log_01
when i woke up, the light shone through my eyelids like glittery dots on my vision.
a bed of small plants held my body, a cool, comforting sensation
that caused my chest to ache.
looking up, the megaflora stretched towards the atmosphere as if reaching for space.
i put my hand out too._
log_02
i don't remember much from before i woke up.
i know who i am, i guess, but it's as if i materialized spontaneously.
i pull myself from the blanket of leaves and struggle to stand upright. this body aches.
i can feel every [atom] in this form shaking and buzzing with the energy of [a tiger trapped in its cage].
pick something familiar. focus. command your form to listen.
the [rubber band] snaps back in my face.
my vision starts to darken like someone dimming the lights. they say it looks like a [vignette], the darkness slowly creeping in to swallow you whole.
it isn't like that, not to me. it's the slow comfort of a cloud rolling over [the sun] on a lazy day.
but i can feel the pressure squeezing at the sides of my vision.
i think,
"the ground is nice. maybe this isn't too bad of a place to lay down."_
log_03
[AUTOMATIC TRANSLATION ERROR: One or more words exist in the input for which sufficient translations could not be found. Please check output to ensure accuracy of your message.]
i'm greeted by a dull pain and foggy disorientation.
there's a pang in my chest like [rain on a tin roof.] the realisation that i had lost consciousness.
it isn't a wholly unfamiliar feeling, but one i haven't felt in [137/55Cst1/2].
i guess i'm stuck in this form for now.
i'll gather my things and head towards the clearing i see. at least for now, i can fashion a primitive [radio] signal to send out.
although, i still wonder who my [aptitude] is sending it to._
log_04
as i get to the clearing, i can see a horizon of blue [water].
the waves crash and rumble in a rhythm that eases my nerves, if only for a bit.
strewn across the shore, being pushed onto the sand with every crest, i see beds of vegetation and smooth pieces of driftwood, twisting in every direction.
for a while, i sit and watch.
i find a [similarity] in the lost objects.
dark masses of macroalgae float up to the surface, shapes bending and twisting through the water’s refraction.
one of them seems to get bigger, a lighter color.
i close my eyes and take a breath.
When i open them, something is looking straight at me.
“Hi! Are you okay?”
log_05
I'm face to face with a metallic, humanoid body which clanks and whirrs as it rises out of the waves.
"I haven't seen you around before.. you're not from Rufachron or Quennsalix, are you?"
(those words didn't go through my translator correctly... i guess they must be local to this planet.)
(i start to speak with the hope that it's still working the other way around too.)
"um, I'm called sorrel- I fell from above."
he automation watches with a spark of curiosity in its eye. (lens?)
"Oh! I'm Sam. Do you want to come with me? Maybe we can find you a place to rest for a bit?"
(I guess I look worse off than I'd hoped.)_
log_06
as I walk alongside Sam, they share with me pieces of the world I've found myself in. not everything makes sense, but I understand enough.
this land is split into three districts; Rufachron, Quennsalix, and Nautinauka.
Rufachron was described to me as the city of steam.
“It’s an exciting place. They can be rather interesting, though I haven't spent enough time there to really get to know anyone yet.”
Quennsalix is nestled deep in a forest. the people there follow a deprecated order of being, bowing to a monarchy and practicing “magic”.
Nautinauka is the place Sam calls home, a place of advanced technological and scientific advancement.
home. I wonder where the place I called home was. I remember that feeling enveloping me like the full shell of [an aerogen].
complete. steady.
I stumble a little as I briefly lose my balance._
log_07
If anything, the place Sam brings me is rather… intimidating. Large black spikes emerge from the ground, like pins pierced through a thick felt of [earth]. Imposing grey structures tower over the two of us, unnaturally uniform surfaces, only littered with scars of weather and age.
She leads me down into the water, through a sparkling walk of crystalline structures. The way they reflect the soft light almost echoes the shine of the stars above.
The walls make way for a large room with a long bar at one side. Bottles of what seems like every shape and color line the walls, and someone stands the bar drying out a beveled crystal glass with a hand towel.
Another figure sits at the bar across from them. It bears a form one might describe as monstrous, mismatched body parts that twist the shape of its silhouette away from anything that could be feasibly natural. They both look up, broken away from whatever casual conversation was being entertained, and I’m frozen by the sharp, mismatched eyes that meet my battered form.
“Oh- hey, it’s okay! You’re safe here.”
Safe.
“This is Sorrel, they seem to be pretty lost.”
“Hey- Sorrel? This is Dulcibelle, and Sunset. They both live here in Nautika with me.”
Sunset gives me a warm smile.
“Well then, welcome, Sorrel. Stay here- I’ll fix you up with some soup.”_
log_08
Sunset returns from the kitchen, tenderly holding a bowl of soup with both hands.
She sets it down in front of me, and the steam drifting up from it gently warms my face.
It’s got a slightly muddy broth. tiny particulates swirl and swish around in an almost mesmerizing fashion.
It looks like some of the macroalgae that is abundant here was added in, as well as glassy white cubes that wobble as I pick the bowl up and lift it to my lips.
It’s.. warm, and comforting, and the savory taste lingers in my mouth.
When I look up from my bowl, the others are all looking at me intently.
I’m suddenly all-too-aware of myself, tail weaving around the metal limbs of the barstool.
“Oh-um- sorry.. is it.. not customary, here? To sip liquids from the dishes?”
“Ah, no, you're fine! Drink up.” She’s gone back to cleaning the mismatched pieces of glassware behind the bar.
Dulcibelle slides a spoon towards me. I catch the gleam of sharp, neat claws.
“Here. Make sure you eat that kelp. Wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you, would we?”
The tinge of unease is just quiet enough within me to be offset by the growing warmth._
log_09
After finishing the soup, I’m led underneath the waves, into a large, crystalline structure.
Despite being in a rather sorry state of repair, the sheer scale of it is breathtaking.
It's a dome, constructed from small triangular panes of what looks like [SiO2].
Standing in the center of the structure, I can see that the panes are riddled with cracks and leaks, causing saltwater to creep in like a steady rain.
Dulcibelle had mentioned that this building had been used as a greenhouse, long ago.
What few species of flora are left look as if they’re barely holding on.
There are twisting splotches of dead land where the drip from the ocean above has left the ground damp, and the plants on the banks of these flows look as if their leaves had been burned, a rusty margin creeping in and slowly consuming whatever green hue the struggling plant had left in it.
I wander over to the small structures about the edges of the dome. My tail brushes over small patches of particularly resistant flora, softly swishing side-to-side with each careful step.
I push open a stubborn door and enter one of the buildings.
log_10
Inside, the atmosphere is damp, and the salty air causes me to tear up.
The signage seems to indicate that at one point, this was a sterile room.
The air has caused some of the cabinet doors to corrode off the hinges, revealing shelves neatly packed with glassware.
It’s almost as if a snapshot of this place was taken and left to rot.
Nothing is broken, shattered, or strewn around. It simply looks like one day, whoever or whatever inhabited this place stopped coming back.
There’s a walkway to the next building over. It looks like a much more casual space, rusting metal furniture arranged around the room in small clusters.
After wandering down hallways with large double doors, separating nothing but corridor and more corridor, an open door catches my eye.
There’s a table pushed against the wall, stacked with boxy electronics. A stack of documents sit upon one of the few clear spaces on the surface.
On the wall, faded pictures of someone are pinned up with a rusted thumbtack, which bleeds its brown-ish red pigment into the fibres of the damp paper.