In quella parte del libro de la mia memoria,
dinanzi a la quale poco si potrebbe leggere, si
trova una rubrica la quale dice: Incipit vita
nova.

[ After this odd introduction in Italian, a video shall start. A young woman will be seen, hovering above the device. She is a sweet looking girl, no more than fifteen. There is a brilliant smile on her lips, golden locks that are caught back in a hairnet of pearls. She is all silks and jewelry; a golden cross on her neck. From her gasp of wonder, she is delighted by the thing. ]

Oh! It sheds light! Like a firefly you can carry in your pocket!

[ There is an air of youth to her, giddiness and joy that have somehow morphed themselves into a girl. she seems unsure of whether she has an audience or not but she will lift her head and then incline it gracefully all the same. The next words shall be spoken with passion, as if they are a personal confession. ]

In that book which is
My memory
Before which is little that can be read
There is a rubric, saying: Incipit Vita Nova -

[ A smile. ]

Here begins a new life.

[ She shall bow her head again. ]

Tranquility! What a wonderful name for a ship that sails through the stars. And as it brought sweet company upon me when I arrived, I can only humbly introduce myself to its people in return. I am named Lucrezia Borgia turned Lucrezia Sforza; I come from Rome, to those who are familiar with it.

It is an honor to be in your presence.

[She's happy with the company she keeps, but the ship is too restricting.]

At least in Siren's Port, I could get another tattoo if I felt like it. And in Sweden I could find an H&M on every corner for new clothes.

I really hate this fucking uniform.

Hello Tranquility. I'm sure you didn't miss me so let's get right to the point just like usual.

A little while back people were talking about group meals. I don't know about the rest of you, but the mystery meat lucky dip in the kitchens is getting pretty rough. I skip meals, and I know I'm not the only one. Most importantly, we got kids on board and I want to make sure at the very least they're getting two meals a day, and if we get more kids this jump I want to establish whether or not we've got a full time guardian on board who can look out for them if they're alone. Hell, it's beginning to look like we should set up a school. It'd work out better than having kids just wandering around the place. If that about fits your job description give me a shout, see what we can do.

Back on the topic of dinner: I know a lot of people haven't got anything to offer someone if they make the mess their job, but if we can get some volunteers in, I'm sure the people on board who can will find a way to show their gratitude. We need this now, not in six months time when we're all coming down sick from not eating properly, so if you got the skill, don't think you gotta bother asking for permission or go showing your hand, just muck in when and where you can. Some of you already do, but if we can get something more formal going, I know that I and a lot of others are gonna be dead grateful.

Which brings me to the Jump. If you haven't got anyone in your own circle to keep track of you, speak to Miles Edgeworth. Sitting out the Jump is not optional. You go to the Jump bay on time, or you get turned into a splodge of space-slime, and it ain't pretty.

After the Jump, for those of you who didn't notice last time, a lot of basic things happen. Some people go around making sure their own groups are in one piece, others are in it only for themselves. If you're feeling great and you're not gonna be of any use, get the hell out so we know what we got to work with without things getting too congested. People from security usually volunteer to help newcomers and protect people from anyone who takes their arrival on board badly, but you should know it's a pretty thankless, sometimes dangerous job.

For anyone who comes in injured, or anyone disoriented after the Jump, there's a med team and a group of volunteers stationed down there. You'd be surprised how much a cup of coffee helps people get their sea legs. If someone looks lost, answer their questions, but be understanding--try and remember what it was like you for you.

Let's make this Jump smooth, and for once leave nobody behind.

Jump's coming up soon, huh?

[ this would be the pathetically boring intro to a transmission from a girl that's been hiding out the last couple weeks. well, not hiding. avoiding, maybe. too many bad things happening all at once never exactly results in a social Raven. but now she's here, a few things on her mind but nothing she's sure she wants to bring up to the ship at large. although; ]

I should probably think about this more before just asking everyone, but. I think after being here for so long, I'd really like to have a roommate. If anyone's up for that? Like, moving in after the next jump. Maybe. [ her mind immediately goes to Quinn, but she'll bring it up to her personally later on. ] I spend most of my time out and about on the ship, but having someone to hang out with regularly would be pretty groovy. It's just an idea. But if anybody's roommate-less, and would be into moving onto the first floor, um. Let me know! It could be fun.

Also, since I realize it's been a long time since I brought it up, and a lot of new people have come on board since then - Yes, I'm blue. No, I'm not an alien ( although I wouldn't be trying to hide it if I was ), I'm a shapeshifter. This is what I look like when I'm not hidden beneath a shift. No clue why, it's just a genetic. Thing. And I don't mind talking about it at all, either, so if you're curious about it, you can just ask. [ still a TINY bit nervous that someone might be afraid of her, but she's not about to make it obvious. instead she just smiles, then shuts off her feed. ]


( a few encrypted messages to: NEAL CAFFREY, JAKE & DIRK, ALEX SUMMERS )

[ The technology, all in all, isn't too hard to grasp. It's more the fact that there's no real way off the ship (no concrete information as to how the passengers arrived, no explanation as to the contents of the lockers), not to mention the circumstances under which he had arrived, that leave Connors ill at ease. The phenomenon, however, is not one that he seems to be alone in, and when the video feed turns on, he seems much more put-together (and healthier, too) than he'd been when he'd arrived, glasses in place upon the bridge of his nose and the stump of his arm barely visible at the bottom edge of the screen. ]

Apologies, first of all, if the question is redundant, [ he begins, with a slight duck of his head, ] but considering the range of worlds from which we hail, I was curious as to how many passengers are not classified as human or are possessed of "supernatural" capabilities. I'd like to do a little research, if at all possible.

[ He opens his mouth as if to continue on, but seems to think better of it. The transmission is awkwardly short, as is, but he doesn't have much else to say that's strictly relevant (that won't sound too much like covering up). ]

Thank you for your time. Dr. Curtis Connors, at your service.

[ Normally, she would address the ship with both her name and face. A bow of her head, her most polite smile — means by which to garner favor and convince those she would entreat for help. (See how how guilelessly I ask, says her look. Truly, I am a soul worth helping. But gone are those days, for there are those aboard the ship who would readily look upon Alayne's face and say: behold, Sansa Stark or Lady Lannister or I knew Petyr Baelish; of bastards, he had none. Though she needs the assistance others, Alayne knows she must be careful now in what she offers too readily. Even if the other Westerosi still struggle with their devices, she must not rely solely upon their ignorances to keep her shielded and her secrets hidden.

So: some caution, at least at the very surface. A request made through text; an offer with a name but no face. A bastard from the Vale in search of cloth, that is all. ]

Good people of the Tranquility.
I am in search of a passenger, intrepid and strong-legged, to assist me in my endeavors.
Already once I have offered my services to the ship,
those of sewing, mending and embroidery,
and I hope to continue to do so, though I am hindered by a certain lack.
Although thread has come readily to me with the jumps,
fabric proves a much rarer commodity.
My aim is to enlist aid in the collection and dyeing of cloth.
The ship is vast and many of its quarters stand empty,
and I would look to gather some portion of those unused linens,
to give that fabric greater purpose.

But the vastness of the Tranquility is no place for a young woman to venture alone.
Especially when her arms alone promise to return such a meager bounty.

I offer recompense by way of trade or exchange of service.
The ship has been generous with me by way of worldly possession,
though I fear most of what I own is rather delicate and will only appeal to certain tastes.

Thank you.

[ The message is posted and remains as is for an hour, maybe two. Then later an amendment comes, one that Alayne debates over including. ]

I am also in search of the person
who thought it fit to slip a note beneath my door last night.
You are not in trouble by any means, whomever you are.
I look only to thank you for your endeavors.

[Jesse's set up the communicator so it gives a static view of the scene. They're in Jane's room - the one she hasn't been living in - and it's been cleared to make room for one big art project of some kind. There are cardboard storage boxes everywhere, all cut up into various shapes and painted to resemble adorable child-sized robots. Jane and Lisbeth are in the background there, still working on a few pieces.]

Oh my god, you guys, you would not believe... We've got all this amazing robot armor, but it turns out we made it all too little. So what we were thinking is, if you're small enough to fit into this stuff, let us know right now? And just tell us your tattoo number, yo, and we can drop off some kickass robot armor at your room. How's that sound?

And hey - Grown-ups, don't try to steal any from the kids. It's too awesome for you, so. You know. Chill, okay?

[This is, of course, Jesse's solution to this problem.]

[Claire's holding her imprint wedge in her left hand, staring at it for a moment before her other hand brushes over some brown curls.]

This place has got me thinking. I know there was someone offering to erase memories-- [And she has her own feelings on that.] But if everything you knew could be erased and you could simply hit 'restart' on your life, would you? If you could start again, forget what you know about this place, about the future you may or may not return to, would you?

[Not that she necessarily has the ability to. The imprint wedge is only a piece of the technology needed. But at least if anything happens to her, if she's damaged, she has this as a back up.]

But starting over could simply lead to the same conclusion. Or you would not be the person you are now, for better or for worse.

[Her face steels again, fingers edging over the wedge before she brings the hand into her lap. Would she want to forget? Truly? No. At least what has happened is real. She's experienced it. It has made her who she is in this moment, no matter her name or her programming.]

Then again, with the erasure of everything I know, it could also be a devolution. [Certainly Alpha would think so.]

This is simply me thinking out loud. With the abilities and things offered here, it simply got me thinking again on what truly makes us who we are.

[ October's camped out in some nondescript hallway, jean-covered legs stretched out, an open book (thanks, Jim) sitting in her lap when she turns the feed on. Settling back against the wall, she twists the ring on her right forefinger a few times before she says anything. ]

I've noticed that a lot of the people here come from places filled with things that shouldn't exist. Either that or they come so far from the future that space travels and interacting with aliens is second nature to them, which made me wonder two things. [ She glances over at her device now. ] One: how many of you come from completely normal places? No werewolves, no zombies, no ghosts; nothing that belongs in a book, not in real life.

And two: has anyone stopped to think that maybe that's why most of us are here? Because we're used to the strange and the unreal so we might be able to deal better? [ It's a theory, one she likes better than wondering how many people on board are dead back home, like her.

She twists her ring around a couple more times before she reaches for the device. ] The possibility of it sits a hell of a lot better with me than "we're chosen at random" but if anybody's got any better ideas, feel free to speak up.

[ And then she cuts the feed. ]



ooc: anyone who might want to action it up, feel free~ she's hanging out in a hallway fairly close to wherever the 005 rooms are located.

Good day. My name, as many of you know, is Miles Edgeworth. I have been present on this ship for approximately two and one half months at this point; at home, I was a prosecutor.

I've a pair of proposals for your consideration. Each will be posted first via the text function, then read aloud for those who avoid the use of text.

( The 'buddy system'. )
( Mediation service; still in its beginning stages, looking for volunteers/input )



[OOC: If people sign up for the buddy system, I'll be matching them up next weekend sometime! An opportunity for forcing your character into new CR. :>]

[As the camera clicks on, those who know Remus will notice how tired he looks. Not simply as if he hasn't gotten a night's sleep, but truly exhausted-- as if he's been on a long journey, or suffered some great hardship. The circles beneath his eyes are too dark, and there's a long pink scar forming on his right cheek.

Still, he gives the camera a smile, albeit a tired and nervous one.]

Ah-- hello. I do hope this is working properly; I haven't precisely had much practice with cameras. But-- yes. My name is Remus Lupin, and, as most of you know, I've been technically on-board the Tranquility for some months now. However, I've no memory of this-- really, it's as if this is my first month. So please, if I knew you but you haven't heard from me in a while, it's nothing to do with you, I assure you.

[The smile fades now.]

Which brings me to my second point. I've, ah, heard it said that I was rather free with this information, so I suppose it's no longer a secret. But--

[He glances behind him uncertainly, as if seeking support from someone unseen, and then nods.]

Well. I'm a werewolf. No jokes, please, I assure you I've heard them all. And-- well, we're taking every safety precaution we know, Sirius and I, but-- just so you know. I'll post up what days I'm dangerous, simply so no one stops by my room while I'm changed.

[He gives them a thin smile.]

And finally: a simple question. How many people, precisely, have duplicates or twins aboard the ship? Not biologically, I mean, but-- people who look like that, for no discernible reason at all.

[private to jesse pinkman and miles edgesworth | not encrypted | video]

[The Libby--and it's just Libby, even if her face is clean and her hair is gently washed and flowing smooth and purely blonde--who appears in the video is relieved. Not drunk, not jittery with tension, not panicked or cornered or twisted by anger. Just relieved, smiling with an old, recently missing quirk to it, wrapped up in an oversized black jacket and smoking with a hand that shakes but only slightly.]

Hey, guys. Guess who I can't find? Um--do you want to like. Watch a stupid future movie or whatev, some time? I've got--I've got a lot of free time. So. You know. Or anything.

And, um--maybe we should all check in. Every morning and tonight. Your girls too, Jesse. I just ydon't want--well. A lot of people have been going missing. [She ruffles her hair with her free hand, but still. For the first time since she got here she can breathe.] But yeah. Anything you want.

[private to james rogers | not encrypted | voice]

Um. Hey.

[Nervous, but that's fine, right? Everything is fine today.]

[public | voice]

Loki's gone. I don't know who of you care, but unless he shows up and calls me an idiot on this thing--he's gone. So. Tally that up, I figure.

[A quiet, disbelieving laugh, her voice mellow and soft, and Libby falls back on her bed.]

You know what I miss? I miss getting drunk.

The simple pleasures of life. Perhaps the taste of peanut brittle! Or the view you get when a gal in a particularly short skirt bends over to flash whatever's underneath. Flowers in spring or some stupid shit like that, whatever people get their jollies off on. Scratch the peanut brittle thing, actually. In retrospect, peanut brittle is fucking disgusting.

[ Bartleby's sitting at one of the kitchen counters it seems, an elbow propped on the surface, his head tilted against a fist. He looks thoughtful, and yet sounds aggravated. Sardonic. ]

You know what I don't miss? Assholes who get lost for weeks inside a never-ending corn maze with less corn and more maze without even bothering to leave their phone on. Can you believe the damn cretinism that has to go into something so careless as that? Is it retardation, I ask of you? No, for that is too simple an answer. I don't miss Wisconsin. Nobody misses Wisconsin.

Also the Spice Girls. I really don't miss the Spice Girls. I'm probably pushing my luck with saying that one aloud.

[ jenna could have sworn she was done with being the nearly thirty year old who still gets high in public. but rey had a really big bag. a really. big. bag.

smoking with a vampire is worse for weed hogging than bong hits with michael phelps, news at eleven. at least she's a bit more coherent than her comrades.

the posts starts without ceremony, various limbs belonging to ariadne and rey in the background. ]

All right, we-- [ she flings out an arm, gathering two separate 'oofs' ] have all been here since day one. Day one. And a guy gave Rey a huge bag of weed, and we're not leaving this room until it's all smoked, because this place is the worst second chance invented without the cast of Jersey Shore involved. Seriously--

Wait, what's Jersey Shore? [ that from ariadne. jenna stops, frowning. ]

It's-- Rey, help me out here.

[ rey shakes her head slowly, eyes lidded. ] Can't, I have the same question.

[ jenna wrinkles her nose. ] Okay, it's-- orange people, from New Jersey, who are apparently Italian but really not, and one of them likes pickles and another one peed in a corner of a bar. [ kanye shrug. ] It's classy, appointment TV.

[ after a moment and three equally 'but why' faces, jenna moves on as their self-appointed spokesman. ] Anyway, what happened to boring space? It was like 'oh, I can't find enough hair ties' not 'holy crap, monsters and doom and people leaving'. I liked space better five months ago.

Rey. Rey, Ari. Quick poll-- play along, viewers at home-- did you like space better five months ago.

[ give her a second, what was her point again? ] Right, and people should come help us. And bring food.

Mostly the food, but helping's cool too. Rey's sharing, but only if you come join us in the People's Republic of Berkeley.

[ which would be the common deck on floor one, for the record. ]

Disallowed are: yelling, fighting, non-consensual pantsing, DARE propaganda, and Fig Newtons. Anything else, come on in.


( ooc | SO REY HAS DECREED ALL WEED IS TO BE SMOKED IN THE PARTY ROOM feel free to say your character dropped by, action it out, whatever. all threads viewable to the stoners three by proximity, label it locked otherwise and maybe one of them rolled over or something.

also blue is ari, and green is rey. )

[ Since his arrival, King Stannis Baratheon has been familiarizing him with the halls of the Tranquility and the queer technology that makes up the vessel (though it all still strikes him as nothing short of madness). All the technology that is, save for one queer device. He is a distrustful man by nature, and as he examines it, he finds that he rather dislikes the look of the thing.

Perhaps he will dislike it even more when he inadvertently activates the "text" function on this queer device, broadcasting across the ship communication system. ]

qwertyuiop

[ Why would letters be organized in such a non-sensical manner? It seemed to him that it would not make communication any easier. Yet again, he presses the letters. ]

. . .

Q W E R T
Y U I

OP

[ It takes some time for him to notice that such is apparently being broadcast, though a small alert indicates such to him (for he could see nothing else that would cause such).

The Others take this infernal device. The Others take this infernal ship

He moves his jaw back and forth for a moment, before activating the video function, though he immediately turns it off. Who knew who (or what) might be watching.

So finally (after much teeth-grinding), he opts for the "voice" function, keeping it short and simple. ]

Speak.

[ Further answers would come in time. He would make sure of such. ]

[The feed turns on rather hesitantly, as a face peers in at it, an angular eyebrow arching up.]

Hello? Uh, this thing is on, right-

Are we... we're actually in space, huh? Wow. That's definitely...different.

At any rate, my name's Phoenix Wright - I'm an attorney, back home.

[He zooms in on a yellow badge on the the lapel of his jacket, tapping it slightly.]

I know that might not be of much use in space, but I'm willing to help however I can - is there anything I should be reading, on that note?

[He scratches the back of his head, grinning a bit.] I'm kind of rambling here, aren't I. At any rate - it's nice to meet you all, and I hope I can help in any way.

Now, how do you turn this off again...?

[After fumbling for a moment, the feed ends.]