[ The first thing you see is... well, nothing.

Then there is rustling and clumsy movement of the communicator, eventually revealing September, eyes not meeting the video feed, but it indeed is him. The usual bright blue have dulled.

There's more rustling, September feeling for something on the communicator. ]

No video, just audio today.

[ But September, the video feed is on, can't you see that?

( Precisely, that's the problem. Even his sweater is on backwards. )

His eyes never meet with the feed, appearing to focus on nothing in particular. ]

Curious, but does anyone here actually have a sleeping schedule or sleeping hour?

And... has anyone been having nightmares lately?

[ Smooth, Mr. Dream Eater. ] Let's call it curiosity. By the way, you should all use audio, I'm kinda... caught up on something.

[ Liar.

Now watch as September turns off the feed a few failed attempts later. ]

( ooc: SO September has not been dream feeding for a long while and the effects are rolling in. He's temporarily blind until he feeds again, thus his lack of coordination! )

[well that sure is a dapper gent on the feed now isn't he. kind of roguish looking, rakish and fierce. he wears a shirt made by a recently missing seamstress and a crimson red coat that hangs open, long black curls of hair that look like dripping candles and the brightest blue eyes face the camera.

he offers a bow to the video.]

Shipmates, firstly I must offer my condolences. To those that were acquainted with our late Miss Stone; she will be greatly missed.

[he lays a hand upon his breast, bowing his head, and he would have swept off his hat, had he had it with him. after a moment's pause, those striking eyes return to the camera and he offers a smile, a sly thing.]

I am James Hook, captain of the Jolly Roger, though I understand such a title is neither here nor there when we travel amoung the stars. I have seen, and heard whisper, of grievances accompanied with these masks that this place has so graciously provided us. Whispers that they are evil things, that cause you to act outside the norm.

Here I have for you, a solution.

[and he steps back, revealing a large, antique chest, about a metre wide.]

I have with me a chest, built for holding and hiding treasure. Now there is very little in the way of what a man like me might consider treasure on board, but it would be a pity to waste such a wonderful chest. "What could I possibly use it for?" said I, as I mused within my cabin. "What use could this chest possibly be on a craft from the future?"

Then I realized! These masks, they cannot be destroyed. Send them beyond the walls of this ship and they should return. But lock them up- [and oh ho, look how clever this man is. his tone is beguiling, convincing, and you may find yourself agreeing with him despite yourself.] and they shan't go anywhere.

So I offer you, my friends, this chest. Any that have not yet found a solution to their distress may bring their masks to me, and I shall lock them away for safe keeping.

[again, he bows]

I reside in cabin eighty, of the ninth floor. My door is open to you.

Hello, my fellow abductees on the S.S. I-Never-Asked-For-This-Let-Me-Go-Home, your resident blind guy here with an offer, I suppose. I know this is going to seem a bit out of place, considering the state of things, but I figured some people could, perhaps, enjoy a little zen to their day! Correct me if I'm wrong though.

[ auggie you're rambling here ]

Right, last Jump I received some... ah, music in my locker -- on a USB -- and I've been fiddling around a bit with it to see how I could use it. I ended up converting it to put on my communicator, meaning hey look at that, suddenly iPod. I know, I know, maybe not the best use of my time here but whatever, right?

Aaaanyway, the point of this is -- I'm going to share it now with you all. I've listed the music I have available but if anyone has something they're willing to share, we can kind of make a music swap? The iTunes store, without the .99 cents surcharge and the comfort of your own personal computer screen. Though, sadly, you'll have to get your own headphones.

[ there's a quiet breath here, barely audible but the only hint of tension in his casual tone. he doesn't really know if he's jumping the gun here or not but he does think it would help, if anyone wants this. ]

The app's source is from my computer at Communications. If any of you have iPods or anything like that and want to offer to share your stuff, just hit me up and I'll convert it to the app for easy accessibility. I'm kind of rambling here and maybe being that bit presumptuous but I thought I'd offer anyway. Feel free to ignore it.

[ a pause ]

Thanks for listening.

[ and now, if anyone does go pursue what auggie's attached to his post, they will find this: ]

( SPACE NAPSTER )

(( OOC: Anyway, yeah! Auggie made Space Napster. He needed a reason to distract himself so has probably been working on this in Comms since the Jump. Basically what he said runs true, think "music app" for your iPhone or whatever -- that's basically what this is, h-haha. :'D Anyway, here is the journal post where you can either ICly or OOCly add music to it, I'll update them as needed. Thanks a bunch! ))

[ For once, Alayne Stone — Sansa Stark to some already — does not greet the Tranquility with her usual politesse and poise. Where usually she would arrange herself carefully, hands folded and not a hair out of place, she sits in the frame of the picture lopsidedly and sideways, the whole of it shaking as the dull sound of a fist flat upon metal rings in the background. ]

Lady! Lady—! [ Alayne calls and the answer is a muffled howl, coupled with another bang and the indistinct sound of another voice. ] —Petyr, I—

—I will call for aid, just please— [ Another howl, more dire this time. ] —look to keep her calm.

[ Only now does the image right itself, Alayne's expression pinched with worry though she does her best to smooth her hair back (and with it, some of her fluster). Still, Alayne's speech is quick and worried. ] My dear Tranquility, I beg the question: is there no way to unlock the doors? No matter of mechantry or— or magic that may give us passage back to our rooms?

I was not mindful of the warnings made by others and— only thought to bring warm clothing to those unaccustomed to such bitter climes. But in doing so, I have made my room a cage for my guardian and my animals. [ Again, a howl pierces the air and Alayne flinches visibly. ] Lady howls to be so bereft of me. I am fearful she will harm him or the birds in frustration if salvation does not come quick. So please, I beg you: send aid, if there is any aid to send.

[ Off-screen that muted voice calls out, though it is unclear if it is meant as a response to Alayne's words. She turns when she hears it, reaching for the door, before the video cuts out again. ]

—

[ ooc note; Alayne is locked outside her room at 003 » 005. Other people on the same floor are welcome to note/comment/investigate the sound of a very upset direwolf howling in one of the rooms. It probably sounds pretty disturbing since Lady almost never howls and she sounds equal parts sad and angry.

Action threads welcome, though Isaac Lahey has first dibs to take Alayne away to join her family. ]

There are no mermaids.

[ oh hi tranquility. how's it going. had a lot on your plate these past few weeks? the fog and all that? yeah that must've been awful. ANYWAY, MOVING ON TO REAL PROBLEMS. who even lets this kid talk, he sounds like. twelve.

twelve and incredibly put out by this, thankyouverymuch. ]

There are no mermaids though there is a great deal of water to swim in. And without mermaids, there has been a dreadful lack of murder. I should like this ship much better if there were a proper drowning. [ wow that was not pc at all. peter's tone however, is somewhere between cheerful and petulant without ever quite being just one. somewhere in the background is the faintest sound of leaves being trampled as he stalks about- before he suddenly comes to a halt. ]

Also there are not so many pirates, and without pirates there is not enough stabbing and bleeding. And however could there be adventures without gutting?

Red-Face, can you hear me? [ is he-? y e p. he's totally trying to talk to smiley. ] It is terribly dull without them. If you should keep playing like this, I am sure I shall forget how to have fun!

[ This entry starts with the sound of shrubbery and a black screen. It goes on for a few more seconds, almost a full minute of it with heartfelt cursing interspersed every odd second or so. Next comes the pneumatic sound of the lift doors opening and closing, and a staticky shake of the feed, catching on the tail end of a low goddamnit.

Lo, an Isaac Lahey appears, looking a bit torn up with his dirty shirt but suspiciously not injured. Like at all. At least he didn't catch any of the scheduled "rains", so he's not muddy along with just dirty. ]

Great. Pocket dialing.

So I just went camping. Also I think I have a literal thorn in my ass, but I fell backwards on a bush, so who knows. I'm back, though?

I didn't see the dinosaur. I did find some pretty flower plants, though, like this one.

[ You guys, pay attention. He's holding wolfsbane. Of the non-deadly variety - thanks, Remus, for pointing the shrubbery out that one time - but still wolfsbane. Oh nooo. ]

Anyone knows what flower this is?

-------

[ FILTERED TO LYDIA MARTIN + ALLISON ARGENT ]
so are you guys okay or just avoiding werewolves?

-------

[ FILTERED TO HAYLEY STARK ]
HH, how good are you with adults? this is important.

-------

[ FILTERED TO SERAPHIM DIAS ]
so i'm back. chocolates first, garden later?

[ Why hello there, Tranquility. Starting off on the video feed, as the picture forms, is the redheaded, pyrotechnically-inclined Wildling, otherwise known as Ygritte. She's standing before Jon Snow's bed, upon which several medieval-looking weapons are strewn over the soft comforter.

Normally she'd be smiling, having been kept in a very good mood since the end of last month, but not so now—not after what she's recently seen, and heard that others have seen, in the depths of the ship. Her features are stern, lips pressed together firmly as she nods into the camera. Today, she is all business. ]


Space training's all well and good, don't take me th' wrong way.

But 'fter what we've seen—and I think many of you've seen things that y' normally wouldn't, in the last coupl'a weeks here, not just myself—I think it's time we had some other kind 'f training.

[ She holds this up, to show to the camera. ] This is a dagger. Carved m'self, entirely from ox bone. Meant for close-handed combat, not t' be used as anything but a last resort, if your enemy sneaks up on you. Pref'rably, y'want something with serrated edges such as this, t'do the bulk of the cutting—the edges will make sure that y'get tearing through the skin and sinew. Even if it's not steel and can't cut through bone, you can still give your enemy a fatal strike 'f you aim for his entrails. Kills 'em nice and slow.

[ She sets it down, and picks up another weapon lying nearby. ] This is an axe. Not just any ol' kind 'f axe, neither—this is a battle-axe. [ She grabs the haft, the handle of it, and swings it in the air to demonstrate. ] Arm-length, 'though they can be longer, but arm-length is good for throwin' too if need be. Some o' my clansmen wield one in each hand, for fightin'. Steel bit makes the blade lighter, easier t' swing—but we don't got much steel north o' the Wall, so many times we use wrought iron, which's heavier—but if y'swing good and true, it'll land a heavy blow. Can crack 'n undefended skull, easy.

An' lastly, the weapon you should be starting with, for longer-range—the shortbow. Mine's made o' weirwood, the trees most found o'er the Wall, and in the godswood o' Winterfell, I hear. [ A slight smirk, just a quirking upwards of her lips, before she schools her face seriously once more. ]

[ She notches a grey goosefeather-fletched arrow in it, drawing back the string to demonstrate. ] Only three feet long, rawhide string. Smaller size is common for us spearwives, since we tend t' be a bit shorter than the menfolk; but it's also easier t' maneuver around with, during a hunt, when y'need t' be light on your feet.

[ There's a quick thwap sound, as she looses the arrow and it sings through the air, landing hard in the wall on the far side of the room. ] Shoots fast an' hard, for a small bow.

[ Setting it down again on the bed, she addresses the video feed once more. ] If anyone'd like t' do some one-on-one training with any o' these, I'd be happy t' show you how it's done. [ She cracks a smile. ] Shit, bring your own weapon and we can practice in that ...indoor trainin' field, whatever 's called.

But I think it's important we learn t' defend ourselves, now...all 'f us. That goes for th' younger Starks, 's well. Any babe who's no longer on his mother's teat should be learnin' this.



[ ...because what is decorum, Ygritte. :/ ]

[ the feed starts of shaky, and red due to quinn's hand being over the lens. a few seconds later she is visible in the music room. she still isn't looking great. there are bags under her eyes and her hair is messy and limp. it's also obvious she doesn't realize the camera is on as she moves about the music room.

she sits down at the piano. she's been playing it a lot more since arriving on the ship. maybe because it's something thats both tangible and relatively normal. she plays a few random notes, and then stops and sighs. for a moment it looks like she is going to get up, but then she sighs and starts to play lana del rey's "born to die." it's a stripped down version, and maybe a bit more raw. ]

Feet don't fail me now
Take me to the finish line
Oh my heart it breaks every step that I take
But I'm hoping at the gates,
They'll tell me that you're mine...

[ she continues to play, and sing the song. her voice cracks a bit, but it doesn't stop her. ]

Come on take a walk on the wild side
Let me kiss you hard in the pouring rain
You like your girls insane
Choose your last words,
This is the last time
Cause you and I
We were born to die...

[ she finishes the song, still completely unaware that she's live. when she's done she sighs and then rests her head in her hands. she's tired. tired of the ship. tired of everything that happens on the ship. just so ...tired. ]

Considering the amount of animals up here -- [ that aren't just dogs ] -- I'm starting to wonder if we should figure out a better place to keep them than the oxygen gardens. Anyone got any ideas? My word's not final here, but we may as well brainstorm before we end up with an entire zoo in there.

( filtered to remus lupin and sirius black )

( filtered to tyke )

( filtered to security members )

( filtered to tyler lockwood and jenna sommers )

ooc: I HATE BEING ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE AND I HAD NO INTENTION OF DOING THIS, but I'm actually headed out the door now and won't be able to tag until later this evening. I'm so sorry. :c

[THIS IS A RECORDING OF A WALL THAT HAS BEEN SMEARED WITH WHITE PAINT. well it looks like white paint.

obviously this is very exciting but what's more exciting is a vague humming sound coming from somewhere off-camera. it continues for a few seconds and there's a popping sound, and the once-empty white wall now bears an oval shaped opening outlined in glowing orange.

within that orange portal is a room, and in that room is a bed, and on that bed is Chell (sitting around in her underwear, what a slob) holding a working Portal Gun in her hands. she hops off the bed and strides towards the camera. she walks through the portal and bends down to pick up the device.

she looks...vaguely pleased and shuts the video feed off.]

[the next bit is text.]

avoid blue and orange gel.

trying something.

[ The feed starts. ]

Hey, this is September. Please don't dissect me, thanks.

[ The feed ends.

It starts again several hours later. The boy appears shaken up, actually shaking his head at the screen as he readjusts his posture. His partner's next echoing words: "No one is out to get you, you moron." Apparently he remembered that small lecture over this short range of time, so here he is again. He rubs at his neck that appears pink from pinching. Making E N T I R E L Y sure this still isn't a dream, it seems. Or something worse.

So, he tries to fix his small stumble there. ]

Right, I was kidding before. Hah. Okay, I'm September and don't attack me. Thank you. [ That works, right? ]


( P.S. Permissions post for dream eating, thanks! )

[her voice is soft, accompanied by the quiet sound of bells and chimes just beneath the surface.]

It is quite boring here.

When are the adventures supposed to happen? There are always supposed to be adventures.

[Remus looks pale and has awfully dark circles under his eyes, as per usual, and there's a fresh pink scar along the bridge of his nose-- but that can hardly be seen, because right now Remus is too busy flailing his hands around everywhere. He's in the media library, tucked between two stacks, far too many datapads surrounding him.]

Have you all seen this? Have you all seen this? Look at it! Oh, Merlin, I've never seen such literature-- and it's so extensive! I can't even choose, there's far too many-- Sirius Black, you are in trouble when I see you if you knew about this and kept it from me--

[He pushes his fingers through his hair. It ends up sticking up, but that's all right; he's too busy glancing down and scrabbling through the pile of datapads surrounding him.]

Like-- oh, look at this, it's this one story of a-- well, I can't hardly understand it, it's not of a human life, but I think it's a royal hierarchy on this one planet-- and oh, oh, there was one I found where it was entirely about time travel, and going to the future of a planet, and how he dealt with being a thousand years in the future-- oh, they're all so wonderful, I only wish I had more time--

[He glances up at the camera, manic and delighted-- but, because he's Remus, he bites his lip and tries to calm down a little.]

I can't understand why I'm the only person in here. There has to be at least one other person on this ship who'll be pleased by this public service announcement.

[ there's a funny thing about every psa ric has seen over his device is that there's a distinct lack of explaining things like certain creatures that are on the ship with them. jenna had avoided mentioning anything about the supernatural when talking about the ship at large and her plans, kirk had mentioned people having different feeding needs (he knows jenna is one of them, and damon and— the others) and nathan had mentioned people not having voices. there's a part of him that needs to do something to get his mind off the fact that jenna said she handled klaus. it takes him a while to actually figure out what he wants to say (and if anyone cares to look they'll see notebooks around him testifying to just how much he's poured over them before he even turned on his device). when he finally does say anything it's clear he means business, but at the same time, there's a smile on his face like there's nothing to be alarmed about here. ]

There's a funny thing about stories you get to here at home sometimes. Legends, actually, but you can live your whole life without actually finding out that those legends you've heard are real. I get that a lot of you have never heard of things like vampires or werewolves or witches before, but if there's one thing my life and, I'll be honest, my time on this ship has taught me, is that while they may just be fantasy in your world, they're real in others. And, coincidentally, we have some of each on this ship.

You're scared or angry and you think it's a good idea to toss them off the ship because what if they hurt one of us. I'm going to let you in on a little secret, those vampires I mentioned? All of them are living off of synthetic blood from medical. Even the one that can't is asking for volunteers. None of them are feeding off the general populace. The werewolves? They're contained when they shift and if they weren't, all of us would know and the ones of us who can handle corralling them would. Typically witches don't actively go around killing people nor do they like being particularly evil depending on the type.

I can see why some of you might be scared, and admittedly, first time I met a vampire, it wasn't pleasant at all, but once you get to know some of them, it's not that bad. Supernatural creatures, in general, are only as evil as they want to be. True, some can be evil— [ like klaus ] but the same can be said with any one, honestly. Most can exist with humans, aliens, and anything else on this ship without causing mass panic. Honestly, any of them hiding are only hiding because they know how people can get. I'm not saying you have to be buddy with your resident supernatural creature, but unless they're going around harming the rest of us, there's nothing wrong with treating them like they're shockingly normal.

In the long run, as much as it hurts to imply that we'll be here for even longer, it's better that we don't end up starting fights with each other because someone had the unfortunate luck to be a vampire or a werewolf or a witch on a ship full of people who have been raised to know that they're creatures of the night that they need to run from. And if there is any fights started, there is security here and even though I'm just in gunnery, I would not actually hesitate to play for both of those teams and break up whatever fight happens because we couldn't act like rational adults.

[Count on another ren faire escapee to trigger an accidental video (or...perhaps not so accidental, although he's certainly ignoring the device at first) as he wrecks electrical mayhem in the holodeck. It's an impressive lightning storm, if you go in for that kind of thing, the figure in the center of it blindingly illuminated as electricity arcs and scorches in wide blazing bursts, the triggered sprinkler system doing nothing to quell it.

Eventually, it dies down, and the man in the middle of it with a rather ragged beard takes a swig from a bottle.]

You know, [he says, conversationally; this isn't an accident, then] I think we ought to vote on a name change for this Maker accursed ship. My darling friend Isabela hinted to me once--pirate captain, lovely woman, would rob you blind in a flash--I believe hinted to me that renaming a ship and properly anointing it with--ah, 'dancing' and alcohol could shift a curse. What with all the murder and mayhem and general poor attitudes I believe we're overdue!

I say we call her the good ship Meredith. But that's only after an old friend. Absolutely mad and murderous. I think it's fitting--oh, oh, or The Death Trap! Something spooky and doom inducing, at least. Who's with me?

[He fixes the camera with his most dazzling (soaked, drunk) smile.]

[ 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.

[ It's about that time again. The one where Bells is particularly bored, lacking a little (okay, a lot) in manners and really just can't stand all the messages and videos going around that kind of seem unimportant. Rather than laying in his bed, however, he's just standing in the hall outside his room. ]

Hi, sooo. I've got a few things to get off my chest, and I'm sure since the majority of you are the sharing-and-caring, touchy-feely types, you'll probably listen. If not, that's cool too. Okay. [ Just get on with it. ] Here's the thing:

People disappear all the time. They leave or die or simply vanish without a clue. It happens. No amount of feeling sorry for 'em or anyone else is gonna get you anywhere. They're gone. They're not coming back. The best you can do, if you can even call it that, is hope that whatever's left is at some sort of peace.

Sometimes, that doesn't help either. Stilllll. This ship isn't the worst thing out there. I haven't been here all that long, but I'm pretty sure that works for just about every situation.

[ He takes a breath - this is a particularly long speech for him - and holds up two fingers to indicate his second thought. ]

That being said—I know it's been a while since I've seen this many humans wandering around of their own free will, but seriously. What the fuck are you doing? Shouldn't you be more worried about getting off this boat rather than trying to stay? Can we even do that? 'Cause I'll eventually need some things that don't exist here, and it's kinda driving me crazy.

[ Up comes the third finger. ]

And I don't usually do this either, but uh. Does anyone throw parties? Maybe it should be, well, a thing. How can something this big be this boring? Fuck. I don't get it. [ He drops his hand and just shrugs. ] Yeah. I guess that's all for now.

No.

[ Chase's voice is heard before the pulls the video into view--she's in a hallway on the 001 level, right in front of Sherlock's door. Her eyes are barely seen due to a familiar deerstalker hat that's far too big for her. Her voice is clipped, controlled, though her breathing and actions speak otherwise. ]

I don't want to hear it. Talking like you knew him, like you were good friends. Half of you hated him, the other half barely tolerated him.

Shut. Up.

Leave the grieving to people who actually liked him. Who actually knew him.

[ A flicker of violet in her eyes before she cuts off the feed. She's not budging from the door, either. If you want in you're going to have a difficult time unless you're a Sherlock, a Watson or Neal. ]

[ Maybe you recognize him from his little panic attack after falling naked out of the goo tube. Maybe you've never seen him before in your life. Either way, Cillian's looking into the device, held with the steadiness of a master Skyper, his blue eyes underswept with dark smudges. ]

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.

[ The Bible verse is recited low, steadily, in his thick Northern Irish accent. At the end, one eyebrow twitches up, wry, and he licks his lips briefly. ]

I'm confessing, I was never the type to keep a video blog. Bit weird, being that you can see me and I can't see you. It's just it's, erm, it's different to acting.

[ He tugs the lobe of one overlarge ear, catches that he's digressing. ]

Erm. My point was. Actually, I've a couple of questions, though I've read around a bit, and since I'm getting the impression not all of you are brand new to this circus I was hopin' to get an easy answer. [ And he adds, muttered, wry and almost bitter: ] Or a computer, if you've got one you've not already given to a Suicide Girl.

Right. Questions. Can we smoke on the ship? Does anyone know what the letters O-P-R and the numbers on my arm are meaning, apart from letting me get around places? Am I gonna get in trouble if I share someone else's room? And where do I go to get more insulin?

[ He nods once, a little jerkily. ]

Yeah, that's the lot of them. Cheers.