[Hello, Tranquility. Here's Topher, recently exorcised and looking... Well, let's be real here. Topher looks like he got hit by a truck. His hair's messier than usual, he's ashen-faced, and there's a bandage around his left hand, which you can only just barely see because his hands are tucked tightly under his arms, like he's trying to pull himself into the smallest possible space.]

Is it over yet?

[He swallows.] ...Are they gone?

[For a moment, he looks like he might say something else, but there's just a long silence where nothing happens and he flips the communicator off with an aggravated and exhausted sigh. This has not been the best few weeks of his life and he's had a lot of terrible few weeks.]

[ The feed clicks on and, for a while, all you get is the shift of a hand writing something on a page. The paper in question isn't in view, but the curl of his hand is — a short scrawl, tight but not illegible, from the way his wrist shifts. Arthur thinks about not picking up the device at all and deleting what's been recorded so far but he doesn't, instead choosing to set the pen down angling it so he can speak directly and clearly to the screen. He looks rough but it's not in his overt presentation, not with his tie neat and the collar secure and his cufflinks done up. It's in his eyes, the pinch of his brow — Arthur looks tired. But that's really not any of your business. There's a reason for all this face-time too. Demon-free, and all that. ]

I need to know how this— [ His brows draw together; it isn't exactly his field of expertise beyond using it as some on-the-nose symbolism. ] demon possession happened.

[ He taps the pen idly on the surface of his desk, tap-tap-tap. After a beat, he adds: ]

And how to stop it from happening again.

[ Another long, long beat. He sets the device down and it's almost like he's forgotten that the feed is on. He hasn't and, eventually, Arthur huffs out a laugh. ]

I also need a new pen.




( ooc | all replies will be in perma-text unless otherwise marked! )

[ Tommy's looking a little worse for wear right now, sitting up on one of the beds in the medbay and carefully angling the camera so it mostly just shows his face and not the stuff that's still healing up from his adventure the other night. There might be kids watching, okay?

He's also sounding a little extra terse. ]

In the medbay. Fine, but I'll probably be here another day. If you were wondering. Object fu-- [ cover your ears kids!! ] frigging lesson in why we should be sticking to a buddy system on this ship.

( [ private | tyke, dean, jenna, kirk, tillman, robb, alayne, petyr ] )

[ ooc: between being sore and embarrassed, tommy's not in a great mood, so responses may be briefer and grumpier than usual. feel free to hit him up on his log. ]

[When 'Amanda' appears on the video this time, there's no hint of fear or uncertainty on her expression. It's rage, instead. Snarling hatred and disdain. She's never liked being caged, and the ship was bad enough before she'd stumbled into one of the devil traps painted everywhere. Her patience has snapped, and there was no more time for games, no more time for playing lost girl.]

You pathetic idiots. Do you really think you'll be safe with us gone? [She sneers.] Sharing your little secrets and sob stories, holding hands and singing kumba-fucking-yah. None of you could tell a liar if one spat on you. Not your favourite captain, not your soldiers and heroes, not even your guardian angel.

[She leans closer to the camera, and all the anger seems to ease off her face. She smiles, slow and pleased, voice dropping into a low drawl.]

You don't need our help. You're all going to rip each other apart. [The smile grows wider, showing teeth.] This ship is going to kill you.

[Quiet for a moment, then she flips the camera until all the video shows is the trap painted on the ceiling above her.]

You'd better be coming to find me, Dean baby. It's awful rude to keep a girl waiting, you know. And I've been waiting such a long time to meet you.