ataraxion | 001: video. Attention, Orderlings. This is your kapetan speaking.

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001: video. Attention, Orderlings. This is your kapetan speaking.

( Jules has taken time to compose herself. Of course she has; for one, appearing in a anxious mess wasn't flattering for anyone. It didn't fly with her modus operandi of forever optimism, where people could be forgiven for thinking that every day she awoke in a waterfall of daisies, nudged into consciousness by a unicorns that carried her on roads made of rainbows.

Secondly, she is London. The capital, the overseer, and while she might still be counted as a beginner by some Order members (“not even three years yet, a bit green”), Julia Grumley was not a person to be trifled with – despite all appearances and assumption. Not anymore, and especially not when she had been on her way to a lovely, romantic weekend in Amiens and has been fucked right off into a bloody spaceship.

No. She takes her time. Make up, a silk scarf that does wonders to make this jumpsuit look better (lies) and a few minutes to compose herself. She's even got a smile, which might be considered a miracle, unless you've known her for more than five minutes.

So, here she is, clearing her throat, and eyeing the device with some curiosity. )

Um, terribly sorry to be a bother, but I seem to have wound up somewhere rather different than my intended getaway. I think I've got the hang of the basics, just about, but if there's any chance anyone's going to jump out with a big old “haha, we got you!” then sooner rather than later would be very much appreciated. Not that it isn't a lovely ship! I'm sure it's just... marvellous. Splendid, even! Fantastic.

( . . . Oh, God. Why? ) I'm Julia Grumley. Jules, actually. Only one syllable, much easier for everyone.

( Her voice is light, smile playful – you'd not think there was a thing wrong. Another beat, and Jules tilts her head a little, observing the device with sharp curiosity. )

I don't suppose there's anyone else from the UK here?
( It's not pointed, unless you know what she's talking about. ) I'm from London, myself.

( more lies )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

hi jules!
i don't think this is a prank, but it's not a really good prank, if it was...
and you should take it from me, because i know all about pranks!
this is just really shitty.
it stopped being funny since it started, bluh.
this ship is like a huge debbie downin' water balloon that soaks your underwear, except without the funniness.
and a water balloon without its funny is just stupid.

( ... Well. That's certainly an interesting approach. Jules just blinks, a touch surprised, before her smile returns. It's a little more easy, genuine, as well practiced as her masks can be. )

You certainly do seem like an expert.

( Actually, he reminds her just a little of her flatmate back home. ) I don't believe I caught your name, Sir Expert.

my name is john, and i am not only an expert, i am the master.
but you can call me sir john!
i'm not really a sir, though.
sir just seems like a really awesome nickname for me, like i was a king or a really low level dukeish fellow.

The master? Really? That's very impressive, Sir John.

( She lowers her voice a bit conspiratorially - maybe trying a little hard, a little to eager to try and take all of this in stride. It's a coping mechanism. ) Don't worry. I won't tell anyone you're not a knight, if you don't.

( Another quiet laugh, and she shakes her head. ) My great-grandfather was a 'Sir', actually. Advancing the medical field, and all that.

Edited 2012-02-09 09:45 (UTC)

aw, shucks!
that's awfully nice of you.
ok, it'll be our secret. [ his video isn't on so nobody sees, but he's smiling in a ridiculously goofy way ]
but it sounds like your great-grandfather was a lot more deserving!
i think doctors and nurses and stuff know a bunch of stuff...
there is another john on this ship and he's a real doctor and everything.
so if you ever need a real doctor, he will probably know a bunchfuckton more.

Well, I try. ( Really, she does. Trying to be nice is something she prides herself on, even if it sometimes nosedives into hideousness. ) But that sounds fantastic. No one will know.

( A quiet chuckle, and she shrugs. ) Maybe. Everyone goes on about the medicine, and I can't say I understand it at all-- in fact, I'm fairly certain the real reason is because he had the most spectacular waxed moustache.

( Aha. Well, she'll file that information away. ) Much appreciated, Sir John. Thank you.

( After a few moments, she idly fiddles with her hair, twisting it around her fingers. ) Now, what you were saying about this not being a prank. There's no chance this whole spaceship scenario could be a hallucination, is there? Possibly induced by some kind of anaesthetic?

( Because delusions inspired by a medical disaster she can't recall makes so much more sense. No, really. )

oh, what!
forget the medicine, that's why he deserved the sir!
that is incredible.
a great waxed mustache is like...
a prankster gambit just living on your FACE.
wow.
just...
wow.
i'm really impressed right now by all your grandfather's mustachedness hijinks.

oh...
and yeah, if it's a hallucination, then everybody has the same one, i think.
i've been on spaceships before, so this one doesn't seem really unrealistic?
just cold and empty, sorta.
but my friends are here and they see the same things as i do.
and i'm only a distinguished potentially future-mustachioed sir, and certainly not a prestigious doctor doin' doctoring, but...
i guess i just think it's more likely that we've all been bamboozled by being whisked away, and not because we ate some really bad cake.

( Now, that sort of awe is certainly a mood booster. She grins a bit, shaking her head a little with amusement as she reads over his response. She will, however, keep going in video, since she has the option; she finds it so much easier to express herself that way. )

I know! I agree, absolutely. My dad has one of those really old photographs of him hanging in his study. I think he was a bit intimidated, to be honest, he's never even tried growing a moustache.

( Of course, the continuation is a bit more sobering. And, actually-- ) You've been on a spaceship? So you're an astronaut, then?

( Oh, goodness. This is all rather a lot to take in, even if you are the head of a secret organisation with super powers. )

umm...
not really, i've just been in space?
i was actually supposed to be on this really big ship and it was going to be three years before we got where we wanted, except now i'm on this ship instead.
so it's really confusing because i don't know if i'm supposed to be on this ship?
it doesn't really matter, since my friends are with me and they are the smartest peoples i know.
but sometimes it just feels so...
BLUGH.
bluh bluh bluh!!!
going to these weird places is really weird because i had places to go maybe and whoever did this is a totally dickwad, but...
i guess i'm not really that angry.
but i'm not an astronaut!
or a doctor, or a mustached person.

"Bluh!" seems like exactly the right word for it.

( Along with a few others that are rather more coarse, and inappropriate for polite company.

If anything, John's story about space ships and travel is more confusing, rather than bringing some clarity to the situation, but she bites her tongue. Better to keep a cool head and work her way through the knots and tangle of it later, when she was less likely to lose patience and make the whole mess worse. Simply inhale, exhale, and then maybe answers would start to present themselves; especially if this is the work of a renegade Order member, or even a plan devised by another Order. Keep calm and carry on, and all that.

And with all that in mind, she affords John another smile. )

Not being angry is a virtue. And don't worry about the moustache or the doctorate or the space suit. You'll be just fine, I'm sure.

( Although she does sound just faintly distracted. You know. Waking up on a spaceship, and everything. )

i get angry, but when you have to travel a lot, you get used to this sort of thing...
or you should, anyway.
if i was a doctor or a space suit or a mustached man, i could have helped you way more.
i met a doctor who knew a lot of stuff!
and i met this nice girl who wanted to see a real doctor.
but i don't really know...
my best friend knows a lot about time, and he told me the time was after earth.
that's kinda sad.
if i had a mustache, maybe it'd be less sad.

A lot? ( She laughs a bit, but it's more to try and help her put this in a manageable zone, get her head around it than from actual amusement. ) I think you might be holding yourself to a bit of a high standard, if you feel you should be used to this.

( Oh, John. You are oddly endearing. ) Oh, not at all. My brother's a doctor, and I think he'd have been far less helpful than you. And while a good moustache can solve all kinds of problems-- well. Don't beat yourself up though, there's always time to start growing one.

oh, what? no, a doctor is way useful!
like if you fell down a well and broke both your legs and possibly your everything.
being a doctor means you can speak all the gobbleygook and everybody thinks you're super smart.
i'm glad you don't need a doctor, though.
i can only speak gobbleygook, but i don't understand it.
man, it would be awesome if i was a mustachioed doctor...

Well hey there, cutie pie! ♥ I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but from what it looks like, we're all here against our will.

[Well he's smiling and being nice about it at least! Actually, you'd think he should be more upset, but he's acting pretty cheerful.]

Never heard of London or the UK, though.

( Jules is never one to object to pet names or flirting, or a combination of the two, but this is certainly a bit more up front than she's typically used to. She gives a slightly bemused smile, and shakes her head. )

Hey there, yourself. ( In good humour, of course, Jules tilting her head as she observes this very friendly person. Very friendly person with fabulous hair. ) I suppose there's something to be said for all being in the same boat, at least. Or ship. Spaceship.

( That was going to take some getting used to. And then-- wait a minute. She has to mentally backtrack. ) You've never heard of the UK? United KIngdom? Great Britain? England, Wales, Scotland, Northern Ireland?

( Well. )

( ooc; and sorry for the slow, I was desperate to intro and then remembered visitors are coming this weekend :'| )

Can't say I have. It's not as if I don't get out much, so we must just be from different worlds, hunny!

[Not too hard of a concept when you're from a world where there's actually two worlds and you're one of the few who knows. But he offers a smile. Right, people not being from his world means they don't know him.]

I'm the Great Zelos Wilder! But you can just call me Zelos. I haven't been here long myself, but if I can do anything to help, you just let me know, mmkay?

( And thus, Jules came to a bit of a halt. She's going to try and take that in stride, because she feels that is part of her job, and possibly why her overly-bubbly self was elected as the head of the Order when the time came for the previous London to retire. That said, secret agencies is one thing; entire different worlds is another.

It's not that she isn't familiar with the idea, she is at least a little genre savvy, but having it presented to you as a real option? That's a bit out there )

Right! ( . . . Right. She'll be needing some wine, later. ) Goodness. That's certainly something to get used to.

( To say the least. Now she's in touch with Hallah, though, she can at least be sure of being able to pick some Order members' brains about this. ) It's very nice to meet you, Zelos. And that's a very impressive title, I have to say. ( Is she amused? Maybe a little. ) I'll be sure to track you down. Your offer is very generous.

Strange, isn't it?

[Obviously. Though Zelos himself is clearly unfazed-- well honestly he just acts so, but you know. At least the world thing doesn't seem so unrealistic.

But there's a very small smirk at the title comment. Ah, yes. That is what people look for, isn't it? And he was just giving it to them.]

Well, I'm a pretty impressive guy if I dare say so myself. [Yes he does say these things often. But he practically beams at the offer to track him down.]

But that's great! Anything to help a beauty in need! [And a cheerful sort of laugh.]

[ Aberdeen responds quickly; in fact, as near to immediate as possible. There's not enough noise on the ship and she spends as much time as she can filling her head with other things in an attempt to make up the difference. Trawling the Network is one such option.

She responds with text. Unsurprising. But she doesn't identify herself either. Were Jules — at least the Jules Aberdeen knows — a fellow operative, she'd no doubt flash her identification number, if only to make the validation go more speedily. But given the Jules is a civillian (albeit one in alignment), Aberdeen keeps that number to herself, saying only: ]

a few locals.
nowhere near a full house.

( There's only a few things this could mean, and she's been with the Order long enough to read between the lines. Maybe the first line is ambiguous, but the latter? Less so. She switches to text, more appropriate for this kind of interaction. )

That's something.
Which of our wonderful cities are being represented?

( And maybe she is erring on the side of caution, as well. )

Edited 2012-02-10 14:59 (UTC)

[ No one knows better than Aberdeen how closely the Network's watched. No one is it watched, but it's watched by individuals that give people like herself a run for their money and given the doctorates tucked in her belt even at her young age, that's saying something. Not really one for subterfuge in her daily interactions, Aberdeen's notably more cautious when functioning as an operative, so she goes to the effort of providing an actual list, though the role call is separated out by a difference of grammar and presentation. ]

more than a few londoners.
someone from leeds.
caught a cotswoldian accent.
belfast, maybe bangor. didn't clarify.
then, cambridge. oxford. durham. dundee.

[ She saves herself for last. ]

aberdeen.

( so, that makes Hallah, Ian, John, Bob and North. Interesting crowd. At least from that selection, she'd guess that North and Halla would be the most likely to take the text approach, if only because of their positions as Aberdeen and Cambridge. The others seem more likely to at least communicate who they are.

Assuming this isn't someone who's gathered information to use against the Order. A less likely possibility, but then again, she'd have thought waking up on a spaceship was a pretty slim chance, as well. )

Lovely! That's fantastic. Maybe we ought to arrange a bit of a meet up, have a spot of tea.

Assuming they have tea, in space.

( That's a grim possibility. )

Edited 2012-02-10 15:23 (UTC)

[ Good guess, Jules, you know your operatives. At this rate you may even get Aberdeen to acknowledge your position of power despite odd space-time continuums (someday). ]

don't really do meet-ups.

[ Which is an odd thing to have to say since Jules knows this about Hallah — she doesn't go anywhere unless she absolutely has to and not without Dundee's incessant prodding. Still, extenuating circumstances demand less-than-normal behavior. She'd met up with the others already once before, after all. ]

but can make an exception.

( Just as well this is text, rather than video; Jules' gaze just narrowed slightly, eyebrows arching as she reads the first part. Not necessarily the best way to reply to one's superiors, but she certainly knows who she is talking to, now, at least, even if she's not used to Hallah taking that tone with her. )

That's very generous of you, Hallah.

( Oh, dear. Yes, she is just faintly ticked off. )

We need to get word to the others. I want a status update and information on just what exactly is going on here, asap.

[ Even on good days, Hallah Tawse is not a very generous individual. She's capable of a kind of vulnerability, it's true, but even then it's smothered in a sort of matter-of-factness that dulls the full effect. In general, Hallah doesn't try to be disagreeable, she's just set in her ways and people are welcome to go along with hem or they aren't. If it's the later, then they go their separate ways, but Hallah — whether Cambridge or Aberdeen — doesn't disagree just to disagree. (Except maybe if you're Ian Malone.)

When the video flicks on, there she is. Her face paler and her cheeks more hollow than the Hallah that Jules knows. This one looks a little more ragged, a little more worse for wear. Aberdeen never really sleeps and, her face illuminated by the screen of her device, it shows. ]

No.

[ As far as she's concerned, Jules is a PR woman who likes to make tea and have clandestine affairs (quite well and discreetly, much to her credit). Aberdeen doesn't take orders from her and never will. ]

( She can't say it isn't jarring; she's used to the healthier image of Hallah. She's used to the Cambridge Hallah, and this version has something of a haunted look that Jules wants to try and solve by shoving a box of donuts at her.

That is not, however, what she will bring up first of all. Later, yes. However, the fact of the matter is that they are part of a national security agency (albeit rather more secret and complicated than most) and a number of them have been relocated. The filter is only to Ian and Hallah, for the moment; it would be filtered to other Order members, if she could work out the device specifics. )

That was a direct order, Cambridge. As daunting as this situation may be, you are still under my command.

[ Aberdeen knows of varying continuums; in fact, she's well-acquainted with them given her interactions with both Sherlocks, with her observation of the various men with Tommy Conlon's face. Rationally, Aberdeen knows the likelihood is a simple misunderstanding. A woman from a universe unlike Imogen Moore's, wherein the variables of said universe are mishmashed to make something not-quite her own reality. Irrationally, all Aberdeen knows is that this woman — Jules Grumley — has just called her Hallah without permission. And called her it in a public forum as if the two even meant something to one another — which they decidedly don't.

So perhaps Aberdeen is being immature by not handing over the data that they both know she probably has. Having a double doctorate and being a certifiable genius does not an adult make. Hallah Tawse is proof of that. ]

Tawse, Hallah. 20DF-J 19322b. Aberdeen. [ A beat. ] Moore, Issac. 50FC-C 34225a. Cambridge. [ A beat. ]

Raymond, Amelia. 00UK-L 23435j. [ A beat, longer. More pointed, almost aggressive. ] London.

[ In short: I don't answer to you. ]

Edited 2012-02-10 19:59 (UTC)

I beg your pardon?

[ rattled at the use of her male counterpart's name combined with her number yet sufficiently intrigued by the sudden ping of being encircled in to Aberdeen's feed, Cambridge works her way in to the conversation with an unimpressed huff of exasperation. ]

I do hope you have a bloody good reason to be sharing share state secrets with little miss Eliza Doolittle here.

[ She's referring to you, Jules, as the self-declared Londoner suddenly in their midst. ]

[ It's very hard to tell when Aberdeen is annoyed, given the fact that her mannerisms in general give off an air of antagonism (even when, in truth, she's not trying to be). Abrasive always, Aberdeen's expression is that times ten, her mouth firming up to a flat line. Imogen isn't her Cambridge but that doesn't make much difference to Aberdeen; she's as jealous and as secretly respectful of her as she is to Isaac. Which is why she even bothers to answer the question. ]

Grumley, Julia. [ She has no number, because she's not an operative as far as Aberdeen's concerned. ] Public relations.

[ A pause and then a clarification, since the original comment was filtered only to her and Dundee: ] She called me Cambridge.

[ a moment of picture-perfect confusion as Cambridge's lips slacken in surprise... but it only lasts exactly that: a moment. Her expression quickly turns in to one of scornful disbelief as she flicks a curl of hair away from her shoulder with a scoff and declares: ]

Rude.

( This is beyond grating. Jules isn't a person inclined to lose her cool; in fact, she tries her utmost to be cheery despite everything, but at the very moment this is undermining her authority and just about everything that she deems make her existence actually mean something. Being part of the Order, being London, means that she isn't simply a spoilt rich brat. She isn't a waste of space and oxygen, and she does something constructive.

Hallah, and whoever this person is, are treating her as if she's nothing, and that is one of the few things she will not tolerate. Oh, she makes herself miserable, yes - but if others are going to do that to her, so deliberately and flagrantly? It will not be tolerated.

Her jaw tenses visibly. )

Tawse, Hallah. 25WT-L 96735f. Cambridge.
Moore, Isaac. 67LJ-D 72394o. St. David's.
Malone, Ian. 39SF-P 47158b. Oxford.
Gorski, Maria. Public Relations.

Grumley, Julia. 52HY-K 67219m. London.

( And whatever game they are playing, she is going to take a decisive mood. She's in a location away from any witnesses, and there's the quick drag of a zip, and then there's a pencil, rising straight up, spinning slowly behind, Jules not sparing it a glance as it floats closer. )

So, I'll repeat myself. A status update on our present operatives and what we know.

( Although there's a sinking feeling in her gut that this is even more complicated than she'd anticipated. ) And the name of the individual with the Eliza Doolittle comment, as well.

[ Up until the pencil, Cambridge had been fully prepared to laugh all of this off as a blatantly ridiculous case of jump confusion - but then Julia demonstrates her power and Cambridge is once again reduced to the same quiet, slack-mouthed suspicion and confusion of only moments ago. ]

Oh, good grief - [ She purses her lips irritably. ] - another operative who only knows my male counterpart? This is becoming ridiculous...

[ She places her hand flat on her chest and leans towards the video feed, ratcheting up her tone of voice in the Patronising Bitch stakes as she slowly informs Jules: ] I'm Cambridge. Imogen Moore. Not Isaac. Imogen. [ Her hand on her chest moves, indicating her breasts, as if Jules really couldn't tell that Cambridge was, in fact, a woman. ] Avec des seins, darling.

[ The video switches on just in time to catch Oxford massaging his temple. He has been watching the proceedings of this conversation with some amount of curiosity, but also discomfort. As if Cambridge wasn't surprise enough, this is potentially even more alarming - not because he doesn't trust Jules to run the Order properly (... well), but more because a mix-up in powers and the like rubs him entirely the wrong way. He personally cannot even begin to imagine what other position he would ever agree to in the Order; being Oxford feels very much like his one and only nowadays.

All the same, this is Jules. Oxford's face had invariably lit up at the sight of her, but the ensuing dramatics had kept him from speaking up. He sorely hates having to play the voice of diplomacy, but he feels a great need to play for the defensive side, this time around. ]

Dear god, is there nothing more we enjoy than bickering amongst ourselves? How about everyone damn well calms down and listens to what everyone else has to say before ruining everyone else's day. [ There is a definite note of personal irritation in his voice; Oxford is a little bit on edge. He hesitates before continuing. ] Ms. Grumley, I'm afraid you're going to have to give us a moment to process what we are hearing and seeing. As far as we know - or at least, as far as Aberdeen, Dundee, Durham and I know - our London is Amelia Raymond. Imogen here appears to be Isaac's female counterpart, but she is, nonetheless, Cambridge. I, lastly, am Oxford.

[ +1 delusional, murdering sociopath with a schoolboy face. Nigel is nothing but polite, his smile slightly canted but charming. ]

You're a long ways from home, I'm afraid. I'm from Leeds myself.

Oh, Leeds? Fantastic! I have a friend from there, actually. I haven't been there much myself, but I hear it's really lovely.

( Jules, what are you even. How are you so enthusiastic, at a time like this? )

Mmm. Yes, it is a bit of a pickle, isn't it? And this whole "stranded" business doesn't sound like an exaggeration, from what I've picked up so far.

Despite going to school nearby, I haven't seen much of it myself, [ Nigel admits, seeming unfazed by Jules' definite...cheerfulness. He himself is oddly calm despite having been recently coughed up by a pod of goo. ] They had strict off-campus rules, you see, and so it was more a place you talked about rather than ever got to see.

And 'a bit of a pickle' is something of an understatement. Or, so I'm told.

Mmm, I know the feeling. I never went to a boarding school or anything of the sort, but the schools I went to had the most ridiculous rules that they'd get hung up on.

( Bah. Eyerolling, yes, but a little fondly. )

Yes, it is a bit, isn't it? Nothing quite seems to cover it, though. ( A little shrug. ) How long have you been here?

London? [ +1 slightly confused dundee, what, you're not london, jules. this is silly stop playing around. you're...okay, you can't say what you really do, but s t o p. ]

You know, it's a nice city. Not my favorite, of course, but still, better than most of the other places a person could live in. Or visit.

[ it's through a very large effort that he keeps most of the confusion out of his voice. even if some seeps through. ]

( Ah, there's a familiar voice. She grins a bit, although that little trace confusion does have her a bit off kilter, herself. ) Mmhmm! That's right.

( Her smile is in her voice, though, largely by effort. ) How do you feel about Oxford, then?

( LET THE GAMES BEGIN )

[ ...oh. well. what. conundrum, ian likes oxford's powers, really, they're useful, very invasive, but useful. he can say that he's oxford, but john will probably hit him.

it takes him a moment, but he settles on perhaps bending the truth a bit, just to see what might be different if she's calling him oxford. ]

I have to rank Oxford on the same level as Cambridge, in fact, when I visit one, I have to visit the other, it's required, practically. Used to live there for a time. [ okay that was a blatant lie. oops. ] Have you been to Durham lately?

Oh my gods --

[ this, Jules, is the face of a six-foot-something thirty one year old man who is beside himself with relief and excitement. Good luck with this conversation. ]

Ma'am, it's damn good to see you here. When did you arrive?

( What.

Jules is getting mood whiplash all over the place, with the whole mess of reactions she's getting. She studies the man in the feed, but no - if he were a new operative, she'd recognise him. Meeting and getting to know the newbies is something she prides herself on, but his face doesn't ring any bells. )

Just earlier, actually.

( Lightly, but taps her fingers against her chin, and settles closer to have Some Conversation. ) I'm so sorry, but I can't recall our meeting. Could I trouble you for your name?

[ oh, look what you've done to all that acute relief and excitement! Deflated like a balloon, THANKS JULES. Hotspur hesitates, clearly thrown by her question, and his face falls conspicuously as he struggles to form some kind of response. ]

I - it's Southey, ma'am.

[ Subconsciously mimicking his captain's body language he shifts a little closer to the feed, at once both earnest and hopeful. Perhaps this confusion is just the side effects of the jump kicking in! Temporary amnesia! Maybe! Possibly! ]

Max Southey. Hotspur.

I Am Sure Someone Could Arrange A Surprise Ambush If You Like
But It Would Not Make It Any More A Joke And Less A Thing That Has Seriously Happened

( Oh, hello. What's this? More colourful text?

Maybe it's some trend that she's behind on. That might be something to figure out, once things are a bit less, uh. Turbulent. )

That's very generous, but I think I'll do splendidly without, as it turns out.

( And it's definitely a minor thing, nothing compared to the bizarre situation she's facing with her colleagues, but sometimes whimsy makes a nice distraction: ) Is that all capitalised to make the effect more dramatic?

( Because she didn't read it to herself a bit dramatically, yes. )

[Durham has spent more time fiddling around with the ridiculous device he's now supposed to organise his life with in the last month than he has in the last year back in London. He's never given as much weight to electronics as Cambridge or Aberdeen by default, mostly thanks to their differing job roles, but he has been keeping a close eye on the network.

His entry on to the Tranquility was accompanied by Aberdeen and Dundee, and Cambridge and Oxford were already onboard when they arrived. It serves to reason that they may not be the last of their little secret society. Of all the inhabitants on the planet they're from, it seems very strange to Durham that there are now five Order operatives onboard. And now their PR agent, too. He waits a minute or two before he finally thumbs the button he needs to initiate video.]

I live in London now. Though I've spent quite a lot of time outside of the city.

[ Have a video of an orange-clad thirteen-year-old girl. ]

I'm of American origin. I was born in the Medium, but that's a technicality. There's a doctor you should meet, though. As well as a detective or two.

Edited 2012-02-13 05:44 (UTC)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

001: video. Attention, Orderlings. This is your kapetan speaking.

no subject

SORRY I was making dinner :'|

hahaha ohhh cute...

SOB it was a desperate omelette scenario

i have made eggs so many times but i still manage to burn myself...

lmao ;; I think this is the first time I have managed to make one without it falling apart. YAY ME.

omelettes always turned into scrambled for me drat you unfoldable egg glories

YES I know your pain, so well. And then I felt dumb because FFF EVERYONE CAN MAKE OMELETTES!!!

what no what who can make omelettes no everybody who is normal just makes horribly scrambled

BUT TODAY I DISCOVERED THE SECRET AND IT WAS AMAZING

no you must divulge me and my several fried pieces of eggs are crying

NEVER also sorry for the slow, sleep and work and timezones are so pesky :c

lmfao awww no i just wake up when everyone is asleep it's a lonely world ts eliot style

I apologize for Zelos in advance...

lmao no, it's glorious!

XD and no worries I'm a little slow sometimes myself!

8D yaaay us

aww yes

TEXT;

TEXT;

TEXT;

TEXT; because I had to make up a temp. AU Dundee :|

TEXT; bob's exploits will go down in infamy okay

TEXT; a man of honour and adventure, to whom all operatives look up

VIDEO; gurrrrl you better check yo'self for you wreck yo'self

VIDEO; (filtered to Hallah & Ian) bring it ooooon

VIDEO; FILTERED TO THE ORDER (UK) | 95% ENCRYPTION

VIDEO; FILTERED TO THE ORDER (UK) | 95% ENCRYPTION

VIDEO; FILTERED TO THE ORDER (UK) | 95% ENCRYPTION

VIDEO; FILTERED TO THE ORDER (UK) | 95% ENCRYPTION

VIDEO; FILTERED TO THE ORDER (UK)

VIDEO; FILTERED TO THE ORDER (UK)

VIDEO; FILTERED TO THE ORDER (UK)

video;

video;

video;

video;

voice;

voice;

voice;

[ video ] SOB OH KAPETAN MY KAPETAN

[ video ] SOBBING SHE WILL STILL BE HIS KAPETAN MCBROCAKE

[ video ] fucking hell what was that formatting

text;

text;

video;

video