Hey, guys, it's Hughes. :) 

Since I am in communications, I have been spending a horrible amount of time getting used to this insanely advanced technology — thank you for that, by the way! The best way to arrive in a new and totally dangerous world is also learning you're completely behind by many centuries! 

But I have adapted. Made great progress! Look, I can do faces. :) 


6_9 This one looks dizzy. 

:'( And we have a sad one here.

I need more! Please send me your faces ASAP, it's gravely important. So much more enjoyable than typewriters! No need for white ink or ribbons or buttons jamming! I wrote an entire letter to my friend Roy missing my R key.

So essentially I was diving him insane because I wote oy eveytime his name came up.

He eally hated me.

Anyway, hone your art skills! Show me what you can do while I'm on the clock. I'll need more than two things to focus on around here, because my attention span is far too used to being split three different directions.

Look. I made a flower for my favorite people (you know who you are).

............._ _
..........._{ ' }_
..........{ `.!.` }
............(\| /)
.............\| //
...........\\ |/ //



I've already figured out the picture taking part.



thanks sirius for the face tips :))))
25 May 2015 @ 01:13 am
[A somber face on the video feed. When last he addressed the people on board, it was about loss, and how to cope with it here.

Irony was indeed a cruel mistress, was she not...?]

As... no doubt you will have seen. Seraphim, who was here-- a long time. She has departed us, by more natural means that disappearance, and less natural means than a gentle and faraway death.

She was surely too young for such a fate, and far too goodly. For those who grieve her, like I, I offer condolences.

[A deep breath here, to square himself to the reality, and to keep calm in this.]

But let her passing be not in vain.

Before passing, she left for me, a message. Part of which she hoped to share with all of you. I will read that part now, that perhaps someone here knows how better to make of it than I, and can look at it and know what she meant to impart to us all.

She said you all have to know. It was her final wish.

[And so, reading from a part of that transcript, that it is much too raw and painful, too personal, to simply post the entire message she wrote to him.]

There is an entire other side and it's white...

Deutsch was right.

Tell them it's SU(3) structure...

--rallel univer--it's a compact universe--side the Jump...

[There was the mathematical notation, too, but it was much too long for him to make sense of. The begging, and the emotions still to read on page; this, he would keep to himself. That was meant only for his eyes.]

That's all.
12 March 2015 @ 11:23 pm
A query, for those who have been aboard a while...

How is it you find the will to continue, when you have lost, over and again, those dear to you on board? Losing the ones from your own world or time feels like a deep enough blow... but equal are those from other worlds, who you cannot hope to see again should you be spirited home.

To add insult to injury, when sometimes these dear souls appear again, they are quite anew. They recall nothing of your friendship, or their time here, and are as strangers.

It's a melancholy truth, is it not? We can stomach death, for death promises the bliss of a great beyond where all are one, or otherwise, nothing at all and we shalln't be bothered by what we cannot know.

But this? This waking between death and life, where people reincarnate as themselves, but not the same...

How do you keep from letting it smother your joy? The idea that your loved ones can be taken from you in a moment, and almost worse: may return to you changed, and distant. And can we even hope they should return, to such a place as this?

[Added, as a quiet aside:]

...Poor Feuilly, patient man that he is, who puts up with me asking such things constantly.

But I should truly like to know how others cope.
06 March 2015 @ 07:26 pm
[There's the face of a rather exuberant Frenchman grinning from ear to ear as the feed opens. ]

Mesdames et Messieurs, bienvenue!! Representing the Operations Department Support Staff, I am Ambrose Bahorel and would like to warmly welcome you aboard the Mlle. Tranquillité.

To answer your first question, as surely you are wondering now, this is not the afterlife! For all the rest, the attached text document shall explain a bit more thoroughly our circumstances and how to manoeuvre your way about the the ship. Take a moment to read through the following handbook and get yourself acquainted.

[Feed swaps over to text, though Bahorel can still be heard as an overvoice, as noted below.]

.:: WELCOME ::.
You're probably confused. Take some time to read this over. We do our best to keep it up-to-date, and it should answer most of your questions.

THE RUNDOWN » What happened, where you are, what to do.
SUPPORT DEPARTMENT INFO » Who we are and what we do.
REFERENCE* » Basic facts about the ship and solar system.
A TIMELINE OF EVENTS » This will take time to read thoroughly, but we strongly recommend it.
FAQ » Please read this before asking a question on the network.
SPACE TRAINING » If this is your first time aboard a space ship, please watch these helpful videos.
LOOKING FOR WORK? » If you have any questions about the departments, track down a chief officer or someone who operates within it about recruitment.
COMPLAINT BOX » Any and all grievances should be directed here, whether legitimate requests for help or simple venting.

[Overvoice goes here:]

In addition, if you would like help navigating the comms devices and the like, us Support team members are more than happy to help you with the contraptions; they can be especially confusing for those of us born before the age of machines and other such technologies.

A few things to note also:

DO NOT answer anonymous messages. They spell out trouble, and you'll find more than enough of it during your time on this ship, so don't go searching it out if it tries to bait you -- least of all alone.

[In other words, you should totally answer that message; just remember to take a buddy (like Bahorel!) with you. :Db]

Also, you may have noticed the signs in the locker rooms and along the corridors, but if you haven't, consider this an extra warning: move to floors 1-10 if you're assigned a different floor, so we can help keep everyone safer. Strength in numbers, ouais?

[Swapping back to a video of a lopsided smile and warm expression.]

And that should be it! If you have any other questions, feel free to reach out to any one of us; we are here to help you -- even if it's something as infuriating as modern kitchen contraptions.


{{ *OOC Note: This document is editable by anyone in the game. Please feel free to expand upon sections, add sections, add your own theories, etc. Part of the fun is solving the mystery, and this gives us a convenient way to do it. }}
20 February 2015 @ 12:58 pm
[The video doesn't take long to focus on the woman's face. At most, there are angle adjustments, but it appears asking questions and requesting assistance has boded well for her in regards to this particular set of technology. Her brow remains furrowed until she sees things working the way she was told. With slow ease, she gives a faint smile, her tone serious yet gentle with her French Orlesian accent.]

I thought it best that I thank those who have provided assistance over the past few weeks. I am certain my concerns were not the only questions answered and I appreciate the help provided.

That being said, I thought it best I return the favor. I'm Evangeline de Brassard. While present, I intend to assist with the security here. Although I admit, I am still learning of this place, I do intend to help however I can.

[She pauses although it isn't a very long-lived debate on whether or not to continue.]

I've also heard there are others from Thedas here. I've already spoken with a few of you, but would like to know how many others may be present. I am a templar and I realize that may be a concern to some, but I'd rather you address it with me directly if that should be the case.

[Considering current events as they were, she's well aware Templars and mages aren't exactly in the best standing with the public and since she has no idea who that public may be here, it is better safe than sorry. She'd prefer to get that mess out of the way, if there's any mess to begin with.

There's another short pause and thought but she comes up empty handed. This is enough for now, hopefully.]

Thank you.

[And she'll end things there.]

[OOC: So winging the security part a weeee bit. But assume she's on a patrol soon in some hallway or 'nother, in case anyone wants to Action comment instead of communicator stuff. \o/]
20 February 2015 @ 01:45 pm
[sophie is holding the comm too close to her face, so it isn't all visible at once--it's a pair of pale eyes, a mass of dark hair, the sort of sharp cheekbones acquired from poor diet. the camera wobbles and then settles into place just far enough away to get her entire face, and the glimpse of a dark room behind her. the only light in the room is coming entirely from the comm. when she speaks, her accent is lilting and her voice is low.]

So I have discovered that the light comes from lightning channeled through metal wires in the walls. [that might explain the darkness around her.] Which is quite clever, truly. But it doesn't answer my question of how technology differs from sorcery, except in that people seem to believe in one or the other. Is technology simply an aspect of sorcery that has not yet been discovered where I am from? While difficult to believe, I suppose even my father could not have known everything.

[a pause, and she pushes her hair back from her face. it's clearly a nervous gesture.]

Also, how many of you have come here alone? It seems many are in familiar company with others from their homes, but I believe I have arrived unaccompanied. Not that this is an unusual situation, but still...

18 February 2015 @ 02:26 pm
[Someone's bored, sitting in one of the kitchens (on a counter in fact) and just looking bored. So she grabs her communicator and flicks it on.]

I have been here for some time now and I have realized that I really do not know so many people as I would like. And so many of you here are Secondborn- ah, humans. So I have a few questions.

[She smiles pleasantly enough but-]

Does having round ears affect your hearing?

My people consider long hair important, a standard for beauty. Many of you do not have long hair, what do you consider beautiful if not that? I know that dwarves find beards beautiful but most of you are bare-faced.

And your lives are so short. Is that why most seem in such a rush? Is that why you cannot hear the trees or animals? You are in too much of a rush to listen?

[Lúthien no.]
30 November 2014 @ 12:22 am
[Bahorel can be seen in his room, which seems to have become a bit of a small forest of spider plants, most of which are still in their baby stages. A few have been potted, while some others are waiting to be transplanted, and yet more hang from the original planter in the corner of the room. Although not every surface in the room is occupied, it looks as though it may not take particularly long for such to occur if something is not done quickly. Muttering a bit under his breath,]

A whole new meaning to the word "nursery," Christ...

[Fiddling with the camera just a bit until he can finally see himself amidst all the green. A wide and welcoming grin.]

Halloo, mon amis! It seems my darling Selene has flowered yet again, and at a far more alarming rate than I have seen her do so in the past...

[It may or may not have something to do with that Christmas magic spirit in the air, but such has yet to be determined...]

So I have procured plenty of pots and soil of various shapes and sizes, in hopes that there might be a handful of you who might be interested in taking one for yourselves, or to offer to a loved one as a gift for the upcoming holidays.

If such a thing strikes your fancy, do drop by and take your pick of the litter! Floor 16, Room 132.

[Glancing back over his shoulder, before returning to look at the camera with a bit of a wry grin.]

Doesn't seem like you'll have to worry about missing out, to be honest, but you'd certainly be doing me a favour with a quicker claim.
26 September 2014 @ 09:45 pm
[Here is a very squinty look as Combeferre looks out, er... tries to look out at the network, anyway.]

It having been a long several weeks, this may not be the best of times to ask some medically related questions, but I have been getting my headaches...migraines, you call them, in the future, with more frequency since my spectacles were, ah, destroyed in the corridors a while ago by what I think was meant to be a ghost of my...

[What exactly IS Marius to him, right now? Combeferre had never liked the man so much as he had been completely baffled by him, a bafflement that had lead to his giving Marius a cooler reception than he probably deserved, and he had wanted to like the man for a while, even here. That was, up until Eponine, and, while he will not say that Marius should have returned Eponine's love (particularly as that would leave him minus a girlfriend), he does believe that the younger man still ought to be worked harder to be kind to her, and he certainly was annoyed enough with ghost Marius to attack him, anyway. And then, he'd been just plain angry, and, well, it is a complicated situation, he supposes.]

Well, a ghost from my past, I think it suffices to say, and that has really nothing to do with my question. I've been having problems without my spectacles of any rate, and I have been wondering about...is there some way to create a new pair here, or to do the laser procedure I've found mentioned in some of the medical books I have been looking over, lately?

There IS still the method of waiting and seeing if a jump is kind to me, but if it cannot happen, I would be curious if there is anything else that might help me as well.
Current Mood: curious
21 July 2014 @ 12:10 am
[The video feed opens on a Combeferre who is grinning slightly idiotically. It’s a different look for in public spaces, honestly. Jehan and Courfeyrac may recognize it, but they are the only ones from home who do . Clearing his throat, he begins to speak after a bit more of setting up.]

I have rather an important bit of news to share with everyone, particularly those of you who were so good as to help me see the way out of tiptoeing around the truth.

So good to help! [That would be another voice, low in pitch and gravely.] Michel! To whom are you addressing? Tell me it was Jean and Reynaud, and no other. [By now, a rather small girl, a few years younger than Combeferre has made her presence known, frowning at the screen. Say hello to Eponine, everyone.]
announcements, cuteness and wayward chairs! )
Current Mood: cheerful
17 July 2014 @ 09:48 pm
[ Your resident 19th century cynic is overdue for an introduction. But, in his defense, it's taken him a while to figure out how the hell to use a smartphone-- there are a lot of things to get used to for him here, okay?

The first thing that appears is his dark eyebrows knitted together in a face that's obviously puzzled but intelligent looking. He's rather enjoyed the challenge of tinkering with this thing, and he shows a triumphant smile when he realizes he's done it. ]

Wonderful. A strange piece of equipment, but nonetheless remarkable.

[ Clearing his throat. ]

Hello, all of you unwilling citizens of this terrible place. You may call me Grantaire. I suppose this is an introduction of sorts since I have only arrived a few short weeks ago and this is, I'm sure, the first time many of you have seen me. I appeal to you because I'm looking for some... [ he hesitates over the word "friends," but he's not sure he qualifies for that endearment amongst some his group from home. ]

...acquaintances of mine from my previous life, who I've been told are on board but I have not met in this vast place as of yet. Given the violent and, apparently, tumultuous nature of existence we seem to be in here, I think I should find them before the next "jump" sees fit to do away with them. Odd, isn't it? How fleeting everything is. Well, at least we have use of these to find each other; it's certainly a helpful tool.

[ Tapping his screen emphatically as he speaks. The communicator makes an electronic noise as the camera turns around and back to him, making his eyes widen with surprise. He raises his hands away from it, afraid of making another error. ]

...My apologies, I'm still trying to master the use of it. I won't bother you all any more, in any case. Should you have met anyone by the name of Bahorel or Combeferre, please inform me. Or if you are one of them listening here, that would make this exceptionally easy.

[ With a smirk, the feed ends. He did figure that bit out well enough. The big red circle was certainly eye catching. ]
[As the feed cuts in, the girl’s hand is retreating from the device and moving to the knife. Giulietta looks extremely unamused as she picks it up and raises an eyebrow at the man she’s with. When she speaks, it’s even and slightly irritable.]

Knives are the most obvious for self defense, you realize. A commoner would know how to use one if they must. I thought you said you were more resourceful than this.

[She turns to the device, still getting used to using it, and gives a look that can easily translate into “Do you believe this?”. This is the most exasperated 14th Century girl you’ll ever see.]

After insisting I be able to use common kitchen tools as self defense if I need to, a knife is the best Signore Bahorel can seem to come up with so far.

[Bahorel would barely be in the shot at first, opening cabinets and drawers and taking out some utensils and cookware here and there. The top to a pot, a spatula, a colander, even -- all to be arranged (more or less) haphazardly on the counter beside him.]

Obvious or not, the knife is most certainly your best bet, mademoiselle, if you have one at hand. It would be a shame to choose a lesser weapon if you intend to do any real damage or pose any sort of threat to your foe.

[Picking up a skillet and inspecting its with a ponderous expression.]

Still, la poêle, too, will have its advantages, for example, where there is heft-- [Tilting it on its axes to demonstrate its weight.] --and reach-- [Extending his arm full out in front of him, holding the pan as far from him as he can.] --that cannot be matched by the paring knife. Surface area, too, to account for one’s protection as much as for one’s poor aim.

[Swinging the pan a little with his whole arm, then drawing it up to cover his face in demonstration, before peering around it at Giulietta with a bit of a foolhardy grin.]

{{ OOC: Open to all! Giulietta is orange, and Bahorel is red. Feel free to address either or both of us, threadjack, etc.! }}
12 April 2014 @ 10:36 pm
[Bahorel had gotten excited when he had seen the shapes of the fruit outlined in the shadows of his locker, but the pungent smell of sweet decay worried him just as quickly. Upon unearthing each one by one, his heart had sunk, for every apple had regressed into complete inedibility; his hope of presenting such a rare treat to each of his friends onboard was dashed upon its inception, as the list of recipients shrank with each dying discovery.

At least the loaf of bread had seemed palatable enough, though a bit stale, and the wine from his hometown was welcomed with a joy that exceeded nostalgia but remained within the realm of gratefulness, so perhaps not all was lost in treating the others to a little something special. The new set of clothing, too, was appreciated, for he was beginning to tire of how worn his favourite waistcoat and cravat had become over the months.

Nevertheless, the feed would open with a none-too-amused Bahorel holding up a Very Rotten Apple.]

Mlle. Tranquillité thought it entertaining to leave these in my locker this past jump. As a human, I can hardly find use for five apples rotten quite to this extent.

I intended to toss them in the Oxygen Gardens to be harvested for a greater purpose, but it has been suggested to me that perhaps one of you might have a taste for them, or might know what I could do to salvage them.

[Eyeballing it, though, because really, it looked ... pretty rancid, even to one who might have been acquainted with true starvation. His nose flared involuntarily as a waft of its sour-sweetness met with his senses.]

A barter? Perhaps even a gift, if no trade can be struck here; I am not greedy, and these are a far cry from gold bullions, after all.
12 April 2014 @ 04:38 pm
A query, for the ship...

I wonder, with what we do know about our predicament; and I admit, my knowledge is little when it comes to the gadgetry and computations that the running of this vessel requires; and what we do know about M. 'Smiley', as he is like to be called...

Well, how to put this?

[A pause and a breath, before tilting his head just softly and staring up at the camera.]

Smiley may not be human, is it so? This has been presented to me as an option. Not human, but digital?

And he has been upon the networks, in order to mock us. But the mocking has had a defined purpose, I have seen. Threats, that we "had better" fix problems-- both technical, and human in the case of the mutineer-- before it costs us our lives. That we "had better" keep the ship running. Yet, if it were not his will that it be fixed too, were it not in his best interest also, would he not use fear as a means of making us do his bidding?

If Smiley would guide us to to save our lives by saving the ship; perhaps it may mean that it is the improper course of action, after all? Perhaps we ensure his-- or it's-- safety by ensuring our own? And in doing so, we too may be responsible in part for leaving this vessel open to stealing more lives from their homes, more people from their families...

In other words, the question I would like to pose is this: If we knew, for fact, that the only way to stop the terrors on this ship and the kidnappings seen each month was in destroying the ship, thus protecting any future targets-- be they like us, or like those pirates, who were seen to summary execution...

Would you be willing to pay that price, to see that the right thing be done?

Dulce et decorum est pro mores mori.

Forgive me, if it is too morbid in thought. The question is surely a difficult one.
11 January 2014 @ 05:22 pm
[For once, Enjolras is completely bundled up in the majority of his clothing from home, and huddled in a blanket to boot. He looks somewhat resigned -- cold isn't too much of a problem, but he has grown far too used to being on the ship and in a somewhat moderate temperature, barring the last few weeks.]

I do not much mind a respite from the heat, but this seems somewhat excessive. I do not think I have been this cold since I was in Paris. Does anyone know of a place where the climate might be somewhat more, ah, temperate? I welcome any and all suggestions.
16 November 2013 @ 10:31 pm
[Good morning-- Is it morning? Evening? Day! Good day! Courfeyrac still has a hard time determining this on this ship. There must be some sense of time, after all, even if not by the sun and moon. Regardless, here’s an early 19th century dandy who has writing all over his face in sharpie.

Yes. That’s correct. Not just writing, but terrible poetry and double entendres and all of the innuendo. All over his face.

But he’s still grinning all the same, because he knows exactly why this is the case. He rubs his eyes for a moment before actually addressing everyone, his smile mischievous.]

It should seem that I awoke this morning with writing all over my face. Alas, my mysterious scribe is nowhere to be found. Perhaps someone would be so kind as to read it for me? Everything appears reverse when I look into a mirror.

What’s more, if someone finds the culprit, please do return him to me, won’t you? I imagine he is wandering the halls with a permanent marker in hand looking particularly devious.
22 October 2013 @ 12:51 am
[Eponine appears on the network, obviously a little panicked about something. She had been trying to reach Jehan, but unfortunately, she was not adept enough at technology to filter it to him.]

Monsieur? Monsieur, I have done a bad thing - but we are friends, are we not? You will not listen to the Inspector, will you? We will still be friends, won't we?

[Impatiently, she pushed her messy fringe out of her eyes.]

He is a horrible man, you know. He deserved it, I think. [She shrugged and sighed]

I wish he were gone; life here, even when I bled from my eyes, was pleasant before he came. I do not think it will remain so now.
18 October 2013 @ 11:18 pm
[The video opens up on a man sitting too close to the screen, poking at said screen to confirm that the settings are all appropriate for his purposes. He looks positively pissed and has a wad of tissue stuck up one nostril. Though the ship-induced insomnia has ended at last, the subsequent identity issues have been especially taxing on a man who has spent the entire last month working through the meaning of life after death while delirious with lack of sleep, antagonizing his closest friend (entirely on accident), and still acclimating to the various ... quirks of the future and The Tranquility.

Not being able to think as himself has thrown him for a loop that he is not best equipped to handle -- and which he tries so valiantly to resist.

It has not ended very well, if the constant nosebleeds and piercing headaches are any indication.

So it has come to this. Bahorel clears his throat and looks directly at the camera, now reasonably spaced away from it, though still not at the most flattering angle. He'll never quite figure this thing out.

His voice is a little gruff and stilted at first, as he is not exactly sure how to address this matter, let alone a full ship as audience. But he sure as hell is sick and tired of this unnecessary invasion of his usually manageable headspace, so he's going to get this out, one way or another.]

Hello. For those of you who do not know, my name is Ambrose Bahorel. I hail from Paris, France, of the 1800s, and am often associated with a handful of others who call ourselves Les Amis de l'ABC.

[A pause. This is so dumb and awkward, and he is really fighting the urge to roll his eyes into the back of his head.

... Nope, lost that fight pretty quickly there. That was less a fight and more a massacre.]

To be absolutely frank, I hope that anyone who recognizes me or my voice from one of their foreign memories will contact me immediately. After the travesty that was last month, now is not the best time to be playing mind games, and I would appreciate settling this matter promptly.

[He contemplates turning the goddamn thing off already, then adds as an afterthought,]

Thank you.

{{ OOC: This will be Bahorel's catch-all for all mid- to late-stage links! Naturally is open to all, and for anyone who wants moar empathy links for any of the stages, you can find a quick ref of Bahorel's available memories here! PM this account or [plurk.com profile] paraverbal if you need/want more deets. :3 }}
18 October 2013 @ 12:34 am
[ this device is still somewhat beyond her. but she can now speak through it without much difficulty, which is progress! hours of button-mashing are starting to pay off. even so, she is a little intimidated to possibly be addressing this entire ship.

so if she sounds like she's far away or just really quiet, that would explain why. ]

Uh, hello. [ she's off to a great start! ] I'm not sure just who can hear me, or if anyone can because I might be using this thing improperly.

But I wanted to ask-- [ no, not about the voices and the memories. ] has anyone seen a tall man, dark-haired and bearded, possibly swinging around an obscenely large greatsword?

That would be my brother, Garrett. Garrett Hawke. I was with him before I came here, and haven't seen him since.
05 September 2013 @ 05:30 pm
[Have a beaming Combeferre, onscreen, wiping his hands on an apron. From the looks of things, he has been in the kitchen.]

Greetings, everyone!

I am pleased to update the entire ship on my progress in learning your new technological cooking methods, which have finally resulted in an edible, and delicious meal. You are all invited to a dinner party in the next few weeks, prepared entirely by myself.

I do hope many of you can make it.
Current Mood: happy