Midnight, not a sound from the pavement

[headandhand]

WHO: All residents of Dualis + special guest stars
WHAT: Strap in, kiddos, it’s a ~memshare~
WHERE: In your head. Or, you know. Everywhere you go to escape that.
WHEN: August 15-24
WARNINGS: Don’t forget these if they’re applicable!

It’s been a few months, Dualis, how are you settling in? New arrivals, we know it’s sudden, but we hope you’re making new friends already and settling in well! You’re all gonna fit in juuuust fine around here.

Things have calmed down after the supposed terrorist attacks during the Dualis Days celebration, and there’s still no news about that strange network broadcast. But maybe that’s for the best, right? See, the Head really does have everything under control.

But speaking of heads…

Over the course of these next few days, yours might be feeling a little funny. Maybe you just aren’t quite feeling like yourself. Or there’s an ache that just won’t quite go away. Or maybe you’re perfectly fine! Which is completely optimal, honestly.

Except--that memory you suddenly have. Is that really yours? And what about those fainting spells that seem to come with premonitions...or are you perhaps remembering something you repressed long ago? You’d probably remember something like this, though, wouldn’t you?

It’s perfectly natural to be concerned. However, if you approach your friendly neighborhood MedBot or clinician, they’re going to be pretty stumped. It appears there's nothing really wrong with you, but hey, here's some mild painkillers if you want them. And if you try and consult the Head, all it’ll be able to do is give you it’s most sincere condolences. It seems that there may have been some complications with the transfer process, but these should definitely wear off soon! In the meantime, why not visit your local clinic for a sedative and some painkillers?

Good luck, denizens. Looks like you’re in for a bumpy week or two...

[[As a reminder, these memory shares can happen at any point in time during the span of the event, not just when your characters are sleeping! You're also welcome to have them experience no side effects at all, all the way up to fainting spells and headaches a la Cordelia circa season 2 of Angel. Feel free to reach out to your friendly neighborhood mods if you have any questions!]]

Comments

[cadiastands]

It had taken Mira a while to find a gym that isn't trying to sell her dance classes or saddle her with small pink hand weights that "won't bulk her up." Why multiple gyms are teaching dance and a bizarre toddler's version of weight training instead of something useful, she has no idea and has chosen to chalk up as another mystery of life in a city outside the Emperor's protection.

The need to stay sharp had kept her searching despite her disgust, and she'd wandered into seedier parts of town where the inhabitants seem to place less emphasis on appearance, eventually finding a place with a sparring ring and more than one heavy bag. This lot still wouldn't know a fistfight if they woke up face-down and bleeding on the pavement--apparently refusing to use those ridiculous over-padded gloves makes her "hardcore"--but at least they're not afraid of a few bruises.

After so many nights of sleeping terribly in the grip of some new Warpcraft, Mira feels off her game in a way she hasn't in years, not even on Graia. Graia had been a disaster, but a knowable one, the sort of disaster she'd been capable of understanding, of reacting to in a fashion befitting an Imperial Guard officer. Nothing in Dualis makes sense. Xenos and psykers and people who don't even know enough of the Imperial Creed to count as heretics, and an AI sitting atop the entire wretched heap. At least exercise is something familiar and comforting.

"Damn, Nero, what'd the bag ever do to you?" another gym members asks, snapping her out of her reverie. "Might want to lay off until someone can tighten that down." He nods at the beam above the training bag, where one of the bolts securing it has started to come loose, and Mira realizes she may have been working out her frustrations a little too literally.

"Right." She smooths back the hair that escaped her ponytail. "I've got a lot on my mind."

"Remind me not to piss you off." He laughs. "I'll put up a note. You should get a drink and chill. You know how to chill, right?"

Not really, but Mira takes the teasing in stride. "I'm sure I can find instructions somewhere." She retrieves her water bottle and swigs from it, the room temperature liquid tasting faintly of plastic, which is still better than the iodine tablets they'd been using on Graia. Her knuckles smart despite the wraps, and she can feel the exertion in her arms and her core. A break might not be the worst idea, and she drifts towards the sparring ring, where a man about her age who strikes her as familiar is winning a bout.

He's actually fought before, the real thing, not sport combat with those idiotic gloves. She sees it less in the blows he lands than in the ones he skips, ignored openings where boxing rules would raise his score but place him in a vulnerable position if his opponent weren't to follow those rules.

The sense of familiarity nags at her. Certainly she might just be recognizing him from around the gym or perhaps the dorms if he's one of her unfortunate peers, but she doesn't think that's it.

When it hits her, it's almost literal. She knows his fighting style. She knows it because she remembers it, not from ever squaring off against him. From being him, at least for a few minutes, courtesy of whatever damned sorcery has them all in its grip.

"Oh, damn. It's you," Mira says, not noticing she's spoken until the words are out of her mouth.