[It’s that time of ...year? A joint Death post. Only this time the two of them look less than pleased. Well it’s probably easier to tell with the one with skin. The bone Death just ….seems less than pleased. Somehow.]

Recent events have made it clear that there are a few things we need to get out there. First of all, a reminder that we are both Death. And while we’re off duty and somewhat [okay a lot because when your starting point is nigh on omnipotent but let her have her pride] diminished here, that doesn't change the fact that souls are still our area of expertise.

SO IF YOU PERHAPS HAPPEN TO FIND SOME STRAY SOULS, YOU CAN CONTACT US. WE CAN HELP RETURN THEM TO THE PEOPLE THEY BELONG TO.

We want to help you with that sort of thing. Just because we’re off duty doesn't mean we don’t care.

WE CARE A GREAT DEAL.

And there are things no one is meant to meddle in. [She makes meddle sound like a dirty word. As far as she’s concerned, it is.]

THERE ARE RULES. AND THEY ARE THERE FOR REASONS. [Death isn't always fond of these rules but you DO NOT BREAK THEM.]

And just for the record? All of this goes double if you’re at risk of unleashing any sort of zombie hoard on board.

Something happened.

[there's a moment's pause. It's taking a lot to make this post. More than he thinks he's capable of. But after all that happened with dean--]

During the recent…invasion.

[okay. Right. He needs to just get it out and deal with the fallout afterwards. His voice sounds more certain when he continues. As though he's simply reciting a few facts as opposed to potentially gaining a ship full of enemies.]

Those who have been here for some time are likely aware of the existence of a creature from my world called a Hellhound. They are invisible beasts capable or tearing souls from the bodies of the living in order take them to Hell.

A number of them arrived during the recent invasion. But without passage to Hell available to them, they deposited those souls in a place they considered safe. Here, that meant the room assigned to me.

[and that's…where it gets difficult again.]

Souls are one of the strongest sources of power in existence, and my Grace had been depleting for some time. I didn't…think. I—

[okay. Let's try this again.]

There are those here who people may have noticed have been behaving differently since the invasion. They may not be sleeping as much, or they may be capable of pushing their bodies further than they should. They may be less empathetic than they once were.

There is a possibility that they are a victim of this. If that is the case, their souls are with me.

I need to return them.

[another pause, and a final--]

…I'm sorry.

[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.]

[Death's sitting in what is clearly a passenger room, but not decorated in any particularly personal way.]

Hey. Bit of a month we've had, isn't it?

I'm not a trained therapist or anything. [Being older than psychology and all] But my job usually means running into people when they're at their worst. So I've gotten pretty good at listening.

I've grabbed room one on deck nine of the passenger quarters if anyone just wants someone to talk to. Or just wants tea and cookies. I promise that at my age, there's pretty much nothing you can tell me that I haven't heard before at some point. And it's never my place to judge or spill your secrets to someone else.

((OOC: Feel free to answer on the network or just action on down to her "office"))

[There's a friendly face in heavy goth wear on the screen]

Hi, I'm Didi and I work in the Support Department. We do... well, actually, we do a bit of everything. And part of that everything is helping newcomers get settled in. I'm happy to answer any questions you have, but first we have a lot of the basics collected already.

[The feed switches to text]

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.

[*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.]

[Before she signs off, she switches back to video]

Oh, and it's not in the welcome documents, but since it comes up an awful lot, no, this is not the afterlife. Trust me.

[She doesn't like sleeping, she doesn't like needing sleep and she doesn't like what comes with sleep.]

Is there a way to stop yourself from dreaming when you sleep?

[ Simon comes into view unsmiling and still, standing framed by one of the unadorned walls of his room. ]

Those of you who aren't human. Or are more than only human. If you lie low, or pass, or hide—why? [ He's quiet, with an Irish accent and a cadence that's steady verging on mumbly, and intently focused. He's not uncomfortable, not fidgety or uncertain, but he isn't quite at ease, either, in front of a camera. He's only using video to make a display of his bloodless face and white eyes. ] Has something happened to you here? Or is it a habit you've carried from home?

We may not be in the minority, altogether.

[ That's less threatening than we could outnumber them, right? Right.

That's also the end of what he'd planned to say ahead of time; he shifts back from the screen, looks aside, and nearly disconnects before more occurs to him. ]

If you want to talk and don't trust this to stay private, I'm in room two hundred on the third floor. You can... [ Leave a note, he almost said, but he's yet to see paper or pens. He raises his eyebrows like a shrug. ] Paint your answer on the wall.

Or knock. I'll be here.

[Two figures appear on the screen, one is your traditional grim reaper, skeleton, black robe and all that. The other appears to be a perky goth girl. If you’ve seen them before they’re usually together. This time, the one in the black robe starts first and if the voice sounds odd, it’s probably because it’s appearing already heard in your head.]

WE ARE LOOKING FOR SOMEONE TO PERFORM A MARRIAGE CEREMONY.

[There is a slight pause as though he remembers to add.]

FOR US.

[And because it always seems to come up.]

Yes. Really. We, uh, aren’t affiliated with any particular religion.

[Or they’re affiliated with all of them. Take your pick, really.]

We just figure this has gone on long enough and we might as well get on with it.

AND IT SEEMS DOUBTFUL THAT ANY OF OUR FAMILY WILL SHOW UP, SO NOW IS AS GOOD A TIME AS ANY WITH THE RELATIVE CALMNESS WE ARE EXPERIENCING.

[Aka: the ship isn’t on fire or filled with mystery plague anymore.]


[Default tagging order is you-Sandman!Death-Discworld!Death. Or simply call out one of them individually in the header.]

[The video feed shows a very pale face in a rather dim room. A popular solution, most likely.]

There are some things I'll never understand about this ship. How it can make people sick without a stomach.

[THere's a grimace and her next comment is directed down toward her lap.]

Ow, Rincewind, claws.

[She looks back at the camera]

The other being how they can enhance these feelings when I don't have nerves.

[Seriously, having to be so mortal is getting annoying!]

--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!))

[The video transmitter clicks on with a view of the ceiling, until Luke picks it up and rotates it to show his face. He looks tired and perhaps like he only woke up a few minutes ago.]

Does anyone on board know how to get rid of certain dreams? There's one I've been having night after night-- well, I suppose it's more of a nightmare. It's getting harder and harder to sleep.

[transmission is now locked to Anakin Skywalker]

Fa- uh, Dad. [He's still not used to calling anyone that and it's difficult to get into the mindset that he can address someone he hardly knows so casually.] Maybe you can help me. I don't know if there are any Jedi techniques that can help with dreams but someone else was talking to me about meditation. Maybe that would work? I don't know. At this point I'll try just about anything. I just want it to stop.

[ A mixed media message graces the network. First, it's text. ]

there is a void that is dark and the dark has form we all stand upon the edge of the void and we
pray
ask god for forgiveness the audacity of asking god for anything we do not
expect what
will be delivered unto us for we

[ And then it shifts seamlessly into video and sound, a voice picking up where text left off as if there were no difference. ]

...will be rewarded in the end.

[ A woman's voice. Raw at the edges, but holds a serenity at its centre. The video is blurry. Blue. Water. The reflection barely visible is straight on, as if the video were transmitted through her eyes. A halo of pale blonde hair. A gaunt but pretty face.

A queasy turn of motion. The video rights itself, handheld, a blur of an Olympic sized pool, reflective tiles. ]

I know a lot of you have been here for a long time. I haven't. This confinement is vast. We're trapped in the sheer size of space. Empty corridors, an empty galaxy. Monotony that makes you starve for boredom, because excitement never portends anything good. At least I can see anything I want to see.

So tell me.

[ She angles the communicator back to herself, the blue, dappled reflections of the pool casting strange shadows over her face. If anyone is familiar with the tall blonde woman who lives on level 29, you may have noticed she's been missing. A smile, suddenly, one that shows her eye teeth. ]

How do you stop yourselves from going completely crazy?

Fellow passengers of the Tranquility,
The loss of many of our friends in the previous Jump, while already a tragedy, leaves us in a situation of grave peril. Volunteer crew across the board is at an all time low. No one department is flourishing; even Security is working on a skeleton crew, spread further every jump, as new passengers are consigned to higher floors. Medical is overstretched; two doctors and two nurses trading shifts. The flight crew is crippled; there are less pilots on board now than are needed to crew the shuttles should we need to abandon ship. And agriculture, which provides our fresh food and therefore guarantees our survival, is struggling to secure the help of full time volunteers.

I must urge each and every one of you, old passengers and new, regardless of how you feel about your confinement here, or how little you think you might have to offer in way of skills, to give serious thought to joining a department. Skills can be taught, but nothing short of action now will prevent disaster. Our very survival depends on you.

Each of the ship's departments will introduce themselves and link to relevant materials below. Please wait until they speak, or contact them privately to address your questions to them. If you'd like to offer your assistance but don't know where to start, we will help you get settled in the right place. When you're ready, enter your signup information here to be granted relevant clearance. Your tattoo will change to reflect your new position.

OPR
>>> Communications
>>> Flight Crew
>>> Gunnery
>>> Engineering
>>> Support

SCI
>>> Medical
>>> Agriculture
>>> Xenobiology & Genetics
>>> Physical Science

SEC
>>> Security

Remember: We all survive together, or we all die together. The choice is yours.

Please direct your general questions here.

[ Heads of department can respond to their subjects with video or whatever. Otherwise feel free to comment with voice, video or text as though this were a regular post. ]

[backdated to shortly after the jump]

[The feed starts as an audio post, with the occasional clicking of the keys, with long drawn out pauses between them, and the occasional 'hmm' and other such utterances, sometimes of irritation. After a few minutes, there's another pause.] No- that's not right, where are the words?

[The voice is low and hoarse. A smoker's voice, if you will. But it's female. There are a few more noises as Eponine clicks around on her device. Then, her face comes into frame, close-up on her eyes and forehead, her dark eyes narrowed as she looks at the screen, her brow creased.]

No, no, it's supposed to be the words. [She doesn't even realize it's on video yet. It's only when she takes sight of her own eyes that she gasps and pulls the device away from her, so that the audience can better see her face. Pursing her lips, she reaches a hand up and brushes her hair back behind her ear. Then, she smiles at the "reflection".] A strange sort of mirror... [She mutters again, before the screen goes blank.]

[ The whole post is broken up by static, Rebecca's voice quiet, like she's speaking more to herself than to the network. They're not words anyone is going to want to hear, and she doesn't know most of the people on the ship; they're not words necessarily meant for them. But somehow, she feels like she has to share. ]

It's easy, killing. [ At least, in comparison to the other thing on her mind. ] People do it all the time. Maybe not most of the people here, maybe not on purpose -- but people do it. They kill to protect themselves, to eat, for a cause. They even do it on accident. How many times a day do you think you kill insects, back home -- without even trying? It's a lot, I bet.

Dying... that's hard. People are scared of it. People don't want to die; there's more they could do, things that they never got around to. Plenty of people die before their time, on accident or because something or someone killed them.

Dying for someone is the hardest, I think. It's easy to be selfish. It's easy to let someone else do it, to not act. It would have been so much easier for all of us not to walk into the bridge, to try and find things out. And yeah, we could have done a better job. But we didn't do it for no reason.

I'm not saying that, if we die, we died for all of you. I'm not saying that I want to die, for all of you or for one of you. But... if you think about it, later -- if we do die -- then maybe that's how you'll think of it.

[ A pause, then a slight laugh, broken up by static. ]

Or, you know, you call us stupid. Guess we deserve that, too.