#raskol broadcasts

{How are you here? I recognise you, from a past iteration.}

》 You- recognize me...?

...

The boundaries have been falling for a long time, now. Is anyone where they're really meant to be these days?

I'm seeing things through to the very end. That's all that matters.

》 Braving a cold metal death trap in pursuit of tech, base parts, and Nipnip.

》 Checking in on some old haunts.

...

The grass was green here, once. And it's far more humid than it used to be.

Raskol paces between two exocraft - a Nomad and a Pilgrim, loading each up with ammo, spare supplies, parts, and repair kits. They seem unwilling or unable to keep still; even as they settle, stand in place, they shift their weight uneasily from one foot to the other.

Onfim stands on the front deck of their Broadcast Site, fiddling with the security tech he had hastily installed the evening before.

》 Yeah, just making sure the monitors are good to go after that interference last night. Messed with some of the sensors.

Onfim finishes his work, checks in quickly with Kestrel, and jogs over to the makeshift exocraft bay. Beneath his helmet, he cocks an eyebrow at his elder sibling.

》 Are you, like... alright? You've been acting bizarre since this morning. Real jittery.

》 I feel - I don't know. Strange. Like there are others always over my shoulder. You don't feel it?

This anxiety from Raskol was probably the strangest thing to him. He truly didn't expect the 'message' in the interference to rattle them so much.

》 I mean, yeah - this place gives me the fuckin' creeps, that interference we got last night was... strange, but I don't know about all that.

If this was an attempt at comfort, it wasn't a good one. Raskol sighs, opens the cockpit of their Nomad.

》 No matter, I suppose. It'll pass. Come on - I don't want to keep Tulos and Omn waiting out here.

》 Alright, once we're past these hills, it's just a straight and easy shot northwest to their landing site.

The engines flare to life as the Twin-Iterations enter their respective exocraft, and are off like a shot over the steep hills which fence in their base camp, out into the steadier, ghost-empty and glass-loud plains.

Unaware of what may have gone on earlier, Raskol attempts to send a transmission on the way.

A public video feed uploads; recorded excerpts of the first 12 hours at base camp. Readings and activity both in and outside the base are provided through cameras and monitors.

》 Good, everything's accounted for --

Raskol sits at a desk in the corner, their carapace and shawl lit by all manner of terminals and screens, their gaze flicking between each of them and the nearby window. The sun is setting with an eerie, red-violet haze.

》 Base Camp has just been established, settling in for the evening. Onfim thought it best we keep a live feed going - for security and documentation purposes.

There's a howl outside, a glassy scream; but that's how the wind always sounds on these strange planets, isn't it? Still, Raskol stops with a whir - a metallic gasp, and listens.

》 ...Little activity to report as of yet. I half-wondered if us disturbing the environment after so much already going on here would mean trouble instantly. I'm not sure whether to be relieved or terrified.

They pause to check a monitor, tracking the movement of two dots - blood orange and teal.

》 Looks like Onfim and Kestrel are on their way back from scouting the other sites nearby. Better go meet them--