[ the video starts off with a close-up of shark-like teeth and pink painted lips, before it moves to a flash of grey skin and something glowing white. it then immediately clicks off and turns into text.

woops. ]

yea
ok
thanks for that shitty tldr
anemoneways
the fact that we can find out all this OTT-ER shit but not why were even here sounds super sketch yo
like
thats kinda the most imprawntant fin were shorepposed to be knowin right
whatebber
so is this ship filled with humans or what
yo any otter trolls here
holla at your gill espefishally my useless fuckin fronds
38o

STAY CHEERY.
MRS. NESBIT✿

( OOC: Sorry about that, I woke up late... /posts three hours later

LOL and omg i swear the god i didn't copy Ianto's post this is the funniest coincidence FLOWERSQUILITY. Anyways, enjoy. )

Hullo, Tranquility. Now that we've had a little bit of time to settle in, I have a proposal I want to put to you. I know I'm awfully new here, but it seems like something that needs doing.

I know everyone who's been here for even just one jump has made friends, or had friends or family here from home. And it seems pretty inevitable that every jump, some of those people disappear. I also know that sometimes, things happen here on the ship, and we lose people we care about. I don't think the names of those people should be forgotten. Even if they've returned home and are safe there, they were part of the community here. And I think they should be remembered.

So I'd like to put together a memorial wall of sorts. Not for us to mourn at, but a place to keep all the names of the people who are gone, for whatever reason. I can assemble a list, but I'm going to need some help constructing some kind of display. And...to be honest, probably some help putting that list together as well.

I'm open to suggestions on where it should be, and what it should look like, too.


[OOC: The memorial wall has mod approval. If your character is interested in helping ICly with either maintaining the list or constructing the memorial, please let Tosh know. I wouldn't mind an extra hand keeping track of things OOCly either, so if you're interested in that, please either PM me at this journal, or ping my plurk at verylittlesugar.]

[ The video feed shows a girl in her mid-teens, pale and with her hair hanging loose around her face. She's dressed in what some might consider an old-fashioned style -- a dark skirt and coat, with what is very obviously a man's overcoat slung over her shoulders. The left sleeve of her coat is tied in a knot at the elbow, and hangs loose below the knot.

She appears to be somewhere in the oxygen garden, judging from the foliage behind her. ]

I did not think to find myself in this place again. Can anyone tell me if a Mister Tillman or a Mister Lensherr are still in residence? Or Bran Stark or Jack Kelly? Or a girl called Chase?

[Look at this asshole and his bike, sitting on the floor near the eleventh wave kitchen. He's bruised up, but bandaged, arm wrapped protectively around his torso, and he's peering at a bike that's been turned upside down with a twisted front wheel, spokes broken off in various directions. It's hard trying to fix this thing with only one hand and no tools and it's obvious Wilee isn't going to get anywhere with it.

Idiot.

Finally, it occurs to him to ask for help, because duh, that is what the devices are for. Might as well use them. So with his good hand, the one not wrapped with gauze and tape, Wilee picks up the communicator and stares into easily. Good thing he's from current times and know how to use a cell phone.]

Hey. Does anybody have a spoke wrench around here? And what happens at home while we're here?

[Because that second question definitely has sometime to do with bike repair.]

[ The video is currently displaying the bar/club's ceiling that Brian and Wichita have been running and there's some glass like clinking going on as Justin rummages around underneath the bar, checking on stock. ]

If anything is missing from the bar, my CDs or my art supplies, I'm doing a shipwide cavity search. And putting Brian in charge. You should know he's not gentle unless you ask real nice or suck him off first.

Also, should anyone feel the taste for guava juice, I happen to be the proud owner of a bottle. [ See a jug of guava juice being shaken in front of the camera. It was in his locker, it is obviously his to do whatever he pleases with. With that, Justin pops up in front of the screen, arms folding on the bar as he gives a kind of lopsided smile and runs a hand through his hair. He's missed out on about three months and there's a lot of people around now he doesn't recognize. ]

Consider this an invite to come partake in what spirits we have lying around in this place. Just please don't pass out in the booths, because I can and will drag you out on your ass and leave you in the most awkward spot on the ship I can find, clothes optional.

So. What'd I miss?

So where can a fella find a decent scotch in this place?

[ Ladon is on his fifth cigarette since finding himself here. There's something about the trauma of coming to in an alien environment for the second damn time in his life that goes against conservation. At least he's slowed down and is savoring this one instead of furiously puffing away at it. He gestures with it between his fingers, unintentionally drawing circles of smoke in the air. ]

I'd ask too 'bout moochin' outta this joint, but something's tellin' me it ain't so easy. Call it a hunch.