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thisavrou2017-05-15 10:52 am
beautifulspaceraptor) wrote in thisavrou2017-05-15 10:52 am
Video - May 14th - Early morning
Mother.
[ Nihlus looks extremely nauseated, even under all the neon green. ]
It's name is Mother. The emptiness is gone now, I don't- I can't- find it again-
[ Here, he stops for a moment, running his hand over his crest, trying to regather himself, trying to regather his thoughts. They'd scattered the moment the recording started and it was so hard to find the words to describe everything that'd happened in the past couple of hours. ]
I am Nihlus Kryik. One of people who'd been part of the diplomatic venture to Asteroid 276.
The Ingress glitching had given me temporary powers, similar to what many of you seemed to have experienced.
On top of a myriad of other abilities, I was able to form a psychic link and establish... contact with what I believe to be the source of the contaminant. Whatever the being is, this Mother, they are linked to illness we'd gotten from that station.
And they are hostile.
If you have any form of psychic abilities, do not try and connect with it. It is dangerous and it can pull you deeper under its thrall if given half the chance to. Its intentions are unclear, but whatever the may be, they do not seem particularly friendly.
Please. Keep in network contact with someone uninfected, either a friend, family or a medical professional. Anyone who is available to monitor you. Report to them any changes in your condition.
[ He pauses for a moment, just staring at the TAB, trying find some angle to make everything he'd just said not sound as horrifying as they did. But there's nothing he can think of. ]
... Take care of yourselves.
[ Spirits, he really hopes he's wrong. ]
[ Nihlus looks extremely nauseated, even under all the neon green. ]
It's name is Mother. The emptiness is gone now, I don't- I can't- find it again-
[ Here, he stops for a moment, running his hand over his crest, trying to regather himself, trying to regather his thoughts. They'd scattered the moment the recording started and it was so hard to find the words to describe everything that'd happened in the past couple of hours. ]
I am Nihlus Kryik. One of people who'd been part of the diplomatic venture to Asteroid 276.
The Ingress glitching had given me temporary powers, similar to what many of you seemed to have experienced.
On top of a myriad of other abilities, I was able to form a psychic link and establish... contact with what I believe to be the source of the contaminant. Whatever the being is, this Mother, they are linked to illness we'd gotten from that station.
And they are hostile.
If you have any form of psychic abilities, do not try and connect with it. It is dangerous and it can pull you deeper under its thrall if given half the chance to. Its intentions are unclear, but whatever the may be, they do not seem particularly friendly.
Please. Keep in network contact with someone uninfected, either a friend, family or a medical professional. Anyone who is available to monitor you. Report to them any changes in your condition.
[ He pauses for a moment, just staring at the TAB, trying find some angle to make everything he'd just said not sound as horrifying as they did. But there's nothing he can think of. ]
... Take care of yourselves.
[ Spirits, he really hopes he's wrong. ]
no subject
[ Well. 'Met'.
Taking a slow breath, Nihlus leans against the door frame, idly swirling the liquid in his mug. ]
Turns out it's powerful enough to ward off thralls, too. Not really sure what it was but it'd also been in Allison's head. I think she called it... a 'Key'? That some headless king guy apparently shoved into her skull and it'd transported her to the center of the all the universes.
Or something.
[ He always figured Allison was a mysterious girl. Definitely should have asked her more about her everything on that shopping trip. ]
I haven't tried stabbing Saren and running off to enslave people to a massive hive mind yet, so there's that.
[ Yeah, no. It's just the usual feelings of wanting to knee his old mentor in the laminal plates for being a constant dick. ]
no subject
Even if the rest of the explanation is a little more difficult to process. Allison maps and discards to familiar IDs—certainly the summary didn't seem to match to Texas. There had been a list entry on the ship, though not one he'd attended to in detail. Key. That phrase aligns a little better, though Rinzler's mask still tilts a little to the side.
It hadn't looked like any sort of disk.]
Deleting virals: not viral behavior.
[So, y'know, if Nihlus wanted to start stabbing, he's welcome to attempt that anytime.]
Current status?
no subject
[ His oldest friend.
Sighing quietly, Nihlus strokes his fingers along the underside of his fringe before answering. ]
I've got a headache, but it's better than what it was right after the connection was severed. Whatever the Key did made that thing really dislike me.
[ There's a pause, the Turian taking a sip from his mug, peering blurrily down at Rinzler. ]
... How about your status? Want a battery or anything while you're here?
no subject
[Still viral, he doesn't need to say.
Was Nihlus' defense of one virus reason to suspect another? Probably not. As little data as he had on the new virus, it did appear to be organically based, and thereby in direct opposition to the Reapers' creation. Just a headache, then. Just Nihlus making poor decisions, in an almost familiar way.
("decently amicable")
...the program's head twitches sideways—no power needed, not right now. Status: fine, working, functional. Besides, he's not the one under evaluation. The careful stillness to Rinzler's frame recedes, shoulders shrugging inwards as his mask tips up to indicate Nihlus.
Data so far? Points to:]
Stupid.
no subject
[ It's defensive, more than Nihlus would have liked under any other circumstances. But Rinzler's already been in his head and he's still wobbling between vomiting from his migraine again or just fainting. He's not really got his guard up right now.
Still, the accusation earns Rinzler a decidedly petulant look despite the spike of pain it causes Nihlus to twitch any facial muscles at the moment. ]
It wasn't a situation I knew I was getting into.
[ As if that somehow justified it. He shouldn't have gone stumbling into the dark without a flashlight- no matter how powerful he suspected the key was. ]
no subject
The second claim, on the other hand? Earns a very derisive skip of static.]
Still stupid.
[Investigating a virus. In his head. Without help. Could he manage a worse plan?]
no subject
Now that he's running on half his usual available brain power though, Rinzler gets an eloquent rebuttal in the form of a tongue being stuck out at him. ]
no subject
Probably. Maybe he's sticking his tongue out too. How would Nihlus know?]
no subject
[ Petulance! Such petulance!
Well, as much petulance as someone with a raging headache leaning most of his weight against the frame of the balcony doors can exude anyways. ]
You'd just have gone right up and picked a fight with it instead. Admit it.
no subject
[Mostly. Ish. That and "Serve Clu". The point is: it's all right if Rinzler does it. Besides—]
Viruses: threats.
[Stab first, attempt weird mindmelds never!]
no subject
In like.
Really loose power level measurements I mean.
[ He's being maudlin. He should probably go lie down: the only thing keeping him propped up a the moment is sheer willpower and the Turian equivalent of caffeine and pain medication. ]
no subject
[Flippant? Serious? All of the above? Really, you should know better than to tell Rinzler he can't kill something, Nihlus. That sounds much too close to a challenge.]
Metaphor: faulty.
[The helmet tips pointedly, from level up toward Nihlus' height. He will only admit to being literally shorter.]
no subject
[ Cancel on that willpower, actually. Nihlus just nodded off mid-retort, his head dipping and chin resting on the inside of his cowl. Somehow, he's still managing to hold onto the mug.]
no subject
It gets set on the balcony railing. Nihlus gets a shake. If that doesn't wake him up, Rinzler will go ahead and repeat the process: picking up the 6'4" turian with no discernible effort, and dumping him on the nearest pile of soft objects inside the door.
Stupid.]