Who: Hakkai, his flood!selves, and you
When: During the Shoes flood
Where: All around the Barge
What: Choose your poison: Hakkai the space torturer/indoctrinator & Hakkai, member of the cult of Bane and rising star in the underworld of Baldur's Gate.

Vidona Hakkai (cw: torture, religious-ish fanaticism)

Hakkai's face is the same; green-eyed, high-cheekboned, human in appearance. His hair, though, is cut short and sleeked back in precise regulation manner, hiding nothing about his face, and his right eye almost perfectly matches the organic left. At certain angles, glimmers of red sensor lights are visible within his right pupil.

The clothes, neatly cut muted green regulation jacket and slacks with bronze piping, are a more obvious clue to the changes. He moves through the hallways of the Barge with quiet purpose, observing without approaching, learning the layout of the land and guessing at the culture and meaning behind its extravagant strangeness. He is no Shuos and he knows it, despite the non-regulation shoes he's wearing. He isn't an infiltrator or a analyst. He has some advantages, but as a single man in a ship overrun by heretics, his duty must be first to learn all he can and second to bring the information home so that these wild heresies can be dealt with by a proper strike force.

The times of things -- the times that things should be -- are an anxious fibrillation in his veins, the utter certainty of remembrance and schedule unmoored from reality and flapping wild in the air. He'd found a small knife in his room on waking, and has secreted it in a pocket, but there are so few remembrances he could even come close to achieving with a single small blade, despite his training. And, more vitally and terribly, he doesn't know what day it is.

Altogether, Vidona Hakkai is balancing on a razor's edge of calm among seas of vertiginous panic. He's good at keeping his balance, but if anyone challenges him--

Well, he probably won't try to see if he can death-touch away from the security of proper Calendrical terrain. But only because he's fairly sure it won't work.

Bane's Chosen

Cho isn't new on the Barge. He knows how to lay low here, as bitter as he may be about his imprisonment, and he's quick with an easy smile and inclination of his head as he passes by familiar -- and less familiar -- faces. He's dressed plainly, in a black waistcoat with only a little embroidery and a plain dark green canvas jacket, hair tied back into a loose queue and his old black eyepatch securely in place. His gently pointed ears, not as sharp as a fullblooded elf's, are in plain view.

He's been playing very nice, and so it's no surprise to him that he has access to his spells, the thrum of his cleric's magic comfortable behind his breastbone where it belongs. He intends to keep playing nice until the perfect moment. After all, a once-Chosen who returns a failure is unlikely to be welcomed by his God. This place, though infuriating, is a refuge from Bane's wrath.

Before he graduates, he supposes he'll have to decide whether he wants to return with appeasement or run in the other direction as fast as he can.

"Careful!" he calls, looking up from his thoughts to see someone stepping dangerously close to another pair of shoes. "Here, I've a handkerchief. Let's get those out of the way, shall we?"

Cho Hakkai

When he's himself, Hakkai is no less on edge. He stays out and about, filling in on any kitchen shifts whose usual workers happen to be currently someone else, trying to prod shoes into less dangerous areas of the ship with a broom, and looking frantically for his friends, whether they're themselves or -- more importantly -- whether they're not.