earlier and not wanting to overdo it, and started putting it on a cloth.

“Yeah, ‘cause— he’s got arms,” he tried, but ultimately looking away awkwardly. “I was alone and drinking vodka out of desperation, I didn’t have much of an imagination, I just needed to pretend like he was sentient. Though he might be sentient by now…” the last bit he said under his breath, giving Armando a look.

“Try to hold still. Tell me if it hurts,” Grace said after a second, bringing the damp cloth up to his stump of an arm to clean the odd wound that Armando had already taken care of stitching up, but still desperately needed to be bandaged.

eel-infested-sailor

He grit his teeth, but let Grace work.

"You drank your alcohol? What if you needed that?"

Was this guy nuts? First the bandages, then the alcohol? Yeah, go right ahead, waste all your first aid, no big deal.

"Tell me more about... what was it. NASA. Were they part of the Coalition?"

#//says mr rubbing alcohol. okay.

eel-infested-sailor

There's a door in the sub.

It's painted green, decorated with simple carvings from a culture Simon doesn't recognize. It's not Eden. It's definitely not COI. It's made of wood.

It wasn't there before.

There's a sign hanging on it.

The Jasmine Dragon

@oldgreydragon

Why the hell would they make it out of wood? Trees are extremely endangered, who in their right minds would slaughter one for this, instead of using steel or some other easy-access metal??

Simon goes to investigate, nudging the door with his foot first.

The door isn't latched, and swings open easily.

Inside is... Not possible. On so many levels, it's simply incoherent with Simon's current reality.

The inside is a large room, everything in soft shades of green and brown and yellow. The floor is made of some sort of reeds, the tables and chairs are wood and lacquer, the windows- there's windows. Windows with warm yellow light streaming through and spilling across the floor, lighting up the dancing dust motes in the air.

It almost looks like sunlight.

At the back of the room is a counter- more wood- and behind it is a curtain leading to another room. A man emerges, plump and short and with long grey hair and a longer greyer beard, humming to himself as he brings out a tray. The tray holds two bowls of something that smells divine. A soup with noodles and meat and vegetables- things that hadn't been seen since before the Quiet Rapture, things long since replaced by flavorless and dusty nutrient blocks.

He sets the tray down and looks up at Simon with a smile. "Ah, hello. Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon! I am Iroh, though most call me Uncle these days."

eel-infested-sailor

Simon looks around in shock, staring at the windows. He's never seen windows look... warm. Like he could touch them and they would feel hot. A small part of him wants to try it.

The smell is what hits him next. Something smells good. His mouth begins to water and he's not sure why. He can't place the smell.

He realizes he's staring, and clears his throat.

"The Jas... what?"

Iroh's brow furrows in concern. "Young man, are you alright? Come, sit and eat. You will feel better with your stomach full."

"You are in the Jasmine Dragon. It is my tea shop, though I sometimes also serve food on quieter days. I am an old man, and cannot keep up with a lot of bustle," he chuckles.

His voice is easy and light, soothing. He gestures to the table that he set the tray down on. "Won't you join me? I can make a pot of tea for us as well."

eel-infested-sailor

"I.." Simon's now acutely aware of the blood he's getting all over the floor. His feet feel rooted in place, he's not sure what to do with himself.

"What's... that?"

Iroh very slowly, very gently, moves to Simon's side and starts to guide him to a chair.

"The noodles? It is roast duck, with bok choy. Are you injured? I have a friend who is a talented healer, I can bring her here."

eel-infested-sailor

"I... I don't think so. I think I hit my head. Did you say noodles?"

He hasn't had noodles since he was very young, maybe four. He can barely remember his mother making them for him, and he remembers the vague feeling of warmth that comes with the memory, but that's it.

"Sit, you must sit." Iroh pulls a chair out and gently bullies Simon into sitting in it.

He moves one of the bowls, a spoon, and some chopsticks in front of Simon. "Eat. You look pale, and healing is easier on a full belly. I will make us some tea, something to help your head."

eel-infested-sailor

He doesn't fight it. Hey, if this is hell, he's okay with that.

"How are you down here?" he mutters through mouthfuls of maybe the most flavorful thing he's tasted in his life.

Iroh begins to set up a pot to boil water over on the counter. There's a small spark of flame, but no match, no lighter.

"I am not sure what you mean by "down here"," He admits. "But I have found that my door opens to many places it shouldn't. Usually, my shop is in the Upper Ring of Ba Sing Se."

He gestures to the window, and outside of it is an incredibly massive city built of white stone. It goes on all the way to the horizon.

The sky is blue, and the sun is warm.

eel-infested-sailor

"The... the sun.." he whispers quietly. This isn't hell. How did he get here?

He realizes his eyes are damp, and quickly wipes them off before Iroh returns.

Iroh reaches for a container of tea, glances at the strange young man, and switches direction for a different one.

A few minutes later, he returns with the pot and two small clay cups.

"Lemon balm tea. It will help." He says softly, setting one of the cups in front of Simon.

What he does not say out loud is that it's a tea meant for anxiety and heart palpitations.

He sits across from him and pours them each a cup. "May I know your name, young name?"

eel-infested-sailor

"It's Simon." he mumbles.

"Thank you." He hasn't felt this safe in so long.

Iroh smiles gently at him. "It is nice to meet you, Simon. Please, stay as long as you'd like. I have plenty to share."

eel-infested-sailor

There's no other explanation. Simon's dead. The stars didn't magically return, the trees didn't grow back out of nowhere. He's dead, and this is the afterlife that The Father promised him.

Selfishly, he continues to pretend it's real. He drinks the warm drink (Tea?) and eats the food slowly, as to not waste a single minute of feeling full. Of feeling warm.

Iroh doesn't speak, just allowing the silence to sit. He's not sure who this man is, or what happened to have him so shaken, but the very least he can do is give him some peace, and some warm food and tea.

When their bowls are empty, some time later, Iroh takes the chance to ask, "Would you care for something sweet? I have some red bean buns from the baker down the road. She is very talented."

eel-infested-sailor

"I'm... not sure I've ever had that." He says softly.

He should leave. This is all wrong. He needs to complete his dive. Earn his freedom. Get out of this godforsaken sub.

But how could he, when the alternative is dark skies and rationed food? He's pretty sure if he asked Iroh for seconds he'd get them.

Not that he would. But still.

Iroh stands, beaming. "Then I will be pleased to introduce it to you," he says, moving to the counter to retrieve a pair of the soft fluffy buns.

He passes one of them to Simon. He's resolved to try and keep the man here as long as he reasonably could. It's clear that whatever he's going back to is less than ideal.

"I appreciate that you joined me for lunch. A meal tastes much better when shared with someone."

eel-infested-sailor

"It.. it is, yeah." He mumbles.

Simon tears a piece off of the bun and puts it in his mouth carefully. It's.. really good. Surprisingly sweet, but not the fake sweetener they used to use on Mars.

"This is good. Thank you."

"I will be sure to pass your compliments to my neighbor. Her talents are remarkable."

He smiles gently at Simon. "I am curious how you came to find my shop. Most who find my door in places they shouldn't often need it most."

eel-infested-sailor

Simon shrugs. "I dunno, it just showed up."

He didn't want to think about the details, because that would be admitting this was fake. He sips the last of his tea to avoid elaborating.

eel-infested-sailor

There's a door in the sub.

It's painted green, decorated with simple carvings from a culture Simon doesn't recognize. It's not Eden. It's definitely not COI. It's made of wood.

It wasn't there before.

There's a sign hanging on it.

The Jasmine Dragon

@oldgreydragon

Why the hell would they make it out of wood? Trees are extremely endangered, who in their right minds would slaughter one for this, instead of using steel or some other easy-access metal??

Simon goes to investigate, nudging the door with his foot first.

The door isn't latched, and swings open easily.

Inside is... Not possible. On so many levels, it's simply incoherent with Simon's current reality.

The inside is a large room, everything in soft shades of green and brown and yellow. The floor is made of some sort of reeds, the tables and chairs are wood and lacquer, the windows- there's windows. Windows with warm yellow light streaming through and spilling across the floor, lighting up the dancing dust motes in the air.

It almost looks like sunlight.

At the back of the room is a counter- more wood- and behind it is a curtain leading to another room. A man emerges, plump and short and with long grey hair and a longer greyer beard, humming to himself as he brings out a tray. The tray holds two bowls of something that smells divine. A soup with noodles and meat and vegetables- things that hadn't been seen since before the Quiet Rapture, things long since replaced by flavorless and dusty nutrient blocks.

He sets the tray down and looks up at Simon with a smile. "Ah, hello. Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon! I am Iroh, though most call me Uncle these days."

eel-infested-sailor

Simon looks around in shock, staring at the windows. He's never seen windows look... warm. Like he could touch them and they would feel hot. A small part of him wants to try it.

The smell is what hits him next. Something smells good. His mouth begins to water and he's not sure why. He can't place the smell.

He realizes he's staring, and clears his throat.

"The Jas... what?"

Iroh's brow furrows in concern. "Young man, are you alright? Come, sit and eat. You will feel better with your stomach full."

"You are in the Jasmine Dragon. It is my tea shop, though I sometimes also serve food on quieter days. I am an old man, and cannot keep up with a lot of bustle," he chuckles.

His voice is easy and light, soothing. He gestures to the table that he set the tray down on. "Won't you join me? I can make a pot of tea for us as well."

eel-infested-sailor

"I.." Simon's now acutely aware of the blood he's getting all over the floor. His feet feel rooted in place, he's not sure what to do with himself.

"What's... that?"

Iroh very slowly, very gently, moves to Simon's side and starts to guide him to a chair.

"The noodles? It is roast duck, with bok choy. Are you injured? I have a friend who is a talented healer, I can bring her here."

eel-infested-sailor

"I... I don't think so. I think I hit my head. Did you say noodles?"

He hasn't had noodles since he was very young, maybe four. He can barely remember his mother making them for him, and he remembers the vague feeling of warmth that comes with the memory, but that's it.

"Sit, you must sit." Iroh pulls a chair out and gently bullies Simon into sitting in it.

He moves one of the bowls, a spoon, and some chopsticks in front of Simon. "Eat. You look pale, and healing is easier on a full belly. I will make us some tea, something to help your head."

eel-infested-sailor

He doesn't fight it. Hey, if this is hell, he's okay with that.

"How are you down here?" he mutters through mouthfuls of maybe the most flavorful thing he's tasted in his life.

Iroh begins to set up a pot to boil water over on the counter. There's a small spark of flame, but no match, no lighter.

"I am not sure what you mean by "down here"," He admits. "But I have found that my door opens to many places it shouldn't. Usually, my shop is in the Upper Ring of Ba Sing Se."

He gestures to the window, and outside of it is an incredibly massive city built of white stone. It goes on all the way to the horizon.

The sky is blue, and the sun is warm.

eel-infested-sailor

"The... the sun.." he whispers quietly. This isn't hell. How did he get here?

He realizes his eyes are damp, and quickly wipes them off before Iroh returns.

Iroh reaches for a container of tea, glances at the strange young man, and switches direction for a different one.

A few minutes later, he returns with the pot and two small clay cups.

"Lemon balm tea. It will help." He says softly, setting one of the cups in front of Simon.

What he does not say out loud is that it's a tea meant for anxiety and heart palpitations.

He sits across from him and pours them each a cup. "May I know your name, young name?"

eel-infested-sailor

"It's Simon." he mumbles.

"Thank you." He hasn't felt this safe in so long.

Iroh smiles gently at him. "It is nice to meet you, Simon. Please, stay as long as you'd like. I have plenty to share."

eel-infested-sailor

There's no other explanation. Simon's dead. The stars didn't magically return, the trees didn't grow back out of nowhere. He's dead, and this is the afterlife that The Father promised him.

Selfishly, he continues to pretend it's real. He drinks the warm drink (Tea?) and eats the food slowly, as to not waste a single minute of feeling full. Of feeling warm.

Iroh doesn't speak, just allowing the silence to sit. He's not sure who this man is, or what happened to have him so shaken, but the very least he can do is give him some peace, and some warm food and tea.

When their bowls are empty, some time later, Iroh takes the chance to ask, "Would you care for something sweet? I have some red bean buns from the baker down the road. She is very talented."

eel-infested-sailor

"I'm... not sure I've ever had that." He says softly.

He should leave. This is all wrong. He needs to complete his dive. Earn his freedom. Get out of this godforsaken sub.

But how could he, when the alternative is dark skies and rationed food? He's pretty sure if he asked Iroh for seconds he'd get them.

Not that he would. But still.

Iroh stands, beaming. "Then I will be pleased to introduce it to you," he says, moving to the counter to retrieve a pair of the soft fluffy buns.

He passes one of them to Simon. He's resolved to try and keep the man here as long as he reasonably could. It's clear that whatever he's going back to is less than ideal.

"I appreciate that you joined me for lunch. A meal tastes much better when shared with someone."

eel-infested-sailor

"It.. it is, yeah." He mumbles.

Simon tears a piece off of the bun and puts it in his mouth carefully. It's.. really good. Surprisingly sweet, but not the fake sweetener they used to use on Mars.

"This is good. Thank you."

eel-infested-sailor

There's a door in the sub.

It's painted green, decorated with simple carvings from a culture Simon doesn't recognize. It's not Eden. It's definitely not COI. It's made of wood.

It wasn't there before.

There's a sign hanging on it.

The Jasmine Dragon

@oldgreydragon

Why the hell would they make it out of wood? Trees are extremely endangered, who in their right minds would slaughter one for this, instead of using steel or some other easy-access metal??

Simon goes to investigate, nudging the door with his foot first.

The door isn't latched, and swings open easily.

Inside is... Not possible. On so many levels, it's simply incoherent with Simon's current reality.

The inside is a large room, everything in soft shades of green and brown and yellow. The floor is made of some sort of reeds, the tables and chairs are wood and lacquer, the windows- there's windows. Windows with warm yellow light streaming through and spilling across the floor, lighting up the dancing dust motes in the air.

It almost looks like sunlight.

At the back of the room is a counter- more wood- and behind it is a curtain leading to another room. A man emerges, plump and short and with long grey hair and a longer greyer beard, humming to himself as he brings out a tray. The tray holds two bowls of something that smells divine. A soup with noodles and meat and vegetables- things that hadn't been seen since before the Quiet Rapture, things long since replaced by flavorless and dusty nutrient blocks.

He sets the tray down and looks up at Simon with a smile. "Ah, hello. Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon! I am Iroh, though most call me Uncle these days."

eel-infested-sailor

Simon looks around in shock, staring at the windows. He's never seen windows look... warm. Like he could touch them and they would feel hot. A small part of him wants to try it.

The smell is what hits him next. Something smells good. His mouth begins to water and he's not sure why. He can't place the smell.

He realizes he's staring, and clears his throat.

"The Jas... what?"

Iroh's brow furrows in concern. "Young man, are you alright? Come, sit and eat. You will feel better with your stomach full."

"You are in the Jasmine Dragon. It is my tea shop, though I sometimes also serve food on quieter days. I am an old man, and cannot keep up with a lot of bustle," he chuckles.

His voice is easy and light, soothing. He gestures to the table that he set the tray down on. "Won't you join me? I can make a pot of tea for us as well."

eel-infested-sailor

"I.." Simon's now acutely aware of the blood he's getting all over the floor. His feet feel rooted in place, he's not sure what to do with himself.

"What's... that?"

Iroh very slowly, very gently, moves to Simon's side and starts to guide him to a chair.

"The noodles? It is roast duck, with bok choy. Are you injured? I have a friend who is a talented healer, I can bring her here."

eel-infested-sailor

"I... I don't think so. I think I hit my head. Did you say noodles?"

He hasn't had noodles since he was very young, maybe four. He can barely remember his mother making them for him, and he remembers the vague feeling of warmth that comes with the memory, but that's it.

"Sit, you must sit." Iroh pulls a chair out and gently bullies Simon into sitting in it.

He moves one of the bowls, a spoon, and some chopsticks in front of Simon. "Eat. You look pale, and healing is easier on a full belly. I will make us some tea, something to help your head."

eel-infested-sailor

He doesn't fight it. Hey, if this is hell, he's okay with that.

"How are you down here?" he mutters through mouthfuls of maybe the most flavorful thing he's tasted in his life.

Iroh begins to set up a pot to boil water over on the counter. There's a small spark of flame, but no match, no lighter.

"I am not sure what you mean by "down here"," He admits. "But I have found that my door opens to many places it shouldn't. Usually, my shop is in the Upper Ring of Ba Sing Se."

He gestures to the window, and outside of it is an incredibly massive city built of white stone. It goes on all the way to the horizon.

The sky is blue, and the sun is warm.

eel-infested-sailor

"The... the sun.." he whispers quietly. This isn't hell. How did he get here?

He realizes his eyes are damp, and quickly wipes them off before Iroh returns.

Iroh reaches for a container of tea, glances at the strange young man, and switches direction for a different one.

A few minutes later, he returns with the pot and two small clay cups.

"Lemon balm tea. It will help." He says softly, setting one of the cups in front of Simon.

What he does not say out loud is that it's a tea meant for anxiety and heart palpitations.

He sits across from him and pours them each a cup. "May I know your name, young name?"

eel-infested-sailor

"It's Simon." he mumbles.

"Thank you." He hasn't felt this safe in so long.

Iroh smiles gently at him. "It is nice to meet you, Simon. Please, stay as long as you'd like. I have plenty to share."

eel-infested-sailor

There's no other explanation. Simon's dead. The stars didn't magically return, the trees didn't grow back out of nowhere. He's dead, and this is the afterlife that The Father promised him.

Selfishly, he continues to pretend it's real. He drinks the warm drink (Tea?) and eats the food slowly, as to not waste a single minute of feeling full. Of feeling warm.

Iroh doesn't speak, just allowing the silence to sit. He's not sure who this man is, or what happened to have him so shaken, but the very least he can do is give him some peace, and some warm food and tea.

When their bowls are empty, some time later, Iroh takes the chance to ask, "Would you care for something sweet? I have some red bean buns from the baker down the road. She is very talented."

eel-infested-sailor

"I'm... not sure I've ever had that." He says softly.

He should leave. This is all wrong. He needs to complete his dive. Earn his freedom. Get out of this godforsaken sub.

But how could he, when the alternative is dark skies and rationed food? He's pretty sure if he asked Iroh for seconds he'd get them.

Not that he would. But still.

Mary's voice startled Ryland out of his accidental catnap at his desk.

"Blip-A detected."

There was... a ship? Not a spaceship, a ship ship. Like, it goes in water. Submarine, maybe? How the helium was it in space??

..Was there anyone on it?

@eel-infested-sailor

Grace snorted awake at Mary’s voice echoing through the ship. Blip-A? They weren’t anywhere near Rocky’s ship— oh, wait. Right. Blip. There’s something outside. Grace started to drift off again when the realization actually settled in.

“There’s something outside!?” He explained, jolting up from his desk. Hurrying to the window, he pressed against the glass to see— a ship? Old and rusty— definitely not safe for space… and did it have— was this a submarine!?

Grace scurried up to the control room, ignoring Rocky’s confused tones, and looking at the sensor. The submarine(?) wasn’t getting any closer, so he’d have to get closer to it. So he did. Turned off drive. Pushed closer to the submarine, and lined it up with the airlock.

With some struggle, and use of the space suit and Rocky’s help sealing the sub to the airlock with xenonite, the sub was aligned and secured against the Hail Mary.

Grace drained the airlock, putting on his space suit just in case the atmosphere inside of the sub was different than his, and got to work with his laser cutter to make a large hole in the sub. Once he detected oxygen leaking from the sub, he filled the airlock with the right atmosphere, took off his helmet, and finished making the hole.

“Uh— hello? …is there anyone in there?” Grace called as he began prying the hole open.

eel-infested-sailor

It's filled with a red liquid. Is that..? No. no that's- that's way too much blood to be feasible.

When Grace turns the corner, theres a figure laying in one of the drier spots. They're soaked, shivering, and...

Wait.

They're shivering. They're alive.

Barely conscious, but living. Their chest rises and falls in rapid, shallow motions.

Grace gagged at the smell and vast amount of blood in this submarine. He tried to only open up the hole to the top of the layer of blood once he noticed it, but some splashed into the airlock, despite his attempts.

Climbing inside reluctantly with a quiet repeated ‘ew ew ew ew’, he looked to see… a person. Alive. Covered in blood.

Shoot.

Grace hurried over to them, unsure if they were even conscious, and leaned down to lightly touch their arm. “Hey, hey— I need to get you out of here,” he started quietly, grateful he was wearing gloves as he gently moved their head towards him so he could see if they were conscious or not.

eel-infested-sailor

There were teeth jutting out of their face.

The stranger muttered a weak protest, something about the blood and not to touch him.

“Oh my gosh— oh my gosh—“ Grace mumbled under his breath at the sight of the stranger and the— teeth jutting out of their face. Forcing himself to take a breath (and getting a huge whiff of blood-smell again, egh), he moved forward.

“I’m sorry. I need to get you out of here, so there’s going to be a bit of touching,” he apologized, scooping up the very muscular but definitely injured body of the person into his arms.

He climbed out of the sub, resealed the airlock, and brought the person into the Hail Mary, now hurrying to bring him to Armando, setting him on one of the empty cots. “Uh— Mary. Add new person to the manifest. Then— uh— Armando. Can you..?” He looked up. The robot whirred and started moving, cleaning off the blood and inserting an IV and— cleaning wounds and stuff.

Grace stepped back with a huff. Where the heck did this person come from??

eel-infested-sailor

He groaned as he shifted, all nerves on fire. He could barely think. Was this Hell? Was he dead?

The person tries to speak again.

"Th'blood. getit off y'r-"

That's all he can get out before a coughing fit overtakes him. He's surprisingly pliant to Armando's movements, likely too exhausted to protest.

Oh, they’re awake. Armando agreed with Grace’s silent sentiment, whirring and trying to wipe off the person’s face and put an oxygen mask on them.

“The blood… what?” He repeated under his breath, not hearing all what the person had said.. “I know. There’s a lot of it. We’ve got stores of O-, so you’ll be okay. Just focus on breathing. You’re safe now.”

“…I am going to power wash this suit and the entire airlock after this, though. Glad I didn’t touch any of the blood. Eugh,” he added under his breath.

eel-infested-sailor

The stranger must be satisfied with this answer, because their eyes slip shut as sleep finally overtakes them.

Looking closer at the person, they're male. Probably a bit taller than Grace, and definitely more muscular. Dark hair, though it's matted with coagulating blood. They're missing an-

What the-

They're missing an arm. The left arm, to be specific. Okay, don't freak out, Armando's got this, right?

Grace stared at the stump of an arm the man had left, horrified by the torn-off look of it. He put the cloth he had been using to help Armando clean the man into the bio waste bin, and turned. “Okay. Nope. Armando’s got this,” he said under his breath, starting over to the next room. “Mary, let me know when he’s stable. I’m going to go clean up.”

While Armando worked and the injured man slept, Grace checked through the sub, grabbing anything that seemed to possibly be important— like some odd pendant with a seed in it— before detaching the sub from the airlock. Grabbing the harshest cleaning supplies possible, he deep cleaned everything the blood had touched, then sprayed the area a bit with a dry ice mixture for good measure.

Then, a couple hours of work later, Grace settled in at the corner of the medbay, listening to the slow beep of the heart monitor. Rocky had agreed to stay in the lab until they were sure the new human was awake and ready to meet an alien. No need to freak him out.

eel-infested-sailor

Grace must've nodded off himself, because the next thing he sees when he opens his eyes is a broken test tube, pointed directly at his neck. The lab's been trashed, and there's a mess of blood and bandages everywhere.

"Who the fuck are you?? Huh? Did the COI send you??" The stranger shouts in his face, eyes wild (and still a little affected by the painkillers Armando put him on).

Blinking awake with an annoying crick in his neck, he blearily blinked at the man standing over him for a second. Finally, realization set in and he woke up fully. That was glass. Very sharp. At his neck.

This is probably fine.

Slowly putting his hands up, Grace gave a sheepish, nervous smile. “I’m Dr. uh— Captain, too, technically— Ryland Grace,” he stared at the other man. “I don’t know what the COI is. I, uh— found you in a submarine. Floating in space. Armando patched you up.” Geez, he needed to talk less.

eel-infested-sailor

"How the fuck did you find me?!"

He's going back to prison. He's dead and this is Hell. This is the Eels' doing. This isn't real. All of this is fake. Simon's dead and this is his eternity.

Grace shank back at the aggressive tone of the man’s voice, placating smile fading a bit, and nervously glancing at the broken test tube again.

“You were just drifting in space! My ship detected the sub— I don’t know how you got out there—“ he stammered out. “I promise I’m not lying. Can you please move the glass away from my throat..?”

eel-infested-sailor

The stranger stares at him for a few moments more. Then, he slowly moves the makeshift blade away from him.

"..You really aren't COI?"

Grace shook his head adamantly. “Nope. Don’t even know what that is,” he insisted. “Technically, I’m NASA, if you get into the specifics.” He added dismissively.

Slowly relaxing his arms, Grace watched the man pull the glass away. “We cool now?“ he let out a huff of breath. “Uh— what’s your name, by the way?”

eel-infested-sailor

Maybe it's another station. He doesn't ask.

"Simon." he mumbles. "I'm not sure if we're 'cool' yet."

This could all be a ruse. What if this is all some sick joke the Coalition's pulling? Maybe they made a better Lung, one that can fit two people. Yeah, that must be it.

Grace let out a breath. The guy seemed to be calming down, thankfully. Rocky probably would have burst in if the situation got too tense. That wouldn’t have helped.

“Nice to meet you, Simon,” he paused. “Could you, uh— maybe scoot back a bit… so I can stand up? Also, you are very injured and you should probably sit down and let Armando fix your bandages…”

eel-infested-sailor

"They're fine." he snaps, but leans back. He doesn't want that damned robot touching him any more than necessary.

He stands, struggling a bit with the off-centered gravity now that his atm was missing. He's gonna have to get used to that, huh.

Grace gives him an incredulous look and sits up as Simon backs off. “I don’t think so. Your arm is bleeding,” he said flatly, raising an eyebrow and propping his arms up behind him.

“I could try and bandage you instead, if you’re so against Armando. Or you could do it, but that seems a bit hard with one hand,” he offered.

eel-infested-sailor

"You just have bandages?" He mutters. He's alive, isn't he? Why waste them when they're scarce enough as is?

"What station are you from?"

“Uh— yes? They packed the ship with tons of bandages. Reusable ones, too. Just in case,” Grace blinked confusedly. He scooted back, leaning more against the wall and trying to fix his glasses.

“Station..? Like… NASA, I guess? If that’s what you’re asking,” he raised an eyebrow.

eel-infested-sailor

"Nasa? Where-? What is that?"

Does this guy not understand the question?

"I haven't heard of a Nasa station."

“It’s more like— a base. On Earth,” Grace said, a bit confused how Simon didn’t know about NASA. he thought everyone learned about the space race.

He shook himself. It’s not important right now.

“I mean— where are you from..?”

eel-infested-sailor

"That's not funny."

He stands, a bit unsteady. He needs to get out of here. This is just another fucking sub. They're lying to him again. It's just the COI playing him.

"That's not fucking funny, man."

Grace blinked. “I’m not… making a joke..?” He mumbled, trying to get up to his feet himself. “I swear, I haven’t said anything that’s a lie from my knowledge.”

“Hey, be careful, you lost a limb, you’re going to be unsteady for a bit—“ he started, trying to calm the situation. He didn’t understand why Simon was panicking like this.

eel-infested-sailor

"Yeah, cause you're from Earth. Nice one. I may have a concussion, but I'm not a fucking idiot."

Simon braces on the wall, glaring at Grace. "You think you can just- what? keep me here? I did my dive, I'm not fucking going back, You can't make me."

“What..?” Grace mumbled, staring at Simon anxiously as the man grew more and more frustrated.

“Hey, nobody is making you do anything, okay? I don’t know what, exactly, you’re talking about, but I’m not going to do anything to you. Please just listen to me,” he tried, straightening up slowly. “If you get your wounds wrapped and agree to an IV treatment for your radiation poisoning, I can show you the ship. The window. Everything. Proof that I’m not with whatever you think I am.”

“Please, Simon.”

eel-infested-sailor

"that's bullshit."

Simon stares at Grace, trying to read him. He can't tell if he's telling the truth, or just really good at lying. Doesn't help that he's only got half of his vision.

He sighs, resigns himself to his fate.

"No IV."

Grace let out a slightly annoyed huff, but it was pretty clear he didn’t mean it for anything other than chastising his language. He gestured to the medical bed.

“Alright, sit down. Let me grab the stuff,” Grace turned to look pointedly at the robot. “Armando, just stay there. He doesn’t trust you.”

Rifling through a couple of drawers, Grace continued talking. “If you aren’t going to take the IV, you’ll have to drink this gross slurry stuff once or twice a day. Otherwise your body won’t have enough to fight off the radiation, yada yada, you’ll be sick for much longer,” he poked his head up with an armful of bandages and antiseptic stuff. “I’ll even drink a sip before you if you’re nervous about it.” He dumped the supplies on the other side of the bed.

eel-infested-sailor

Simon shrugs. He's used to eating for survival, not taste, so he could really care less about the flavor. He'd much rather do that than be tied to an IV stand. It's harder to run with.

"You named that thing Armando?"

Is bro still in the sub and stranded down there

Throws pillow at him

Since apparently we’re throwing things now

Can we stop throwing things?

#.message recieved.

eel-infested-sailor

There's a door in the sub.

It's painted green, decorated with simple carvings from a culture Simon doesn't recognize. It's not Eden. It's definitely not COI. It's made of wood.

It wasn't there before.

There's a sign hanging on it.

The Jasmine Dragon

@oldgreydragon

Why the hell would they make it out of wood? Trees are extremely endangered, who in their right minds would slaughter one for this, instead of using steel or some other easy-access metal??

Simon goes to investigate, nudging the door with his foot first.

The door isn't latched, and swings open easily.

Inside is... Not possible. On so many levels, it's simply incoherent with Simon's current reality.

The inside is a large room, everything in soft shades of green and brown and yellow. The floor is made of some sort of reeds, the tables and chairs are wood and lacquer, the windows- there's windows. Windows with warm yellow light streaming through and spilling across the floor, lighting up the dancing dust motes in the air.

It almost looks like sunlight.

At the back of the room is a counter- more wood- and behind it is a curtain leading to another room. A man emerges, plump and short and with long grey hair and a longer greyer beard, humming to himself as he brings out a tray. The tray holds two bowls of something that smells divine. A soup with noodles and meat and vegetables- things that hadn't been seen since before the Quiet Rapture, things long since replaced by flavorless and dusty nutrient blocks.

He sets the tray down and looks up at Simon with a smile. "Ah, hello. Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon! I am Iroh, though most call me Uncle these days."

eel-infested-sailor

Simon looks around in shock, staring at the windows. He's never seen windows look... warm. Like he could touch them and they would feel hot. A small part of him wants to try it.

The smell is what hits him next. Something smells good. His mouth begins to water and he's not sure why. He can't place the smell.

He realizes he's staring, and clears his throat.

"The Jas... what?"

Iroh's brow furrows in concern. "Young man, are you alright? Come, sit and eat. You will feel better with your stomach full."

"You are in the Jasmine Dragon. It is my tea shop, though I sometimes also serve food on quieter days. I am an old man, and cannot keep up with a lot of bustle," he chuckles.

His voice is easy and light, soothing. He gestures to the table that he set the tray down on. "Won't you join me? I can make a pot of tea for us as well."

eel-infested-sailor

"I.." Simon's now acutely aware of the blood he's getting all over the floor. His feet feel rooted in place, he's not sure what to do with himself.

"What's... that?"

Iroh very slowly, very gently, moves to Simon's side and starts to guide him to a chair.

"The noodles? It is roast duck, with bok choy. Are you injured? I have a friend who is a talented healer, I can bring her here."

eel-infested-sailor

"I... I don't think so. I think I hit my head. Did you say noodles?"

He hasn't had noodles since he was very young, maybe four. He can barely remember his mother making them for him, and he remembers the vague feeling of warmth that comes with the memory, but that's it.

"Sit, you must sit." Iroh pulls a chair out and gently bullies Simon into sitting in it.

He moves one of the bowls, a spoon, and some chopsticks in front of Simon. "Eat. You look pale, and healing is easier on a full belly. I will make us some tea, something to help your head."

eel-infested-sailor

He doesn't fight it. Hey, if this is hell, he's okay with that.

"How are you down here?" he mutters through mouthfuls of maybe the most flavorful thing he's tasted in his life.

Iroh begins to set up a pot to boil water over on the counter. There's a small spark of flame, but no match, no lighter.

"I am not sure what you mean by "down here"," He admits. "But I have found that my door opens to many places it shouldn't. Usually, my shop is in the Upper Ring of Ba Sing Se."

He gestures to the window, and outside of it is an incredibly massive city built of white stone. It goes on all the way to the horizon.

The sky is blue, and the sun is warm.

eel-infested-sailor

"The... the sun.." he whispers quietly. This isn't hell. How did he get here?

He realizes his eyes are damp, and quickly wipes them off before Iroh returns.

Iroh reaches for a container of tea, glances at the strange young man, and switches direction for a different one.

A few minutes later, he returns with the pot and two small clay cups.

"Lemon balm tea. It will help." He says softly, setting one of the cups in front of Simon.

What he does not say out loud is that it's a tea meant for anxiety and heart palpitations.

He sits across from him and pours them each a cup. "May I know your name, young name?"

eel-infested-sailor

"It's Simon." he mumbles.

"Thank you." He hasn't felt this safe in so long.

Iroh smiles gently at him. "It is nice to meet you, Simon. Please, stay as long as you'd like. I have plenty to share."

eel-infested-sailor

There's no other explanation. Simon's dead. The stars didn't magically return, the trees didn't grow back out of nowhere. He's dead, and this is the afterlife that The Father promised him.

Selfishly, he continues to pretend it's real. He drinks the warm drink (Tea?) and eats the food slowly, as to not waste a single minute of feeling full. Of feeling warm.

eel-infested-sailor

There's a door in the sub.

It's painted green, decorated with simple carvings from a culture Simon doesn't recognize. It's not Eden. It's definitely not COI. It's made of wood.

It wasn't there before.

There's a sign hanging on it.

The Jasmine Dragon

@oldgreydragon

Why the hell would they make it out of wood? Trees are extremely endangered, who in their right minds would slaughter one for this, instead of using steel or some other easy-access metal??

Simon goes to investigate, nudging the door with his foot first.

The door isn't latched, and swings open easily.

Inside is... Not possible. On so many levels, it's simply incoherent with Simon's current reality.

The inside is a large room, everything in soft shades of green and brown and yellow. The floor is made of some sort of reeds, the tables and chairs are wood and lacquer, the windows- there's windows. Windows with warm yellow light streaming through and spilling across the floor, lighting up the dancing dust motes in the air.

It almost looks like sunlight.

At the back of the room is a counter- more wood- and behind it is a curtain leading to another room. A man emerges, plump and short and with long grey hair and a longer greyer beard, humming to himself as he brings out a tray. The tray holds two bowls of something that smells divine. A soup with noodles and meat and vegetables- things that hadn't been seen since before the Quiet Rapture, things long since replaced by flavorless and dusty nutrient blocks.

He sets the tray down and looks up at Simon with a smile. "Ah, hello. Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon! I am Iroh, though most call me Uncle these days."

eel-infested-sailor

Simon looks around in shock, staring at the windows. He's never seen windows look... warm. Like he could touch them and they would feel hot. A small part of him wants to try it.

The smell is what hits him next. Something smells good. His mouth begins to water and he's not sure why. He can't place the smell.

He realizes he's staring, and clears his throat.

"The Jas... what?"

Iroh's brow furrows in concern. "Young man, are you alright? Come, sit and eat. You will feel better with your stomach full."

"You are in the Jasmine Dragon. It is my tea shop, though I sometimes also serve food on quieter days. I am an old man, and cannot keep up with a lot of bustle," he chuckles.

His voice is easy and light, soothing. He gestures to the table that he set the tray down on. "Won't you join me? I can make a pot of tea for us as well."

eel-infested-sailor

"I.." Simon's now acutely aware of the blood he's getting all over the floor. His feet feel rooted in place, he's not sure what to do with himself.

"What's... that?"

Iroh very slowly, very gently, moves to Simon's side and starts to guide him to a chair.

"The noodles? It is roast duck, with bok choy. Are you injured? I have a friend who is a talented healer, I can bring her here."

eel-infested-sailor

"I... I don't think so. I think I hit my head. Did you say noodles?"

He hasn't had noodles since he was very young, maybe four. He can barely remember his mother making them for him, and he remembers the vague feeling of warmth that comes with the memory, but that's it.

"Sit, you must sit." Iroh pulls a chair out and gently bullies Simon into sitting in it.

He moves one of the bowls, a spoon, and some chopsticks in front of Simon. "Eat. You look pale, and healing is easier on a full belly. I will make us some tea, something to help your head."

eel-infested-sailor

He doesn't fight it. Hey, if this is hell, he's okay with that.

"How are you down here?" he mutters through mouthfuls of maybe the most flavorful thing he's tasted in his life.

Iroh begins to set up a pot to boil water over on the counter. There's a small spark of flame, but no match, no lighter.

"I am not sure what you mean by "down here"," He admits. "But I have found that my door opens to many places it shouldn't. Usually, my shop is in the Upper Ring of Ba Sing Se."

He gestures to the window, and outside of it is an incredibly massive city built of white stone. It goes on all the way to the horizon.

The sky is blue, and the sun is warm.

eel-infested-sailor

"The... the sun.." he whispers quietly. This isn't hell. How did he get here?

He realizes his eyes are damp, and quickly wipes them off before Iroh returns.

Iroh reaches for a container of tea, glances at the strange young man, and switches direction for a different one.

A few minutes later, he returns with the pot and two small clay cups.

"Lemon balm tea. It will help." He says softly, setting one of the cups in front of Simon.

What he does not say out loud is that it's a tea meant for anxiety and heart palpitations.

He sits across from him and pours them each a cup. "May I know your name, young name?"

eel-infested-sailor

"It's Simon." he mumbles.

"Thank you." He hasn't felt this safe in so long.

eel-infested-sailor

There's a door in the sub.

It's painted green, decorated with simple carvings from a culture Simon doesn't recognize. It's not Eden. It's definitely not COI. It's made of wood.

It wasn't there before.

There's a sign hanging on it.

The Jasmine Dragon

@oldgreydragon

Why the hell would they make it out of wood? Trees are extremely endangered, who in their right minds would slaughter one for this, instead of using steel or some other easy-access metal??

Simon goes to investigate, nudging the door with his foot first.

The door isn't latched, and swings open easily.

Inside is... Not possible. On so many levels, it's simply incoherent with Simon's current reality.

The inside is a large room, everything in soft shades of green and brown and yellow. The floor is made of some sort of reeds, the tables and chairs are wood and lacquer, the windows- there's windows. Windows with warm yellow light streaming through and spilling across the floor, lighting up the dancing dust motes in the air.

It almost looks like sunlight.

At the back of the room is a counter- more wood- and behind it is a curtain leading to another room. A man emerges, plump and short and with long grey hair and a longer greyer beard, humming to himself as he brings out a tray. The tray holds two bowls of something that smells divine. A soup with noodles and meat and vegetables- things that hadn't been seen since before the Quiet Rapture, things long since replaced by flavorless and dusty nutrient blocks.

He sets the tray down and looks up at Simon with a smile. "Ah, hello. Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon! I am Iroh, though most call me Uncle these days."

eel-infested-sailor

Simon looks around in shock, staring at the windows. He's never seen windows look... warm. Like he could touch them and they would feel hot. A small part of him wants to try it.

The smell is what hits him next. Something smells good. His mouth begins to water and he's not sure why. He can't place the smell.

He realizes he's staring, and clears his throat.

"The Jas... what?"

Iroh's brow furrows in concern. "Young man, are you alright? Come, sit and eat. You will feel better with your stomach full."

"You are in the Jasmine Dragon. It is my tea shop, though I sometimes also serve food on quieter days. I am an old man, and cannot keep up with a lot of bustle," he chuckles.

His voice is easy and light, soothing. He gestures to the table that he set the tray down on. "Won't you join me? I can make a pot of tea for us as well."

eel-infested-sailor

"I.." Simon's now acutely aware of the blood he's getting all over the floor. His feet feel rooted in place, he's not sure what to do with himself.

"What's... that?"

Iroh very slowly, very gently, moves to Simon's side and starts to guide him to a chair.

"The noodles? It is roast duck, with bok choy. Are you injured? I have a friend who is a talented healer, I can bring her here."

eel-infested-sailor

"I... I don't think so. I think I hit my head. Did you say noodles?"

He hasn't had noodles since he was very young, maybe four. He can barely remember his mother making them for him, and he remembers the vague feeling of warmth that comes with the memory, but that's it.

"Sit, you must sit." Iroh pulls a chair out and gently bullies Simon into sitting in it.

He moves one of the bowls, a spoon, and some chopsticks in front of Simon. "Eat. You look pale, and healing is easier on a full belly. I will make us some tea, something to help your head."

eel-infested-sailor

He doesn't fight it. Hey, if this is hell, he's okay with that.

"How are you down here?" he mutters through mouthfuls of maybe the most flavorful thing he's tasted in his life.

Iroh begins to set up a pot to boil water over on the counter. There's a small spark of flame, but no match, no lighter.

"I am not sure what you mean by "down here"," He admits. "But I have found that my door opens to many places it shouldn't. Usually, my shop is in the Upper Ring of Ba Sing Se."

He gestures to the window, and outside of it is an incredibly massive city built of white stone. It goes on all the way to the horizon.

The sky is blue, and the sun is warm.

eel-infested-sailor

"The... the sun.." he whispers quietly. This isn't hell. How did he get here?

He realizes his eyes are damp, and quickly wipes them off before Iroh returns.

mmmmmwah!! <3

....gross.

#.message recieved.

Wait you didn't get ANY kind of supplies?

Fuckin *grumble grumble* dumbass assholes don't...

Here.

(it's a gallon of clean water and 3 days of shelf stable food, plus a basic first aid kit)

It ain't 5 star dining but it's alright.

This..

Thanks.

#.message recieved.

eel-infested-sailor

There's a door in the sub.

It's painted green, decorated with simple carvings from a culture Simon doesn't recognize. It's not Eden. It's definitely not COI. It's made of wood.

It wasn't there before.

There's a sign hanging on it.

The Jasmine Dragon

@oldgreydragon

Why the hell would they make it out of wood? Trees are extremely endangered, who in their right minds would slaughter one for this, instead of using steel or some other easy-access metal??

Simon goes to investigate, nudging the door with his foot first.

The door isn't latched, and swings open easily.

Inside is... Not possible. On so many levels, it's simply incoherent with Simon's current reality.

The inside is a large room, everything in soft shades of green and brown and yellow. The floor is made of some sort of reeds, the tables and chairs are wood and lacquer, the windows- there's windows. Windows with warm yellow light streaming through and spilling across the floor, lighting up the dancing dust motes in the air.

It almost looks like sunlight.

At the back of the room is a counter- more wood- and behind it is a curtain leading to another room. A man emerges, plump and short and with long grey hair and a longer greyer beard, humming to himself as he brings out a tray. The tray holds two bowls of something that smells divine. A soup with noodles and meat and vegetables- things that hadn't been seen since before the Quiet Rapture, things long since replaced by flavorless and dusty nutrient blocks.

He sets the tray down and looks up at Simon with a smile. "Ah, hello. Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon! I am Iroh, though most call me Uncle these days."

eel-infested-sailor

Simon looks around in shock, staring at the windows. He's never seen windows look... warm. Like he could touch them and they would feel hot. A small part of him wants to try it.

The smell is what hits him next. Something smells good. His mouth begins to water and he's not sure why. He can't place the smell.

He realizes he's staring, and clears his throat.

"The Jas... what?"

Iroh's brow furrows in concern. "Young man, are you alright? Come, sit and eat. You will feel better with your stomach full."

"You are in the Jasmine Dragon. It is my tea shop, though I sometimes also serve food on quieter days. I am an old man, and cannot keep up with a lot of bustle," he chuckles.

His voice is easy and light, soothing. He gestures to the table that he set the tray down on. "Won't you join me? I can make a pot of tea for us as well."

eel-infested-sailor

"I.." Simon's now acutely aware of the blood he's getting all over the floor. His feet feel rooted in place, he's not sure what to do with himself.

"What's... that?"

Iroh very slowly, very gently, moves to Simon's side and starts to guide him to a chair.

"The noodles? It is roast duck, with bok choy. Are you injured? I have a friend who is a talented healer, I can bring her here."

eel-infested-sailor

"I... I don't think so. I think I hit my head. Did you say noodles?"

He hasn't had noodles since he was very young, maybe four. He can barely remember his mother making them for him, and he remembers the vague feeling of warmth that comes with the memory, but that's it.

"Sit, you must sit." Iroh pulls a chair out and gently bullies Simon into sitting in it.

He moves one of the bowls, a spoon, and some chopsticks in front of Simon. "Eat. You look pale, and healing is easier on a full belly. I will make us some tea, something to help your head."

eel-infested-sailor

He doesn't fight it. Hey, if this is hell, he's okay with that.

"How are you down here?" he mutters through mouthfuls of maybe the most flavorful thing he's tasted in his life.

Bro why did someone bite you 💀

Uhhhhh because the other anon bit you I now gently put a flower in your hair and then vanish

...

a flower?

#// good job you made him cry #.message recieved.

eel-infested-sailor

There's a door in the sub.

It's painted green, decorated with simple carvings from a culture Simon doesn't recognize. It's not Eden. It's definitely not COI. It's made of wood.

It wasn't there before.

There's a sign hanging on it.

The Jasmine Dragon

@oldgreydragon

Why the hell would they make it out of wood? Trees are extremely endangered, who in their right minds would slaughter one for this, instead of using steel or some other easy-access metal??

Simon goes to investigate, nudging the door with his foot first.

The door isn't latched, and swings open easily.

Inside is... Not possible. On so many levels, it's simply incoherent with Simon's current reality.

The inside is a large room, everything in soft shades of green and brown and yellow. The floor is made of some sort of reeds, the tables and chairs are wood and lacquer, the windows- there's windows. Windows with warm yellow light streaming through and spilling across the floor, lighting up the dancing dust motes in the air.

It almost looks like sunlight.

At the back of the room is a counter- more wood- and behind it is a curtain leading to another room. A man emerges, plump and short and with long grey hair and a longer greyer beard, humming to himself as he brings out a tray. The tray holds two bowls of something that smells divine. A soup with noodles and meat and vegetables- things that hadn't been seen since before the Quiet Rapture, things long since replaced by flavorless and dusty nutrient blocks.

He sets the tray down and looks up at Simon with a smile. "Ah, hello. Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon! I am Iroh, though most call me Uncle these days."

eel-infested-sailor

Simon looks around in shock, staring at the windows. He's never seen windows look... warm. Like he could touch them and they would feel hot. A small part of him wants to try it.

The smell is what hits him next. Something smells good. His mouth begins to water and he's not sure why. He can't place the smell.

He realizes he's staring, and clears his throat.

"The Jas... what?"

Iroh's brow furrows in concern. "Young man, are you alright? Come, sit and eat. You will feel better with your stomach full."

"You are in the Jasmine Dragon. It is my tea shop, though I sometimes also serve food on quieter days. I am an old man, and cannot keep up with a lot of bustle," he chuckles.

His voice is easy and light, soothing. He gestures to the table that he set the tray down on. "Won't you join me? I can make a pot of tea for us as well."

eel-infested-sailor

"I.." Simon's now acutely aware of the blood he's getting all over the floor. His feet feel rooted in place, he's not sure what to do with himself.

"What's... that?"

Iroh very slowly, very gently, moves to Simon's side and starts to guide him to a chair.

"The noodles? It is roast duck, with bok choy. Are you injured? I have a friend who is a talented healer, I can bring her here."

eel-infested-sailor

"I... I don't think so. I think I hit my head. Did you say noodles?"

He hasn't had noodles since he was very young, maybe four. He can barely remember his mother making them for him, and he remembers the vague feeling of warmth that comes with the memory, but that's it.

Simon how would you feel if I threw an excitable alien baby at you

Don't put a baby through that.

#.message recieved.

eel-infested-sailor

There's a door in the sub.

It's painted green, decorated with simple carvings from a culture Simon doesn't recognize. It's not Eden. It's definitely not COI. It's made of wood.

It wasn't there before.

There's a sign hanging on it.

The Jasmine Dragon

@oldgreydragon

Why the hell would they make it out of wood? Trees are extremely endangered, who in their right minds would slaughter one for this, instead of using steel or some other easy-access metal??

Simon goes to investigate, nudging the door with his foot first.

The door isn't latched, and swings open easily.

Inside is... Not possible. On so many levels, it's simply incoherent with Simon's current reality.

The inside is a large room, everything in soft shades of green and brown and yellow. The floor is made of some sort of reeds, the tables and chairs are wood and lacquer, the windows- there's windows. Windows with warm yellow light streaming through and spilling across the floor, lighting up the dancing dust motes in the air.

It almost looks like sunlight.

At the back of the room is a counter- more wood- and behind it is a curtain leading to another room. A man emerges, plump and short and with long grey hair and a longer greyer beard, humming to himself as he brings out a tray. The tray holds two bowls of something that smells divine. A soup with noodles and meat and vegetables- things that hadn't been seen since before the Quiet Rapture, things long since replaced by flavorless and dusty nutrient blocks.

He sets the tray down and looks up at Simon with a smile. "Ah, hello. Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon! I am Iroh, though most call me Uncle these days."

eel-infested-sailor

Simon looks around in shock, staring at the windows. He's never seen windows look... warm. Like he could touch them and they would feel hot. A small part of him wants to try it.

The smell is what hits him next. Something smells good. His mouth begins to water and he's not sure why. He can't place the smell.

He realizes he's staring, and clears his throat.

"The Jas... what?"

Iroh's brow furrows in concern. "Young man, are you alright? Come, sit and eat. You will feel better with your stomach full."

"You are in the Jasmine Dragon. It is my tea shop, though I sometimes also serve food on quieter days. I am an old man, and cannot keep up with a lot of bustle," he chuckles.

His voice is easy and light, soothing. He gestures to the table that he set the tray down on. "Won't you join me? I can make a pot of tea for us as well."

eel-infested-sailor

"I.." Simon's now acutely aware of the blood he's getting all over the floor. His feet feel rooted in place, he's not sure what to do with himself.

"What's... that?"

This is bigger than us. @eel-infested-sailor - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag