[ not suspected butt texts for you today, instead just a grim-faced teen who looks like he needs to sleep. ]

Corvo Attano is gone.

[ and cut feed. ]

I NEEd chains.

[ That's it. That's what you get. Oh, no, wait. She knows exactly what Stiles and Kira would suggest in this moment. She should ask nicely. It's less effort over text than in person, so even though she's rolling around miserably right now because she had it on good authority that weres don't really get sick unless it's wolfsbane, she can manage. ]

Please. :)

[ Be friendly!! ]

[ the feed switches on to show a spectacular view of the garden grounds. as in the actual floor of the gardens, mostly dirt and foliage, before it's flipped around to focus on hook's face. his expression is solemn, offering up a respectable display of sincere concern for those he's addressing. ]

This message is intended as a favour— an act of good faith, if you will. I regret to inform my fellow passengers that we've a wolf in our midst. [ the mask of civility slips slightly, giving way to a sharp grin; his voice matches, edged with hostility and amusement. ] Or should I say a crocodile.

There's a man on this ship who calls himself Rumplestiltskin. While I admit he's not much to look at, it's nothing more than the practised ruse of a monster. He's known to my world as The Dark One. Whatever kind words he's spun, any generosities he's offered— I assure you, they've been at your expense.

[ no killing allowed, but nobody said anything about gossip. anyway, after a pause to let that dramatic reveal that absolutely won't remind anyone of stupid picture books settle: ]

I've also heard word of a smithy on board. If anyone could direct me to it or to its owner, I'd be in your debt. [ there's a glint of light off the metal as he raises his hook, idly considering its condition. ] I've something in need of sharpening.

[ that last sentence would absolutely be a private taunt to gold if he knew how to encrypt anything, but he doesn't. blame emma. ]

( ooc: 4th walling on all related fairy tales/stories is welcome! )

[This is Jon Snow, cold and furious. Behind him is Ghost, looking not at all friendly.]

I demand satisfaction from you, Gendry, and I will have it.

Settle your affairs and come see me, or I will find you. And you will not like if it I have to go looking.

09:07
Bridge is ours. No resistance encountered.

09:12
Doors locked. Not opening from the inside. Attempting manual release. Request assistance.

[ when arya stark faces the camera, it is with all the solemnity of her last video post.

this is not about the fluctuating temperatures, however. ]

I need blankets, [ she begins without preamble, ] and pillows. I would prefer them with color, but any spares you have will be enough.

[ she prefers the ones people receive than the standard issue, but arya has no problems stripping unoccupied rooms if she must. blanket forts are serious business and it is very hot and humid in the gardens. the struggle is real. ]

I also need—hey!

[ the tension breaks with the sudden and utterly unexpected appearance of one (1) shirtless and sweaty gendry. who unceremoniously shoves face and shoulders into the frame. ]

Who are you talking to?

Get out! [ arya shoves her hand at his face to push him out of the shot. the image shakes as she fumbles with the comm and with gendry. ] Don't be rude!

[ the joys of teenagers and almost-teenagers in space. ]

Humans! [ Good, now that he has your attention. ] There is a sickness aboard this vessel, a Dark Beast that harbours rot and the ruin of any that approach it. I, myself, suffered injuries that have now healed. It is a skilled foe that walks in shadow, a warrior of the forsaken. It does not bleed when wounded or hesitate to give harm and it will kill you, should you be fool enough to challenge it. Unless, of course, it decides to keep you alive for sport — those mortals who deliberately put themselves at risk do so at their own peril. If you believe you are strong, I am here to tell you that you are not. Keep your corpses to a minimum. 

Specifically: it carries a great chain that burns like embers, knows your mind and moves at incredible speed. Thranduil is aware of this demon, as are all those of Elvenkind aboard. 

[ Nuada, who brings the network this message from the corridors where he is patrolling, peers into the camera with wolflike gold eyes. You may have seen them around recently, instead belonging to one massive six-foot hound. ]

To those who are not human, I say this; stay with your brothers and sisters, send word over a secure line if any of you are attacked. All manner of Aes Sidhe, from my world or not, are my concern.

[ What else? His manner eases ever so slightly, as it is wont to do between comrades. ]

Loki — we must speak concerning the forging of your weapon. It is time to take up arms worthy of your skill, my friend.

[ for once, arya is well-groomed if drained by heat and stress. she donned her best new tunic and her hair has actually seen a brush. it has been pulled back into a delicate and seemingly simple braided updo by skilled elven fingers. her now long hair drives her mad otherwise in the suffocating heat that is engineering. grey eyes look steadily into the camera. just off-screen she clutches nymeria's scruff like a lifeline. it's the only outward sign of her nervousness. this speech was written out, repeated enough for her to memorize it, and she is still afraid she will somehow screw it up.

like robb, she thinks. she will be as eloquent as robb. taking a breath, she begins. ]

My name is Arya Stark. I am speaking for Tony Stark, head of engineering, who is in stasis.

We all know the temperatures are high. There is nothing to be found in the Engineering or Agriculture department as the cause. Two days ago the temperatures stopped going up. We have not stopped working on finding the cause, and we will keep trying to bring it down.

Until then, you ought take-take precautions against the heat: drink a lot of water, try to avoid exerting yourself. The pools are always open. You can swim. If you don't know how to swim, you can learn. And don't get lost.

As I am the only one officially left of Engineering, I take responsibility for everything here. If there is anything you wish to say, you can say it to me. My—team is doing the best they can and they are not to be blamed. Neither is anyone else in any of the other departments. If you have any questions, I will do my best to answer them. We will tell you of any changes.

Thank you.

[ and she smoothly switches off the video. don't mind her as she collapses in a pile in a lukewarm corner somewhere and doesn't get back up for a while. ]

[ arya stark. staring at a panel on one of the floors of the massive engineering complex with a direwolf and a droid for company. ]

We need people to work engineering.
It is the part that keeps the ship running and all of us alive.
So it is really important. [ just in case that part wasn't abundantly clear. ]
Everyone who wants to help ought talk to me or Carolyn 008 » 022.
Give us your name and experience and we will assign you a task from there.

[ next to her, r2 beeps sadly. she cannot even pretend to smile. she takes a breath and adds one last question. ]

The last time this happened how many of the ones sleeping were gone at the next jump?

( mairon )

( fili )

( gendry )

[ In response to this post.

When the picture comes on what you find is a beautiful woman with heart-shaped face and a head of curly red hair, half-done up like she's someone important (she isn't). When she talks, there's a lazy drawling quality to her voice, as well as an air of condescension and carelessness. It's hard to tell just how much she really means the things she says, whether she's actually frustrated or not. But the fact that Ros — who's never posted on the Network before — has finally bothered to speak up must be an indication of something. (Right?)

She sits with an elbow propped up onto a table, her chin settled into the seat of its palm. Despite the nature of her message, she smiles frivolously. As if she hadn't a care in the world. ]

S'not my business — all those secrets of yours you lot are hiding in plain sight. Leave cleverness to the clever ones, I say. [ Her smile widens as if to add I'm not clever at all, I'm just a whore, but that's window dressing really. Distraction and deflection. If she wasn't clever, Ros wouldn't have all her teeth, wouldn't work for Littlefinger. She'd be bottom of the barrel and Ros has managed just fine, thank you. ] But if you're going on and on 'bout how we're all meant to save our skins and the means to do it, here's a friendly bit'f advice:

Not all of us can read, dears.

Now you learned lot might come from places full'f words and numbers. Where babes come tumbling out their mothers smart as maesters 'prentices, too busy with reading to even stop for a suckle. But some of us don't. Some of us had t'work for a living. The dirty kind'f work that gets your hands messy. [ That turn of phrase seems to amuse her. She thinks of farmhands in the fields, of smiths at their forges. (Yes, terribly messy.) She thinks about how she's fucked them all — and lords too. (Yes, Ros can be clever sometimes.) ] The sweaty kind'f work.

And we dirty, sweaty, dumb lot — we want to live, same as you.

So if all your whispering's a bit of nothing — then carry on, good as you like. But if it's a bit of something, well— [ She tips her head and, for the first time in the feed, looks expectant rather than bored. ] —give us a listen, mm?

[A mess of black hair encompasses the screen, slightly tangled and dishevelled still, until the device is pulled back. Blue eyes peer out from beneath that hair, solemn and angry without the slightest trace of warmth. Clearly,  he's still not happy and from what he has seen of this place, he is utterly confused. Just how big is it... and what is it? Like nothing he has ever seen.

There's something muttered under his breath, sounding more or less like 'lord of light' if those watching happen to be listening closely. There is a gruffness in his voice as he is not used to having tubes shoved down his throat - let alone any of the other things that he had awoken too.

To those of Westeros, his face may very well bear a striking resemblance to those who knew the late king or even the Lord Renly.

To Gendry, he's just some bastard son born to an alehouse worker.]

I don't know what type of a ship this is... I never paid for any passage. And I'm not going too.

[A challenge there, as if daring someone to say something, suspicion etched across his features. He still doesn't quite believe what he has seen. It is too far out of his realm of knowing to make any sense at all. All these strange and foreign objects...]

I don't know why I'm here or why I was sent to some passenger's quarters. I'm just a lowborn 'prentice smith and I never did nothing to anyone.

[Unless someone knew about the Brotherhood... But then why would he be alive. His brows furrowed, a pained expression as he thinks some more.]

So just return me to the Crossroad Inn. ... or point me in the direction. I'll walk the rest of the way myself. Just want to be left in piece in my smithy.