[The boy on the screen looks physically no more than nineteen or twenty, perhaps even younger. It's the perceptible aura of power that surrounds him, cool and confident, that gives the lie to his appearance. He's too still by far, too pale and too collected to be nothing more than a lost young man. The more perceptive people on the ship may note that there's also no attempt to hide it. He speaks softly, but nonetheless somehow commands immediate and direct attention. His accent is completely unplaceable.]

If I am to understand correctly, this ship docks on occasion. I would like to know what our next destination might be and when we might arrive there, if such information is known.

[He pauses, thoughtful, not yet done speaking but in no apparent rush to continue.]

I would also like to know how our lockers come to hold our possessions, and how those possessions might be chosen or acquired.

[He does not say thank you, but he doesn't have to. Something in his mannerisms says it for him, unfailingly polite by tone and body language alone.]

i've been told i'm a good jumper.

guess i'm still here.

remember: "don't believe everything they tell you."

we have liars on the ship.

[that cryptic message was brought to you by Chell! except not really! in fact it was brought to you by a demon sorting through its new supply of memories from its new host but shhhhh no one knows that yet.

five minutes pass, and then a video feed pops up. it's of a woman sitting on the bed in her room. half her lip is quirked up into a somewhat eerie smile that resembles a sort of stubborn annoyance.

she opens her mouth for a second, and there's a slight crack. she draws her hand to her throat, eyebrows stitching up with agitation. she tries again. the voice...yes, the voice that comes out is quiet, and coarse from what could be years of lack of use. but it can be heard.]

Maybe...

[that's right. she's talking. there's a pause as she regains her breath.]

Maybe I can...tell you about a liar. [a pause, and she swallows] Maybe even...two.

[her hand is at her throat and there's a cough as though to clear it.]

First I guess I should...say hello.

[a pause for effect. it has a handle of her memories now.]

Or...apple.

[ When the video clicks on, the Network is greeted with the face of a man in his late twenties — five o'clock shadow, hair mussed in a way to look absolutely careless, a bemused smirk on his face. When he tilts his head and realizes the device is recording, that smirk spreads to a smile that shows teeth, charming and beatific. For a guy who's just been through the ringer of a nasty space-time anomaly, he seems fairly good shape. Or maybe he's just good at taking things in stride. (Or maybe he just likes pain.)

Whatever the case maybe, when he tilts his head he lifts a hand and waves. A lazy, unaffected wriggle of his fingers before he puffs up his cheeks and gives a kind of blow-hard sigh. ]

So. Anybody out there feel like helping a guy out and cluing me in as to who exactly is in charge here? [ A simple enough question, punctuated by the exaggerated lift of his eyebrows. He moves to switch of the device and then thinks better of it, leaning back again to add: ] And if you're gonna say Ward, I'll stop you right there, cause I've already done some of my homework. [ A beat, a tiny shrug. As if to say well, kinda. ] I'm not looking for the guy whose on the nameplate of the bridge. I'm looking for whoever's actually in charge.

Capiche?



[ ooc; Ladies and gents of the Tranquility, meet Vepar, one of the OCs for the demon plot! Unlike the possessed passengers, he was already well-settled into his host 'Evander' before coming on board. For more information on him, see his profile while he tries to get a lay of the land and maybe stir up a little strife in the process. ]