01 August 2014 @ 12:54 am
[For once, his transmission isn't coming from the Gardens. Instead Netherlands is seated in one of the kitchens - a very, very pristine looking kitchen.]

Anyone needs help moving their shit down to the second level, I can, ah. Help.

[So eloquent. Whatever. He follows it up with a jab of his thumb to the background.]

If you move down here, don't fuck up the kitchen. Keep it clean.

[That said, he shifts in his seat and rattles off the rest, tapping on the table with each statement.]

Agriculture needs people, I've got weed and tobacco to trade, and - need to talk to someone who knows how to make clothes. Or knit. And uh. Got a football if anyone wants to play.

[The real sort of football, not the American kind.]
 
 
25 July 2014 @ 02:06 am
[ the camera turns on to reveal sally, up close at first but then she props the communicator up on her nightstand and scoots back to sit cross-legged on her new bed. she lifts a hand to push her hair back behind her ear but seems to think better of it (for bite-scar reasons, not that there's any real way to know that), instead opting to press her palms together with her index fingers to her mouth for a half-second while she thinks of quite what to say. ]

Right, so I know everyone's super busy packing their shit and trying not to live in some weird sci-fi ghost town, but you can totally put that down for a second because I'm seriously bored and we're playing a game.

[ okay? okay. ]

Pretty much everyone has some kind of space booze, right? Good, because there's this game back home - it's called Never Have I Ever. For pretty much the 5% of you who haven't actually heard of it? It's... actually pretty stupid, like for frat guys or thirteen-year-olds who found their dad's stash, but just shh, humor me here. Basically, someone starts off like 'Never have I ever blah blah blah'. Never have I ever ~ridden a bike~, never have I ever... I don't know, jumped off a cliff. Anyway, everyone who has done the Never-Have-I-Ever has to take a shot. Or a sip, or a rain-check for when you do have booze, or even just drink juice or something - it doesn't matter, that's not the point.

The point is, there are apparently way more people on this ship than I realized and I know pretty much nobody, and I know I'm not the only one. Apparently solidarity is a thing, so why not actually get to know each other a little? I mean, beyond that whole A/S/L survey that went around - not that it was bad or anything.

And if you roll in just to, I don't know, shit all over the game or something? Then you're a jerk and a loser and you should suck it up and play anyway. Like, what's the worst that can happen? You forget to be an angry douche for like five seconds?

Anyway, let's tear this shit up.

I can start, this one's easy:

Never have I ever voluntarily left the planet Earth.

[ go ahead and start your own 'never have i ever' top-levels, even if you don't reply to hers. c: ]
 
 
17 July 2014 @ 12:18 pm
Hey everyone.

I'm sure some sort of demographics survey has been done in the past but I haven't seen one since I've been here and I'm curious. I've tried to keep it pretty basic. I know people are touchy about their privacy, and I know some aren't cool with being asked about special abilities/skills/powers/whatever, so obviously skip questions if you want to, no hard feelings. I'd rather just get name/age/planet than nothing at all, you know? Not like I'm going to hunt you down and force you to fill it out. But if you're willing to be more complete that'd be awesome and if there's something you think is important that I didn't include a field for, let me know.

Maybe there's a pattern here somewhere, maybe there's not, but at the very least it might be interesting or provide some useful data for department recruitment or something. Maybe you'll find some friends, whatever.

Thanks!



UPDATE: On request from several of our fellow passengers, I'm adding a 'relationship status' field. You're all welcome. Feel free to edit/update your entries accordingly if you want to.

(ooc: feel free to treat this as threadjack city as far as I'm concerned. if you squint it's kind of almost like an ic cr meme?)
 
 
15 July 2014 @ 05:24 pm
[for anyone who has had the pleasure of being around stiles in the last couple months, he's suddenly looking far better. less panicky, less wan, and perhaps a bit more determined as well.

for anyone who is particularly familiar with stiles as a person (and considering how out of sorts he's been since being brought to the tranquility, that's really only going to be the people he knows from back home) they'll know that a determined stiles is almost always a dangerous one.
]

So it's good to hear that at least some of us aren't willing to just lay down and accept our abduction without a little bit of a fight. [a little fiercely] I for one am through with letting myself be manipulated or toyed with by our mysterious evil overlords.

I wasn't in the hallways when everyone started disappearing last month, mostly because I had just come back from being lost in the hallways. But I saw a brief mention of paintings in the latest recon report and I thought I should share with anyone who was interested to know the details of the mural I came across while I was wandering in the hallways.

Y'know, just in case it helps with any part of the deeper mystery of this place.

[he moves away from the comm for a moment now before coming back with a rough sketch (he's no artist like lydia) to show everyone: a blocky figure standing firmly, with a thin neck that seems to support nineteen heads, each with sharp red eyes. he keeps the image in view for a beat before setting it aside.]

Not sure what it means, apart from being super trippy, but it never hurts to have all the information, right?

[he pauses, considering, before continuing with a slightly more forcefully upbeat tone.] And I guess on a completely different note, anybody here a psychologist, or have any sort of experience in that kind of capacity?
 
 
14 July 2014 @ 04:59 pm
Got a couple of requests.

[ his cut is stripped off and draped across his lap, one desert eagle resting atop it. jax is in his faded white "reaper crew" t-shirt and shoulder holsters. he's sitting tipped back in the chair. his boots are resting on the edge, not that it's within frame. ]

Anyone with some technical know-how wanna swing by the gunnery? See, we been doing what we can on these fucking turrets and consoles, but there's some shit that's beyond us. A bunch of them are too fried to work, and that's a problem, assuming the shit that goes bump in the night comes at us from the outside. Back home, we get a second opinion before ripping out the guts and starting over, so anyone thinks they can shed some light on the situation, I'll owe you one.

[ it's not as detailed a description as it could be, but as far as jax is concerned there's only so many ways to say "fucked beyond comprehension" before getting redundant. he tugs at the strap of one holster, pausing like he's letting that sink in. ]

I also gotta ask, anyone up here capable of tattooing? It's not like I've seen any place capable of it since we made our last stop. Am I reaching here?

[ probably, but a man's gotta ask. ]

Hey, Hyperion. I gotta talk to you too. You got a minute any time soon?
 
 
13 July 2014 @ 05:40 pm
[Now that she knows it's safe to show her face on the network, that's precisely what she does. Her hair is swept back, well out of her face. There are plants on the table before her, divided into neat bundles. Below each bundle, there is a small piece of paper, signifying their possible properties.]

How could anything be simple in outer space? It's laughable to think even the smallest of comforts would be familiar. Yet that doesn't mean we're defeated.

[She touches a journal - copious notes have already been written in it.]

We have to adjust our expectations. [Picking up one plant in particular, she sniffs it.] The results might be surprising.

[There is an extra scent of something to the plant in her hand. She pauses before giving the scent a name.]

Why let the boundaries of our worlds hold us prisoner? I've been to another world once before. That was an adjustment too.

[Her voice trails off, remembering her first steps in the Wizarding World.]

We can adjust. It's...what we have to do.

[As much as she shoots for optimism, her tone falls short. This isn't a change she wants to make. Yet it's upon her all the same.]

I told you before that my name was Penelope Clearwater. That was a lie. I'm Hermione Granger.
 
 
11 July 2014 @ 10:01 pm
Okay, I was warned this spaceship is creepy, but it goes straight for the visual distortions?

I guess I should introduce myself. Detective John Kennex. If you've come across a synthetic named Dorian with dark hair and blue eyes, a woman named Anna with dark hair and brown eyes, or a small but authoritative woman named Maldonado, let me know. It's important.

Anyway, I'm new and I could use a tour guide. Any volunteers?


[He usually wouldn't ask for a tour guide, but he really wants to learn more about this place.]

[ooc: Just in case you were wondering, in regards to the visual distortions, John's having side effects to a drug.]
 
 
10 May 2014 @ 12:28 pm
[ peter looks vaguely more interested in being on screen this time than compared to the last time he was. maybe it’s because he’s had a little more practice, who knows. but he’s standing in front of a mish mosh of scrap metal, a rather perfect descriptor for what they're about to say. ]

So. For all you guys out there looking to join a department, I want to offer engineering as an option. If there’s something we need it’s extra hands around the place, and there’s more than a few things we could think of to do to keep you occupied if you can't think of them yourselves. Plus, the place is a lifesize erector set.

Arya and I are the heads of the department--

[ arya is worn in a way that goes beyond physical exhaustion and would rather be anywhere else than showing her face on the network, but no one could tell from the smile she donned for this occasion. ]

— and ours is an important duty. [ focus, peter. ] We are charged with the well-being of the ship. If it is neglected, we would all die.

[ welcome to psa: westeros style. ]

We need everyone. Even if you are not knowledgeable about technology [ cough her a year ago ] there are tasks that don’t need such. And we can teach those who wish to learn.


[ peter’s focused, he swears! he’s just trying to appeal to the masses. ] We want you to keep in mind that the place is bigger than you might expect and we can’t keep track of anyone who might decide to go wandering off, so maybe join with a buddy of yours so you can keep track of each other.

The main goal is that we need more people, like Arya said. There’s just too much for the few people we’ve got to take care of all on our own. Feel free to talk to either of us if you’ve got any questions or concerns or, I don’t know- if you just want to know more.

[ peter glances back over to arya for a second before looking back. ]

It’s a department we all need to think of, and not just as one where we get to build things in our spare time—

[ and here arya chimes in with a, ] But we do that too! [ actual best part tbh we’re all kids or kids at heart here. ]

We take care of the ship, and without your help, the place’ll fall apart.


[ ooc; peter is black, arya is green ]
 
 
30 April 2014 @ 07:05 pm
The hors d'oeuvres and pirates are great and all, guys, but have you ever really considered the consequences of this multi-world space party?

If we're lucky, then we're not from different universes. We just share different addresses in the same infinite space. Maybe your neighbor is 10 to 20th to the 40th light years away from you, and whatever took us here was somehow able to cross that sheer distance of space-time to bring us all together.

And if we're unlucky?

Then each of our universes exist independently. Each universe is its own bubble, a false vacuum governed by its own laws. Laws like energy level, the particles that make up what we are, et cetera, et cetera. In other words, we shouldn't be able to interact.

One of the times where we might interact is if one of these universes were to subsume the other. In my world, we call it a false-vacuum decay. In an instant, the poor bastards of Universe A find themselves functioning under an entirely new set of laws, but wait--

They can't.

There are specific conditions that allow you and the physical world around you to exist. Change any of those conditions, and you're fucked. Either you're gone in an instant, or if you survive, it won't be long. Gravity is going to pull everything together until we've got one giant mass. And seriously, I don't like anyone that much to be that close to them.

I'm not saying that is what's going to happen to us. The fact that we can coexist within the same space implies that the laws of our universes aren't so far off. In fact, it explains the wonky powers issue. But think about it: if a bunch of people are being pulled from different universes, aren't we poking holes in each of these bubbles? Could we be compromising the integrity of each separate universe, until the borders weaken and ultimately everything collapses into each other?

Could it happen? I don't know. I'm not sure if anyone could really know for sure, and all of this? It's pretty damn humbling. Even the most powerful of us are just shitstains on the great toilet bowl of the multiverse. Cheers!

TL;DR: All our universes could collapse into each other. Discuss.
 
 
11 April 2014 @ 03:19 am
[Before arriving on the Tranquility, Josias did not get attached to people. His entire life was constructed that constancy fell in place with falsity, and any more genuine encounters he had were always transitory and measured by worth. Over two years on the ship, and he is not the same man, but he still hasn't really learnt how to cope well with the loss created by having attachments suddenly severed. Mostly, he just gets very, very annoyed.]

Two years on this ship and I am just about fed up of people buggering off already. I'm beginning to wonder if it isn't some evasive measure they take instead of admitting defeat over the problem they'd promised to fix. Give two supposed geniuses a year and it turns out you still get remarkably little progress and then left on your todd to deal with it anyway.

So in the month's apparent theme of recruitment, I'm looking for some new expert assistance. Genius level or not, as it appears it makes no bloody difference. I have something known on my world as a neuroimplant, a computer in my brain, and it is currently infected by a virus I picked up during the lovely tour to the genetics labs we took last year. This is corrupting the majority of the implant's functions and a few of my cognitive ones, and I'd really like it gone. Apply within if interested or qualified, etc. Preferably qualified.


[And that might not be such a good impression to follow on from, but he adds,]

Department wise: join Agriculture if you don't join anywhere else, as learning to garden is one of the easiest skill sets that can be passed around. You'll also get some actual job satisfaction, as even when everything else on this ship is going tit's up, the plants still grow. And we all need to breathe.
 
 
01 April 2014 @ 10:15 pm
[ elizabeth is seated, and can be seen plucking curiously at the strings of an instrument she has never seen before. it appears similar to the lute, but much larger. this is the first time she has ever seen a guitar. looking over, she notices that her comm is finally broadcasting. yay!

she effects her usual smile, appearing nothing other than cheerful. the strength of the mark she wears is improving here. ]


There is a saying that goes somewhat like this: Ubi bene, ibi patria. In other words, where one feels at ease, there is their country. I have wondered, if that is so for the rest of you. Or if perhaps some of you feel more at ease here than whence you hail from.

[ she is getting to a point, promise. ]

Happiness can be such an abstract concept. Yet I find it possible to find here more so than at Court.

But there is another saying: Aliis si licet, tibi non licet. Simply because others are permitted something does not mean that you are.

Thus if you are not permitted to be happy, what are the permissible steps to take in order to acquire what little joy which may be found?
 
 
15 March 2014 @ 07:33 pm
[backdated to shortly after the jump]

[The feed starts as an audio post, with the occasional clicking of the keys, with long drawn out pauses between them, and the occasional 'hmm' and other such utterances, sometimes of irritation. After a few minutes, there's another pause.] No- that's not right, where are the words?

[The voice is low and hoarse. A smoker's voice, if you will. But it's female. There are a few more noises as Eponine clicks around on her device. Then, her face comes into frame, close-up on her eyes and forehead, her dark eyes narrowed as she looks at the screen, her brow creased.]

No, no, it's supposed to be the words. [She doesn't even realize it's on video yet. It's only when she takes sight of her own eyes that she gasps and pulls the device away from her, so that the audience can better see her face. Pursing her lips, she reaches a hand up and brushes her hair back behind her ear. Then, she smiles at the "reflection".] A strange sort of mirror... [She mutters again, before the screen goes blank.]
 
 
11 March 2014 @ 04:40 pm
[ the feed switches on to show a spectacular view of the garden grounds. as in the actual floor of the gardens, mostly dirt and foliage, before it's flipped around to focus on hook's face. his expression is solemn, offering up a respectable display of sincere concern for those he's addressing. ]

This message is intended as a favour— an act of good faith, if you will. I regret to inform my fellow passengers that we've a wolf in our midst. [ the mask of civility slips slightly, giving way to a sharp grin; his voice matches, edged with hostility and amusement. ] Or should I say a crocodile.

There's a man on this ship who calls himself Rumplestiltskin. While I admit he's not much to look at, it's nothing more than the practised ruse of a monster. He's known to my world as The Dark One. Whatever kind words he's spun, any generosities he's offered— I assure you, they've been at your expense.

[ no killing allowed, but nobody said anything about gossip. anyway, after a pause to let that dramatic reveal that absolutely won't remind anyone of stupid picture books settle: ]

I've also heard word of a smithy on board. If anyone could direct me to it or to its owner, I'd be in your debt. [ there's a glint of light off the metal as he raises his hook, idly considering its condition. ] I've something in need of sharpening.

[ that last sentence would absolutely be a private taunt to gold if he knew how to encrypt anything, but he doesn't. blame emma. ]

( ooc: 4th walling on all related fairy tales/stories is welcome! )
 
 
27 February 2014 @ 01:43 pm
I know bitching doesn't change anything, but I have to say, I am really sick of this place. Especially with all the shit whoever's in charge throws at us. It'd be nice if we could get a vacation from the UUS Deathtrap, but if we ever actually DID get one, we'd probably end up just as fucked as we are on board. Unfortunately, some of us don't have the luxury of hoping we get sent back home.

Which begs the (incredibly personal, I know, so don't feel obligated to answer) question: how many of us on board are dead back home?
 
 
15 February 2014 @ 07:15 pm
[ peter SIGHS on film, comm device set up to show him seated behind a work… desk in an otherwise stripped room, meant to look like it's something no one tries to live in. trying his hardest to look like an awfully grumpy politician or like anything else that just doesn't suit peter (and failing miserably; he looks so begrudgingly distressed it should be comical), nor does his desk fit anything formal. considering it's kind of a mess.

kind of being really. just don’t call his things junk or there’ll be a fight.
]

So. Far as I can tell, people are here like to recruit the new and old for their departments. Not sure why- [ somewhere in the background there’s a snort and what sounds like a muffled comment of “helping hands”. ] but, hey- i'll fill you in on Engineering because why not. Because it seems like the kind of thing we're just supposed to do. And maybe because somebody told me to...

[ a slow glance over his shoulder before he's back at attention. ] First thing? Right now, the place is hotter than... whatever, you can pick your euphemism, just as long as you make it good. And it's not like the kind of hot you look forward to in the middle of winter. It’s the kind of hot that would kill you if you stepped foot into it. And sometimes I start to wonder if Tony's brain took a hit from it before it got so bad and then I remember... that's just what he's always been like. [ peter thinks he's really damn witty sometimes, don't mind him. ]

[ if the fact that there was noise in the background and the fact that peter looked back didn’t clue you in to the fact that someone else was in the room, the fact that tony, fake eye and all pops up just off to the side of peter and moves the device over does for you. ] Peter here is also less amusing than he thinks he is, but you might need to try and tell him he is. Unless you’re Arya, she can shake her head at him. [ and before peter can maybe hit him excuse tony popping right back out of frame. ]

[ leaving peter to sigh exasperatedly. ] Next? The place is huge - more space than you could dream of. And right now? If you even try to look down it, you'll see something different every time- nothing too appealing. It's not as much of a mess as you might think, but you'll see metal blocking the halls or they'll look infinitely longer than they should. It's not always like that, scouts honor. But later on, if you still get lost in the bowels of the beast, it's on you. I mean, unless you leave a trail of scraps behind you, then maybe we'll come looking. Which leads me to my next point: nobody'll tell you to pick up your shit- [ he holds up a finger ] - Unless I trip on it. And then i'll tell you. And it won't be very nice.

[ off screen once again: ] Meaning, he’ll hit you with it, probably. Been a victim of it, and I’m still nursing the bruise. [ and peter’s still rolling his eyes. ]

We could probably use another creative mind or two.. [ the kind of tone where he's trying awfully hard to sound sincere ] .. just to poke at the things the rest of us don't have time to poke it. It'd be just as much tinkering with your own projects as whatever else you want it to be. Try and save the world through engineering and nobody's gonna stop you. If anything, I might try to lend you a hand... if you're good at it. [ he gives a small shrug, skeptical at best. like he doubts anyone's as good as he and tony already are. ] You wanna talk to me about the place in person? Go for it. I'll even give you a tour when we can actually get through again. If you want one.

But you wanna work here? Prove the place isn't gonna get you killed. [ it’s then that tony pops up, right when peter stops talking and shrugs. ] Or you know, you’re not gonna get the rest of us killed.

[ tony stark is this color! ]
 
 
01 February 2014 @ 08:37 pm
[ When the feed comes on, everything is in its place. The Comms device is set squarely on to a view of a desk, a large American flag hangs on its pole in the space behind Nathan, decked out in his best suit. A painting hangs on the wall behind him. This may be the last time he addresses the ship, in which case he’s going to do it right. ]

Good afternoon, Tranquility.

For those of you that don’t know me, my name is Nathan Petrelli. I arrived here on the sixth jump, and I’ve been working in Communications ever since. I was here when we all still reported to Resnik to keep the ship running, and I was here when Ward executed the prisoners we took from the Scylla. I’ve been here through most of the worst things that the Tranquility has thrown at us, and never once - not once, in almost two years - have I thought to stop cooperating with the whims of this damn ship.

That ends today.

At 0900 tomorrow morning I intend to take the Tranquility’s bridge. I make this post here, now, because this isn’t just about me, this concerns all of us. So, perhaps against my better judgement, it seems only right that those of the rest of you that are as restless as I am should have the opportunity to join me in this endeavor.

Some of you will call me crazy. You’ll think that makes you sane. You’ll call this mutinous. But let me ask you--how willing are you to carry on the way we have been so far? The distortions we see in the mirrors; the people that are watching; no longer just out of sight; our secrets, no longer secret; the weight of paranoia that is weighing all of us down, month after month. How long do you want this to go on without making a stand, without feeling like you’ve actually done something about it?

I don’t know that this is going to be safe. I don’t know if any of us are going to come back, and maybe some of the less morally indulgent types around here are gonna see it as good reason to lock us all away. I’d like to remind those people that in the absence of an actual captain, this isn’t really a mutiny. We can argue about it lawyer style if you like. Might as well, it might be the last argument we ever have. But please don’t feel as though you’ll alter my resolve.

We have to change what we’re doing. We have to make a stand. And you can shut your mouth right now, Neal Caffrey. I haven’t forgotten what you said; this is about weighing the risk.

[ At last Nathan takes a deliberate pause, steepled his hands in front of him. ]

If you’re going to volunteer, then please consider the risks. You may die. You may go mad. The rest of this crazy crew might decide to throw you into space. This isn’t a decision that you should be making quickly, but I’m sorry, this is all the time we’ve got. If you have even the slightest of doubts, you should stay behind.

Some of you--I know you’re gonna volunteer, and I reserve the right to veto your offers. You know who you are, and you have responsibilities. I’m not tearing apart the infrastructure of this ship if I can help it. Others...well, I need you where you are. Plan B.

Hopefully the next time I speak to you, it’ll be from Tranquility’s bridge. Be safe, and good luck to all of us. Petrelli out.


[ OOC: This is the corresponding network post to the volunteer sign up here on the OOC comm. If you don’t know what’s going on yet, then take a read through. ]
 
 
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 @ 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.
 
 
08 January 2014 @ 09:26 pm
( nothing about what's happened since nuala made her choice makes a great deal of sense to her. she lives, inexplicably, but there is a wound in her where once her brother was; a hollowness she can't account for, in point of fact the very opposite of what she might have imagined her afterlife to consist of. dressed in strange clothes and adrift in a place even stranger than the BPRD's headquarters, handling truly peculiar technology--

--it is all very small, in the wake of that most important detail. it is, however, a sort of smallness that permits her anything else to think on while she gathers herself enough to, perhaps, investigate its cause. her first contribution to the comms network is therefore simultaneously accidental and very much with purpose: a period of audio recording where nothing much seems to be happening, video of Nuala's hands as she turns the device over several times, of her face as she examines it. audio, again-- an exasperated sigh, a little jostle, and then a startled vocalization followed by a bit of scrambling, and then, finally--

Nuala, having at some point prior to this transmission found her way to the room she's been allocated, looks composed of nothing but determination to be composed. )


Hello.

( ...and patience. she has that, too, in great stores. this is a device for communication. someone is going to communicate with her. eventually, this will begin to make sense again. )
 
 
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.]