[ after spending a lengthy amount of time sorting herself out and making sure every possible trace of blue... stuff from her hair, eleanor eventually opts for the voice option on the communication devices, despite being reasonably satisfied with her now clean appearance. mostly because the bed in her room is actually half decent - all things considered - and she can't be bothered not to be horizontal, and that wouldn't make for a good camera angle.

she sighs, mildly and a little flatly.
]

Such a shame that the future of space travel and such has sacrificed good taste completely in the name of practicality. My kingdom for even a well-stocked Primark, to be perfectly honest. [ a pause. ] No use crying over spilt milk and all that, or whatever the appropriate turn of phrase might be, I'm not in much of a position to think about it too deeply right now. Still getting used to that space bit.

[ she smiles to herself, without much amusement. ]

The tattoo's rather on the nose, isn't it? I suppose post-it notes have also gone out of fashion and use around here. [ in her own company, she lifts her arm to look at it once again. ] I'd have much rather a typed memo than a permanent stain, but that really can't be helped. What's done is very much done.

[ pause. ]

I'm Eleanor, by the by.

[ she's usually quite good at conducting herself in these sorts of situations, introducing herself to a pack of strangers, but- well, the more time she has to herself here, the more it's sinking in that she's not at all where she's supposed to be. it's throwing her off her game. ]
 
 
13 March 2014 @ 04:14 pm
[The video comes on at a weird angle and distorted by water droplets, but the view is clearly of the gardens during a rain cycle. A tall man (probably--his golden hair is very long) in exceptionally Medieval clothing has his back turned to the camera, occupied with tying the corner of a tarpaulin to a sturdy tree branch. It seems to serve as a canopy over the makeshift bed he has spread out over the grass. One corner of the bed is clearly wet, and the perceptive will discern that this is, in fact, the second time he has tied this corner of the tarpaulin to its branch. The camera becomes too obscured by water to see more than a blur for a moment, until a pink tongue clears it off and the audience is treated to a close-up of a deer's nose. Ethuil considers the camera, then ambles over to where his caretaker is nearly finished with his work. Impatient, he nudges the person against his leg. The man starts and the knot slips from his hands. The corner of the tarp comes free and water pours down upon the bed.

The man turns at last, nudging the deer away with a gentle, chronically shaking hand. Those who have never seen an elf usually know one when they see one nonetheless. He does not look entirely human, especially in the way he moves, like a tendril of smoke in the air as though his feet only just touch the ground. He does not seem to mind the rain on himself, but he pats the deer with an impatient look toward his soaking bed.]

[OOC: action or network replies are both fine]
 
 
12 March 2014 @ 03:36 pm
[ sulu's camped out on one of the mattresses in the shuttle bay, wearing just his black starfleet issue undershirt, hair sticking up. he looks tired, but that's mostly default setting for sulu. ]

I think it might be late to welcome anyone aboard. By now I'm sure you've all gotten the general idea. This is the Tranquility, you're in space, and no, there's not a convenient exit. I've looked. [ sulu smiles, apologetic, then rubs an unsteady hand over his face, presses hard against his cheek. ] If you've any questions, I can do my best to answer them for you.

I'm Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu, formerly of the USS Enterprise. I work in the Shuttle Bay here, among other things. [ "other things" meaning two other departments, but who was counting. ] If you're looking for something to do with your time, we could use you in the Shuttle Bay. Talk to Carolyn Fry if you're interested in helping out down here. So long as you're not trying to steal the shuttles or break anything, you're welcome to come help out. Previous experience helps, but it's not essential. We can teach you what you need to know.

[ remember when sulu had a strict code of starfleet approved conduct? how the mighty have fallen. ]

If Shuttle Bay isn't for you, there's other departments that are in the same boat, could use some extra sets of hands. Believe me, sometimes it's better staying busy than hanging around up here waiting to go home.

[ he takes his hand away from his face, shrugs a shoulder, then cuts the feed. ]
 
 
06 March 2014 @ 10:28 am
(isaac's message starts off in audio. shittily, at that. he clears his throat as if unsure of how to begin, then continues to stall for a few extra seconds, a fact made obvious by the sound of him fidgeting in his seat. voluntarily putting himself center-stage feels like everything bad and wrong with the world, but that's just a nagging survival instinct.) Now that I understand what's going on a little better- (hahahahaha that's being generous.) I guess I need to come clean about something.

(there's a moment's heistation before he switches to video. he's looking a little rough- drained and worn down, but it doesn't stop him from raising his hand briefly in a friendly greeting.) I've introduced myself to a couple of you already, and I kind of, uh. Told a little white lie. My name's Isaac, not whatever I told you before.

So, you know, sorry. It's nothing personal, I just thought- (nah... nevermind. he shakes his head. that's another story for another day.) Wanted to be safe, that's all.

(awkward pause. this seemed like a much better idea before he started actually doing it.)

Nice to officially meet you this time?
 
 
23 January 2014 @ 12:34 pm
 [Welcome back to Conspiracy Theory Hour with Topher Brink, who is currently in medical wearing a parka. He is the worst Stark Bannerman ever.]

When Bennett Halverson was here [he has to swallow a bit, because having Bennett here, however awkward it might have been, was nice and he misses her], we got into our brains to do some research on the nanites. It... didn't get too far, because the problem with these little beasties is they're everywhere and they kinda control how we get in and out of places and, personally? I don't wanna sleep in the hallway. But the fact is, we don't know a whole lot about them and we can't crack 'em without being worried that they're gonna... do something weird or explode our brains. And that's bad on numerous levels.

And I didn't realize until just now how bad. 

Let's think for a second. We've got the whole memory share business with each other, which is now, apparently, extending into memory share with the old crew. We know for a fact the nanites are deeply ingrained into the brain's thought processes. Think about it, guys- when you sign on to become a member of one of our lovely teams, do you go out and get a new tattoo with that shiny three letter badge of honor or do you fall asleep and wake up with it permanently stamped to your arm. [He holds up his own, showcasing his MED « 002 « 195 tattoo.] 'Cause I think I woulda remembered the tattooing process- I'm just saying.

[He sucks in a breath.] So the nanites know the difference between idly thinking "Hey, I'm in medical" versus "I am really and truly in medical." That means they're receiving data from the brain. We already know they can transmit it, because that's how we get around here. It's like any good computer, but here's the thing. We don't- and kinda can't for the aforementioned brain asplode reasons- know how much data these things are actually getting off of us. 

[He rolls his chair over to his computer.] And-and the thing is, all the nanites operate on the same network. Receiving, transmitting, whatever- we're all connected through them- so what if the memory links were a nanite malfunction. What if we saw a little glimpse behind the curtain of what's really going on here. Remember that line from the subnetwork? "It wants to keep you?" I know you remember that if you were for it, 'cause I still have nightmares about it. 

[A bitter, manic laugh.]

You can't delete a program- not really. If these nanites were in the original crew- doing their whole receiving and transmitting thing, then whatever they got off of them is still here. Floating around in the ether. Guys, what if we've been approaching this whole Smiley thing from the wrong perspective. Smiley's not one guy or an AI or Gallagher's freakin' ghost- Smiley is everyone. The whole crew. A literal ghost in the machine- the collective memories, feelings, whatever, of the entire former crew that somehow merged to create this one... composite. We die? We'll still be here. Floating around with the old crew. Boom. Prophecy fulfilled or whatever you wanna say.

[Basically, Smiley is a composite event without a host body or complete personalities. Just fragments. It makes a lot of sense to someone who has seen some shit. It's the only thing that can make sense. The ship's crew is just... gone, but they're still here.]

I mean... People have seen Smiley act outside the ship, right? And the only thing we bring with us when we leave the ship are our nanites. There's gotta be something to that, right?

 
 
22 January 2014 @ 03:34 pm
[Abbie is adjusting her device so that the feed shows up clearly and so she isn't being filmed in a stilted manner. That would be annoying!]

Alright. Seems a little late to be using this, but better now than never.

[She brushes some of her hair behind her ear and takes a deep breath before continuing.]

Hi. [She gives a small shrug and a wave.] I'm Lieutenant Abigail Mills and I'm from Sleepy Hollow, New York. Call me Abbie if you want. Right now though, I'm currently with the SEC that's been established aboard here. I may not have any crazy powers or special abilities, being human and all, but I'd like to think I'm more than dependable when it comes to security matters.

Formal introductions aside, I gotta ask about the things people are seeing in the mirrors and about the people who were dreaming in their pods. I'm hearing things about beasts and warped edges and frankly, I'm more than a little concerned.

[There's a pause before she hesitantly adds:]

I've been there before, believe me. And that was before I woke up and found myself in space. There has to be a purpose and meaning behind them.
 
 
18 January 2014 @ 03:32 pm
[Cecil is in his room, shuddering, arms wrapped tightly around his body. Is it fear? Is it the cold?

His closet door is open, and there's a bedsheet draped over it -- covering the mirror.

Cecil's fingers press into his sides, pulling at the fabric of his shirt, nearly tearing it. He stares straight ahead, his bright eyes wide; unseeing.]


My mother always said that it would be a mirror.
 
 
17 January 2014 @ 08:29 am
[There's a fleeting glimpse of this guy - bare shoulders, wet, wildly uneven hair, grouchy face still pale and a little shocked - before the screen jumbles around, finally landing on one hell of a mess strewn across the 002 bathroom counter. What used to be the mirror over the sink is now the mirror in the sink. And on the counter. And across the floor. And - broken glass is everywhere, really, interspersed with shorn tufts of hair and a scattered array of clippers and product.

Not that Netherlands is here to talk about hair. When he speaks it's low and careful, measuring out his words as he goes.]


Has, uh -

Wanna know if anyone else has broken one-a these things. It's... weird.

[…



just dead air and a stationary view of the wreckage for a few seconds, then he clears his throat and flips the video off.





Aaaaand about thirty seconds later flips it on again, just voice this time, all business.]


Gardens are always hiring. An' come talk to me, if you smoke. Can set something up.

[Because if he's gonna bother to post to the network he might as well make it useful, right. PRIORITIES. He's your grumpy neighborhood agriculture-head-slash-smokeables-dealer. Impromptu advertisement complete, he ends the feed for good.]

[ooc: dude broke the mirror. also threadjacking is a+ recommended]
 
 
15 January 2014 @ 09:43 pm
[When the video turns on, the person making the recording is obviously sitting just outside the main doors to Engineering - the feed is swaying a little as he gets situated, and you can see a flash of the hallway, his blue pants and sneakers, and then his right hand, opening and closing repeatedly, the flesh on the back burnt a nice pink color.

There's a hiss, and then the feed fixes on his face - he doesn't look particularly distressed, just a little irritated, serious. After a moment, he lets out a held breath, and fixes that serious expression on the camera.]


Right. I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess that someone else has already tried going in there.

[He pauses, not a hesitation so much as a moment to think, and he glances down at his hand again - if it's not frozen, it's burnt.]

And probably failed, judging by the way the temperature fluctuations are still happening.

[A pause.]

So I'm asking now. Has the ship told us anything about why this is happening yet?
 
 
15 January 2014 @ 08:31 pm
[So Clara isn't really one for posting on networks, but she figures with the temperature going completely mad, she ought to at least try to get something done about it instead of sitting around and sulking. Sulking and shivering as she's doing currently in her room.

She flips the device to video, still shivering, and clears her throat before before speaking.]


So, judging by the rest of the posts, I'm not the only one who's room has suddenly turned into an ice box. And considering sleeping in the halls would be ridiculous and supposedly dangerous, I've got to ask if anyone has a coat they might lend me? Or if you're a polar bear, maybe we could switch rooms until the temperature starts going bonkers.

[She raises her eyebrows as if hopefully staring at whomever might watch her post. Then she grows more serious, thoughtful, as she carefully words the next question.]

And getting a bit more personal. Really personal. Has anyone else... been here before and yet completely forgotten that you were? Because I've been here before and so has my friend, the Doctor. But he's gone and I don't remember a thing.

[She frowns.] So if you knew me before, we should get acquainted again. Especially if I need to use the "buddy system" to go about the ship as it does require buddies.
 
 
14 January 2014 @ 11:21 pm
[Joker has had enough alcohol and pain killers -yes mixed what do you wanna fight about it- to actually consider voluntarily speaking to people.]

Hey. Bored people.

What're your feelings on AIs?
 
 
10 January 2014 @ 07:34 pm
You know how I say "give me a break", being in a coma for almost a month wasn't exactly what I was talking about. Now, I guess that it's sorta hot around the ship (first of all, get over it it's what happens on ships) and it's kinda not in Shuttle Bay.

Here are some dos and don'ts if you're going to come near my area in the Bay.


✔ Get the hell away from my work area
✔ Bring me beer
✔ Bug Carolyn about everything
✔ Take your complaints to Sulu
✔ Annoy Amidala
✔ Don't ask me who the hell is in Shuttle Bay
✘ Come near my work area
✘ Touch anything
✘ Breathe around anything
✘ Think about touching anything
✘ Think about asking me what I'm doing
✘ Talking to me
✘ Thinking about me
✘ Thinking about the state of the ships
✘ Asking me what that sound is
✘ Complaining if you get shot because you broke all of these rules


Failure to comply means getting shoved out of an airlock. Or something, I don't know. Don't talk to me or even look at me.
 
 
10 January 2014 @ 09:15 pm
You know what? I really hate playing catchup. You're going along, minding your own business, think you're ready for just about anything--

[ Sheppard shakes his head. There's a dusting of five-o-clock shadow, a nasty nick to his jaw, a patterning of bruises that have had a chance to come up thoroughly over the last few days--but what can you do? If you shoot an already mad as houses elf in the leg, you sort of deserve whatever you get, and Nuada was comparatively gentle with him. Just don't ask him to move too much. ]

Get on with it, Sheppard. Alrighty, what was I saying? Wraith, right; washed out, grey skin, teeth that would make a SoCal dentist hysterical. Went by the name of Todd? Well, I should probably apologise for him. He's sort of-- [ Accurate words. What are those? ] --a pet, you know? He bites other people, growls at strangers, but you just didn't have the heart to put him down when you should have. Okay, maybe that's not exactly what I mean, but anyway. Sorry about that. It won't happen again.

Second thing; much more important. Since it turns out I'm down one technobabbling chatterbox right when I actually need him, I thought I'd do auditions for a replacement. No, not a replacement. I know you're going to listen to this one day, Rodney, and I'm going to get the silent treatment for all of thirty seconds. Not a replacement, then; a stand-in. Anyway, the winner gets to peek behind the curtain. [ He waves his lifeform scanner in the air where the video can see it. ] A basic understanding of sciencey stuff and obscure movie references is at the top of the list. Applicants should also enjoy long walks on the beach. There will be a quiz.
 
 
09 January 2014 @ 03:56 pm
[The video comes on to show Alexis starting a bit and pulling her hand back from the camera.] Oh! [A closer look.] Oh, it's on.

[Pause] Oh, it's on. Hello. [Tiny wave] Hello, my name is Alexis. I thought I'd... Well, I thought I'd introduce myself but now that I actually think it through, this is a time-waster. Sorry? I ran a video blog back home and that was never an issue but--

[Stop talking, Alexis. She shuts up for about two seconds before speaking again.] Hey, is there, like, stuff for cooking free to use? I saw the kitchens and all but I don't want to step on toes.

[A breath.] I kinda need pancakes.
 
 
08 January 2014 @ 03:29 pm
[ it's late, or maybe early, either way the lights in the room are dimmed to nearly black. stiles, lit by the device, scrubs a hand over his face, then runs it through his hair, which has grown out all over the place. he's sweaty with the heat of his room, and there are bags under his eyes. this insomnia thing is seriously getting old. how is it possible to get so much sleep and still be this tired? (probably by not having a month's worth of nightmares about being chased.) ]

Hey, uh. It's- last jump was gonna be my twelfth. Jump. Except for how I didn't wake up. Buuuut that was counting number nineteen and twenty as one, so if you count it as two then technically it was this jump.

I think.

[ he looks like he's about to try and do the math again, but then snaps out of it, focuses back on the whole, talking to the camera thing. ]

Eleven, twelve, thirteen, whatever, that's a long time to be stuck here. I'm beginning to feel like it's not so — when I first showed up everything was so cool, you know? I mean, space. Light sabers. Robots. Super powers. There are - there are freaking elves.

[ he makes a kind of i can't even gesture that is probably ridiculous if you already know just how much supernatural his life back home contained. and then he once again veers himself back on topic. ]

That wasn't actually... the point of this post was to talk about all these masks I've suddenly got now? Except not really, because they're Meg's, and she was cataloging them, and now she can't, so I guess the point is to say that— she's not around anymore. And Cassie... Cassie went home too. And Remus. Guess this ship's not big on the magic users, ahaha.

[ he gives a rough, upset chuckle, and visibly pulls himself together. talking about losing people would be easier if he wasn't hot and tired. ]

Anyway. You all probably already knew all of that, since uh, as we established, I'm a whole month out of the loop.

[ he shrugs. ]

Soooo, you know. Loop me.
 
 
07 January 2014 @ 10:34 pm
[hello everyone! she waves a little awkwardly, all blue and tattoos on her hands and down her arms, even as she shifts a little with a cheery smile.]

Wasn't there a story in Earth literature, in the 1800s about a man that fell asleep for 20 years? He slept through all of these landmarks in history and his own life. I suppose I exaggerate, but I am pretty sure the sentiment is the same. [a beat; sleeping is for organics and she's never "slept".]

I was hoping if you could help, it's sort of a long shot but ... I'm wondering if someone might have been brought here while I was asleep? He's 7'2, wears heavy armor bearing the insignia of an eagle and the letters UNSC and answers to Master Chief Petty Officer Spartan-117.

[he shouldn't be here, but she's been monitoring everything before she went into stasis, she doesn't want him to slip through the cracks- she can breathe easier once she realizes that he hasn't shown up.]

If he's out there, and he doesn't see this, tell him Cortana is looking for him.

[for a moment, it drops as she looks to the ground before looking back up again and putting it back on her face.]

If he's not here, you have one handy civilian consultant you can use. Put me to work anywhere, especially computer systems you can say that I live and breathe them.
 
 
[ As a general thing, McCoy isn't exactly the biggest fan of making broadcasts like this, they're uncomfortable at best and painfully aggravating for him at worst. However, the fact of the matter is that sometimes they're unavoidable and this time, is one of those unavoidable times. What he does to maintain his comfort level, small as it is, is make sure the setting of his device is on audio. That way no one can see his face and yet he can still get across his point. ]

Hallucinations can be brought on by stress. That woman, Matine, she was seeing someone she knew with talons and seeing her mother. Mother wasn't here, and a man didn't have talons before that break. I know a few of you've already thought of it, assuming you've got a brain, but with what you all were saying she saw, the likelihood she wasn't hallucinating is slim. [ There's a pause, like McCoy isn't sure how to word his next thoughts. ] Anything we've been seeing from the past, all of those things are pointing to stressful, in some way, situations. All of us have— most of us who were here last month don't need me to mention what went on that might have stressed our brains.

Leaving the body in a constant state of stress especially one like the type anyone endures on this damn ship is enough to trigger hallucinations. And at the risk of probably making half of you hear something you don't want to, what happened to Matine could happen to any of us.

Ship seems to like to repeat things and I don't know about you, but I'm not a fan of having hallucinations like that. Especially when they end in me shooting someone.
 
 
23 November 2013 @ 01:23 am
No matter how it goads you, no matter what you've seen, or what you think you might know--don't go looking. Nothing ever good comes of it, and nothing ever will.

If you're too arrogant, or too foolish to take my advice, then don't come running to me when it all blows up in your face.
 
 
22 November 2013 @ 01:39 am





             
DON'T FORGET WHAT I TOLD YOU. YOU'LL HAVE TO MOVE FASTER NOW, BECAUSE IT STILL WANTS TO KEEP YOU.

JUST LIKE IT KEPT THEM :)







( ooc | all responses from smiley will be text. )

 
 
21 November 2013 @ 06:22 pm
This is Thranduil.

Lady Galadriel and I spoke of a dream last month in which two guards spoke with one another while screams resounded from behind a door.

The memory some of us experienced today had those precise screams. Those precise screams, but from the other side of the door.

It is cold in the Biolab. The guards blew on their hands. Arunima wore a heavy coat.


[That is where they make Men into manticores, Elves into orcs.

He's just going to shut off his comm now and try to stop shaking.]