[Cersei has practiced this speech, carefully planned it and learned it off by heart. She is dressed as formally as she can muster, her crown in place, and a deliberate warm half-smile is on her lips.]

Dear people of Tranquility, I have created this visual message in order to ask for your aid. Some may already be aware that a man by the name of Robb Stark attempts to usurp my position and take my life. While I am not typically the type to ask of favours of others, I must request your assistance on this particular occasion. I have held the title of Queen uncontested for sixteen years. Nevertheless, upon arriving at this ship, I have been threatened with both the stripping of my position and my death.

While some call for a woman's head, I implore no such monstrosities. Instead I ask merely for protection from Stark and his violent men. Is there anyone in this ship who might be able to guard and protect me, increasing my safety? I am a woman and am thus unable to defend myself. There is enough turmoil and danger on this ship already. I feel that we need not add to it.

hello

Okay, it's working. Great. ☺I know I got crazy timing since I've been here for a while. Been through this and that, but not really one to socialize. I'm still queasy about adjusting. I feel very out of place.

I'll get to the point. Sorry to take up your time, but I was curious if anyone has any stories to share? Like tales from home, even fairytales? Yeah, barmy, right? I would find it nice just to listen. Storytelling was one of my jobs back home (gig with kids, shush, it paid the bills!), so you could say it would be a good deal of comfort for something... familiar.

Cheers.

-Richard.

(ooc: LOL GIMME A HEADS UP IF YOU ARE GOING TO BE ALL LIKE "I KNOW YOUUOUOUOU.")

[ And here's what Hatter's been up to, on-and-off, during the last two months. Turns out the one and only Camellia Senensis had already been growing in the garden; things had gone from there, and he'd managed to get a good amount of home-dried and fermented teas, fruits, and spices sealed up in jars, to be distributed to the, er... general public. A taste of home. Kind of.

Now, for the required advertisement: ]

TRANQUILITY TEA HOUSE
( tranquilitea, if you like )
directions.
officially open from lunch & supper hours
( 11:00 AM - 1:00 PM, 5:00 - 8:00 PM )
by the ship's clock
unofficially open all the time.

( OFFERING: )

[ If Alice were so panicked right now, this would be a private feed, but she's freaking out too much to bother. Her breathing sounds a bit labored, too, and combined with the tone of her voice, it's probably fairly clear that she's running right now. ] Hatter, if you hear this, call me back immediately. Please. I need to know-- [ Her voice catches a little and there's a pause before she continues. ]

I couldn't find you and I need to know you made it through the jump. I saw that guy's - Hotspur's - post and saw what happened to him; I need to know you're okay. Oh, god, please--

[ The feed ends there. ]




ooc: backdated to about half an hour/forty-five minutes after the latest jump

How many of you are fictional in someone else's 'world'?

[ No fanfare. No reason. Just Brendan Frye speaking and then shutting it off. ]

( Text; Not an IC Cut; HERE THERE BE MORSE CODE. )



So... I don't do Morse code, but who wants to bet that's the other part of the list?

[He told you he'd pull it off, Tony. OF COURSE, HE DIDN'T GET ANSWERS, but... Yeah.]



( Retroactively added to the post after the code was cracked: ZE LIST. )


[OOC; THE NAMES, TO THE BEST OF MY KNOWLEDGE, ARE NOT PART OF THE CODE. They're just there for reference.]

[ Her father has inquired on the matter of coin and the ship's answer is clear enough: money has little weight aboard the Tranquility and so the counting of coppers must be abandoned for a different kind of ledger keeping. Favor is a kind of currency, though only the most clever know how to wheedle it to greatest yield and best effect. Petyr Baelish is one of those kinds of men — to what extent is hidden behind his genial smile, but Alayne has seen behind her father's mask and knows the true measure of his mettle.

Where names and lands and titles made the worth of a man in Westeros, the passengers of the ship must find their wealth elsewhere: in skills offered and objects bartered, in resources hoarded. In usefulness. Alayne looks to be useful but also looks to be wealthy, if not in object then in favor. It is better, her father teaches her, to be owed than to owe and such debts can be accrued in both the most meaningful and the most harmless of ways.

The smile she gives the Tranquility is modest and fair. She is in better health than her last appearance and her spirits seem much revived. With a dip of her head she bows and then offers to the camera: ]

My good Tranquility. It has become known to me that there are those upon the ship who are in need of the skills of a seamstress. I am not a tailor by trade, nor have I studied under the tutelage of any grand stitch-sewer. But I am skilled and there are those who have told me my embroidery is without flaw.

I may sew a dress or fashion a shirt or mend what has been ruined and torn. There is the matter of needles and thread, of which I have been provided plenty. Though— cloth is lacking, save bedsheets. I am also skilled in the stitching of sigils. Of finery and delicacy. [ Her smile broadens, grows sheepish and knowing. ] For ladies and lords that find luxury in smaller, more mindful details.

I, Alayne Stone, offer my skills to the ship, in exchange for trade or equal favor. [ A pause and then she considers, adding: ] And— if anyone has insights into the care of birds, please also send word.

[ Again a smile and Alayne dips a second time, neatly. ] Thank you.

[ Though having spent quite a while laid up in the Med Bay in the aftermath of the fear gas, Littlefinger is well aware that there are other goings ons that seem to bode much worse for the passengers upon the ship.

Still, as a larger plan has yet to come into focus and as his own concerns are, for the moment, concentrated elsewhere, he gleans what he can from what information is publicly broadcasted and doesn't bother asking after those circumstances any further.

Instead: ]

To the Tranquility at large:

This may be my own ignorance coming into play, but would anyone know of a physical library upon the ship? My understanding is that there is much made accessible through the use of our communications devices, but I would vastly prefer the feel and weight of paper in my hand.

Secondly, I am in need of a few favors in regards to clothes available upon the ship, so if anyone could offer their help in that respect, I would be extremely grateful.

Lastly, I would inquire as to the presence (or absence) of a clear economy. This is but a trivial matter, but I have come to understand that the large majority of trade upon the vessel is done upon a basis of bartering and favours. In the event that I am mistaken, I served in a position managing the ins and outs of money in my former home and I would offer my meager talents wherever they might serve best.

Ever at your service,
Lord Petyr Baelish

Tranquility, this is Jim Kirk.

Anyone injured or still suffering side effects from the fear gas should check in with medical. Scans are showing the gas is out of the ship's circulation now, but we can never be too careful. For anyone wondering, we do have a suspect in custody, but he's currently recovering from a high dosage of the toxin.

[he pauses, a clear indication that he's changing topics.]

We all knew we were being watched. Despite this recent information, nothing's really changed. Nevertheless I encourage everyone to stay alert and try not to travel alone. This thing is trying to make us nervous, lets try not to give it what it wants.


( filtered message to: Enterprise Crew, Re-l, Chase, John, Sherlock, Natasha, Kasumi, Dean || eta 'Nick', Jack Harkness, Ianto, Magneto, Raven, Megamind, Roxanne, Tali, Hotspur, Isaac Clarke, Tony Stark, Aberdeen || flags to WARD and RESNIK  )

[ Chase does not look comfortable. Not spooked, per se, but when the video flickers on the little girl looks tired. Less burdened and more concerned.

This is something she genuinely doesn't know the answer to. ]

Hello, everyone--I regret to be the one to point this out.

[ A beat--she's worryingly playing with the paper bow tie she's made ever since the Doctor disappeared, and with a lick of her lips she's speaking again, eyes darting down to something on her lap. ]

It's funny. This list--it's amused. Laughing at us. I don't--I don't like it. And that's not everyone on the list. It's a fraction of it.

But the laughter. It's ringing in my ears and they're so, so, giddy.

[The white, grinning mask filled the entire screen. It might be pretty recognizable to some. The voice was female, slightly metallic-sounding with a very subtle echo that was likely due to the mask. She still manages to sound quite playful in a dark way.]

Interesting location. Looks like I'm a long way from home... I could use some company.

Let's cut to the chase.

Anyone willing to strike up a bargain benefiting both parties during our stay here had best get back to me soon~. I have quite a few things to offer the right person, should I deem you worthy of my time. It would be foolish to think there aren't advantages to working together.

[At least until she could land on her feet.]

[ ahem, using this thing like a phone because he's really not interested in wasting time trying to figure out just how deep the rabbit hole goes in terms of what it can do. that comes later. ]

Good— [ . . . ] whenever it is.

[ his voice might sound familiar to some of you, if slightly more nasal; there's a steady metallic clop-clop, clop-clop in the background that sounds not unlike horse hooves on steel. Anything is possible when your man's been abducted to live a doomed life in space and is riding his mare around the corridors! I'm on a horse. ]

Seems like as good a time as any for a proper hello. And since we've all got some time to kill, I thought it might be nice to play a quick game of Questions. Or—Facts, I suppose. Whichever works best. I tell you one thing about me, you tell me one thing about you... loads of fun.

[ okay so he's not exactly gagging to talk about himself, but if there's a fast track to gathering information, it's to come right out and ask for it. tit for tat. ]

I'm called—

[ he pauses.

this isn't Wonderland; nobody knows him here, except for Alice, and she doesn't exactly pose a huge threat to his well-being. Well, not any more, at least, because nobody knows about the Stone of Wonderland here; the likelihood of the both of them being tracked down and killed for it has been significantly diminished. he figures it's okay to be honest about his name, if nothing else. ]

—Hatter. Now, your turn.

Also. Directions to this oxygen garden thing would be— much appreciated. I've a horse here in need of some greens, and she's a bit twitchy from being kept in the dark.

[ reluctantly finally: ]

And if you see an old guy with a crazy goatee in a suit of white armor spouting nonsense about—I don't know, mystical vapours of destiny or something, you should probably let me know.