[ for optimal viewing pleasure, please see the following and allow to run in the background as you enjoy this recording. though the only thing currently in the feed is an angled shot of the treetops in the gardens, this is not an accidental video. there's rustling in the background, like something's moving fast through the leaves coming closer, and it is moving.

a couple seconds later, myfanwy comes flying overhead, a small black shape on her back. it might not be terribly difficult to discern what it is, but don't worry if you miss it, because the pteranodon makes a screech and a sharp turn, sending the shape tumbling off her back towards the device.

river rolls over the feed when she hits the ground, dressed in her tq crew uniform with the legs cut into shorts, hair tied up in a messy bun and hands covered with fingerless black gloves that hardly fit her at all. sky-diving experts or anyone with military training might notice her roll is perfectly controlled to minimise damage, and when she comes back into view, her eyes are wide with adrenaline but she doesn't seem particularly bothered by her fall. ]

Test five. Flight successful. Notes: need to meet higher altitude, consider construction of a harness; ask permission first. No hard turns.

[ she looks away for a second and blinks. ]

I skinned my knees.

[ oops? that's all she says before cutting off the feed. a second later, she attaches a text message. ]

needed:

• driving goggles ( 1 )
• cowboy hat ( 2 )
• chocolate ( dark pref. )
• colors ( blue unnecessary )
• tour guide

accepting applications for the last. list name, ident, and qualifications below. willing to trade goods and services.

[ namely: simon's services and stolen goods. double oops? river's permission post is, as always, right yonder with all the necessary warnings and what have you! ]

I hope you're all well rested after that little experience. Caffeine is good for the post-jump blues, so if any of you missed my black coffee and a sit down in the jump bay, I'd recommend you get on that now. And for those of you who are a little more delicate, I'll reassure you--the jitters are a lot easier to deal with than the alternative.

My name is Nathan Petrelli; I was Senator for the state of New York. Here, I manage the Communications Department. If you have any skills with computers, managing databases and information, or no skills at all, and want to learn how to use the computers here in exchange for a nine-to-five, you can show up to our office on 001 and I'll give you the tour. Just look for the door with Communications stenciled on the outside. We're understaffed presently, and I'd be grateful for any help we can get. Just sign up, we'll find a place for you, and if things don't work out you can move elsewhere with my personal recommendation.

We'll be resuming classes Tuesday and Thursday afternoons tentatively. That's day 2 - tomorrow, and day 4, students will get a schedule. We do everything from learning about the ship and how to use the holodecks and communicators to learning to cook, sew and for the older students, fire guns, etc. Two afternoons, that's all I can offer, but the youngsters on board are usually welcomed into the various departments and mentored by experienced adults in the fields of science, flight, medicine; whatever you want. I can put you in contact with the right people if you have something specific in mind. If you're a teacher--well, it should be obvious that I could do with the help. Two afternoons isn't much at all.

I'm also responsible for the outside chapel in the Oxygen Gardens, open for members of every faith without restriction. A memorial wall there lists the names of people who have been and gone, and a book is open for anyone to leave a message. In the case of an emergency, the Oxygen Gardens is the safest place on the ship. A base of operations will usually be set up down there. If things go awry, it's a good place to be. We have a Sunday service every seventh day. Today is day one, if you're wondering.

What else is there...? Listen attentively to the information you read, stay in the common, well lit areas of the ship, don't eat anything that smells as bad as it looks. Try not to go space crazy. Shuttle bay has the only window you can see out of, if you're desperate to see it for yourself. Take care of your fellow passengers, and keep on Tyke's good side.

I'm done talking for now, but you're welcome to ask any questions you might have, for instance 'When do I get to go home?' That's always a good one.



( Filtered to Tyke; comms encryption )

[The feed flickers on to a young dwarf sitting at the base of a tree, the beginnings of an arrow in one hand as he went about sanding it down. The green of the oxygen gardens is something of a comfort to Kili nowadays, when he’s not at the forge, so it’s really no surprise to find him here.]

I was wondering if anybody would be welcome to bartering something for feathers I could use as fletching. I’ve a few left from before I arrived, but I would like to get a few more if I could. [A pause, head tilting.] I've not much on me, but the offer my brother and I made in our last message still stands, and we’ve managed to get our forge running. I know there were a few who had asked of it.

--That’s all for now, I suppose.

[Kili smiles brightly to the camera, and takes a moment to attempt to filter the feed away from the populace, managing it after a try or two.]

( PRIVATE; Filtered to Netherlands )

[the video opens up to Nill, and Tate leaning over her shoulder. they’re both wearing crowns of woven flowers, pinks and yellows and whites. Tate grins, all teeth and delight when he sees it’s recording.]

Look what Tate showed me how to do. [and she gestures to the daisy crown on her head.]

We kind of got carried away. [Tate says, and he leans back enough to hold up a handful of joined flowers, they’re all of varying lengths, but they’re all made of the same general flowers. nill smiles, and reaches up to gently adjust tate’s flower crown, which has somehow managed to go crooked. her attention then returns to the comm.]

We are on the second level of the gardensfi

[her typing is interrupted when her horse suddenly clops up behind her and starts trying to snuffle at the crown on her head. she sort of rolls to the side in an attempt to get away, dropping the comm as she goes. she’s doing her silent laughing thing, shoulders shaking slightly even if no sound leaves her mouth.

Tate’s smile, if possible, widens, and for a moment he looks like nothing more than a fond older brother. even if that laugh is silent, her joy is clear. he turns his gaze back to the screen.]

The second level of the gardens, if anyone wants to come up here and get lei’d. We’re lacking a beach but hey, beggars can’t be choosers.

[whatever else he was going to say is cut off when the horse comes back over, clearly favoring the stationary target over the one trying to get away, and Tate laughs before he cuts the feed to direct his attention to fending off their attacker.]

[ooc; typing is nill, and purple is tate.]

[ since the elevators malfunctioned, arthur's returned to dressing in full armour constantly, and so he's clad now in chain and plate as he addresses the screen. he's sweaty, dirty-blond hair plastered to a forehead pinkened with exertion, though his breathing is even. ]

Evening, Tranquility. Back home, in Camelot, I spent a large amount of my time training the knights; and with their honour and devotion, as well as their skills, I honed them into the finest warriors in the realm.

[ there's something rose-tinted about that nostalgia. he's right at the point where he's starting to forget to miss camelot, sometimes, and he's clinging onto thoughts of it fiercely. ]

Though my men are not with us, and I'm lacking an armoury—

[ some amusement in his tone at that. ]

—I thought perhaps I'd extend the offer to any who wish to learn to defend themselves. You'll be assigned training tasks to improve your general fitness and understanding of strategy, and I'll teach you the sword. I'm skilled in plenty of weapons, but not many of them can be substituted with sticks.

[ and then he draws his blade from its scabbard, twirls it in his hand with idle showiness. ]

The amount of time I'll have available will obviously depend on the level of interest. I've already got a couple of pupils, but I welcome more, so long as you're willing to work hard and obey orders. You may think it absurd, but a blade never runs out of bullets.

[ obviously nobody's told him about blasters. ]

[ The video feed starts, and a young red-haired woman appears. She's outwardly calm and collected, but to some who might know her personally—or are just a little more observant—there is an edge of worry etched in her green eyes. ]


...So, from what I've gathered, this is obviously a spaceship, and we're all passengers on it. My name is Jesse Reeves, but I don't suppose that actually means anything to any of you listening.

But what I want to know is, why me? Why was I chosen for this? I'm... [ she laughs a bit, self-effacingly ] ...the farthest thing there is from a space traveler or astronaut. I'm really more of an indoor girl, you know, cooping myself up in a library and reading everything I can get my hands on, voraciously. I'm not a pioneer, I'm not a mechanic, I'm not even really very much of a survivalist, and I don't think I can really benefit from this kind of...extra-terrestrial experience.

So, if I could, I'd like to go home now. [ a soft clearing of her throat. ] Please.

[The video clicks on and there is a--thing. She looks sort of kind of mostly human, except she's got donkey ears, corkscrew Homestuck-troll horns, slit-pupil cat eyes and a mouthful of sharp, neon teeth. Yeah. Once the video is on and she's sure it's broadcasting, she waves at the camera.]

Hullooooo! Camille here, resident newbie! I'M BACK BITCHES! Is what I'd say if the grand old multiverse could have been arsed to send me to an alternate world that’s actually, yanno, familiar and all! I’m certainly back in space, on what, a spaceship this time? Actually traveling somewhere, it is? And no horrendously bitchy AI this time around, well, not that I’ve seen as yet! Kudos to the multiverse! Oh, and kudos to you good folk, having a good and proper welcome post for us newbies! Right nice of you chaps! Never did get around to that in the last place I was at.

But anyway, let me tell you right now, space chumps! There had best be a place for me to open my café--again--or I’m eating the entire ship! Oh suuuure, they say it’s too big for that, but that’s just because they have never met a hungry shapeshifter before, hu hu!

Oh, yes, let’s just get that out of the way right now: I’m a shapeshifter! A shapeshifter who is also a baker! It’s alright to swoon, I really am that amazing! Best deal with it, sweeties~

[It's not very often that Asato makes a post to the network, preferring to read and hear what others have to say, offering bits of awkwardly-worded input when he thinks it could be useful. He's not one to draw attention to himself, and though it might seem difficult for a relatively big guy with cat ears and a tail, he tends to manage it too.

He's just a quiet guy minding his own cat business, part of which he's spent in the gardens, carefully tending to something each and every day. The result of nearly a year of watering, trimming, checking and double-checking, is what he moves the video feed to quickly after he sees the feed is on, offering only a quick glimpse of his face.]

I have--these.

["These" being a little pile of some kind of fruit. They're somewhere between a peach, an apple, and a currant, the size of a baseball at their largest, ranging from magenta to purple in color. He can't show it through the feed (much as he wishes he could!), but the scent that's coming from them is a strong mix of sweet, sour, and spicy.]

Kuims. Is what they're called. I planted them. I can't eat all of them, but I don't want them to go bad. [Which is why he's happy to offer some to whoever wants to stop by in the gardens and try them out.]

They're really good. In my world, lots of people like these the best. [A great advertiser he is not, but he's trying, and his enthusiasm is genuine.]

Please come have some. I don't need anything in return for them. Um... They're good in cakes, too. [That...should wrap things up, he figures, so the feed gives a shake, comes back to his face one more time, and clicks off.]

[ the device is balanced on robb's knee, with grey wind at his side, circling around out of sight and then back in on robb's other side, all sleek muscle and bulk, a counterpoint to how lean robb's grown, newly shorn hair a riot of curls, despite his attempts to smooth them. eventually, he reaches a hand, brings grey wind to heel, the great wolf settling as robb begins to speak. ]

I'm aware there are greater things to consider than the whims of a king, but I would ask your indulgence in this instance. Things have gone quiet, for the moment, so perhaps this is the best time to pose such a question.

[ there's a rumble from grey wind, a shift and scrape of claws on the metal. robb runs a hand over his head, settles behind the ears. ]

I would hear what was known of skinwalkers and shapechangers, if there are those aboard who would be comforable speaking of such subjects with me. Anything you wish to speak of, even legend and lore. I'd be grateful for it, good people of the Tranquility.

[ Hello network, this would be the first time you've seen Annabeth wide-spread, but she figured hanging around for two months was enough of a 'grace period' before she could show her face.

So here she is. Kind of tired, kind of going a little crazy. That's what you get for having demi-god ADHD powers and very little to expend your energy on. ]

I spoke with someone about this before, but I was curious- [ Her voice is fairly steady, maybe a little more serious sounding than she means it to. ] Since there are people from so many different universes and worlds, I was wondering. Do you have your own versions of...gods, I guess?

I'm not speaking religiously. Not necessarily. Mostly I mean beings of power. Greater powers than you'd have normally populating the world. Back home, we had...stories. Of Greek and Roman Gods. There were others, too, but those tended to take precedence in my life. [ Understatement? I'd say so. ] I'm just curious if there were any other variations out there. What they could do, whether or not they did it in the first place...

[ Annabeth trails off, her eyes drifting off to the side for less than a moment before they're back again, renewed with a sense of purpose. ]

I'd also like to speak with anyone on board who used to be these...beings. I don't want to call them gods, because that might mean something else in other places, but I'd like to know if you're here, and what possible changes have occurred since coming on board. It'd be appreciated.

[ And then she nods, having made her point, and shuts off the feed. ]

[Anne's face isn't one that shows up over the network very often, if she can help it. But right now, it feels necessary to break out of her usual norm of being as antisocial as possible, now that she has a reason to reach out to people]

I don't know if anyone's going to be able to help with this, but I can't risk not asking. I'm looking for someone.

[She pauses, and takes a long moment to just breathe. Internally, she's cursing herself for not making this a text, because it's a challenge to keep her composure right now. She chews on her bottom lip and then manages to pull herself together enough to speak again, though her voice is shaky]

I know at least some of you know him. His name is Murphy Pendleton. He's middle aged, around average height, I'd say. Brown hair. He has a scar on his right cheek. He's been missing for a few days. If anyone's seen him, or knows where he might be...

[Then her voice breaks and she abruptly switches the feed to text]

Just let me know. I need to find him. His number is OPR » 006 » 073, so you'll know him when you see him.