27 May 2015 @ 07:17 pm
[The video camera settles on Galadriel, in Medbay, rather than her usual broadcast location of the Oxygen Gardens. It’s an oddly sterile, modern looking background for her, but somehow, it works; she seems confident and utterly at ease. She greets the camera with an official little nod and begins to speak.]
Many of you know me already. For those of you who do not, I am the Lady Galadriel and today I speak on behalf of the Medical Department.

I am certain that recent trend of headaches and related symptoms have been missed by no one. The medical staff have wasted no time in doing research on these symptoms and we have come to some conclusions, both as to the cause of these ailments and how they might be healed.

It appears- [For the first time, she seems mildly uncomfortable, as if the world of MRIs and CT scans is still something slightly alien to her. At least William is behind the camera if she gets a question she absolutely can’t answer.] - it appears as though the head pains are caused by small injuries to the brain, which increase seemingly without reason. We have found nothing effective in preventing this, save one thing- physical contact with another. With this, the injuries cease and healing may begin.

I need not say, I assume, that ignoring such symptoms is foolhardy beyond reason and may even be fatal. I urge you all to take care and invite you to ask whatever questions you may have. I will answer them to the best of my abilities.

[ooc: Anyone who wants their character to go into a coma feel free to miss this announcement due to network glitches or be trapped away from others with the elevators and navigation glitching starting May 28th, etc, etc.]
21 March 2015 @ 03:06 pm
[The woman on the screen is probably a familiar face to many by now, even if she does rarely make announcements of her own over the network. Today, however, she looks a bit different; her hair is braided and bound up in a circle about her head and she wears a much plainer gown than usual. Those familiar with it may also recognize her location- the forge.]

It occurs to me that it has been sometime since we have had a proper smith here. I cannot claim to be as skilled as some who have plied their trades here in the past, but I have been trained in the art of metalwork. If there are those who would benefit from such skills you should not hesitate to contact me. I particularly encourage any who remain unarmed to seek a means of defense, whether it be from me or elsewhere. The Tranquility is an unpredictable and volatile place; it is best to prepare for difficult circumstances before they arise.

I am called Galadriel- or Artanis- and you may find me in the gardens more oft than not, should you prefer to speak in person.

Galo Anor erin radeg- May the Sun shine upon your path.

[Action for the forge]

[She doesn't return to the garden right away, though. If she's going to offer to metalwork, she should probably brush up on it. It's been a long time since she's worked a forge, after all, and while her elven memory means that she hasn't forgotten anything, it does not guarantee that it's fresh in her mind. There's something to be said for being in the habit of things- for muscle memory and instinctive movements. Those would take time to build back up.

So she practices, concentrating deeply. It might be a strange sight for any who walk in- an elven lady hammering away at a piece of metal, sweat dripping down her brow. But she is Noldor- and Noldorian royalty, at that; there was scarcely a member of her family who did not have some experience with this. It was natural, in a way, and oddly comforting once she fell into a steady rhythm and pace. So absorbed was she that it takes her a few moments to realize that she has company. Once she does, she pauses, glancing up at the doorway.]

Come in, if you wish. You will not disturb me.
01 February 2015 @ 04:37 pm
[ so that was...some shit, huh?

in light of just how grim everything had gotten, it seems the perfect time to roll out a little something to lighten the mood, and river has been rehearsing for at least half an hour prior to actually addressing the network.

(it needs to be perfect, okay? delivery is everything in comedy)

I have a joke. ..More than one, but one for now. We're all very tired.

[ she clears her throat a little - bless she's actually kinda nervous - before continuing, a little rustling following as she even sits up straighter. ]

How many existentialists does it take to screw in a light bulb? [ pause for effect ] Two - one to change the light bulb, and one to observe how it symbolizes an incandescent beacon of subjectivity in netherworld of cosmic nothingness!

[ ok you can all laugh now ]
12 November 2014 @ 08:43 pm
[Hannah has learned, accidentally or experimentally, appropriate camera distance. Look, it's her whole face, complete with big hair, and those long pointy ears. She--not quite grins, but, well, she looks amused, if not a bit smug.]

Separate of the whole bullshit kidnapping thing, these little faceboxes are fucking cool.

But, [she looks more critical now, kind of squinting] really seems like there's a ton of humans. Where's, you know, the rest of the world?

[Was she kidnapped to fill a quota or something? Because that's just awkward. Maybe they should throw her back and get a better elf.]
02 September 2014 @ 04:10 am
Hi. Hi. William from Medical again.

[After the blurry bulge of his nose backs out of too-close soft-focus, William looks worse than last time, if not nearly as bad as some. His eyes are very glazed, very bright blinking at approximately thirty percent the speed that they were in his video with Peter, which is a thing that happens to humans when they're very tired. (He is, finally.) In contrast, he's talking proportionately louder than he was before. Exhaustion doesn't preclude excitement.] Unfortunately, we've yet to come up with any kind of a fucking cure. However, we now have some understanding of the etiology of this shit been plaguing us the past few weeks.

Nanites seem to be causing both the shipwide malfunctions and the disease. Not the ones swimming 'round in our tattoos; a foreign vector I'll refer to as--
[the unrehearsed nature of this becomes immediately obvious. Sadly Peter Petrelli is elsewhere occupied with being in charge.] --nanorobullshit. Fortunately, we've got exactly one little bugger among the passengers has reported knowledge and abilities related to nanotechnology, and he's this bloke right here. Aye aye.

[Shake and swivel camera to what would appear to be a pale-looking teenager bearing a pleased, toothy grin.]

Hey, so I'm Rex and I can talk to machines. [He gives a little salute with one fist and lets that info sink in. Yeah, it's awesome.] I checked out my ship-nanites as soon as I arrived-- there was only one type at that time. Now, the sicker people are, the higher their concentrations of this second nanite. The mutations seem to be the ship-nanites' attempt to heal and protect us. [Got it? Good.]

If anyone else on board knows about nanites, I can fill you in on what I know.

[Another tremble and blur, and the comm device turns back to William.] We are still in need of a solution, but we hope that this information can guide your, [he blinks hard. Vocabulary fails him.] shit.

Peter Petrelli has stated that the Medical Bay is open to investigation, though as usual access to sensitive equipment is locked to personnel. Charles Xavier is heading up the Xenobio side of things, including other laboratories and experimental treatments. Kate Bishop is heading up investigation into the physical source of this bullshit, and Mr. Luke Skywalker is presently our tech consult. Heather Mason will probably feed you. Refer to the network for details. Also anybody been vomiting in their sleep needs to be positioned on their side. Laters.

[Attached are: bastard-fucking-bullshit-new-nanites-micrograph.4345 and original-nanites-micrograph.4344]

OOC Information )
Current Music: zzzz
22 August 2014 @ 11:45 am
[Bilbo appears on the video feed looking a bit worn around the edges but otherwise cheery and none the worse for wear. What do you expect, though, he's Bilbo Baggins? The world could be falling apart around him and while he would be concerned for his home and his friends, he'd be taking it in stride all whilst fussing about the state of his waistcoat and how much trouble the cleanup is going to be afterwards. Because that's who Bilbo Baggins is - an indomitably positive person through and through.

And so while quite a number of folk are bemoaning their situation at the moment, Bilbo Baggins is looking forward. And Bilbo Baggins has a plan.]

I say. This is quite a spot that we find ourselves in at the moment, eh? Dreadful business, this sickness stuff. I tell you what though, whenever I'm feeling under the weather, I find that there's nothing better than a good spot of tea to help clear the sinuses, soothe the throat, and cheer the spirits! Well, that and sitting in front of the nice warm fire back home in my hobbit hole with a good book - who knows what has happened to my nice little house in my absence. [Get to the point Bilbo.]

In any case, while I cannot extend an invitation for quite such an affair, I can at least offer some comforts! [He claps his hands together, and then proclaims:] I have made tea! A great deal of tea. And it is going to go to waste if I don't find at least a fair number of you to share it with. Misery loves company, yes? I can make deliveries! Who's up for a cup?
08 July 2014 @ 11:33 pm
[Right after Marissa's message:]


[Her voice is soft, almost desperate, and for once she looks like a vulnerable teenage girl.]

Please don't listen to her.

[She just wanted some peace on the ship and now this.]

(ooc: even if you've only talked to her once, if it was friendly, you count.)
08 July 2014 @ 10:16 pm
[Marissa turns on the video the day after the jump. She clears her throat, turning the device so it frames her face just so. The first thing that's obvious is that she has a gnarly black-eye, courtesy of Hanna. The background is just a wall with no distinctive marks. It also may be strange that she's wearing dark gloves. Another strange thing is, she might look a lot like your resident psychic elf and queen of England...

She smiles, and to some it might be a reassuring smile, but to some others, it might be a little off. Her accent is Southern, and her voice is authoritative.
] Hello. My name's Marissa Wiegler. I wanted to explain the debacle that was yesterday.

There is a girl on this ship. Her name is Hanna. She is a very disturbed girl. Her father has brainwashed her into thinking I would do her harm, turning her into a deadly weapon for his own selfish benefit. She is highly dangerous and manipulative. I don't recommend talking to her or interacting with her at all.

She has already assaulted me once. It won't happen again. I will be in hiding until I can be sure that I will be safe. Do not be fooled. She was genetically altered to be the perfect soldier.

Trust me. And stay safe.

[And she turns off the feed. For the curious, this is the ongoing thread of the 'debacle'.]
18 June 2014 @ 12:34 am
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?
[The feed opens to Luke's face, streaked, red, and blotchy. He's obviously been crying and he attempted to clean up, but his efforts weren't quite good enough to hide it. Around him is the quiet privacy of his room where he's been hiding.]

I need help.

I need advice.

Er--... I don't even know what I need exactly. I just-- I need to talk to somebody.

[He pauses to take a deep breath and gather his thoughts, running a hand through his hair.]

My best friend woke up from a pod for the first time yesterday. He doesn't know it yet but in the time I come from he's dead. He was killed in a battle. I had to lie to him a bit and--... I don't know what to do now.

He's probably going to find out eventually and I don't think it's right to keep hiding it from him, either. If I know he'll find out sooner or later I'd want it to be from me, you know? Not-- not from someone who might not be as careful about it, or--

I just... I don't know. Then sometimes I think that maybe it'd be better if he never finds out. Maybe he never has to know. He can spend his time here without having to worry about his future because I don't even know what that would--

[Luke decides to not go any further with that thought tangent. Imagining his friend becoming an empty shell and living out the rest of his time on the ship like that isn't something Luke wants to spend any more time thinking about.

He gathers himself, sniffs, and sits up straighter, pushing his shaggy hair out of his eyes. He wants to go about this as objectively as possible, considering only Biggs' feelings on the matter, but it's difficult to near impossible to keep his own feelings in check.]

Anyway, I want to hear from someone who's been in the same spot. Would you want to know? Or would you rather never find out? And then from the other side of things, have you ever had to talk to someone about this kind of thing? Let me know... if you can. Thanks.
06 April 2014 @ 12:40 am
[ This isn't going to be sweet but it will be short, courtesy of your resident Prince Not-So Charming. ]

There are now three flets, which pass as treehouses, in the gardens. These are homes and if anyone is seen nearing them to gain access, they will be shot on sight. I assure you, an arrow is far more difficult to extract than a bullet. [ #EXPERIENCE, urgh. ] Additionally, you will find the Elven quotient aboard the ship is now officially in charge of garden-based security.

That means we need not apologise if your actions force us to maim you.

[ Can you hear someone sharpening a knife? Humming? Sounds a lot like Legolas in the background, right? Someone pissed off the Space Elves. ]

Thranduil is indisposed and has appointed myself in his stead. If you have any concerns which fail to be entirely moronic in nature, you may bring them to me.
15 December 2013 @ 01:26 pm
I'm sure you must all see a lot've messages like this.

[ The man who appears is one who has appeared on the network before -- soft-faced and earnest, anxiety tested in the lines next to his eyes and a direct sort of stare that manages not to miss the tiny camera embedded in the device he's holding. Still, he smiles, just a little.

His address is slow and not exactly formal, just considered. ]

My name is Charles Xavier, and I'm newly arrived. You'll have to forgive me if I ask any questions you've heard before, though I'm doing my utmost to gather what I can on my own. I believe I've got the basic picture, although any advice is of course appreciated.

What I would most like to know is how many are here that had some sort of... [ He hesitates. ] ...gift. A natural ability of some kind, beyond the usual human faculties. A conversation would be of great interest to me.

Thank you.
10 November 2013 @ 06:36 pm
[ the camera comes on to show guinevere in the gardens, who, even after so much time on the ship still looks a little ill at ease on camera. it could be the technology or perhaps she's just modest and what she's about to do may seem otherwise, in a way. Biting her lip for a moment, she quickly gathers her words to speak--]

I know that there are many that are... not used to the clothing that ship may provide us. [wait, she's going to scramble not to insult anyone] Not that it is poorly made or unseemly, only that-- [ she lets out a breath, reminding herself to take a breath and that having a task is better than sitting around doing nothing.] What I mean to say is, I wish again to offer my services as a seamstress to any who would require new clothing or clothing that is better suited to what they are accustomed.  I have many fabrics to work with or I can alter clothing you already have.

[ she offers a gentle smile before she seems to remember--] Oh, and my name is Gwen, if you wish to contact me.
09 November 2013 @ 05:39 pm
[The feed begins with a sigh from England's end. Though he can't be seen, he runs a hand through his hair, stretches his arms out, feels several pops in his spine and wonders when his bones will really creak like France's or like, God forbid, China's.]

Didn't realise I'd have a new iPhone upgrade so soon or, dunno... find myself on this bloody ship.

I-- I'm not really one for blogging or regular broadcasts as if I need validation by them; not, ah, not that there's anything wrong with blogging or broadcasting regularly, it's just not for me.

[Having gotten that awkward gem out of the way, England clears his throat.]

At... at any rate, I suppose introductions are in order unless of course we've already met. Waking in a gravity couch is no excuse for poor etiquette! There's a lot of things that aren't an excuse for bad manners, really...

I'm here now and I'll have to make the best of it, that's all.
03 November 2013 @ 09:13 pm
[The video begins with a view of Galadriel and Thranduil standing side-by-side in the gardens. Galadriel gives a small, formal nod before addressing the camera]

Well met. What we would say is pertinent to all who reside aboard the Tranquility and, while we are known to some of you, we are certainly not known to all. It seems, therefore, that introductions are in order.

I am Galadriel, Lady of Lothlórien and this [A gesture to the man standing next to her] is Thranduil, Elvenking of Mirkwood.

For a month, the both of us were kept in an extended sleep and visited by a strange dream- one which we both believe to hold truths about the past of this ship and implications about its present.

[Thranduil's eyeline drops slightly below camera-level.]

In the dream, two men stood alone in a long hall. A door was behind them, with a sign that read 'Biolab.' One of the men stood with hands in pockets and his weapon on the floor although the other warned him he would be sent to the brig if anyone noticed him so. They both said it was very cold, to the point of discomfort. They blew on their hands.

They called one another Ruiz and Nichols. Ruiz was the one with his gun on the floor, I remember, but Nichols was his superior. Nichols began to set his weapon down when a terrible sound, one I haven't the words to describe for I have heard it not outside this dream, came from the door. It did not seem natural to me--a machine of a sort we do not have in Middle-earth is my guess. Following it was--

[Thranduil's eyes are completely hollow and glassy, face expressionless.]

--a scream. A scream that made both men flinch, although I believe they must have heard such things often enough by now. A loud, wet scream. The two men began to smoke little cigarettes--foul things--and were silent for a time, when there was another scream. An animal scream it was, not like the one before it, and it was born of great pain.

Nichols reminded--reassured Ruiz that they had only two hours left of this, and told him they were to remain silent and pretend they saw and heard nothing. They did not like the situation, but it seemed to me that they would be in danger if they spoke of it with anyone. They picked up their guns. There was one last, terrible scream that was cut short, then an equally terrible silence.

[Bright eyes flicker to the side for a moment, then he turns to Galadriel and inclines his head to her.]

[And she takes up where he left off, keeping the same solemn expression on her face.] It is clear enough that atrocities were committed in this lab, though of what nature you know as much as we. [She has her guesses, of course, but she will let you all draw your own conclusions.] Regardless, we urge caution to any who should come across this lab. We know not what may lurk within it still.

[Thranduil continues.] Your warning may be that you have reached a very cold part of the ship--for why would it be so cold, if not purposefully, when they most likely had full control over the ship in those days? Still, use caution if you are lost, and expect it around any corner with or without warning. There is no need to repeat what happened when the genetics lab was discovered.

[He reaches out to cut the comm, but a look from Galadriel makes him stop in his tracks and tuck both hands behind his back very formally.]

Until next we meet. [And, then, with another little nod, Galadriel reaches out and cuts the video.]
14 August 2013 @ 03:59 pm
[ stressed is robb's default these days, but normally when addressing the network he's made an effort to appear less so. not today. today he's solemn, as serious as he was when levying threats all those months ago. ]

There more pressing things to attend to aboard this ship, so I'll keep my address brief. My lady mother came aboard during the last jump. Her name is Catelyn Stark, and I ask your kindness in treatment of her.

[ at his side, grey wind moves restlessly, ears set back. robb's expression doesn't flicker. ]

And to bear in mind that she, like all of my family, is afforded the same protection as anyone else taken in by my House.

[ or basically, touch my momma and i'll knock you out, in westerosi speak. ]

And I thank you for your indulgence, and for you kindness. Our House will not forget such favors.

[ the north remembers. grey wind rises, giving himself a shake, and a brief smile flickers across robb's face as he cuts the feed. ]
19 July 2013 @ 11:32 pm
Do not get complacent.

You are not on holiday. This isn't a cruise. The Tranquility is a very dangerous ship, and your life is in constant danger. Fail to pay attention and walk down the wrong corridor, and who knows if you'll find your way back--and if you do, you'll be missing eyes or hands or whole parts of your sanity. Just because it's been quiet recently doesn't mean that any of us are safe. We don't know where we're going, or what will happen when we get there. We don't have a captain, and with Kirk gone, Ward vanished, and Gallagher dead, that means the best you've got is me.

Our survival depends on each other. It depends on you all pulling your weight. Join a department, cook for other people, cut hair, sew, or teach people to fight. Share your experiences and your skills. It's all up to you.

If you have any questions, or you want to know where we need the help, then call me. I'll put you in contact with the right people, or else do everything I can to get you the answers you need.

I don't want to frighten you, but after all this downtime I think it's important that everyone stays on their toes. This peace could collapse in a heartbeat, and it might be you need to fight for your lives. Be ready, that's all I'm asking from any of you.

08 July 2013 @ 05:33 pm
[The woman who comes on the screen is beautiful, certainly, but also a little.... unearthly may be the word. Even if the pointed ears weren't visible, it would not be difficult to realize that she’s not human. But her smile is charming and genuine and she addresses the network with confidence and poise, which she hopes is some reassurance. ]

Two months it has been now and still I know so few of you. The fault is largely my own- I will admit to being somewhat overwhelmed by the strangeness of this place. But it is a misfortune that is easily resolved, is it not?

Others have asked for your tales; I think I will ask for your songs. Tell me of the music of your worlds, friends, and I will tell you of mine. It seems a topic worthy of conversation and it may bring some comfort to those who have only recently arrived.
25 June 2013 @ 07:09 pm
[ as is his habit these days, robb appears with grey wind's massive form at his side, regarding the camera from robb's shoulder. the wolf doesn't move, stares into the camera even as robb shuffles through the things on his nightstand, takes a minute to gather his thoughts before speaking. ]

There were many different religions in Westeros, and since arriving here, I've learned of many more. None are familiar to me, though some bear passing resemblance to those gods worshipped by those of my land. I have attended the chapel, but all of it was strange to me, and I don't think I could swear to those gods as I have my own.

[ there's a pause. grey wind shifts restlessly at his side and robb sighs, tugs at the laces of his tunic until they loosen. ]

There's no weirwood aboard this vessel. I have prayed always to the old gods, and it is said that they would keep watch so long as a man did not stray from their line of sight. I have strayed far, though not intentionally. So what I wonder is if I swear to my gods, or bind two souls together in marriage, or ask a blessing upon my bannermen, do my gods still hear? Do any of our gods hear us, when we've wandered so far?

[ robb stops, takes a breath. he looks away from the lens, reaches as if to cut it off and then grey wind huffs, like a reminder, and robb adds, almost as an afterthought-- ]

Thranduil, I would speak with you, if you would spare me audience.

[ and then robb cuts off the feed. ]