[The video snaps to life. Ai is in the gardens under a tree, she has...a stack of paper next to her and a few paper cranes on her shoulders. She's getting better at this social thing which is why she's alright with asking.]

If anyone would like to learn origami. I can show you. It's not very hard and you can make animals.

[This is Death, this is Death with the skull face/body, creepy eyes, black robe and if you look off to the side you can probably see a scythe. He does however have a cat sitting on his shoulder like it's a totally comfortable place to hang out. It might look a bit weird is what I'm saying. Death however speaks up.]


AH, HELLO.

I HAVE NOTICED THAT THERE ARE MORE THEN A FEW PEOPLE WITH CATS ON BOARD THIS SHIP.

[The cat on his shoulder does not seemed freaked out by this skeleton at all, in fact it may be purring.]

AND I WAS THINKING THAT AT SOME TIME IN THE FUTURE WE COULD GATHER TOGETHER AND PERHAPS LET THEM MEET. ....AND MEET EACH OTHER AS WELL. THE GARDENS MIGHT BE A NICE PLACE.

WE COULD HAVE TEA. OR PERHAPS SOME OTHER TYPE OF FOOD OR DRINK.


[Come have tea with Death....and his cat. Please?]

I know there's been a lot of weird shit going down lately, but all my brain keeps coming up with is how I'd kill for a cigarette.

Okay, "kill" might be an exaggeration. Kinda feel like I'm dying though. I don't know if I've gotten a reputation as a guy who'll take off his shirt and fight for shit or not, but that's something I'd do for a cigarette. Just light it up and put it between my lips if i get ko'd.

Basically, the point of this is if anyone finds a carton in their locker and wants to work out a deal or play for them or something, come see me. I used to be able to make a pack do me a month if I really stretched it. Now I bet I could make one last me the rest of my time on this thing. Everyone's got something like that, right?

Also, ramen. Shrimp or chicken. If you're gonna dream, dream big.

[Hey, for him, smokes and instant noodles are dreaming big.]

[At first Eiri was loathe to believe that he was going to be stuck here indefinitely, but after a month of waking up on this damn ship every day, he's grudgingly starting to accept the reality of the situation.

And so, now that he's more or less come to terms with the idea that he's probably not going home any time soon, first thing's first. He definitely has his priorities in order.

Now, there's an extremely grouchy looking blonde man on the network, and the feed is a little off to the side and tilted because he has no idea how to use this ridiculous technology and he may or may not have ended up throwing it across the room a few times while trying to figure it out.]

I'm not exactly in the habit of publicly bitching and whining, but I'm running low on cigarettes.

If anybody has any or knows how to get them, I'm willing to work out some kind of arrangement.

[His politeness is incredibly forced, and it's clear the lowering supply of nicotine is starting to take its toll. As he cuts the feed, the jostles the camera around a little and curses at it before it goes black.]

[Liara had taken her time to get familiar with the most immediate areas of the ship before deciding to ask questions, choosing to get her bearings and do some firsthand investigation first and foremost. She hadn’t gone terribly far, not yet, but so far it had become clear to her that wherever this ship was bound, no one she’d spoken to seemed terribly familiar with any of the planets, galaxies or major trade routes she had mentioned, nor had anyone but Shepard shown any knowledge of mass effect relays. That alone raised countless questions, even more than had already come to mind since she’d awakened in the medical bay.

First things first. She needed to find a niche here, a way to be useful, play to her strengths.]

Pardon the intrusion-- my name is Dr. Liara T’soni, though I’m certain that this place sees so many new arrivals, committing names and faces to memory must be quite an undertaking.

[She smiles faintly. She can only imagine how exhausting it must be, seeing so many people come and go.]

I’m interested in speaking to someone about assisting in the science department, particularly xenobiotics and genetics, though I’m uncertain of who, precisely, I should contact.

[The communicator is quite different from the omni-tool interface she’s become so accustomed to over the course of decades, and juggling everything on a tiny screen as opposted to projections is more trying than she’d like to admit.]

Aside from that, if there is anything that anyone on board would be willing to share with me about planets they may have visited during their time with the Tranquility, I would greatly appreciate it. I’m curious to see if I might be able to draw parallels or find some kind of connection between these worlds and the systems I’m familiar with. Thank you for your time, should you choose to give it.

[That said, she gives another smile, warmer than the first, and the feed ends.]

So I have a few things to talk about it. First, I'm always looking for a sparring partner, hand-to-hand of course, but I could also use a target practice buddy. But I could also teach people if that's something anyone would want.

Okay, second thing. Frankly, I'm tired of burnt or otherwise messed up meals. Could I get a cooking 101 class from someone? I can offer hand-to-hand training, shooting training, or booze in return. And just be aware that you're working with perhaps a lost cause. And yes, I ate out a lot back home.

Finally, if someone had a big problem with guilt, how would this person be able to get past it? Like to stop blaming themselves?

[ For all that Emma tries not to brood, she missed space Christmas and news of Pan's curse has her feeling particularly sentimental. Reflective, even. And the prospect of losing her memories, losing her loved ones, only serves to remind her that sooner or later, they're all trying, in some capacity, to lose the people they've grown to care about aboard the Tranquility. ]

A friend of mine pointed out a while back that not everyone has a home to go back to at this point. Or one worse than what's here, whether that means they're dead or just some other kind of screwed.

[ Strangely, with Dean back now, she has to wonder if he'd say the same again. That staying on the ship, even as it is now, is better than the alternative for some. Getting a read on him is tougher now. It feels like she's missing pieces. ]

What about you? What's your best case scenario for whenever we figure out what the hell's going on here? Do you go home, forget all about it? Backtrack to Arima and set up shop?

[Video clicks on, and lo, it is a pink faced young man, sitting in a nest of fabric in one of the empty cabins. He hasn't bothered to introduce himself on the network (he's used to just being known), and he's not personalized the cabin at all, just found an empty one and nested there.]

I have watched the winter festival celebrated each year, every year, for as long as I can recall. There is ceremony, there is song, and there is sacrifice. It is curious to me, that you celebrate the winter festivals here, although there is no snow or frost... [Curious, perhaps, but Shrieky looks quietly content, as though he finds this tradition more pleasing than strange.] ...I have seen the decorations, the feasting, and the seed of the gods hangs in the hallway. I have seen your ceremony and heard your song.

So, what do you intend to sacrifice?

[And now his agenda emerges, because in the early years, before monotheism began to take hold back in his home, a certain amount of respect was paid to certain geographical sites. Certain trees. Certain mounds. A certain river which fed into a certain moat... Meaning that sometimes when there was a sacrifice...]

What do you intend to sacrifice, and will I be getting any?

[ Simon comes into view unsmiling and still, standing framed by one of the unadorned walls of his room. ]

Those of you who aren't human. Or are more than only human. If you lie low, or pass, or hide—why? [ He's quiet, with an Irish accent and a cadence that's steady verging on mumbly, and intently focused. He's not uncomfortable, not fidgety or uncertain, but he isn't quite at ease, either, in front of a camera. He's only using video to make a display of his bloodless face and white eyes. ] Has something happened to you here? Or is it a habit you've carried from home?

We may not be in the minority, altogether.

[ That's less threatening than we could outnumber them, right? Right.

That's also the end of what he'd planned to say ahead of time; he shifts back from the screen, looks aside, and nearly disconnects before more occurs to him. ]

If you want to talk and don't trust this to stay private, I'm in room two hundred on the third floor. You can... [ Leave a note, he almost said, but he's yet to see paper or pens. He raises his eyebrows like a shrug. ] Paint your answer on the wall.

Or knock. I'll be here.

[ This missive is from an early-teen with black hair and black shades, as well as a confident bearing and an easy smirk. ]

Hey, guys and gals! Name's Robin, and I work for the Communications department.

Welcome - as per the circumstances - to Tranquility for the new arrivals! For everyone, I know this place is big, confusing, rage-inducing - because most of us would prefer to be back home - and generally not fun. Not to mention scary and sometimes pretty evil.

So, I've been thinking, and - for reasons I can explain, if anyone's curious - this goes for the crowd of sixteen and under.

Y'all interested in a movie night? I can probably temporarily turn one of the holodecks into big-big screen, and I'm sure we can find a movie or three that sound at least a little interesting, from the whole media library.

What do you say?

[ Yeah. Because the sixteen-and-under crowd is not even a little negligible. ]

Oh, and for those of you who come from places that don't have movies, yet, they're sort of moving pictures with sound which tell stories!

So, that's my offer. Robin out.