[here's a face that doesn't show itself very often. or, well. a voice, anyway. a bit tired, like most everyone is lately. (or maybe just tipsy.) and yet somehow airy and melancholic at the same time.]

..It is more than a year since I was first brought here. At that time I was not in my home world-- I had already been taken to another place. A dying city without death, where it was only ever night. Though I was only there a short time, I have seen a man die and return a week later, impaired but alive. [more quietly:] ..My last memory of the place is of having seen my friends dead, among many others, and myself leaving before I could be sure of their safety.

[and also killing someone. but that's a bag of cats he isn't touching this time. or ever.]

I was told in the City that I had been there before, yet I have no recollection of it. There are people here that I knew in the City, from my world and not, though those here do not remember being anywhere else.

What I mean to say, is.. to ask if this is a common occurrence. If there are others besides myself who have been to other places. I have wondered what powers could take us from worlds we have already been stolen to, how such a thing happens, what it might be that decides where we go next, if we are to go at all. And-- to apologize, I guess, to those I should have told this to, if it is a thing worth apologizing for.

[a hushed breath, and a moment of silence. when he speaks again, it's a little brighter, and lighter.]

There are drinks in the second floor of the gardens. Wine and honey mead, and tea. Neither will aid much in sleeping [he tried. a lot.] but may help calm the nerves, if nothing else.

[for those wishing to talk face-to-face, there is a table set up near the lift with a pot of tea, cups, a barrel of mead, and a flask of wine. legolas himself, however, seems to prefer lying on the ground looking up at the trees instead of sitting on chairs like a normal person.

(he is definitely just tipsy.)]
29 August 2013 @ 02:32 pm
[ It's been almost a year since Casey last posted to the network. He works, keeps to himself, occasionally slides in to add an acerbic commentary to something someone says--that sort of thing. People who know Jayne will recognize him as a red faced version of the same; he's the one without the dodgy beard, is precious about Star Wars, dislikes animals, and despite that has a young ginger cat swinging its tail as it clambers up his chest to perch on his shoulder, furry bottom pressed against his ear. ]

Get the hell down from there, m'busy.

[ His voice is gravely, his face is a little red, eyes a little bloodshot. Casey scowls when a meow is his only response, and shifts forward and backward in quick little movements, attempting to dislodge the cat, but all that happens is that it digs its claws in. Grimacing, Casey decides to just get on with it. The feed clicks off and is replaced by an attached video file, featuring about a minute of prerecorded material from one of the Tranquility's shuttles. It shows the sparkling pinprick stars of space, the Cyllene coming into view, and a long panning view of the station as they circle it.  ]

Doesn't look like a deathtrap, does it? The real good ones usually don't. Got damn near frozen to death for a goddamned pair of sneakers. [ That explains why he looks ill, at least. ] Any of you lot get stuck on board that last day, I suggest you get yourselves checked up by the doctor. We have sensitive gear in the shuttle bay picking up trace radiation, and that means anyone could have been zapped by it, and getting cooked to death from the inside isn't a real nice way to go. Same goes for things you took that day. Might not be as safe as they look, especially if we're talking edibles.

[ Look at that, he's practically being caring. And realizing that he quickly turns off the video feed. But not before a tiny bit of blushing and another furious scowl. ]

Shut up.
21 August 2013 @ 12:24 am

[ though it's been a while since she had spoken to the ship, Lucrezia seems to be in a merry mood. All silks and ribbons and pearls and most importantly, a cheerful, bright smile that has been somewhat absent during the last few weeks.

She might seem exactly as she did when she first arrived here. ]

I am bound to announce on the presence of one very important on our ship. I have given him enough time to present himself and since he had neglected such, I will be handling his introduction.

[ this is the life in the Borgia family. ]

Announcing the arrival of His Eminence, Cardinal Cesare Borgia whose robes have not been provided by the ship yet it cannot take from his devotion. A man of brilliant thought and sharp mind, wise and knowledgeable in languages, history, strategy and certainly in dance!

[ oh my God, Lucrezia, he would want them to fear him not wish to dance with him but what can you do. ]

One of the finest men our Rome had ever cared to deliver and I promise myself not to be terribly biased by being his sister.

[ a smile and then. ]

I would wish for you to show him the same kindness you had shown me; I have told him only gracious things about the ones who inhabit this ship, it would not do for him to think his own sister a liar.
19 August 2013 @ 09:13 pm
[The screen shakes for a moment before steadying. Cat looks slightly uncomfortable, not because of the fact that she's addressing the entire network, but because she is so utterly unused to this form of communication. Even the people are foreign, and she has already seen how different their beliefs and practices are.]

Firstly, I plead you bear with me as I learn the ways of this ship, for they vary greatly from Westerosi customs. I will not be offended if I am informed of any missteps I may commit. [She's not going to threaten to behead any people, she means. But she's not above having them hanged.]

[And now, onto business.] My son has already announced my presence on this ship, but I would introduce myself. I am Lady Catelyn Stark, mother to Robb, Arya, and Bran. My children have been here far longer than I have, and I thank the residents of the Tranquility for ensuring that they are safe and well-cared for. House Stark owes you its gratitude.

[She pauses for a moment, carefully constructing her next words.] I understand there are those here loyal to my House, and friends besides. I would have you introduce yourselves, if it please you. If we are to live together amongst the stars, then it is best we are familiar with each other.
17 August 2013 @ 11:29 pm
If wishes were horses, you'd all believe me when I said this was a 'hypothetical' scenario and I wouldn't need to post this anonymously.

From a young age, I was raised to be used in war. Knowingly or otherwise, I was trained to be the right sort of soldier; eager to fight, to support a just cause, and, if needs be, to die for that cause.

I did all of that and my war is over.

But now, I'm here, and at a loss for what to do with myself. I can fill my hours well enough, but that's all it is - passing the time.

I know that many of you are warriors in your homelands and I'd like to know how you've adapted to this place or to any time when you're not being used to fight.

Thank you.
14 August 2013 @ 03:59 pm
[ stressed is robb's default these days, but normally when addressing the network he's made an effort to appear less so. not today. today he's solemn, as serious as he was when levying threats all those months ago. ]

There more pressing things to attend to aboard this ship, so I'll keep my address brief. My lady mother came aboard during the last jump. Her name is Catelyn Stark, and I ask your kindness in treatment of her.

[ at his side, grey wind moves restlessly, ears set back. robb's expression doesn't flicker. ]

And to bear in mind that she, like all of my family, is afforded the same protection as anyone else taken in by my House.

[ or basically, touch my momma and i'll knock you out, in westerosi speak. ]

And I thank you for your indulgence, and for you kindness. Our House will not forget such favors.

[ the north remembers. grey wind rises, giving himself a shake, and a brief smile flickers across robb's face as he cuts the feed. ]
11 August 2013 @ 07:46 am
[ the number's a 022, but there's no questions about where they are or when they get to go home. will doesn't even really want to be making this post, but people are talking about animal bones, human remains, blood. and that's kind of his gig. ]

I'm not a trained forensic analyst, but if we've got the equipment to do so, I'd be willing to try and take a look at the organic tissue people found in their lockers. I got meat. Anyone else?
We haven't had a jump that exciting in months. Smiley, a puddle of someone outside the medbay and a jump that felt a little different than normal. Almost makes me think that was just the start. I know, Tony, don't do the thing where you ruin the calm, but seriously, we're overdue for it. Personally, I vote for no pirates this time, but that may just be me and the residual annoyance of them.

[ this is so not actually what tony meant to open up with, but it's meant to sort of break the ice a little bit before he moves onto the important question. not to mention, maybe even pressing the issue of feeling weird after the jump was partially important to him. but details.]

Speaking of exciting jumps though. We all know that sometimes you get weird things from home and the like from the lockers on occasion. If you haven't, sucks to be you. [ a beat where tony takes a moment to take a drink of something. ] Show of hands, how many people got something that didn't look like it was from home, or seemed to just hop right over the bad line and into the territory of unpleasantness that may or may of not prompted you to scream what the fuck? Or whatever profanity you're fond of.

Don't be shy, I'll admit it, I found a shin bone in my locker and since I don't moonlight as a surgeon that cuts off limbs, that definitely shouldn't have been there. So, spill, satisfy my curiosity about this.
09 August 2013 @ 03:53 pm
[Video turns on to show the garden in the background and an Elf in the foreground looking neutral.]

Before the jump, my son and I began making mead. We have returned to...unexpected results.

The different casks, though they were begun at the same time, have...aged differently from each other. One cask is spoilt as though many years have gone by, two are ready to drink, and one has yet to finish fermenting. Do what you will with this knowledge.

As we now have two casks of good mead, one shall be given as promised to Chuck, who provided the honey. The other we will open three nights from tonight, and we invite you to join us on the second level of the gardens with whatever food and drink you wish to provide. There will be music and dancing as ever.

However, remember the gardens provide you food and air to breathe. Enjoy your revelry, but if you so much as bend a leaf you will be asked to depart.

Health and joy to you.

[The second level of the Gardens is in the background and Netherlands? Might as well be the personification of so done with this shit instead, right now, and when he speaks his voice is tight, not tired.]

There's another goddamned dinosaur here.

[His lips thin, and the next part of the rant is way off-script but like he cares. So done.]

The Gardens aren't the ship's fucking playground. They grow food. Make oxygen. Filter the water. Air, and shit. It does not have to house all of your goddamned pets, or be your living room, or test area, or vacation, or - whatever the hell you think it is. It's a pain in the ass to take care of. Without half of you treating it like it's your right to take advantage of and then leave for the department to clean up. The department isn't big. There's four levels and kilometers of produce to take care of. We'd be too fucking overworked even if you assholes didn't tear up the place whenever you fucking felt like it.

[HUFF. He scowls and crosses his arms, and yeah, he's going to keep right on with the telling the entire ship how he really feels, in vividly pissy detail.]

Stop treating the gardens like they're yours. Because you all suck at owning shit. [Well - a flicker, unsure.] Most of you, I mean.

[Yep and then he's back to business.]

If it doesn't stop, I'm finding a way to lock out anyone who isn't in the department.
26 July 2013 @ 09:43 pm
[Simon sounds all at once incredibly professional and slightly exasperated. It's enough to wonder if it's his default mode--and of course, the answer is yes. The slightly hesitant tone of his voice makes it clear that this is something he's wanted to say for a while, but just hasn't figured out the best way to articulate it.

Better late than never.

So this is…probably not what anyone wants to hear so close to the jump, but I'm starting to think we're slightly overdue for a staff meeting. I'm willing to overlook a lot of things, but I am...of the belief that we'd benefit from a little group discussion. In...my opinion.

We're overworked. There are too many passengers and too few of us. Some of us aren't as familiar with the technology as we could be. It's hard, I know. There are bound to be...mishaps. Here and there. But in the past few months alone, we've had one botched autopsy, several missing bodies, and a human liver on the floor that...still doesn't have an identifiable owner.

I'd like to think we're more professional than this. The ship doesn't leave medical degrees in the lockers, so when someone joins this department claiming they have a certain amount of experience, all we can do is assess them and hope they're telling the truth.

[He's not saying that maybe some people are lying...but he's totally saying that maybe some people are lying.]

Ideally, we'll meet after the jump, once everyone is situated. In the meantime, however, if anyone has any concerns or...topics of discussion they'd like to bring to the table, please let me know. I'd appreciate it.

19 July 2013 @ 11:32 pm
Do not get complacent.

You are not on holiday. This isn't a cruise. The Tranquility is a very dangerous ship, and your life is in constant danger. Fail to pay attention and walk down the wrong corridor, and who knows if you'll find your way back--and if you do, you'll be missing eyes or hands or whole parts of your sanity. Just because it's been quiet recently doesn't mean that any of us are safe. We don't know where we're going, or what will happen when we get there. We don't have a captain, and with Kirk gone, Ward vanished, and Gallagher dead, that means the best you've got is me.

Our survival depends on each other. It depends on you all pulling your weight. Join a department, cook for other people, cut hair, sew, or teach people to fight. Share your experiences and your skills. It's all up to you.

If you have any questions, or you want to know where we need the help, then call me. I'll put you in contact with the right people, or else do everything I can to get you the answers you need.

I don't want to frighten you, but after all this downtime I think it's important that everyone stays on their toes. This peace could collapse in a heartbeat, and it might be you need to fight for your lives. Be ready, that's all I'm asking from any of you.

08 July 2013 @ 09:27 am
[The feed turns on to show the Elvenking sitting in the gardens in a chair, a blanket over his lap and one leg propped up. Most notable about this picture is the cat-sized fawn sitting on his good leg, sucking and lapping milk from a rag. The little critter has been freshly bathed and it shows.]

This little one turned up in my locker. I have enough of his mother's milk to feed him twice, but no more. [And if you ask where that came from, prepare to be depressed and probably grossed out.] I understand some of you know how to make blood. If any of you might do the same with a doe's milk, you will save his life.

Merlin, I would speak with you in the gardens.

[The fawn's lapping tongue ventures past the rag and starts licking the Elf's hand. It stops a moment later and lifts its head to sniff at Thranduil's face. It gets a thumb stroking over the top of its head in return. The other hand moves to cut the feed.]
25 June 2013 @ 07:09 pm
[ as is his habit these days, robb appears with grey wind's massive form at his side, regarding the camera from robb's shoulder. the wolf doesn't move, stares into the camera even as robb shuffles through the things on his nightstand, takes a minute to gather his thoughts before speaking. ]

There were many different religions in Westeros, and since arriving here, I've learned of many more. None are familiar to me, though some bear passing resemblance to those gods worshipped by those of my land. I have attended the chapel, but all of it was strange to me, and I don't think I could swear to those gods as I have my own.

[ there's a pause. grey wind shifts restlessly at his side and robb sighs, tugs at the laces of his tunic until they loosen. ]

There's no weirwood aboard this vessel. I have prayed always to the old gods, and it is said that they would keep watch so long as a man did not stray from their line of sight. I have strayed far, though not intentionally. So what I wonder is if I swear to my gods, or bind two souls together in marriage, or ask a blessing upon my bannermen, do my gods still hear? Do any of our gods hear us, when we've wandered so far?

[ robb stops, takes a breath. he looks away from the lens, reaches as if to cut it off and then grey wind huffs, like a reminder, and robb adds, almost as an afterthought-- ]

Thranduil, I would speak with you, if you would spare me audience.

[ and then robb cuts off the feed. ]
23 June 2013 @ 11:20 am
[ John's dressed down for once, shirt missing and all. The Grim Reaper tattoo on his inner arm is visible, scythe and all, where most people's nanites are -- his are visible on the other arm. One hand is beneath his head and the other is holding the camera at a bit of an odd angle; he's laying down, apparently in bed. Despite that, he doesn't look like he's gotten a lot of sleep. ]

So. [ He starts, stops; clears his throat to make himself sound a little more awake. ] This place is hell, but we manage to relax sometimes. How do you all do it? [ There's a pause, considering, and he adds: ] Other than getting drunk.

[ That's not going to help him, considering he can't anymore. At the end of the day, what John needs is for nightmares of dead teammates and monsters in the dark to stop haunting him, of the dead on the ship that he could have (should have) been able to help. But for now... he'll take what he can get. Not that he necessarily wants everyone knowing he can't relax. ]

Call me curious, I guess. I would've bet on more nervous breakdowns.
[ joe's not so much ill at ease on camera as he is just happier off, and the lack of desire to throw his metaphorical hat in to this particular ring bleeds through into his slumped posture. he's got his actual hat off and set to the side, because this calls for company manners which means your nicest flannel and no hat, as you do. ]

Name's Joe Davis, based outta Pernambuco. [ a beat. ] That's just about on the far edge of the farms on Pasiphae, right. [ since as it's been made abundantly clear, he's the only one who knows that sort of thing off-hand. ]

Nobody's wanted to tell me too much, but I get the sense something about this whole thing makes me look dangerous. And I understand that, and whatever questions you gotta ask I'm ready to answer them. [ in part because there's only one of him and a lot of everybody else and it's the smart call, but that can go unsaid. ] I guess I just wanted to say this is all new and confusing to me, too, and seeing as I'd rather not end up pistol whipped, if it's all the same to everybody-- [ yeah, dean, he saw that-- ] I figured maybe I'd make the first move, since it's seeming like maybe I've landed in a tight spot without meaning to here.

[ he looks down, rubbing at the back of his neck with a thumb, a little uncomfortable. ]

I'm not much for speeches, but it seemed like the thing to do-- think that's about it, anyway.

[ and with that, he's out. ]
11 June 2013 @ 05:34 pm
[This is the first time she's made an attempt to speak to the public at large, and she's a little nervous about it. But good things are happening, exciting things, and she really wants to show off how nice the ship has been to her this jump. The camera's a blur as she swivels it around toward a table she's set up someplace in the gardens, and sitting upon the table are jars of plants, varying in size and shape. There's even a lone flower, her current pride and joy.]

Barberry, flaxseed, ginseng, and even more than that!

[She laughs, downright giddy at being able to have found so many useful things. She turns her device back to her, so people can see who's speaking.]

They're perfect, really perfect. Don't you think? They'll help make sure I'm able to open my clinic faster now.

[She calms down a great deal at this point, and gives out a contented sigh as she leans down to toy with and sniff at peppermint. She gently curls a green leaf around her finger, and watches it pop back up.]

My sister gave me a chance to live, a chance to do something. I was wasting that chance here, I think. I spent too much time being afraid. But now I can do something to help people. If...that's allowed? I know there's already the doctors that work in the medbay, and I don't want to get in the way.

[She gulps, a bit nervous about feeling like she's overstepping her boundaries.]

But if anyone that's a doctor or knows something about healing would like to help, I need someone to look over my notes.
[ it's perhaps a side effect of how he hadn't been sleeping as well as he should have been before the jump, and how there's been a mess of nervous energy with him that he practically jolts out of the medbay after seeing that pepper and natasha and— everyone else, except jaye, jaye wasn't there. he should check that. but first he needs to check the numbers, check the data of everyone who's here, see the numbers left. that'll kill two birds with one stone, won't it. because he'll see her number, and it'll be fine.

it doesn't take long for him to get to his room and look at the program connor and him had set up once upon a time to track numbers of people, to make sure as soon as they were gone, you'd know for sure. it's faulty, he knows that, you don't have names to go with numbers, but he knows the important numbers for him. there's jaye, just fine and then he looks down, toward the later numbers, making sure none of the people he saw were just doubles with the wrong number and then he notices.

018 has people he already knew were there. 019 seems like it only has one person. and then 020 looks like a normal jump where people come. they shouldn't be on twenty. they had just done the nineteenth jump, he hadn't been asleep again, had he? had they had a coma and no— someone would have stopped him when they were stumbling about and he was rushing. it's another moment before tony scrambles to look at the network, hand shaking a little before he sees hotspur and jaye and other people, and he should say something to jaye, but that doesn't point to them not skipping a jump. why wasn't there talk about the nineteenth jump. why hadn't— he just needed to ask everyone the simple question. in text, because okay no, he is definitely not feeling like talking. ]

Anyone remember the nineteenth jump? Going through it, anything that happened? Don't tell me it's the one we just went through, because you might want to check all the new batches numbers, seriously. Actually you know what, 019 » 034, you have a name, don't you? You want to shed some light on being a 019er?

[ like how it seems like you're the only one maybe? ]
05 August 2012 @ 07:14 pm
In light of recent events upon the outpost it's clear that there are a number of us who are suffering the after-effects of torture. You all have my utmost sympathies - I have witnessed such things before and I will offer the same services here that I gave to my dear friend when he was put under a similar duress.

[ A duress that Durham himself instigated, yes, but that's another matter entirely. Or so Durham tells himself. ]

Whilst those who have been subjected to a torture most terrible are undoubtedly brave, it would not be thought of an act of cowardice to wish to rid oneself of the memory of such a trauma. Torture does not end just because one has been released from the cell; there are the lingering effects of anxious melancholies, exhausted spirits, weakened nerves... to say nothing of restless sleep.

You need not bear these memories as a millstone and for those that wish it I will gladly relieve you of such a burdensome weight. You may find me in my cabin - the eighth room upon the eighth passenger deck. Ask for Thomas Sutton - [ A thoughtful pause, then he adds: ] - or perhaps it would do better if you were to ask for Durham. Either way, I shall endeavour to do my utmost to help those that are prepared to ask for it.

[ Another pause, longer this time, and then Durham picks up again. This time his voice is harder, cooler; this is a matter of business, rather than a favour. ]

And while I am here I may as well announce this too - Oxford. Your Durham has disembarked. In light of this I propose a parlé. I would request that we meet un-armed but as both of us possess weapons that are not so easily cast aside, might I simply ask that it be under a white flag of truce? I do not know how many of your fellows remain on board but I suppose they may attend as well.

( OOC : Durham is essentially offering a bit of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Hit me up HERE if you have any questions! )