[ here's the thing: sleep deprivation makes idle whims seem like fantastic ideas-- and neal's not full up on self-control as it is, so two weeks of barely any sleep just raises great idea to best idea on his personal scale.

as such he's leaning against the wall behind his bed, pupils slightly blown. what is an intro he can't even. ]

Not we, my dear, you. I'm leaving you here.

You're what? Rhett, where are you going?

I'm going, my dear, to join the army.

[ his posture changes between; other than a few flat vowels slipping in as rhett, pushing for the accent seems a little too much and posture is good enough to convey the suggestion of gender, if you're careful. ]

Oh, you're joking. I could kill you for scaring me so.

I'm very serious, Scarlett. I'm going to join up with our brave lads in gray.

But they're running away.

Oh, no, they'll turn and make a last stand, if I know anything about them. And when they do, I'll be with them. I'm a little late, but better late than--

[ it's tricky to overlap your own voice, and his grimaces a little and shrugs as if apologizing for the lack of actual interruption in the scene. ( sleep deprivation or pretentiousness: the world may never know. ) ]

Rhett, you must be joking.

Selfish to the end, aren't you? Thinking of your own precious hide with never a thought for the noble cause. [ he yawns widely, skipping scarlett's line in the process. ] Why? Maybe it's because I've always had a weakness for lost causes, once they're really lost. Or maybe, maybe I'm ashamed of myself. Who knows?

[ he pauses, body language returning abruptly to his usual. ] I missed something, there. Anyway-- [ and back to the show. ]

You should die of shame to leave me here alone and helpless.

You, helpless? Heaven help the Yankees if they capture you. Now climb down here. I want to say goodbye.

[ that makes him pause, one that extends out into another jaw-cracking yawn and neal slumps down even more, almost prone now. ]

There's more, but it's really better with someone else.

[ and he's out. ]

Um-- [ It comes out in sort of a croak, so he clears his throat before continuing. ]

I've been thinking-- We've been talking about... what's real, and what's not, whether or not anyone remembers anything when they get home. So, kind of similar, but is there any way people at home could know about what's happening on the ship? Or any way they could find out? I know we all kind of assume they can't, but if there's any possibility. Any possibility at all.

[ A frustrated pause-- he scrubs his hand through his hair. He knows the usual answers; no one remembers when they go home, and they go back right to the same time, so there's no way. He's just not sure whether that answer accounts for clairvoyance and how to ask without outright stating it. And that's the crux of the matter, really; that's what's been keeping him up at night and driving his mind to cover the same tracks again and again. ]

Don't... rule out "magic" or something like it, if something like that exists in your world. [ Close enough. ] This probably isn't the most important thing on anyone's mind right now, but I need to know. It's important to me. Thanks.

[ He reaches to shut the feed off-- and then draws back again, frowning slightly. ] Uh, one more thing-- if you have any use for a magnet, I've got one that's up for grabs. I'm in 014 » 124, come take it. I want to get rid of it.

[ There's absolutely no preamble as Jayne settles in to say what he wants to say. ]

Why'd I get weird porn in my locker? Is this what y'all look at here?

[ Because he does not approve. ]

[Thankfully you can't see anything below bare shoulders this time, but here's Juliana, hair oddly perfect and a beatific smile on her face.]

After that... [SHUDDER.] terribly ominous happening--by the way, those of you who didn't tell me this place was horrible, shame on you--I have something much more important to discuss. It's been clear that none of you know what to do with a goddess in your midst. It's quite simple. Respect.

[She points at the viewer.] I can't watch every one of you, but I trust that you're all working hard for the good of everyone, aren't you?

[A smile, then she looks confused.] That wasn't my point. My point... My... point...

Oh, yes! My point. I'm told there are "hobos" aboard. I'd like to meet one, for comparative purposes. Assistance is appreciated. New experiences are wonderful, aren't they?

[ooc; I will be slow Friday through Sunday, but will try to intermittently tag back in the evenings.]

[ the feed opens to ( 1 ) katherine pierce, lips pursed and whiskey bottle in hand. she may or may not be drinking from the actual bottle, clearly the epitome of class. ]

As compelling as watching ourselves trip over a message from our resident psychopath is —

[ she offers a pointed brow raise and rolls her shoulders into a casual shrug, the beginnings of a smile in place. read: she doesn't find it very compelling to watch, even if it's on her list of curiosities. ]

I could go for a little less harrowing entertainment. [ a pause and a sip before she offers: ] Twenty questions, only without the annoying guessing. A question for a question, you could say. No rules, obviously — restrictions are boring. Consider it an exercise in getting intimate with each other.

[ she genuinely grins now, leaning back in her seat as she spins a curl around her index finger. ]

Humor me.

[It's rare that Tyke makes a post to the network not looking annoyed, but this time there's obviously some attempt to smooth it over, to keep her tone neutral.]

Manfred von Karma's death has been found to be self-inflicted. Miles Edgeworth has been released.

[It looks like that's going to be it, because she doesn't want to explain the outlying circumstances or invite questions on Edgeworth's innocence. But then all of the annoyance she's been keeping tamped down rises to the surface, irritation clear in her expression and her voice as she continues-]

You find a scene like that, you report it to SEC, and you don't fucking touch anything.

[That's it. She cuts the video before her temper can get any worse.]

[ John's dressed down for once, shirt missing and all. The Grim Reaper tattoo on his inner arm is visible, scythe and all, where most people's nanites are -- his are visible on the other arm. One hand is beneath his head and the other is holding the camera at a bit of an odd angle; he's laying down, apparently in bed. Despite that, he doesn't look like he's gotten a lot of sleep. ]

So. [ He starts, stops; clears his throat to make himself sound a little more awake. ] This place is hell, but we manage to relax sometimes. How do you all do it? [ There's a pause, considering, and he adds: ] Other than getting drunk.

[ That's not going to help him, considering he can't anymore. At the end of the day, what John needs is for nightmares of dead teammates and monsters in the dark to stop haunting him, of the dead on the ship that he could have (should have) been able to help. But for now... he'll take what he can get. Not that he necessarily wants everyone knowing he can't relax. ]

Call me curious, I guess. I would've bet on more nervous breakdowns.

( two idiots walk into a bar -- or not. it's really just danny and han sitting together with a couple bottles of empty beers and a deck of cards between them. it seems kind of depressing, if you think about it.

danny is the first to wave at the camera, an amused smile on his lips. )

Well, this has been interesting, but I thing we need to change things up a bit.

( han looks at the camera and back at Danny, a wry expression on his face. )

We could be playing sabaac, but there isn't much to work with.

( but, han's a gambling man, even as he cuts the cards and deals between the two of them.)

These names are terrible for card suits, by the way.

( funny how danny knows what a sabaac is. fucking star wars comics, man, and fuck han solo for actually existing. )

I don't know, I think they're kind of appropriate. I mean - this is a heart, isn't it?

( he shows one of the cards in his hands - a three of hearts - before throwing it away and replacing it with another from the remaining deck. you would think that he'd try to be quiet about the cards he's been holding, but he doesn't seem too bothered. )

Not enough people if it's just the two of us.

( as if han has a clue. he deals it out, holding up the jack of spades: )

What the hell is a "Jack" supposed to be?

( and he sort of has a point. he throws it in, calling a bluff or something or the other, or maybe han just doesn't know what he's doing. it's hard to tell.)

I'd say we hold a poker night. Then they'd say that they're poker champions and that poker has no place on this ship. Or that poker ruins friendships and that we should be making friendships with cards.

( he might be projecting some bitterness. maybe.)

( danny just blinks at the jack of spades lost in the pile. man, what a waste. )

From what I remember? Someone just went and called it that for no reason. It's supposed to be 'Knave', but they confuse it with the 'King'. I could be wrong, though.

( he shrugs. people are dumb. )

Maybe if you ask nicely, they'll stop by. Maybe they'll even show you what they've got.

( the camera gets a shot of his nice smile from that. is he conning you? he's conning you. though, to be fair, he's more like challenging the audience to prove han wrong and prove him right. )

( don't pull that move on him, he invented that mood. han throws his cards down, face down. )

Oh, please join us for poker night. We'd love to have you. In fact, bring friends, bring beer and bring something we can play you under the table for.

( that was supposed to be sarcasm. but there is one thing that sarcasm cannot hide:)

We're at the bar, come find us. If you bring a Jedi, we'll take your money and then throw you out. If you are Jedi, you're not invited.

( and they're out. )


( OOC: there will be log for this. soon. hold the phone. THERE'S A LOG. )

This is quite a craft.

( the attached voice is feminine, ~*~dark~*~, and colored with an impossible to place (vaguely russian, but... not......) high fantasy accent! she also sounds just slightly detached from current proceedings ― like this pants shittingly terrifying transdimensional jaunt is something she's observing from an outsider's perspective, not her own. )

Not to my tastes, I'm afraid; a man could shred himself on this architecture, and your Tranquility exudes anything but. Still, I'm certain it could be worse. ( KNOCK KNOCK. this is someone rapping their knuckles on some sort of metallic surface. ) She's quite sturdy. Better a well built mausoleum than the alternative.

( hardy har. a beat. )

Your guides mention hostile creatures, but not the breed. I would hear of them, if you'll indulge me; their appearance, their behavior, where they roam, how often they've been seen.

Call it grim curiosity.

[ irene's not sitting in her room, she's sitting in someone else's. namely, the room that once belonged to her version of sherlock holmes. on her index finger are three gold rings that she fidgets idly with while she speaks. ]

I see our very own cautionary tale has graced us with an echo. For those newly arrived, I'd say pay attention to that, and note what happens if you don't get yourself into a pod before the jump time. It leaves in quite a mess, or so I'm told.

[ there's a clink of rings as she shakes them off, letting them fall onto the side table, edging them lightly into place with her fingertips. ]

Now, having that settled, I suppose I'd ask an introduction on the part of those newly arrived. All those newly arrived. In all the chaos of your arrival, it's only polite that we all introduce ourselves. We are to be living in rather close quarters for the foreseeable future, are we not?

[ it's a rare thing when damon decides it's time to pick up his communicator and make a proper post to the network. typically these things are waaaay more...self-serving, especially for him of all people. but in the light of recent events there's an inkling of obligation that's been nagging at him.

he should know by now on this goddamn ship that maybe running into the arms of these not-so-standard impulses is not the way to go. pretty ironic considering the message he's trying to send here. ]

Hey, newbs and the rest of us who've been here way too long—I don't know what it is that makes you completely ignore advice, over a year of evidence, the most basic of human instincts like hey, maybe this is going to be a dumb idea. Either way you're failing miserably and I'm going to take it upon myself to reiterate this reminder:

Do not go wandering into the ship.

Really, I can't be clearer than that.

[ there's a pause on the audio feed, like damon's sudden thorough irritation is stopping him from saying the other important thing on his mind. the silence only lasts about ten second, and when he speaks again his voice is way less authoritative and way more solemn. ]

For anyone who knew him, Stefan Salvatore is gone. Home.

(  text | private | to elena 013 » 066  )

For those of you that knew him, Cambridge (SCI » 011 » 015) is longer aboard the ship.

[ That's it, that's the post. Any responses will be delayed by a couple of hours while Oxford lurks angrily in his room, waiting out his headache and trying to resist the urge to destroy what few possessions he has (you'll have more luck if you simply turn up on his doorstep). ]