expiationlogs | ( mixed. ) pasa mi corazón del frío al fuego

[ this is a catch-all. just respond with your prompts here guys for them. ]

[ don't respond to this. this is an umbrella for spock prompts. ]

Edited 2024-07-17 01:18 (UTC)

[ don't respond to this. this is a closed prompt umbrella. however, if you would like a closed prompt, please hmu at

Edited 2024-07-17 01:18 (UTC)

[ Pushed from the periphery, what is base in Spock has been forced to focused wanderings. For so much of the duration, Spock had made himself a shadow to his Captain. Unerringly, he had followed with precision the exacting nature of Jim's steps. As though pieces to a singular, as though bound by some unseen thread, their determination had been as one breath, as one firmer understanding. But, now—

It is only him. It is only Spock, untethered from the physical gravity of Jim. It is only him, the runs of alleys turned over and abandoned in the pursuit of something more fundamental. On the hunt for, it would seem, something more important.

For those who have grown wise to their prior tricks, they may find it most curious that a fellow Gnosia has left their snares unmanned. And for those who have fallen astray of the newest? No one arrives to check. Once as though clockwork, they are left to fend for the elements. Those who are spry and determined may find themselves able to claw themselves out, unimpeded. But, still: those that have been untriggered are ferocious; they spare no power behind the force of their offset, the inevitable snap back more likely to be literal than figurative.

But, where does that leave Spock?

At night, Spock traces the periphery of the lessening boundary. Where he can, he presses his palm flush to the brick and mortar of the remaining buildings within their containment, as though one feeling for something that those beyond can neither see nor sense. He learns to cover his tracks, but the wounds he had earlier acquired from Claude chafe beneath the lay of his robes. They weep, occasional and sluggish, the scent sharp and copper when one catches it. At times, he paces through the funneled nets that he would once occupy — dead-end alleys, narrow crevices between the oppressive scrape of buildings.

Often, he is not heard until one is already upon him. And by then, the deafening silence that uncoils from his frame as any emotional riot from another's is already scrabbling up against the surface. To another's psyche, it should feel as though a bruise, a greater hunger that subsumes. A splintering grind, sand against a wound. This is just the start of what one might compare it to, alien as it should be. Alien as it is.

During the day, Spock does not deviate. He does not deviate, but he does slow. Glimpses of him reveal more in the full cast of the sun, robes stained an unappealing bronze in spots. It becomes obvious where it is it originates, his skin mottled with a greener liquid (blood?) that crawls beneath and above the surface. His hands are at times slick with it, knuckles bruised in coppers and ochres.

Has he stopped to rest at all? It's unclear. But, it is obvious that he has no intention to truly lean into the opportunity until something gives or someone comes his way. ]

Edited 2024-07-17 02:03 (UTC)

[ For one who seems most inclined not to rest, Spock somehow excels at it where warranted.

In the most immediate aftermath, whatever safehouse they have selected to stow the remaining Chosen is alight with periodic flashes of activity; injured shuffle in, injured shuffle out. Those who remain are often (and too occasionally) up and about, but Spock remains strangely motionless. Even when he prodded and poked by more medically experienced hands, he does not seem to respond in the slightest. All that signals that he is alive? The steady, cyclical sound of his respiration.

In the proceeding hours (days?), Spock is not often by himself in rest. Jim lingers, confined too as he is. Even when Spock stirs from the earlier state he was in, it is not atypical to find them huddled together on one of the narrow cots toward the back. Whether they are asleep or awake? It does not seem to matter, but Spock makes himself most often small enough to accommodate Jim wherever he deems it. He still looks rough, but less so then when he arrived. The green of his blood is (for the most part) contained beneath the skin and the residual bruising resembles the burnish upon bronzed statues where it lays the deepest. But, most peculiarly, one might observe that Jim and Spock seem to rarely talk to each other directly during their stay here. And yet, they seem to understand the other perfectly.

Weird.

Now may be a good enough time to catch up on the other side of things, make awkward plans. Maybe exchange a few apologies? Or none of the above. Maybe there's a bone to pick in there somewhere. ]

Edited 2024-07-17 02:26 (UTC)

[ ooc: open prompts for Jim below!

Jim is Gnosia for this event; feel free to injure him, or let me know if you’d like him to catch you. He won’t be murdering anyone, but he’s not afraid to lightly maim in order to drag you back to the lair. ]

[ Jim’s consciousness drifts.

In and out, like the tide upon the shore, soaking the sand of his mental landscape beneath it in roiling spume - Jim’s waking hours are spent in varying states of awareness. Sometimes, he is more lucid, other times…there is a hunger, inside him. Bit by bit, the layers of his mind seem to warp, unable to keep the hunger buried in the core of his being any longer - and equally as unable to satiate it. There seems no end to the craving that seeps from the dark, yet his mind clings to what Was, however precarious, dangling over the precipice. The howling void looms, buffeting the edges of his mind, sharpening its golden edges into razor sharp points - yet still, Jim is held back from plunging completely into the dark, clinging to the shreds of his psyche.

There is a moon beside him.

Another consciousness, nestled against his own - flaring when there is the touch of familiar hands, the scintilla of something greater than the self burning hot, a flare to drive the shadows back, tendrils winding deeper into Jim’s mind, until he can no longer tell the difference between him and Them. In these moments, conscious thought ebbs stronger; the moon forces the waves to bend to its gravitational pull, allowing Jim to surface for air, amid the howling chaos.

He cannot control the hunger, yet the hunger cannot control him, either. Not while the moon holds him in its orbit, reflects the light he cannot hold within himself back at him. Jim and the hunger are at an impasse, a war neither can win.

But Jim cannot curb the impulses completely.

There is a monstrous shadow that oozes beside Jim, silent as death, but ever present; if it’s odd to see two Gnosia docile in each other’s company, well, they do make a strange pair. Jim touches the shade’s clawed hand, raises it to his chest, and slashes it across his shirt, wordless understanding passing between them.

The routine is the largely same, with only a few variations - someone is passing by when they hear Jim’s timed cry of pain; he stumbles around the corner, holding a hand to the slash on his chest. Is he bleeding? It’s too dark at night to see, from here - but Spock, just behind him, a wraith in his robes, is clear enough. ]

No! Spock, please listen to me - you have to listen to me! You’re not yourself - !

[ Jim is backed into the next alley, out of sight, the pleased hum echoing in his mind from all around - from the hunger and the beast, leashed to his moon. Was the performance convincing enough to lure in another victim? ]

( ooc: this option will initiate a jim & spock tag team encounter! )

[ Jim and Spock have outfitted a warehouse by the docks with all manner of traps; blocked alleyways with clever sheets of metal to manufacture dead ends to their maze, doused areas with water to set them buzzing with electricity, hidden mantraps beneath strategically placed debris. Within the warehouse itself, they’ve set up holding areas, where their victims languish with their wounds. They seem to forget about those they’ve caught, once they come to deposit another - probably a good thing, if not for the fact that it made those trapped there sitting ducks for other Gnosia. Perhaps someone will attempt a rescue…but counting on that with Jim and Spock prowling around seems a slim chance, indeed.

At present, Spock is asleep, his consciousness a static-filled ache in Jim’s mind - but without his balm present, the hunger swells - and the itch within Jim grows, untamable.

This is what pushes him out on his own, when he might not be otherwise. He checks the traps, circling them like a wolf. Perhaps he’ll find someone ensnared in one of them…or perhaps someone will find him, another unconscious victim slung over his back as he spirits them back to the veritable dungeon they’ve prepared.

If he’s been caught in the act, the question remains - are you there to stop him, or help him? ]

[ ooc: closed prompts for Jim. Feel free to hit me up via the usual suspects; PM, Discord, Plurk, or Jim’s contact post. ]

Edited 2024-07-17 08:07 (UTC)

>> Are you guys okay?
>> Did you see that alert on the tablets?

>> Spock and I are infected.

I was buying this sandwich
And the sandwich guy froze
Do you think we cau

You're what
Where are you
We are coming

Are you okay how are you feeling
It said projected destruction
Are you destructing or destructive

wtf wait what
jim why didn't you lead with that??
hang tight we're coming
mine said doctor so i think that means i can fix you??

ITS NTOT JSUT ME HE HSOULD HAVE SAID IT RIGHT AWAY RIGHT
I WOULDNT HASVE GONE ON THE SANDWICH RANST IF HE HAD JUT SAD IT
LIKE WE ARE IFNEFCTED FIRST THIGNR IS IT CONTAGENSOUS DO WE NEED TO QUARANTETINE

(peter dont swing and type...)

oh my god
peter stop texting and swinging
you're going to run into a tree again

you dsitracted me you csnt hold that against me

[Keeping Jim and Spock contained until she could figure out how to heal them did not work. It was a good attempt, something they weren't even sure would work in the long run, but at least they tried.

But now she knows what to do. At least, she thinks she knows what to do. It's just a gut feeling she has, that in the moment, she'll be able to do it.

Step one was figuring out where Spock and Jim even went. Peter and Gwen knew most of the city by heart at this point, as much as they explored it by web, so it wasn't too hard to figure out where to look. They definitely weren't at STEM club, and they weren't at their home, so the next place she thought to check panned out.

A brief stakeout at the warehouse showed it was in fact where the two were camped out. Then came the planning. She would only be able to heal one of them at a time-- an annoying problem that came with this ability, which meant she could only help one of them today. That would mean trying to catch one of them on their own, or if catching both of them, having to keep one restrained again until tomorrow. She would just have to play it by ear, depending on how things played out.

Unfortunately, it didn't seem like Spock and Jim were staying far apart (which was honestly completely unsurprising), so they had to go to plan B. Peter would distract Spock with his Iron Spider suit. Spock was stronger, so it would be easier to take on him in with the stronger suit. Peter would nab him while she would lure Jim away and try to heal him, and they would just worry about healing Spock tomorrow. Totally airtight plan, right?

They had to put it in motion quickly, they didn't have time to waste. They only had a week until "projected destruction", whatever that meant, so they needed to save their friends-- and before Jim and Spock hurt anyone else.

So here she is, dropping down silently outside of the warehouse. Peter is off on his mission, so Spock shouldn't be anywhere close by. Her spider-sense is going haywire, so she knows there must be traps galore inside, so she's hiding around the corner as she pushes the door open. She's hoping she can just lure Jim to her, but he's crafty-- and he knows a good bit about her powers. Hopefully that doesn't bite her in the ass.]

Helloooo? Jim? Spock? You guys in there? Loving what you've done with the place, by the way. Really channeling the murder vibes.

[ Jim's response taking longer probably isn't reassuring, but to be fair, these two can text like an avalanche. He's an old man (28, RIP, practically ready for the box) from the distant future alright. ]

>> We're okay for now but I don't know how long the lucidity will last.
>> It feels strange.
>> To answer your question, I don't want to find out.

[ To WHERE are you swinging, Peter? ]

>> Meet us at your place. Bones is asleep at ours, we didn't want to risk infecting him.
>> We need to be restrained. Failing that, we're going to turn over our phasers. They'll be set to stun, do NOT turn them up any higher.

>> Well I wanted to make sure you were both okay first.

[ Nah, it's fine. Totally cool. Never mind that Spock is already penning a note for Bones to review later. Never mind that he is also turning over their set of keys. Normal! ]

>> As a reminder: I am capable of feats that exceed Human standard.
>> With my controls removed, I will not hesitate to use this to my advantage.
>> Use whatever you must to restrain me.
>> As for possibility of infection, current notifications and postings do not indicate any sign of transmissibility.
>> Even so, I recommend taking precautions if you are able.

[ a pause. ]

>> Peter.
>> Do not swing and type.

Edited (omg these line breaks why) 2024-07-17 22:10 (UTC)

(it shouldn't be a surprise when peter lands from above right in front of his home with gwen - at this point, they're used to spider-things, right? but he does realize he doesn't really know much about vulcans, only about the planet itself, courtesy of jim. luckily for everyone, both peter and gwen are too capable of feats that exceed human standard. they should be fine, even if they get hurt. they heal faster, they're stronger, more durable, it can't be that bad, can it? or so, he thinks, knowing absolutely nothing about the challenge that awaits for them a few hours ahead.

the suit retreats - metal-looking nanites returning to his belt, leaving him in a very simple hoodie and jeans combination as soon as he lands.)

You can't just drop a bomb like that and expect me not text and swing, guys, that's totally not fair.

(and their house is messy, but he doesn't think anyone is concerned about that as he opens the door for all to enter.)

So, I need to know everything Mr. Spock can do. Down to the very detail. It helps that you two don't know - well, at least I haven't told you, everything we can do, so I guess that can be an advantage. And, uh, I gotta check if the webs we have on can contain Mr. Spock. They have over 90 pounds per square millimeter of the cross-section of tensile strength, so that's gotta do something, right? I held an entire ferry from coming apart with them once, so I think-- I mean, there's no way, right?

Edited 2024-07-17 22:45 (UTC)

[It should also be no surprise that Gwen and Peter arrive at practically the same time, even though they came from different directions. Her mask is off again as soon as she straightens up, looking worriedly between the group.]

It is totally fair, I know we're tough, but we're not indestructible.

[She would lean into that more, add in more jokes, if this wasn't a serious moment. She's right behind Peter after he walks inside, frowning as she crossed her arms as she listens to Peter's spiel.]

-- An entire ferry? Nice. [THAT WAS JUST A SIDE NOTE SHE HAD TO COMMENT ON.]

And I've done... similar things. It can hold a lot. Surely that's strong enough, right?

[She's learned a little about Spock and Vulcans, but she doesn't know everything. Just like they don't know everything, even if she's sure, between her and Peter, they've told Jim and Spock a good bit of it. More than anyone else here, probably.]

(the iron spider is durable, he's glad with his choice. even though whenever he's charging it the lights flicker, and it sucks so much power - he can never charge to the fullest extent of it. perhaps this should be in the back of his mind when he chose it, but then, if he's going to get his ass kicked by an alien again, he's going to want nanites to soften the blow. the pincers aid him to stand a little taller on the first building he can get onto, until he finds spock.

the landing is a little dramatic, considering the pincers sinking on grass, and there's a little pose that goes with it right after, like all the pincers shrug along with him, palms up and happy chipper once he finally speaks - and unfortunately for everyone, he won't stop.)

Hey, Mr. Spock! How about you come with me, have some OJ, some Nyquil, and a nice chicken soup to get the murderous virus out?!

[ There's an ache at the back of Jim's head that he's been ignoring for the better part of a half hour now, and the worry has begun to set in. The message on the tablets was very real, and God only knew what would happen when it fully set in - when they lost control of themselves. Jim, he's easy to restrain, physically at least - but Spock? An out of control Vulcan was no light matter. ]

Guys. [ Jim holds up a hand, trying to stem the onslaught, but the teens keep going. They probably should have been more forthcoming, but Jim had never expected anything like this to happen. Why would he? The tower, that had been an optional danger - the stories he'd heard had to do with the Council's fuckery, other Chosen threatening the peace - but this is a full-blown crisis.

Time to see what this team was made of.

Jim follows them inside, pushing through the hollow feeling at the back of his head - creeping up on him, slow, insidious. The sooner they're locked down, the better, and he means that very seriously. He unclips his utility belt, reaching out to press it into Gwen's hands, the phaser holstered there. His keys are also in the pouch, though he very much doubts not having his keys will stop him from getting somewhere, if his hands are free. ]

We're going to have to hope so. I've never done the math on it. [ Jim's sure Spock is doing it now, though how well he's faring with the infection seeping into his consciousness, time would tell. ] We don't have a lot of time. I can...feel it coming.

The phasers are set to stun. If we break free, you stun us. One bolt for me, three for Spock. [ Jim looks between Gwen and Peter, brow drawn. ] Don't let either of us harm you. And don't mess with the settings, unless vaporizing either of us is on your bucket list.

[ An attempt at levity, though - yeah, he's serious about the vaporizing thing. ]

[ It would seem Aldrip had no intentions of sparing anyone.

The ache in Spock's own head is more of a scrabbling, like the shake of an antiquated water pipe. It taps along the boundary of his shields, asks for entry. It will not be asking for long, he knows. It is testing, pressing. It is seeing where it is weakest, where it is might river through. And in the wake of his sentencing? They are newer, fresher. Raw.

It is not something he would care to admit, but Spock knows where he might provide his information. He knows that Jim's own discomfort is likely in triplicate, psi-null as he is. He does not have the same options that Spock has at his disposal. He does not have the same resilience. Not in this area. ]

It may hold, [ he says, undoing his own utility belt and passing it similarly over to Peter. ] Though, it is difficult to say for certain. I have not... [ He pauses, language a flickering line in his periphery. ] My data in this area is limited.

[ His singular point of reference is during his plak tow, but he cannot recall if he exerted the full of his strength then. Likely not, given who it was he was fighting.

He glances to Jim, back to Peter and Gwen both. His mouth draws into a thin, tight line. ]

Without controls, it is for your safety that you too avoid my skin. Do not touch me directly unless you have no other option. [ The hinge of his jaw twinges, but nothing else about his expression seems to budge from its usual stillness. ] I cannot guarantee I would leave you without ill effect, conscious or not.

(the comment she makes on his comment - it's very much enough for him to no-look-five her, whispering a 'i'll tell you later', because he actually shat the bed on that one, the ferry broke because of him, but still, he did hold it... it is worth the high-five.

but right thereafter, there's an ache in peter's head too - not from gnosia, but stemming directly from the fact that even through an appeal for help, both of them are still not giving out the information he so asked. he has to take a little breath here as he accepts the taser, but he isn't exactly glad about how his exchange is going.)

Listen, no, this is really not enough. If you two don't tell us, then you put us and you in danger. Mr-- Jim, Jim is human, so I know we won't have trouble with him, but neither of us have heard of Vulcans before. You can't trust us halfway.

Edited 2024-07-18 00:05 (UTC)

[ It is to his advantage and subsequent disadvantage that Spock holds within his psyche something of a tether — a direct line. For all that the urge to purge and rend drives and scrabbles and claws, there is the hum of the other that centers him. It is gold in the fists, gold in the pull of his orbit. Gold, Spock thinks dim and piecemeal, that flickers as a brand against the back of his eyelids as it settles. Quiets.

There is something wrong and the physical ache of a perceived abandonment mutters and seethes and gnaws. It gouges into the steps of his spine, makes of him mockery. How might he have believed he might not be left behind? How might he believed that nothing more should be taken from him? How might he—

His steps are not as measured as they were before. He hears the call of someone, someone that he knows and recognizes, but the name flees from his tongue. It mutes, beneath the persistent buzz of so much static. Like travel interrupted, the electricity of his home whipping red and wild, he cannot hear a thing above the roar.

I'll come with you, I'll come with you.

The sun is high. Spock knows he knows. Gnosia knows he knows, too. It skitters along the back of his mind, lingering over the bruise of the nascent bond gone quiet, but still alive. ]

I do not negotiate, [ Spock rumbles, voice rough with disuse. His dark eyes seem darker still as he circles him, the acquired limp he's drummed up in the interim hardly an impediment. The air is thick with the scent of copper, green smeared across the high of a cheekbone.

There's a glimmer teeth as his body naturally settles into a fighting stance, knowing if he is to get what he wants — he must take this one alive. ] Not with you.

[ And that's as much warning as he's getting. He'll wait for the first move, but the intent is burning hot and bright. ]

Edited (above is not about fyi lmao) 2024-07-18 00:24 (UTC)

( mixed. ) pasa mi corazón del frío al fuego

>> stem shenans.

>> open prompts (for spock)

>> closed prompts (for spock)

i. en mí todo ese fuego se repite (toward week's end)

ii. en mí nada se apaga ni se olvida (aftermath)

[ open ] Jim Kirk ~ Star Trek AOS

[ open ] it takes two

[ open ] make it out of sight

[ closed ] Jim Kirk ~ Star Trek AOS

STEM Group Chat >> Secure >> UN: keptin

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healing party take one

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the hostage

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