[ the camera turns on to reveal sally, up close at first but then she props the communicator up on her nightstand and scoots back to sit cross-legged on her new bed. she lifts a hand to push her hair back behind her ear but seems to think better of it (for bite-scar reasons, not that there's any real way to know that), instead opting to press her palms together with her index fingers to her mouth for a half-second while she thinks of quite what to say. ]

Right, so I know everyone's super busy packing their shit and trying not to live in some weird sci-fi ghost town, but you can totally put that down for a second because I'm seriously bored and we're playing a game.

[ okay? okay. ]

Pretty much everyone has some kind of space booze, right? Good, because there's this game back home - it's called Never Have I Ever. For pretty much the 5% of you who haven't actually heard of it? It's... actually pretty stupid, like for frat guys or thirteen-year-olds who found their dad's stash, but just shh, humor me here. Basically, someone starts off like 'Never have I ever blah blah blah'. Never have I ever ~ridden a bike~, never have I ever... I don't know, jumped off a cliff. Anyway, everyone who has done the Never-Have-I-Ever has to take a shot. Or a sip, or a rain-check for when you do have booze, or even just drink juice or something - it doesn't matter, that's not the point.

The point is, there are apparently way more people on this ship than I realized and I know pretty much nobody, and I know I'm not the only one. Apparently solidarity is a thing, so why not actually get to know each other a little? I mean, beyond that whole A/S/L survey that went around - not that it was bad or anything.

And if you roll in just to, I don't know, shit all over the game or something? Then you're a jerk and a loser and you should suck it up and play anyway. Like, what's the worst that can happen? You forget to be an angry douche for like five seconds?

Anyway, let's tear this shit up.

I can start, this one's easy:

Never have I ever voluntarily left the planet Earth.

[ go ahead and start your own 'never have i ever' top-levels, even if you don't reply to hers. c: ]

Y'know, it really fuckin' sucks to be homesick. I can handle the space craziness 'n all, and the people here are pretty nice, but. Shit. I want to go home, already. I miss my mom, I miss my dad, I miss Pollo, I miss-

[Helios. The oldest of the Crius triplets, the one that couldn't stand the sight of his own family anymore and ran away to use the dark crafts for his own benefit.]

... What does that mean for you when the golden child turns out to be the black sheep of the family? Huh? Must suck to be a parent then.

[Must suck to be stuck with the other two kids you never had much hope for, too.]

How many of you have kids, anyway? I'm guessing none of 'em are stuck in this shithole. Don't look like it's bringing in entire families or whatever.

[... Which in turn, makes him wonder:]

Wait. Shit. Are there families here? Like - did anyone meet, get married 'n have kids? Then they'd be space babies. Holy fucking shit. Has that actually happened?

I'm not sure who thought putting me on a spaceship was a good idea. A remarkably large and by all means physically impossible spaceship, but that's beside the point.

[ The man in front of the camera doesn't seem like much at first glance. He has dark, curly hair that's making its way to gray, wears a well-worn tweet jacket over a button-down, and has a pair of glasses with scratches and bumps on its side. Most people would take him for an average, possibly even homeless, man. Most people would be wrong.

He takes off his glasses and cleans them, taking a moment to look at his surroundings. ] Every inch of this ship must be completely air-locked. [ He muses aloud more than he speaks directly to the camera, and although his brows are furrowed, but for a brief moment, there's also something akin to interest in his eyes as he looks.

He puts back on his glasses and crosses his arms, looking back into the camera. The curiosity is gone, his expression closed off again. ] Here are the important questions: who brought me here? Why?

[ He looks down, and when he looks up again, there's a glimmer of excitement shining through his walls. ] ...and is there a laboratory on this ship?

[ Peter almost wished this was the first time he had ended up snatched onto a strange spaceship and woken up in a pod. Hell, he wished this was the first time it had happened in the last six months, but that wasn't the way his life worked. At least this time it wasn't members of his father's army that had been sent to snatch him up.

Today, Peter's face was going to grace the Tranquility with a touch of amusement. Sure, this wasn't the best of situations, but it wasn't the worst, either. ]

First thing's first, everyone- I'm gonna get the basics out of the way and introduce myself: the name's Peter Quill and in some parts I'm known as Star-Lord. No, I didn't pick the name for myself. [ A beat. ]

I would have gone with "James," to be honest. [ Were people laughing? ]

Anyway, what do you all remember before waking up here? Anything like cracks in the fabric of reality? Seriously, if you saw tentacles, we might have a problem that we shouldn't be having. [ As opposed to problems they should be having, but hey- he went to a lot of trouble to make sure the tentacled horrors of creation didn't come creeping through. ]

And on a final note, if you're with the Spartoi, the Shi'ar, the Kree, or the Badoon: make sure to keep your flarking keesters out of trouble, okay? I don't wanna have to keep on playing cleanup after you guys while we're all stuck here.

[ The camera is met with an angry-looking Kate, one angle of her jaw flexing as teeth clench. Her forearms are folded on the tabletop in front of her and she leans her weight onto them. The way she launches right in gives the impression she's been holding back this bad mood for a while before giving in. ]

Okay, so first of all, whoever stole my bow at the jump: bring it back. It's a cheap piece of crap anyway and it's not like we have arrows laying around but it's the only one I have here and there aren't any more in the armory and it's not exactly an inconspicuous weapon so what are you even going to do with it without me finding you?? Seriously, just bring it back before you damage it somehow and I promise I won't hit you with it no matter how tempted I am.

And speaking of people around here being total assholes [ Because whatever, she's started now and trying to make her no-hitting promise sincere just has the frustration shunting off into another topic, ], is someone turning people into animals seriously allowed now? That's just a thing we're cool with, going to let that slide on by, no brig time involved? [ She's not generally a very animated speaker but her hands twist off the table into the air into a 'seriously?' gesture. ] FYI never annoy this Gold guy because I guess he can just turn you into a cat if he feels like it and nobody will ever do anything. If I disappear after posting this be on the look-out for new pets wandering around or something. On second thought maybe that'd be a nice change from this place's bullshit for a while. Gold, if you're watching, just make it a dog or a bird or something, alright? Cool.

[ It's hard to make a dramatic exit on a touch-screen device but she pushes the STOP button as abruptly as she can anyway. Hawkeye out. Nope, wait, spoke too soon. It starts up again after a second just long enough for her to shout: ]

And bring me back my god damn bow!

[ Okay, now it's done. ]

--ill you stop that? You're all about discipline, right? How about you focus and keep your fingernails away from your back? You've just about made the raw skin bleed again... man, those stitches need off, don't they?

[the voice post opens abruptly with an interjection from a voice that some people might recognize as one of the newest comms specialists on the ship, so that this might almost appear to be some kind of accidental recording, before a second voice, far less familiar (except to maybe, like, two or three people-- i'm looking at you bran) answers in something akin to a snarl.]

Don't lecture me, you're not my father.

[which is pretty much the most juvenile thing damian could have said, but give him a break okay, the increased sensory thing was already playing havoc on his hyper-vigilance and then his stitches decided to start itching like mad.

he continues after a moment though, tone a little more measured, in the way that gritting your teeth can be considered measured.]

I am perfectly aware they need to come out, which is precisely why i turned this [probably a gesture at the communicator, but since this is voice, nobody gets to see it] on. So would you shut up for two minutes so I can find someone to take care of this, or would you prefer to cut them out yourself?

[audible face palming can be heard over the connection before the first voice cuts in with a little more purposeful direction this time.]

Guys, and ladies, we really need somebody with good medical knowledge for follow-up of extensive surgery. Familiarity with Tranquility's medical resources is a plus. Any takers?

[and then once more from the sullen child in the corner:] Somebody who understands the meaning of discretion.

Sure. But I'd still prefer not seeing that get infected or anything. So medical skills still higher priority.

[today's network post is brought to you by the letter 'd'. for dick and damian are dumb.]


((ooc: red is dick, green is damian, both will probably answer!))

[Summer is, as always, beside Bran, when the video begins. The great direwolf--nearly as tall as Bran, even when both are seated--favors the video feed with a calm and even stare, as if he knows that he is being recorded.

Bran, meanwhile, chooses to smile.]

I am Bran Stark, and this is my direwolf, Summer. His sister and his brother both tread these halls as well. They are not tame, and they are not pets--but they will not harm those of the ship, not without good cause. We have many that are new to the Tranquility, who do not know our wolves so well. Should you have complaint against them, call upon those of House Stark, and we will answer for them.

[Official business done, Bran takes up his device, so he can turn the video to his robotic legs. They look a little like metal braces with heavy straps, encasing his crippled legs.]

But this is what I truly wanted to ask about. These are robotic legs. They were made for me by a friend, who was clever and good and true. He knew much of robotics, but he is no longer here.

I would ask those of this ship if there are any aboard that have knowledge of robotics, that could craft legs like these. And, if there is someone with this knowledge--I would ask to speak with them, to commission work much like this. Though it would be a gift, I would find some trade to make for the work that would be done.

[When Bran turns the video back to himself, Summer has climbed onto the bed behind him. The direwolf takes up nearly the entire bed, but is settling down, curled behind Bran like the curve of a chair. Bran smiles again, this time more quietly, pleased, and he rests his free hand atop Summer's head, like an armrest.]

I have been having strange dreams of late. Not the strangest I have ever had--but strange. I wonder if we dream when we are in the pods, when the Jump happens. I know that there are those that have had dreams... but surely everyone must dream, and only a few remember. I wonder what those dreams are.

( [locked to arya & robb... & gendry)] )