[ THIS IS FORWARD DATED spike would usually do this up on video but given the chaos and just how shitty he looks-- oh, yeah, if you haven't seen spike in a bit there's a reason for it. he looks like death. literally. skinny, sallow, low-energy. he's not even quipping like he should be. he's scarcely been here ninety days, but without blood, he's not healing like he should. these demons are giving him the go around and he doesn't like it. so have a raspy english voice, sounding much tireder than usual, which really everyone should expect given the theme around here. ]

I'll tell you all, I've seen an apocalypse or two in my day. And this? This is a bloody disaster.

Floor 22, Room 17. I've got some weapons and hiding spots, but that's not what I'm on about. I'll see you all in the trenches anyway. [ he takes a breath, he might be smoking. ]

...This blood situation, yeah? For us vamps. [ pauuuuuse ] It's wrong, and I'll tell you why it's wrong. This might be a bloody big ship, but it's going to start seeming a whole hell of a lot smaller if we keep handing over human to them--us. To us.

I don't drink human blood, it's a life choice. Let's use an analogy. Now, I talked to an expert on the subject so let's call 'blood' ... 'heroin.' And let's call bagged blood something they call 'methadone.' That's a drug used to bring someone down off scag, if you didn't know. But it doesn't work, and neither does this. Drinking it from a bag? Well. Just makes someone want the real thing.

Over on the Cyllene, guy name of Jayne told me to look for Dr. Tam up in the med bay? But I'm sorry, doc, and anyone else who might have a hand in that concoction -- I don't trust it. Don't ruddy well trust anyone with a beaker and I've got good reason.

There's got to be another way.

[ he hangs up rather abruptly, it takes a lot to get a rise out of him like this. it took the perfect cocktail of starvation, sleeplessness, nightmares and demons from his homeworld but now he's here and he's mad. and yeah, no that's basically it. ]

All right, here's the thing.

[ "Here" is punctuated by one Jayne Cobb leaning forward and poking at the camera lens. ]

Lots of you are terrible shots. Since Wes is gone [ grumpy bastard; Jayne liked him anyway and will pour one out -- or drink it -- for him later ] that means no one's probably goin' around pointin' out that the gunnery crew'll teach ya how to be better shots or else make sure you stop touchin' weaponry 'cause we don't want to get shot in the ass.

Anyway. You want to learn to shoot an' take care of your gun, you let us know. That's me an' Ric an' Natasha an' Wichita. I got a few people who've asked me already, so I figured I'd extend the invitation out. Some of us can probably help ya with other weaponry, if ya ask nice. If one of them don't want to teach it... I don't know. Hit 'em until they say yes or until they knock y'out, whichever comes first.

[ And this is why no one should let Jayne anywhere near his communicator. ]

[ It's been almost a year since Casey last posted to the network. He works, keeps to himself, occasionally slides in to add an acerbic commentary to something someone says--that sort of thing. People who know Jayne will recognize him as a red faced version of the same; he's the one without the dodgy beard, is precious about Star Wars, dislikes animals, and despite that has a young ginger cat swinging its tail as it clambers up his chest to perch on his shoulder, furry bottom pressed against his ear. ]

Get the hell down from there, m'busy.

[ His voice is gravely, his face is a little red, eyes a little bloodshot. Casey scowls when a meow is his only response, and shifts forward and backward in quick little movements, attempting to dislodge the cat, but all that happens is that it digs its claws in. Grimacing, Casey decides to just get on with it. The feed clicks off and is replaced by an attached video file, featuring about a minute of prerecorded material from one of the Tranquility's shuttles. It shows the sparkling pinprick stars of space, the Cyllene coming into view, and a long panning view of the station as they circle it.  ]

Doesn't look like a deathtrap, does it? The real good ones usually don't. Got damn near frozen to death for a goddamned pair of sneakers. [ That explains why he looks ill, at least. ] Any of you lot get stuck on board that last day, I suggest you get yourselves checked up by the doctor. We have sensitive gear in the shuttle bay picking up trace radiation, and that means anyone could have been zapped by it, and getting cooked to death from the inside isn't a real nice way to go. Same goes for things you took that day. Might not be as safe as they look, especially if we're talking edibles.

[ Look at that, he's practically being caring. And realizing that he quickly turns off the video feed. But not before a tiny bit of blushing and another furious scowl. ]

Shut up.

No. No, no, no.

[ the video is sideways, giving a slanted view of river nearby on the floor of her room. there are scraps of paper all over the floor; colourful, bright. childish drawings torn apart.

she wraps around her knees, hands covering her head. river hasn't slept in three years and this week alone, she slept for three days. three days of silence, three days of bliss. she wanted the dreams and they came to her. it was so easy to let go, wasn't it? ]

Wake up. Please wake up. They can't - they tell you to lay down and you do. You stay because they said it, it's in you and -

[ she shakes her head, rocks back and forth, muttering 'oh God, no' under her breath. she told derek. told and tried to stay awake, but sometimes she just gets so tired of holding on. the sun goes dark and chaos is come again. ]

They don't get up again. The skeletons stay and they don't lie down. It's the Pa - no - it's her. It's in the air and it won't stop. It wants to keep you, it wants to keep you, she wants you and you're hers.

[ she screams 'please wake up' one last time just as she grabs her device and throws it as far away from her as she can.

not very far. there's nowhere to run. ]

[Merlin's face hasn't appeared on the network for awhile. It looks a little older now than it did before.]

I'm missing one horse. He stayed in the gardens, where i know there's been some talk of eviction lately. If anyone removed him, I'd like to know. He's-

[Merlin pauses, swallowing hard before he continues.]

He belonged to King Arthur of Camelot, who some of you might remember as Prince Arthur while he was here. He disappeared a few days ago - the horse, not Arthur. At first I thought he'd just wandered off because I overslept, but I've searched all over.

His name is Llamrei and he's almost as much of a prat as his rider, but I've always suspected that he saves the worst of that for me.

[Another thing that horse and rider had in common.]

I have nothing of value to offer as a reward - unless you want me to wash your socks and fetch your breakfast until the next jump. [He shakes his head a little, a thin smile on his lips.] But you'd probably be better off just accepting my thanks.

[The feed clicks on to reveal a woman who has certainly dressed to leave a very specific impression. But the difference between this, and the woman who seemed kind, but lost in the locker room, is staggering. Her entire countenance though polite, is detached. Regal, and severe]

While I have only been here a few short days, I have already become acquainted with plenty of information on the circumstances we find ourselves in. We find ourselves in. We have all been taken from our homes, from our duties, our families- And any course of action should be decided on and taken together.

We should not be a group divided and yet we are. It's come at a great cost. [It's clearly not a rehearsed speech. She pauses as much for effect, to allow it to sink in- As she does to gather her own thoughts for the best way to continue. Her only aim is to generate discussion- To perhaps set up the building blocks for change, because things certainly can't continue as they have. She's done enough digging to be quite sure of that, ty pirates]

The information- it can be difficult to find, or simply isn't being shared at all- Intentionally conflicting or misleading. Primarily between the separation amongst the departments. How can we hope to return to our homes, to enter fruitful negotiations with those running this ship, without trust? Without making all our resources available to each of us?

I'm certain this is an idea that has been shared before, and so it is my hope that some of you are like minded, and that if you are not- I have said something that will resonate with you. Offer you a new perspective. If you would like to talk about this matter further, please, don't hesitate to contact me. My name is Padmé Amidala.

All opinions should be heard, and I welcome them. [She doubts she'll get much of a response, or much of an agreement- rather, the population is far too large for that- But it's a start]

[ 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. ]

( 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. )

[ joe's not so much ill at ease on camera as he is just happier off, and the lack of desire to throw his metaphorical hat in to this particular ring bleeds through into his slumped posture. he's got his actual hat off and set to the side, because this calls for company manners which means your nicest flannel and no hat, as you do. ]

Name's Joe Davis, based outta Pernambuco. [ a beat. ] That's just about on the far edge of the farms on Pasiphae, right. [ since as it's been made abundantly clear, he's the only one who knows that sort of thing off-hand. ]

Nobody's wanted to tell me too much, but I get the sense something about this whole thing makes me look dangerous. And I understand that, and whatever questions you gotta ask I'm ready to answer them. [ in part because there's only one of him and a lot of everybody else and it's the smart call, but that can go unsaid. ] I guess I just wanted to say this is all new and confusing to me, too, and seeing as I'd rather not end up pistol whipped, if it's all the same to everybody-- [ yeah, dean, he saw that-- ] I figured maybe I'd make the first move, since it's seeming like maybe I've landed in a tight spot without meaning to here.

[ he looks down, rubbing at the back of his neck with a thumb, a little uncomfortable. ]

I'm not much for speeches, but it seemed like the thing to do-- think that's about it, anyway.

[ and with that, he's out. ]

[ The feed opens to Rapunzel's room. However, it's not your ordinary Tranquility room! instead, the walls are filled with paintings. all done in warm colors, greens and yellows and reds, all inspired by Rapunzel's original room. there are star charts painted on the ceiling and the walls are covered in flowers, images of Rapunzel herself and even Pascal.

Currently, the girl herself is doing some finishing touches to one of the largest paintings in the room. it's just near the ceiling but a good thing Rapunzel has hair long enough to hang on.

It's Pascal that turned on the feed and he hops on the device. that seems to catch her attention and she jumps down, landing easily and lifting it up ]

Hi, Tranquility.

I was sorta wondering. This ship, while filled with...surprisingly nice people doesn't look too much like a home. Maybe it's just me but I sort of feel....cold here, I guess? hah, I don't mean physically but just --

anyway I was wondering if anyone would like me to paint something. For their rooms! While I do have many ways to keep myself busy, I like painting and I think it'll be nice to help more people feel at home and I can paint nearly anything you'd like.

Um, I also have been trying to learn more about this space thing in the media library and it's really been great. But what I'd really like to learn is stuff about um. the outside world! You know, and since most of you have probably been to the outside world, I wonder if you could tell me about it.

Oh! and um. I would also like to learn how to send a message to only one person on the magic box! If anyone could help with that, that too would be great and until then, um!

Jenna? Sommers? I sorta have a thing. for you. um. that is it! thank you!

[ dean doesn't look happy when the feed turns on. unlike before, that hint of smugness isn't present either, as it's all down to business seriousness today. he looks tired, a little ruffled you could say-- like someone who hasn't really seen any rest.

and it holds true enough, too. there's no time for resting when you're searching, worrying. ]

There isn't a day on this ship when somebody ain't missing, is there? [ despite the conversational words, his voice lacks anything inviting. he has his favorite gun in his hands, is reloading it with a new magazine, and tossing it into a small bag filled with a few things.

looks like he's going somewhere, and it won't be just a quick trip either. ]

If anyone sees Jo Harvelle, keep her safe and lem'me know. Starting to look like she's been missin' for a few days now… [ he cocks the gun experimentally before flipping the safety back on and tucking it away. ] …which means it's time for a little search and rescue.

SEC, I guess this means I'm taken' a few days off from patrollin' and whatever.

[ a hint in his tone suggests that if that's a problem, keep it to yourself. ]

I'll be back before the jump with her.

[ or he'll try to be. if he isn't… well, that'll be the end of yet another winchester. ]

[Jim doesn't address the ship with a hello this time around, instead cutting to the chase, the only warning the somber look on his face and the fact that he's sitting down. he isn't at a desk and there's a dirty scuff mark on his jaw, so it's clear that wherever he's making this broadcast from, it's in the middle of repairs on the ship.]

What happened with the pirates was a tragedy. [a beat] In my own universe, if we could we'd send the deceased back to their home planet for their relatives to handle. Barring that, we would opt for a space burial by jettisoning the body into the stars, whether through coffin or cremation.

[it's a little romantic, especially for Jim, but while he might not personally be very spiritual or religious, he understands that there are many who can't stand the dead being spoken of as just another body to get rid of. he, himself, still sees the dead as people— individuals he couldn't save. the dead deserved respect, because once upon a time, they'd been living and breathing and thinking.]

I know the final say will fall to medical, as it's their facilities that will need to be used in either case— [and he nods, an acknowledgement to the medical staff on board] — but I believe a funeral service should be held and would be good for all of us. A loss of life this huge can effect people in ways we might not initially expect, and we've had losses of our own number that deserve a proper goodbye.

[he's speaking of literal losses, yes, but he's also speaking of the figurative. a loss of innocence was just as tragic as the loss of a life. Kurt's post, speaking of the girl at the end of the play, came to mind, and the loss of Gingersnap was a startling blow for anyone who knew Tyke and her dogs.]

There's an outdoor chapel in the oxygen gardens, should anyone want to make use of it, or should anyone elect to hold an official service. Enterprise, we'll be meeting at Chase's apple tree on the second level at 18:00 hours. Anyone else wishing to attend is more than welcome.

I realize we have our work cut out for us with the jump only a few days away, but we need to remember to take care of ourselves and our own. We're all we've got up here, whether we like it or not. Taking a half hour of one day won't hurt.

Kirk out.

[Godric has been scarce during the invasion by the Scylla's crew, and for good reason. But he's been paying attention. He's in the emergency shuttle bay when he turns on the video, and evidence of the pirates is immediately apparent. There are supplies and equipment, some of it packed away, some of it scattered on the floor in disarray. But more concerning are the devices attached to the walls, the floor, and even the door -- clearly explosives of some sort. An escape plan, or a defensive perimeter. It would be more alarming, but for the fact that all the devices look still and quiet, void of frightening red lights or ominous noises.

Perhaps most eye-catching of all is the message written above the two tubes protruding from the outer hull of the Tranquility:

MAKE IT QUICK...

Godric turns the video onto himself, and addresses anyone watching.]

It seems our friend has left us a note.

[Usually, this would be locked to Security. But with Tyke out of commission, it's probably a moot point.]

[The feed crackles on to show a man leaning in close to the camera over some kind of console. Everything about him seems dry and harsh, from the lines of his features to the colour of his eyes, like too much sun and dust has sapped all the softness out of him. And his voice — when he finally speaks after a long moment of simply looking silently at the camera — is a light, husky tone, rough-edged.]

Tranquility. [A pause.] I am Felix Laurens, I am captain of the Scylla. My crew and I are boarding this vessel. We will take what we want from it, and then we will leave.

[A very long pause, where he seems to be considering something, looking at the camera silently.]

Keep out of our way and you won't be harmed.

[And with that, he's done with the message. He turns and walks away from the camera, revealing a view of the room behind him — though much smaller and less well-kept, it's a clear match to the shuttle bay. Part of a blonde head ducks into view after Laurens finishes speaking, clearly trying to find the 'off' switch for the console.]

Did he just—every time. Every fucking time.

[That remark garners him a bony elbow to the ribs, sneaking in from just out of sight to jab hard at his exposed side, voice quiet but still impatient.] Shut up. [Extending her arm out a little more to jab at the console, Hayes severs the transmission.]

Last time I was this ruttin’ drunk, Mal got married to a-- a-- [ there are some words there that sound vaguely like butchered Mandarin; it’s a futuristic dialect, but the man speaking it is also so drunk that it sounds like the communicator can’t quite translate it. ] An’ I passed out.

But he did later, ‘cause he kissed ‘er on the mouth.

[ The device suddenly turns over, Jayne staring down at it. From the look of him and the several empty bottles sitting next to him -- on the floor -- he’s been drinking for a while. Reaching for another bottle of something that looks extraordinarily cheap, he takes a swig, then sighs. ]

I miss my guns.

[ the video begins with finch perched somewhere in what looks like the bar, blond hair pulled back in a short tail. he lifts a hand in a brief wave, mouth quirking in a small, almost startlingly charming smile. (maybe not so startling if you already know what he is.) ]

Uh. Hey, Tranquility. Figured it was a good time to-- [ a pause, expression taking on a faintly sheepish note as he glances away, rubbing the back of his neck. welp. even if it's kind of necessary, it still feels strange, sometimes. ]

Well, anyway. Two things! [ he glances back at the feed, holding up his index and middle fingers, wiggling them. ] First thing's first, for those of you who're new this jump-- Hi. I'm Finch, and this is a personal ad. I'm the resident incubus, unless another one came with this crowd. Now what the hell does that mean for all of you, you ask. Well, I'm glad you're wondering, 'cause it means a couple of things.

[ he leans back a little, blowing a few strands of hair off his brow. ]

First of all, yeah, I really do fuck to eat. Which means that I'm always looking for people willing to go to bed with me once or twice a week. If you do volunteer, side effects are that I'm gonna' know exactly what you want in bed and how to give it to you, so if you're hiding shit, you may not be interested-- though who the fuck am I to judge what gets you off, right? Second-- you'll be pretty exhausted for a couple of hours afterward, but some sleep should fix that.

[ a shrug. ] So that's the first thing. The second, ah-- [ despite himself, he actually looks a little embarrassed at this. ] I was, uh, trying to go back to school before I was kidnapped, so. I dunno', if there are teachers or.. I just wanna' start studying again, you know? I also kinda' need a job. I was an assistant for a tattoo artist back home, but I pick shit up quick, so.. [ a vaguely uncomfortable glance, copper coloured eyes sliding away again. ] Let me know if you need some help with something, right? It's good for me to keep busy.