[ 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% )

[ sup, tranquility. enjoy this tiny, chipper teenybopper with big dreams. ]

Hello, people of the Tranquility. I'm Rachel Berry, from Lima, Ohio, circa 2011-2012, and I have a question for you all.

[ a deep breath. THIS IS IMPORTANT, TQ. ]

Does anyone here play an instrument? Or sing? Or dance? Or have any artistic inclinations whatsoever? 

[It's a rare video post from Edgeworth. He looks tired, but he seems less depressed than he did a few hours ago; he's focusing on his anger to carry him through.]

Security has a certain amount of the ship secured. These areas are the ones we patrol, the ones you're all accustomed to: the passenger quarters, the oxygen gardens, the medical bay, et cetera. The areas in which you reside. If you stay within those boundaries, we try to keep you safe to the fullest of our abilities; though our manpower is limited, we will do what we can.

If you stray, then we can do nothing. As I said, our manpower is limited, and beyond where we have secured, it is essentially enemy territory. So all of you, no matter how impressed you are with your survival skills and abilities, needs to treat it like enemy territory. It isn't a place to have a walk. It isn't a place to go out and search for monsters so that you can get your fun cracking a few heads. It isn't a research lab. It is a place fraught with danger, and if you go out there, you run the risk of death.

So if you go out, then you will treat it like it is enemy territory. You will not go out alone. You will not go out unarmed. You will not go out without notifying security. If you fail to do any of these things, then you should damn well compose your suicide note to your friends on-board, because you're very likely going to die. And while security isn't ever going to leave anyone to die, you can't treat this ship like an amusement park and expect to live to see the next jump.

[And he glares at the camera a moment longer - and then he glances off to the side, his lips relaxing very slightly.]

Condolences. To those who knew them.

Tranquility.

[ Lucrezia Borgia's hair is braided and her silks are pink as her cheeks. ]

The fireflies had returned to us. To them and to those who had been asleep, Ben Tornati! as you all have been so direly missed. I would hear that you are well from your lips or through the firefly.

To all others, I offer a trade.

I would hear of your name. I heard so many names since my arrival here and yet I never asked for their meaning in your respective languages. I would listen and tell you of my own, if you care to hear it.

[ but then she seems a bit bothered by something, as if she had realized something is missing. ]

I have no words of poetry to offer today, what a shame.

[ give her a moment before she'll smile and, lifting her chin with mischief in her eyes, speak the next words in Latin before shutting down her firefly. ]

quae bello est habilis, Veneri quoque convenit aetas.

( The age which is apt for war, is also suitable for Love. )

[ Behold, Lucrezia in pale pink dress and an elaborated braid in the first video broadcast since her arrival. By the looks of it, she is in one of the lounges, a few books in her lap. They look used, little notes scribbled at the edges of each page. She will read one. ]

I am, I confess, a sinner, but one who, far from weeping for her sins, weeps only for her lover; far from abhorring her crimes, longs only to add to them; and who, with a weakness unbecoming my state, please myself continually with the remembrance of past delights when it is impossible to renew them.

[ a pause. ]

Heloise and Abelard were truly doomed. But better doomed and loved than safe and lonely.

(  Private to close CR and friends  )

Gonna start a plot of tobacco in the Gardens. Cure it somewhere else. You want a cut, you gotta help or pay up.

Rest of you fuckers stay away from it.


{PRIVATE TO TOSHIKO:}

Couple-a people said I should talk to ya. Lock this.

[Bossy much?]

[ ENCRYPTED 85% to REMUS LUPIN & SIRIUS BLACK ]

[ Raven sounds tired, but deliriously happy, too; ]

I know it's late and you're probably both exhausted and you might not get this until later but I wanted to tell you right away - I didn't shift. I'm not a werewolf! I was a little jittery for a while, like I felt.. feverish, and moody, but it might have just been nerves. It was probably nerves. I never felt out of control or anything like that, and I never changed. Not even a little bit. So, I think I'm immune to the bite. My mutation probably... I dunno! It fought it. Even if there's some magic to it, the- the curse, like you said, I guess maybe my body just.. rejected it. [ she pauses, and it's just so she can huff with disbelief ] It makes no sense, and I really don't understand it at all. But I had to let you guys know. I'm okay. I'm fine, I promise, I'm totally fine.

Now I just need to come up with some story as to where the scar came from.

And I hope your night wasn't too bad. Let me know if you need anything, okay?

---

[ ENCRYPTED 60% to SCI DEPARTMENT ]
[ ( pings to medical & genetics, specifically, aaand open to jim kirk & spock too. ) ]

Last jump I received something in my locker that I think might be of interest some of you. ..Maybe. Actually, I'm not really sure if this is something more for the science labs or for you guys in the medbay. But, um. Either way! [ someone's a little nervous. she's only told Jesse about this, and she's not.. sure if it's going to be seen as a negative or positive yet ] Basically, back home, a friend of mine was trying to make a serum that would normalize my appearance. I would still be a shapeshifter, but I wouldn't have my blue natural form anymore. At the time, it was what I wanted. So he took a sample of my blood and tried to use my X-gene, my mutation ..whatever, to cook up this serum, right? But it didn't turn out right, it actually enhanced his abilities when he injected it. His mutation- He started out with mutated feet, and he's super smart, and really strong, but the serum ended up sending it all into overdrive. He's healthy! More than, actually. But the serum made him... transform. A little bit. [ A LOT ACTUALLY BUT WELL ] My point though, is that this serum can enhance abilities. And I haven't tried it yet, I haven't even shown anyone.

But I was thinking maybe you guys could take a look at it. See if you can make sense of it? Because if it can enhance my abilities, boost me up to full strength like I was back home instead of dulled down like I am here, I want to take it. But only if I know it'll work, and that it's safe.

Does that sound like something any of you would have some luck with?

---

[ ENCRYPTED 60% to CHARLES XAVIER ]
[ and now that she's done with all that tired rambling, she just has one more message; ]

We are long overdue for a catch-up session, Professor X. I'm sure you won't get this til morning, but. Yeah. I know we always see each other around, but I miss you. So. Let's meet up.

[ This is a video feed of some dark-haired guy who really likes to look at himself or something like that. It's kinda myspace-youtube self-webcam style up in here. ]

Does anyone know where this spaceship is heading? I'm just kind of curious and all since it doesn't look we we could just get off wherever we want to. It's just something worth knowing. Thanks.

[ He pauses like he's gonna turn the feed off before suddenly remembering some other stuff that he wants to say. ]

Oh yeah, I know I can't be the only guy who's realized this, but there are a lot of people here like they just stepped out of the movies or comics or cartoons or whatever. It's totally awesome, and I hope you guys won't mind me asking for autographs even if you aren't actors. Might be even better, actually, if you're all the real deal.

[ And again, right here, ready to turn it off. Whoops, just remembered something else. ]

PS: Hey, Dave. I ran into the Indonesian mobster you stole a pound of weed from. He's challenging you to a mudwrestling match, and the winner gets a Russian mail-order bride. Call me. Oh, and does anyone know if there's a way to set up a voicemail on these things?

[ >> END.

ooc: Fourth-wall opt-out is here, responses to come later. ]

[ despite the warnings to not wear the masks, ariadne couldn't resist temptation and now here she was, sitting alone in a random hallway of the ship - wearing her mask (she’s been doing it for some time now - wearing it here and there - always in private) and poking the network via anonymous text.

this should be fun. ]

How do some of you manage to go on day to day, pretending as if nothing is wrong - that you aren't lying to others or that you didn't do horrible things back home?

How do you live with your guilt?

[ yep, a vague text from a girl that is obviously going through a bit of an identity crisis at the moment and just wants to understand what she is doing wrong. someone help her. ]


[ ooc: so yeah, obviously ariadne is wearing her mask in some random hallway (lets say not far from the oxygen gardens) so feel free to action this post up and spot her wearing her nifty mask or just keep poking her via text. she also sort of fails at anon (though she doesn't think so) so folks that have talked to her long enough should be able to pick up that it is her talking here. ]

Tranquility.

[ The greeting comes from a woman who is longing about in a chair, all heels, business wear and red lips. She looks calm or at least, calm enough given the situation. There is a smile on her lips, as if this amuses her on a certain level.

But if her smile is silk her eyes are steel. ]

Quite a predicament, this is. My arrival seemed to be in tune with the message from our -

[ a faux! pensive pause ]

-- Graceful companion.

I will not ask of how one leaves or why are we here, as I have no intention to waste your time or my own. I will make one inquiry.

[ her voice turns strict, as if she is used to be making inquiries. ]

I am in search of a child. His name is Henry Mills, he is ten years old. If there is such a passenger aboard this ship, I would have him sent to me, I am his mother.

[ a pause; and then, another. ]

I would also ask of the portal through which we came here. I know all gain consciousness in what you call the couches. I mean to ask if we have knowledge of the portal through which we are transferred into the couches.

[ another smile, almost pleasant this time. ]

Much obliged.

[ and that would be all; there is a very limited amount of time in which Regina Mills can pretend to be nice. ]

I know we're all preoccupied with Creeper McCreeperson breathing heavily on the network, but we all still have to live here on a daily basis and there's one thing I think we tend to overlook: the kids. What are you little guys doing all day? We grownups have our jobs, but really, I'm hoping none of you are getting into trouble.

Which leads me to ask, why isn't there some type of school or daycare or organized activities for the kids? Heck, not only them, but for the adults who don't work or who'd rather not work in any of the departments and need something to do. Blake has his basketball thing and I can easily teach art and computers, maybe a little science, and I'm sure a handful of others have a bunch of skills that can be useful. Maybe some reading classes? Math? General how to use today's technology if you're from the Middle Ages?

So who's interested? Don't have me talking to the void about idle hands being the Devil's toys.



[ooc: This is me gauging interest on starting some educational type stuff for both kids and adults? Nothing is required or formal. Think of it as a drop-in center when they are bored and looking for things to get into. If there is some people wanting in on this, I'll post something in the OOC comm in a day or so.]

[ When the feed clicks on, it’s awful close on a brown eye. It wobbles before it zooms out--or more accurately, Cid Harrington, small child of 5, takes it away from the close-up of his face. There’s an older woman with long blonde hair pacing, in what appears to be some sort of rant. ]

- or whatever this place is, I don’t want you talkin’ to strangers, and don’t go anywhere without me or Joe around, okay? [She pauses, and then turns to look at the boy, blue eyes hard and suspicious.] Cid? What’ve you got?

[ Cid’s blink is slow, voice completely even and casual. ] It’s recording. To everyone. [ Tap. ]

What? [Her mouth turns down in a frown and she glances at what Cid is holding. Great. Way to expose them to all this stranger danger, Cid.

Well, nothing for it now. It’s video, clearly, but she’s not used to speaking in front of an audience, so her next words are a little stilted:]

My name’s Sara. This is Cid. [Her hand rests on the top of his head, an almost-protective gesture.] My son.

We should ask a question. [ Straight, suggestive. It’s only fair that they do, since they’re already recording. ] Where can you find blunderbusses?

Cid! [She looks startled, and a little angry as she quickly grabs the communicator from Cid and flips it off.]

((ooc: green is Cid; brown is Sara. Replies may come from both!))

[The camera clicks on to a low-lit room. It's difficult to see anything, but there's something moving in the darkness--

--a face. A wolf's face turned to the side, its jaws bloody and eye narrowed, teeth stretched into sharp, curved fangs. It stares at the camera for a few seconds, sizing it up, before turning. But the other half of the face isn't a wolf; rather, it's a mangled, gory mess. A young face appears on the screen, meshed horribly with the wolf on the other side-- and it's Remus' face, but one could only tell that if one knew him well, as his face is horribly torn up. Torn skin and exposed muscles make up the majority of his face, while blood pours from scratches on his forehead. His teeth are exposed through a hole in his cheek, but that's barely visible, as dripping yellow fat mixing with crimson blood are constantly slipping down his cheek. It's a horrible sight, made all the worse by Remus' sudden low laugh.

--because it's the mask, of course, and he proves that by removing it after a few seconds.]

Enjoy the show?

[There's a noticeable edge in his voice and smile, something colder and crueler than before.]

I think I quite like this new development. It's certainly far more interesting than simply another Jump, don't you agree? And far less deadly-- which reminds me, there's new people here, aren't there? I do hope that's not your first inkling that things on here aren't quite so lovely as they seem; that would be a rather poor welcome.

[He glances down, considering the mask for a few more seconds, before glancing at the camera again.]

You know, I'm always surprised at how kind everyone is here. Aren't you? How welcoming they are to the supernatural creatures. The vampires and the werewolves, the poor castaway souls that have found sanctuary here-- but you know, I don't know if that's so wise. It works out for me, of course, but don't you ever wonder what might happen if one of us snapped?

[He grins fiercely.]

Think about it. Once a month, all that separates me from a potential meal-- that is to say, you (and please don't say that you could defend yourself from me, because I can promise you, you couldn't, not from me when I'm on the hunt)-- is a simple door and a dog. Just a few inches of steel, and I'm sure soon enough the werewolf will figure out how to get out of that.

As for the vampires-- well. I don't think it would be very hard for a vampire to snap, would it? At least with me, you only have to worry once a month. A terrifying once a month, to be certain, and I could most definitely hurt you if I was so inclined now-- but in the end, I have control over myself twenty-eight days of the month. A vampire, now-- well. He could snap at any moment. His cravings are a constant hunger. Imagine, if you would, starving. Having hunger claw at your stomach, making you dizzy, making you delirious-- and then being presented a delicious meal and being told you weren't allowed to have any. Imagine having to deal with that at every hour, every minute, every second of every day--

Really, it's a wonder the poor things haven't snapped by now, isn't it?

[He slips his hand up, his finger playing carelessly at his dogtooth.]

Of course, being a creature of darkness also has its benefits. Strength, hearing, sight, smell-- they all get better. You become something better than a human, something bigger and cleverer and far more interesting. I have to say, I'm a bit surprised no one has asked for the bite yet.

But then perhaps you're all frightened.

[He shrugs and glances down at the mask again. After a moment he slips it back on and turns so the wolf side is facing the Network.]

I suppose you should be.

[Work is going to keep Jesse out of trouble. That's why he's doing this, making a PSA when he would like nothing better than to bury his face in some powder. He looks miserable, but at least he's sober.]

The masks. I dunno if you guys, like, watch a lotta TV where you're from. But where I come from, movies'll teach you not to just mess around with mysterious creepy shit that shows up outta nowhere.

I already mentioned this to a couple people, but I'll get rid of your mask for you. I know they keep coming back, but I'll do it every day. My room's eight twenty-four. You can just drop it off there or at the science labs or give it to me if you see me around and I'll take care of the rest.

Uh, that's it. I guess.

"Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain."

[Harvey's got his mask in his hands, turning it over. He's standing outside his door in 011 as he does so. It's clear that the aforementioned quote from Harry Potter is in relation to the eerily nondescript mask in his hands. He appears calm and collected, though really - the featureless mask seems... angry, in a way. He tried binning it, it didn't work. It came back stuck to his door. Which is why he is choosing to make this transmission, using the network for the first time.]

Someone went a bit happy with the paper mache and put some witchery on it. If anybody's found a way to get rid of it permanently, let me know. That kind of information should be shared because I don't know about you, but I don't want to see this thing again. I know I'm not alone in that.

[Tooootally ignoring the fact that it gives him the creeps, a bit. He hasn't even put it on, so he sticks it back on his door before turning off the transmission.]