02 February 2014 @ 09:56 pm
Bridge is ours. No resistance encountered.

Doors locked. Not opening from the inside. Attempting manual release. Request assistance.
01 February 2014 @ 08:37 pm
[ When the feed comes on, everything is in its place. The Comms device is set squarely on to a view of a desk, a large American flag hangs on its pole in the space behind Nathan, decked out in his best suit. A painting hangs on the wall behind him. This may be the last time he addresses the ship, in which case he’s going to do it right. ]

Good afternoon, Tranquility.

For those of you that don’t know me, my name is Nathan Petrelli. I arrived here on the sixth jump, and I’ve been working in Communications ever since. I was here when we all still reported to Resnik to keep the ship running, and I was here when Ward executed the prisoners we took from the Scylla. I’ve been here through most of the worst things that the Tranquility has thrown at us, and never once - not once, in almost two years - have I thought to stop cooperating with the whims of this damn ship.

That ends today.

At 0900 tomorrow morning I intend to take the Tranquility’s bridge. I make this post here, now, because this isn’t just about me, this concerns all of us. So, perhaps against my better judgement, it seems only right that those of the rest of you that are as restless as I am should have the opportunity to join me in this endeavor.

Some of you will call me crazy. You’ll think that makes you sane. You’ll call this mutinous. But let me ask you--how willing are you to carry on the way we have been so far? The distortions we see in the mirrors; the people that are watching; no longer just out of sight; our secrets, no longer secret; the weight of paranoia that is weighing all of us down, month after month. How long do you want this to go on without making a stand, without feeling like you’ve actually done something about it?

I don’t know that this is going to be safe. I don’t know if any of us are going to come back, and maybe some of the less morally indulgent types around here are gonna see it as good reason to lock us all away. I’d like to remind those people that in the absence of an actual captain, this isn’t really a mutiny. We can argue about it lawyer style if you like. Might as well, it might be the last argument we ever have. But please don’t feel as though you’ll alter my resolve.

We have to change what we’re doing. We have to make a stand. And you can shut your mouth right now, Neal Caffrey. I haven’t forgotten what you said; this is about weighing the risk.

[ At last Nathan takes a deliberate pause, steepled his hands in front of him. ]

If you’re going to volunteer, then please consider the risks. You may die. You may go mad. The rest of this crazy crew might decide to throw you into space. This isn’t a decision that you should be making quickly, but I’m sorry, this is all the time we’ve got. If you have even the slightest of doubts, you should stay behind.

Some of you--I know you’re gonna volunteer, and I reserve the right to veto your offers. You know who you are, and you have responsibilities. I’m not tearing apart the infrastructure of this ship if I can help it. Others...well, I need you where you are. Plan B.

Hopefully the next time I speak to you, it’ll be from Tranquility’s bridge. Be safe, and good luck to all of us. Petrelli out.

[ OOC: This is the corresponding network post to the volunteer sign up here on the OOC comm. If you don’t know what’s going on yet, then take a read through. ]
23 January 2014 @ 11:18 am
[Guess who totally refuses to take off his long-sleeve shirt? This nerd. He can't handle people looking at his scrawny bod, okay. His self-confidence is at an all-time low in terms of physical prowess. Leave him alone. More importantly, he's covered in dirt from the gardens and is a sweaty mess -- a mix of weed smell and Ferngully, or something, with a doofy bandana tied around his forehead like he's an 80's break dancer or something. He sighs out a big dumb breath.

this is playing in the background from his mostly-fixed CD player. No regrets.]

Gardening's fuckin haaard, guys. Maybe it's just the heat talking, but damn.

But -- I think I got it. I think I'm getting this shit down pat. Soon, I'll be done with phase 1, and then I'll finally be able to harness the power of the ye' olde Space Potato. Marty's Potato Chips'll be a bigger hit than -- okay, no, sorry. I know I overdo the marijuana jokes. Whatever. Point is, I think gardening and making stupid junk food might be my life's calling. Anybody have any ideas for other foods from home we're all desperately missing? What kinds of food supplies do we have around here, anyway? We got blueberries; I made some bitchin' sorbet, which is plenty close to ice cream. 

We're learning. Adapting. Getting faster, better, stronger. Sure, this place sucks on many occasions, but at least we can sit around in trepidation with munchie foods. 


Who's gonna be my guinea pig for potato chip flavors? 

Also, Topher [that guy below him in the network posts who has his face and vice versa; hi topher] just reminded me, weird shit's been going on here this jump, too. Anybody else been getting creeper vibes from things in the halls? I mean, maybe I'm missing out because I hide under my blankets and shake my head until things aren't creepy, but I think the ship's fucking around again. 


Beyond the usual heatstroke or frostbite issue.


Also sorry about Topher's intensity, newbies. He's the mad scientist one between the two of us.

16 January 2014 @ 07:10 pm
[Eric really isn't the type for posting to the networks himself, but he has a need. A very specific one. With all of this temperature fluctuation, he needs to keep his body temperature more stable, since for some ungodly reason the changes in temperature actually bother him this semester. And that means regular feedings. Normally his smaller collection of donors is more than sufficient each month. This month, however, is far, far from normal.

When Eric turns on the camera he sits very still, legs crossed, hands folded in his lap. He's trying hard not to look as miserable as he feels, with all of this hot and cold that he's not supposed to be able to feel. And he's putting up a rather impressive front, at that. Behind him, Godric stands, just as still and straight himself, although a soft smile graces his own features.]

Ladies. Gentlemen. [The corner of his mouth quirks slightly, a show for the camera.] And the rest of you, whatever you are.

We're looking for volunteers. Donors, if you must be specific about it. Some of you might remember a similar request a while ago. Unfortunately, Captain Kirk is no longer here to speak on our behalf. That does not mean that we are asking you to blindly offer yourselves up. There are those on the ship that can vouch for our character in his stead.
[He won't name names specifically on such a public forum, but they know who they are, and they should know that they're called to account, here with these words.]

I'll give you the Sparknotes version. Godric and I are Vampire. We drink blood, it is how we survive. Without it, we starve. [His eyes are fiercely blue.] Or freeze, as the case may be. As it stands, we need more than usual to make ends meet this month, thanks to the ship fucking around with its temperature changes, and deciding we need to share in the same effects. And that is where you come in.

[It is Godric's turn to speak up now, sensing that his progeny's temper is getting the better of him for the moment.] We have regular volunteers who donate to us, and their contributions are usually more than enough. But this is an usual situation, and we do not wish to overburden them. We're asking for temporary volunteers to supplement what we already receive. And any form of donation will do; if you have your blood drawn in the medical bay, they can set it aside for us at your request.

[Eric shifts in his seat, leaning against one of the arms of the chair.] Donors may remain anonymous, should you decide to take us up on this request. [He brings a hand up to rest his chin his hand. He sounds slightly bored with the spiel, and rehearsed as well, as though this sort of announcement and public speaking in general really isn't new to him at all.] Questions?

((ooc: Blue is Eric and green is Godric! There will be a log for this up shortly as well so keep an eye out for that!))
[ jenna's face is uncharacteristically hesitant when she opens the feed, like she's still not quite sure this is the best idea. ]

I know we're all pretty sick of this place, and normally I don't play the guessing game— for the record, I feel like it's worth pointing out you can't get screwed with by a jerk of an emote if you don't talk to it, and hey: then you can skip the cryptic pointlessness— but something's been bothering me about those... dreams? Visions? Connections? I don't even know what to call them.


[ off-topic, sommers. stay on point man. she winces a little, smile wry. ]

The thing that keeps bugging me is the month before that it was all of us, right? And we're all... alive, on the sliding scale at least. We're here, maybe that's a better word for it.

[ she pauses, frowns. ]

So, assuming they were the same kind of thing— and they might not have been, so I could be entirely wrong before I even get the the point of what's bothering me. But if they are... where are those people? I didn't get anything from people who used to be here the first month, which makes me wonder—

[ if those people are still somehow out there, trapped. if ward and resnik don't look seventy-odd years old, it's always possible there are more people like them. ]

Nothing all that not-creepy, but still. [ she inhales deeply, letting it out and shaking her head. ] If anyone has theories that don't sound like a horror movie, I'd be really happy to hear them.

[ a beat. ]

Really happy.
11 November 2013 @ 06:43 pm
[Marty is intensely reading up as fast as he can on everything going on, because it looks like the whole ship is buzzing with bits and pieces of broken-up intel. Making it all fit is kind of tough, though. Carolyn gave a chunk, then Edgeworth — Marty's got his coma thing, and then there was this ship-wide snapshot with Matine and Schue... Weird shit, man. Just weird.] 

Sooo... Uh.

Like. This VIP chick. Okay, back up, Marty: I had a dream while I was passed out — coma'd out. There was this chick named Malone, and she was talking to this other guy about guarding some prisoner they called a VIP; Very Important Prisoner, you know? Legit what they said, so don't laugh at me on that one. The Malone lady, she was talking about how creepy this VIP was and how she was like talkin' to a wall.

And then they said that she was married to someone. Someone big. Think they said it was a captain; you think maybe the captain? Because that's what they made it sound like to me. Apparently this VIP killed someone super nasty and brutal, too. Manslaughter case.

[He breathes out, but is surprisingly missing a joint this time around. Shocking, I know.]

I wonder where all this crap falls in line. Everyone's talking around here now. We've got this Matine and Schue duo and they're talking about this VIP and how Ward's chillin' on guard patrol, but then they talk about how the captain's all nice with her, no handcuffs on her or anything... sounds like they kinda planned on not letting Manslaughter Lady go to trial. Or whatever. 

And then shit goes wild and Matine — what? Flips her lid and shoots a guy 'cus she's hallucinating or something? Am I hearing this all right?

God, I hate this ship sometimes. If you're gonna go sci-fi horror movie on me, at least make it straight-forward.

... Especially if I'm in it.

[please don't kill me first i'm too charming to get shot in the face by pretty women]

((OOC: Marty's actually got a little piece of his intel from a coma dream he had, in case you're wondering what the hell he's blabbing about))
11 November 2013 @ 05:28 pm
[The small, not quite comfortable smile she greets the network with is a far cry from the face she'd been sporting only a few hours before. It was one thing to accept her new lot in life for a day, maybe two- until reality really sunk in and the memories started pouring in. But she doesn't want to weigh in. She doesn't have the experience to, and even if she did- Her world extends only to those from Boston right now, and she needs to keep it that way]

I'm getting the impression the more hands there are in the medbay, the merrier. I'm a nurse from Boston. The- Uh, the year is 2013 if that matters. [It's space, it probably matters, she doesn't know- her nerd culture exposure is only by proxy. Her fingers curl around the steaming mug of coffee, and wishes it was a little less coffee and a lot more vodka. Still, it's hard to beat surprise breakfast in bed] I'd appreciate a guided tour, as soon as someone's available.

So let's get the mundane out of the way. I'm Nora- Josh's wife. I'm one of the new kids passing through here, but he's let me in on the fact that he's been around for- way too long. I feel like taking the lazy scenic route for making new friends and I'm going to keep stealing his.

So if you know him, why don't you come say hi? I'm thinking of taking a look around.
[ jenna's hair is still wet from the customary post-jump four showers, all way too much of it piled in a knot on top of her head. it's almost a little odd to try and collect her thoughts enough for a post that used to be customary, and her smile flickers for a split second before she shakes her head and it returns, more determined. ]

Welcome, new freshman. [ she can't help huffing out a laugh at her own lame joke. ] Sorry, couldn't resist. More seriously, if we didn't skip another number sorry about the space kidnapping wave twenty one, but welcome to the Tranquility anyway. I'm sure there will be a lot of technical questions I can't answer at all, but the daily life thing is-- god help me, my normal by now so if any of you want to know about where the pool is, feel free to ask.

For anyone who wants to join in, there are dinners down on floor one. They're kind of a everybody pitches in deal, so it's work for food but trust me, after a little while here the work part isn't as bad because it has company attached. No screaming, no weapons, don't even think about starting a fight and no I don't care about the age-old household rivalry and honor right now about covers the basic rules.

[ she looks down, a little hesitant for the first moment. ]

Which brings me to part two: what to do if you don't can't survive on just traditional food. I know last month one of the other members of medical brought this up, but I wanted to add something-- I'm most experienced in dealing with the vampire side of things, but I understand coming forward isn't exactly ingrained for a lot of people. If you're not comfortable just yet and you need-- an advocate in medical, I guess, feel free to contact me.

[ a beat, and then she shakes her head and continues a little more briskly: ]

That's it, sorry again about the space kidnapping for the new kids.
01 May 2013 @ 01:33 pm
[When Desmond's voice comes over the line, he sounds.... Crazy, so it's basically a Tuesday, except maybe you ought to listen to him this time, because this sounds extremely important.]

All right, look- [Muffled, as if said to someone behind him.] Get off, I'm fine! [Back to the comm] I don't know if anyone's even considered trying to pilot the Scylla, because believe me, it sounds like a lovely idea. But don't. There's a-a dead man's switch embedded in the flight controls. If anyone touches it- [He pauses to chuckle under his breath- it sounds crazy, but also painfully exasperated] - boom.

[He hesitates for a moment, as if already anticipating the protests.]

Don't believe me- send someone from flight crew to check it out. I know what I saw- [He hisses- goddammit, he needs to keep that shit under wraps better] I just know

[[OOC: POSTED WITH MOD PERMISSION. Basically, as of this log, Desmond will have had one of his flashes (which are now back thanks to his adventures in the ship- thanks for that, TQ). I need a couple volunteers to tag in and be witnesses to the discovery of the dead man's switch and Desmond's subsequent freak out, but yeah, as of this post, anyone who was on the Scylla probably would have heard Desmond being Final Destination about not touching the switch.]]
10 March 2013 @ 04:31 pm
image )

Y'know, since we survived not murdering one another for being clingy (I mean you, Wrench Guy) and escaping the clutches of the Empire, I figure that I should hand out some handy advice:

1.) The ship is going to try and kill you.

2.) Don't try to rewire the roombas to make them go faster, they just freak out and go in circles.

3.) The shuttles in the shuttle bay are terrible and you can't honestly work in those conditions. Whoever did the wiring on the fuel cells to them wasn't even trying. The engine, if you can even call it that, is an absolute joke. It's like they don't want us to escape or something.

4.) Keep your eyes on your own property in the showers.

5.) Then, there's this guy. He goes by Ben or Obi-Wan or whatever ridiculous names that Jedi choose for themselves. This is what is going to happen: he is going to come to you when you make port on the worst possible planet you can imagine (Tatooine: don't go, don't stay), in a hive of the worst people you can possibly imagine and he's going to offer you a job. You will take that job, you will think it is amazing money for very little work. Here's the thing about Obi-Wan, he's going to get you in trouble. He's going to get you caught in a tractor beam and you're going to be stuck in enemy territory that's probably the size of a small moon. And the best part about it? You're not going to get paid. So, in summary: if Obi-Wan Kenobi comes to you and offers you a job, no matter if it's rescuing a Princess, doing his laundry or overall a favor: listen to the bad feeling in your gut, and say no.

Trust me, you'll thank me later.
10 March 2013 @ 06:20 pm
[ robb and bran both are onscreen for this, grey wind at robb’s side, summer curled at bran’s. this is meant to be something official, and so robb’s drawn up straight, even though his fingers are carding idly into grey wind’s fur. he clears his throat before he speaks, darting a glance at bran then back to the lens. ]

Though my brothers and I have dwelled aboard this ship for quite some time, it was brought to my attention that there are many aboard who have questions about our direwolves, and we’ve been remiss in not answering them more fully. That is why Bran and I have come before you, to speak of our direwolves and assuage any fears passengers new and old may have of them.

[ grey wind gives a short huff, shifting as if to move away and robb pauses, fingers twisting in fur until grey wind stills beneath his hand. bran has been sitting more still through robb’s speech, watching his brother, but as robb falls quiet, he takes up the task of speaking.]

Our direwolves are not pets, but they are of House Stark and they are ours. They mind us, and they will not harm anyone--so long as we are not under threat. They have never attacked anyone aboard this ship, and they never will, unless there is some danger. They are not tame, but they are not wild and savage, either. And they will not hunt any animal aboard this ship, so those who keep pets need not worry. [and here summer flicks an ear, as if he might take argument with that statement, should tempting prey make itself known--but he settles his great head on his paws once more, as bran scratches behind his ear.]

There’s no need to fear them, nor a need to hunt them. The only times they have bared their teeth against anyone was in service of our House, and protection of our family. If you mean them no harm, then you need never worry about their presence, no matter how large and savage they may appear. [ none so large and savage as ghost, but perhaps that’s best not to bring up. ] If you see them in the halls unaccompanied by one of us, continue about your business. They’ll not bother you. [ grey wind’s lip curls back from his teeth and robb makes a hushing noise, expression stern, before he looks at bran. ] Have you anything else we should say?

[bran has tried to look more a lord than a child this whole time, but as he bites at his lip and thinks, he looks slightly more his age. summer rolls his eyes up to consider him, and robb, and grey wind, but does not raise his head.] Only-- that they are safe. And if anyone is uncertain of them, I would gladly let them meet Summer, so they could see for themselves.

Aye, and Grey Wind too. [ robb says to bran, before addressing the lens next. ] If anyone has doubts, you’re welcome to come to any of our House and see for yourself. We would happily accommodate you.
[ the feed opens on two pairs of feet; one large, one smaller. then jenna's voice comes through. ]

Tell you what. I'm going to leave you here, with this broadcasting-- [ the shot jerks a little, exposing an empty and spotless kitchen. ] and that way you can have something to talk to while I try and figure out where we are right now. I'll be back in a flash, you've seen how fast I can move now, and you know I'll hear you. Okay?

[ not waiting for an answer, jenna presses her comm into desmond’s hand and brings it up a little, so his chest is in frame, squeezing his shoulder with her other hand. ] I'll be right back, I promise.

Right. [Desmond sounds... Well shellshocked and crazy pretty much covers it. You can hear him swallow in that sort of pained, half-panting way, like he's out of breath and can't quite manage to calm himself down.] Assuming anyone's still out there, yeah? [He might be talking to Jenna, but she’s already gone. The comm shifts violently, flashing to Desmond’s face for only a half second (long enough to see he has both eyes and doesn't seem to be missing anything vital) and then to the ceiling and then back to the floor.] I don't understand what more it wants from me. Three bloody years of my life, pushing a damned button wasn't enough. I've been to the heart. I saw the light again. It was supposed to put me back. It was supposed to- [The camera swings by so fast you can easily tell that Desmond was gearing up to smash it against the nearest wall before-]

--whoa whoa, hey. Hey, it's okay. It's okay, I'm right here. Des? Desmond? [ she crouches down, taking the comm back into her own hands and setting it on the counter, where it films the tops of their heads for the moment. ] We're fine, look. We're even back in the main part of the ship, so that trek back is cancelled. I'm--

[ she pauses, hand reaching up into the picture again as she reaches for the comm, setting in on her upraised knees so it's more or less centered on the two of them, looking a whole lot worse for the wear. ]

If someone could prove big brother is always watching and figure out what floor we're on for me, that would be great. Who needs civil liberties, anyway? --don't get any extra ideas, Nathan. [ there's a tinge of forced, unnatural cheer to her tone, and her gaze darts over to desmond every few moments as if she needs to make sure he's there and fine. ] And maybe whoever pulls rescue duty, bring him something with a lot of sugar in it? That would be great.

[Desmond rubs his face, weary.] Someone tell Tyke I found what I was lookin' for, yeah? It's all true.

[ she inhales, about to add something else; then she shakes her head, lips pressed together in a tired line and jabs the off button. ]

( ooc | they're on floor thirty eight, where they were dumped after being rescued by ward from some Seriously Bad Metaplot Shit. colors for ease: jenna and desmond. )
30 January 2013 @ 02:20 pm
[ no one has ever looked more irritated to be on camera than derek looks right now. there's a beat, and then derek gestures to his beard, which has progressed past stubble and into full on beard territory. ]

I need a new razor.

[ there's a pause. he doesn't actually have anything to trade, which is a problem. there's maybe a minute of dead air and then derek just shakes his head and shuts the feed down. ]
[ normally, this kind of thing starts with jenna scattered, or looking slightly surprised that recording is actually happening. none of that, for once; instead she's sitting in one of the therapy rooms, behind a desk with her comm propped up enough to see a truly righteous amount of brightly colored pillows behind her. she's calm, cool, collected and super prepared, there may be notes involved.

she has a handout, y'all. ]

I have a speech I put together so I'm just going to launch into it, and I'll do the social skill stuff after, honest. [ a deep breath. ] Okay, so. Between earlier in the month with Tony, and-- other conversations, I've realized that there might be more confusion about what therapy is and what it can do for people than I had thought. So! Consider this one woman's very, very biased take on it.

Therapy is, in an overly simplified hippie way, trying to help people heal their brains and their hearts. Not the actual organs-- thoughts and feelings. It's working through problems that keep you from living your life as well as possible.

There are a lot of fields and specialties but I'm going to talk about my preferences and style, since-- I'm kind of it, right now, when it comes to the traditional discipline side of things.

[ looking down again, at an out of frame notebook, jenna takes a breath. ]

The first thing I want to say is I'm not stuck on sitting in chairs and talking about your childhood. If you want to take a pillow and beat the wall and then talk about music? It's your session, go ahead. That doesn't mean we can do whatever you want, but it does mean I understand that opening up to a total stranger is hard and admittedly sucks and most of you don't know me well enough to just assume you can trust me. That's okay-- it's smart, actually. And if you'd like to start seeing me, we can work on building that trust, but I don't expect it to just magically appear because I say I'll do my best to help you.

Uh-- right, second point. I can go over this more in detail one on one, but I'm not a licensed therapist, I'm a grad student. A grad student would be like... a master apprentice? Almost to being a master maker of whatevers myself, but just a year or two shy. Anyway, that makes what I'm doing illegal, back home-- not to mention a million kinds of unethical and more than a little gross. Believe me, I know, and I didn't really set out to declare myself Space Therapist. If me not being licensed makes you uncomfortable I completely understand and respect a desire to hold out for someone who isn't still midway through their thesis, but it was pointed out that until then I should offer for people who don't mind.

...and a quick third: at home, I'd never see clients in a social situation. No one would know about my life, my problems or bad habits, anything like that. But this isn't home and you may see me at the bar, so if that would make you uncomfortable I also understand, but we make do with what we have up here.

[ she clears her throat and taps a few keys. ]

Here, I put together an informal quick list about what therapy is and isn't.

ic post attachment )

...I think that's about it for the official side.

[ and with that the attempt at Serious Posture and Mature Gravity fades back into something more naturally jenna. ]

Now I get to be normal life Jenna, not therapist Jenna. [ offering a wave. ] Hey, new people-- I'm Jenna, if you missed Tony's last scientific doom post. I mentioned it there too, but again: if you don't mind being expected to lend a hand helping in some way or another, dinners happen nightly on the kitchen nearer to the lower numbered rooms, floor one. It's not exciting food, but I can promise it won't completely suck and there will be enough for anyone. Anyone who wants something fancy can... make it for themselves, pretty much.

...does anyone do haircuts, on a completely different end note? We can talk trading if you want, I just need a trim. [ her mouth twitches, mischievously. SUP CHAPEL. ] And a friend told me it's good to make sure people know how to cut hair to the right length before you ask for the haircut in the first place.

locked to damon salvatore » 100% )
28 January 2013 @ 11:13 am
[this is Stilinski's first time using the video function, because hey this guy doesn't even use Skype back home, why would he do it on the Tranquility. still, he has a question and he's not really sure who to ask so why not ask everyone, right? this is supposed to be a forum.]

I hope with the most recent injuries people are going to be exercising a little more caution up here. We can't keep you people safe if you keep running off into the ship.

[he's been around medical, he knows how hard the staff are working, and he isn't going ot elaborate because while he's on security, it isn't his job to police people. not until he gets that order.]

Got a question for ya though. Is it normal to get things in your locker that aren't yours?

[his expression crinkles, because he knows how that sounds.]

I don't mean something significant that isn't yours, like a picture or- or a ring that belonged to someone you knew. But I mean, something you've never seen before in your life.

[and because that isn't all that clear and because he honestly doesn't know that this is a potentially dangerous substance, he holds the bottle up.]

I thought this was gun powder or a spice or something, but, it isn't. And I have no idea what it is.

[he looks at it again, shrugs, sets it down, and ends the transmission.]
26 January 2013 @ 04:29 pm
[ that says video, but it's not, really. the camera is actually face down on the bed, so you get a nice dark screen with a hint of flickering movement, occasionally enough light through the rumples of the sheets that it's more grey than black. ]

I totally don't get the anonymous posting thing. Not as though this is the internet. It's like a group skype session. Or — endless youtube, but without the cats. Which, fyi, lame. Video blogging is for A/V club nerds.

[ stiles, it seems, has opinions on the network. he huffs a cheek-puffing sigh. he didn't actually think it would be possible to be bored when you're in space and everything that happens is a major drama, but that's pretty much what he is, listlessly bored. it's a mood. ]

So you guys. You guys. Raise your hand if you've managed to learn something new and cool on the S. S. Pandorum. Except, don't actually raise your hand, okay? Just share with the class. Show and tell with space skills.

[ he picks up his communicator, and hey, there's his little face, all interested and ready to be amazed. ]

What do you know now, that you didn't know before you woke up here?
[ good evening tranquility ( or maybe it's daytime, hard to really tell on this ship especially with everything that's happened within the past two days ) you are being greeted by a tony stark in his natural habitat, also known as one of the actual science labs and not one of his fun little makeshift labs on the first floor. it looks like he's actually doing something ( spoilers: not exactly ) but everyone really believes people better when they're working first. at least when they're tony stark. in any case he puts down what he's working on ( which is actually just a buttload of calculations ) and finally actually speaks, exhaling heavily. ]

Good evening Tranquility, at least I'm pretty sure it is, I haven't actually checked, if it's not, replace that with whatever time of day it is. I felt like we needed a Hitchcock flair after the events of oh, what last two months? I'm saying hi from the science not going to tell you all which one because I don't feel like listening to all of you storming the gates. Could have just done this from one of my labs on the first floor, but then I'd definitely have to tell you where those are. And I don't feel like it personally. By the way, not actually going to ever give those up, so if we're consolidating floors, personally vote the fourth floor, so many open rooms up there.

Generous, Tony. Are you-- you're posting? [ and this would be jenna wandering onto camera, carrying a plate in her hand, clearly bringing lunch to tony and prepared to stay and make sure he eats. stefan follows behind her, just nearly out of frame, flashing bits and pieces.

follows like a broody, spiky puppy. kind of. he's fixed his hair, it's very suave. ]
Hang on.

[ and she ducks out of frame again. ] Stefan, this is my friend Tony-- not a pirate. Tony, Stefan-- you guys have a lot in common.

[ like being alkies. MASSIVE ALKIES is the subtext here. ] And you guys shake hands or something and I will... not be fixing my hair, because I'm not vain. Tony, you were pretending you speak for the whole first floor?

[ and the whole network gets to see that awkward moment where no one knows if they're shaking hands or not. stefan ends up nodding pleasantly, shuffling a little to the side like he wants to be out of the way. you kids and your newfangled posts. ]

[ ...right yes the— handshake. how about no. because no. so nod back because jenna what does that mean. MOVING ON! MAYBE. KIND OF. ]

I was. Look, a fair amount of those rooms were claimed by me and have my shit in them. So, I can speak for my room. There's like twenty rooms occupied there by us and there's single digits on the fourth floor. it's the logical place if you're going to move us all. Besides, I know someone kept her room and yet is still living in sin in another. Just saying. [ tony that's mean stop that. ] And yes, to the posting. I have another PSA because I'm apparently learning how to be really responsible like that. It's weird.

You're calling dibs. [ comes the quiet, off-camera contribution from stefan, accompanied by the clink of glass against glass. ]

...Traitors. "Dibs". [ hair successfully fixed, jenna steps back into frame. ] As I'm sure Tony meant to say, the first floor has open rooms and if everyone can get along and agree and you don't mind an unreliable lock, dinner is every night.

Okay, pitch done. Continue with the science and telling us all we're doomed.
[ it would sound waspish except for how it's clearly an old enough joke 'lol tony you keep fucking it all up' is affectionate. somehow. ]

--oh! No, no, I lied. I would have announced this last month, but-- you know. No Network. I found a therapy department, so... if you don't mind a grad student who you might see at the bar sometime, please come in.

We've got every pillow ever, so you don't even have to talk to me if that's not something you feel comfortable with. Come... I don't know. Beat walls with soft things, it's a very legitimate therapy technique. Anyway: we're open for business, and if I'm not there contact me for an actual appointment at 001 » 016. And related, I'm Jenna. Okay, now you can hit the doom and science.

[ ha ha ha jenna if only this doom wasn't actually doom. for once, tony is maybe going to scare the shit out of everyone with just cause this time. even if maybe you know, black holes aren't exactly his area of expertise. ]

Jenna is lying and don't believe her except for dinner and therapy. [ oh right original reason for posting. ] So we had two deaths in two days, Chase's is incredibly sad and I miss her too, but, the last death, you know the big thing of rocks—

Shale-- [ that would be jenna. ]

—Right, Shale, tumbled down a hole and promptly died. Pretty sure it wasn't capable of dying unless something was say— oh I don't know, something that could destroy matter.

Large, killer black holes. [ stefan still not on camera, but his tone is serious. ]

Broody got it in one. For those of you who are new, once upon a time like jump, six or five or some number we all caught a weird plague that someone I know affectionately calls “dying of blue” and some of us had to go on a wild adventure for a cure that involved a maze with black holes. I know how that sounds and some of you more science savvy people are going to point out that you can't have a black hole let alone several on a ship like this without all of us dying. [ a beat. ] Yeah, usually I'd agree, but whatever killed Shale—

...question. [ that would be jenna, again, actually raising her hand for some reason. ] Okay, you can go back to the monologue but why can't black holes exist in a ship? Just... actually curious.

[ sigh! jenna no, stop interrupting him. ] In simple terms? The entire ship would be pulled into the hole and promptly be smashed into tiny pieces and cease to exist. As I was saying, normally I'd agree, but I've seen it before and nothing else could conceivably kill what was, basically rocks. The maze was from what I remember, not exactly close enough to have us communicate with the network.

Shale was able to broadcast falling down the hole. I'm not entirely sure where that hole is, but, while the hybrid hell monsters are bad. We've got a just slightly bigger problem, if we've got a black hole within broadcasting range. One that seems to kind of defy the laws of normal black holes.

[ when tony takes a breath, jenna moves in. ] It means, in not technical talk: bad things were far out, and now they're closer in. Things always moved in the ship, but this is-- new. New and bad. So if Tony doesn't mind me taking over this PSA-- be careful. Don't be stupid and I don't mean don't do anything, before someone yells about action being needed; I agree. [ jenna's not smiling, her expression earnest but not quite grim. urging.

(hypocrite.) ]

But two members of our group are dead, in two days. That's not okay, and not wandering off alone? That's a good start to stopping this.

[ tony looks like he's going to say something but then he stops instead choosing to just point to his eye that is currently glowing blue through a hole much like a pupil in a normal eye. this is what happens when you do stupid shit like go outside of the normal areas. you go crazy. or you lose an eye. or something like that. ]

[ ooc | in order the fonts are as followed: jenna, stefan, tony. ]
[ it's obvious, from the dampness of stefan's hair and the disarry of his hair, that he's just come from the jump. there's a pause before he starts speaking, like he's not totally certain it's recording. technology, man, technology. ]

According to what I've found in the backlogs, I've been here before.

[ because of course what stefan did was sit down and do some reading. is anyone surprised? ]

The catch is, I don't remember being here before. So I suppose my point is, how common of a thing is that? Has it happened to anyone here before?

And if Mystic Falls means anything to anyone...

[ awkward pause, stefan twitches a smile, eyebrows raised, and then he cuts the connection. ]
09 January 2013 @ 09:56 pm
[The room Taylor's sat in is dark, unidentifiable from the wall behind her, but soft, blue-tinged light from another source washes over her face intermittently. It highlights how drawn she looks, pale, tired. She's a mess, really. Even by Tranquility standards.]

It's January, right? Been counting on the jumps since I got here. [She isn't slurring as she speaks, but the lack of focus in her expression and sluggishness to her movements makes it clear she's inebriated to anyone who knows what to look for.] Guess it doesn't matter though. Just start calling them by numbers. I was meant to turn twenty in December. Be an instructor back at the Academy. [She frowns for a moment, taking a drink out of an unlabelled bottle.] Or maybe they'd have terminated me.

[Another pause, and she shifts off to the side for a moment, putting the bottle down. When she comes back into view she’s holding something else – a mask. Her mask, an mongrel canine face, beaten, bruised and bloody. She holds it up, hanging off the fingers of one hand.]

Turns out these show you ghosts. Hallucinations. Whatever. If that isn't fucked up enough to get you thinking don't touch them, you're a fucking idiot. [Very evidently angry, suddenly, half a snarl on her mouth. She looks at the mask again, then drops it to one side.] Didn't want to see my old man the little he was around, sure as fuck didn't want to see him here. Thing I've been thinking, though - what do you see, you wear someone else's?

[She doesn't hold the second mask up for the camera, but it's there in her hands, looks like a modern military gas mask. She's quiet for a long while, like she maybe forgot she even had the comms running, all of the anger and energy drained out of her again.]

Tommy's gone. Gone last jump. Told him he would, cause everyone goes. [A thin smile, strained, sad, and then gone again.] Guess I didn't wanna be right.
16 November 2012 @ 07:53 am
[ there's the sound of a direwolf howling, unapologetic in his grief, and even the soft hushing murmur that comes after doesn't quite temper it, only reduces it to a low keening whine. there's a pause that stretches, and robb clears his throat more than once, trying to find the words. when he does speak he sounds tired, anger burning slow and hot under exhaustion but finally, finally, he speaks. ]

The lady Sansa Stark, who many called Alayne Stone, has gone.

[ there's a breath, as if robb means to say more, but instead he simply cuts the feed. ]