[There's a fleeting glimpse of this guy - bare shoulders, wet, wildly uneven hair, grouchy face still pale and a little shocked - before the screen jumbles around, finally landing on one hell of a mess strewn across the 002 bathroom counter. What used to be the mirror over the sink is now the mirror in the sink. And on the counter. And across the floor. And - broken glass is everywhere, really, interspersed with shorn tufts of hair and a scattered array of clippers and product.

Not that Netherlands is here to talk about hair. When he speaks it's low and careful, measuring out his words as he goes.]

Has, uh -

Wanna know if anyone else has broken one-a these things. It's... weird.

[…

…

just dead air and a stationary view of the wreckage for a few seconds, then he clears his throat and flips the video off.





Aaaaand about thirty seconds later flips it on again, just voice this time, all business.]

Gardens are always hiring. An' come talk to me, if you smoke. Can set something up.

[Because if he's gonna bother to post to the network he might as well make it useful, right. PRIORITIES. He's your grumpy neighborhood agriculture-head-slash-smokeables-dealer. Impromptu advertisement complete, he ends the feed for good.]

[ooc: dude broke the mirror. also threadjacking is a+ recommended]

[Video, audio, he doesn't care, he just wants to tell... um... who was he trying to talk to? Somebody he knows well enough to launch into things this way. But his audience is going to be bigger, apparently.

His eyes are awfully out of focus for this while he's at it, unusually wide just in the effort to get past some on-off double vision. But registering a record light's on after a few seconds, he lets them fall shut.

A sleepless month is one thing. A sleepless month without his other half is another, and along with losing sight of how to make private messages, by now he's wholly exasperated with what all he's caught ear of lately, too. So venting he goes....]

Listen, I've been hearing it.... "who is it" and "why" and... "when"... when is it over. Nobody wants somebody in their head, huh. Or to be in some... others' head. But I miss it.

Some... ha - some cat was in my head like once like that, though, did you know? We hated each other... he probably still does... somewhere. [And proof he's that tired, he smiles a little, resting his head against a nice cool wall. Oh, those days seem awfully far off, and he doesn't know whether the past or present holds the lesser evil.]

But now I'm not hearing anybody! Not even who I want, and I hate it, this is not the way... it's supposed to be. That's what I want over. What  I do hear, he's feeling bad. I hear that....

[He goes quiet for a bit. Is he running out of steam already?



Maybe not. So often he's woken up again just like this, with a snap of his eyes and a fold of his ears, why.... So far there's one reason for it he can identify, even while he's out of it.]

Something's wrong in those dreams they have... [And thus he's doubly restless, unable to do a thing about it.] I don't know how long it's been anymore... but they need to wake up.

[Who he's rambling about could not be cryptic to all of two people or so, but remember, he doesn't know what on earth's he's doing here. And they know so much... they could tell him something, can't they?]

Or can I sleep, too....

[It's not very often that Asato makes a post to the network, preferring to read and hear what others have to say, offering bits of awkwardly-worded input when he thinks it could be useful. He's not one to draw attention to himself, and though it might seem difficult for a relatively big guy with cat ears and a tail, he tends to manage it too.

He's just a quiet guy minding his own cat business, part of which he's spent in the gardens, carefully tending to something each and every day. The result of nearly a year of watering, trimming, checking and double-checking, is what he moves the video feed to quickly after he sees the feed is on, offering only a quick glimpse of his face.]

I have--these.

["These" being a little pile of some kind of fruit. They're somewhere between a peach, an apple, and a currant, the size of a baseball at their largest, ranging from magenta to purple in color. He can't show it through the feed (much as he wishes he could!), but the scent that's coming from them is a strong mix of sweet, sour, and spicy.]

Kuims. Is what they're called. I planted them. I can't eat all of them, but I don't want them to go bad. [Which is why he's happy to offer some to whoever wants to stop by in the gardens and try them out.]

They're really good. In my world, lots of people like these the best. [A great advertiser he is not, but he's trying, and his enthusiasm is genuine.]

Please come have some. I don't need anything in return for them. Um... They're good in cakes, too. [That...should wrap things up, he figures, so the feed gives a shake, comes back to his face one more time, and clicks off.]

[ There's a cowboy on the ship.

Well, cowboy isn't an accurate term – Jake Lonergan doesn't herd cows for a living. In fact, he used to rob people for a living, but he only knows that through seeing his face on a wanted poster and people saying they know him and little fragments of memories. Either way, “outlaw” is a better technical fit than “cowboy”… but he’ll take cowboy if he has to, if it means not explaining that he’s an outlaw.

Either way, he’s on the ship, and in front of him is a shot of whiskey – and next to it, a newly opened bottle of whiskey. His hat’s down low and he doesn't say anything for a moment before his head lifts a little, just enough for bright blue eyes to peer out at the camera and for him to speak, voice low and somehow dusty. ]

Free shot to the first person who can tell me somethin' interesting or useful that wasn't in all that reading.

[ There's a pause as a border collie noses its head up and Jake scratches it behind the ears. ] Nathan, your definition of interesting doesn't necessarily count.

If a rabbit could talk, what do you think he might sound like? It's a boy rabbit. A nice one, but not too nice. Tolerant but fair.

Greetings, everyone. [On the camera shows an unfamiliar face to a lot, most likely, since Japan arrived with the latest jump. But he's surprisingly calm despite that fact, already looking to be settling himself into... a bar over at deck 024. Hm. There's not too much of a view of that, though, as he keeps the video fixed on himself, standing tall (as he can at 165cm) and confident in his uniform.]

I am looking to find any spare materials both for building furniture and making clothing. It seems there is a lack of both on board aside from the, ah... provided sorts. [Which is clear in his tone he doesn't find worthy or 'enough' at all.]

In exchange for this request to the community, I'm willing to offer my services. That is to say, I am confident in my ability to sew and create clothing, at the very least, so if anyone is interested in such things I would not mind working something out.

Ah... Thank you in advance. I am Japan, by the way, and I will be here to reply to any questions or suggestions.

[her voice is soft, accompanied by the quiet sound of bells and chimes just beneath the surface.]

It is quite boring here.

When are the adventures supposed to happen? There are always supposed to be adventures.

In quella parte del libro de la mia memoria,
dinanzi a la quale poco si potrebbe leggere, si
trova una rubrica la quale dice: Incipit vita
nova.

[ After this odd introduction in Italian, a video shall start. A young woman will be seen, hovering above the device. She is a sweet looking girl, no more than fifteen. There is a brilliant smile on her lips, golden locks that are caught back in a hairnet of pearls. She is all silks and jewelry; a golden cross on her neck. From her gasp of wonder, she is delighted by the thing. ]

Oh! It sheds light! Like a firefly you can carry in your pocket!

[ There is an air of youth to her, giddiness and joy that have somehow morphed themselves into a girl. she seems unsure of whether she has an audience or not but she will lift her head and then incline it gracefully all the same. The next words shall be spoken with passion, as if they are a personal confession. ]

In that book which is
My memory
Before which is little that can be read
There is a rubric, saying: Incipit Vita Nova -

[ A smile. ]

Here begins a new life.

[ She shall bow her head again. ]

Tranquility! What a wonderful name for a ship that sails through the stars. And as it brought sweet company upon me when I arrived, I can only humbly introduce myself to its people in return. I am named Lucrezia Borgia turned Lucrezia Sforza; I come from Rome, to those who are familiar with it.

It is an honor to be in your presence.

78ASACSDKAKI89891N
NAJ
NAANOSFW990990PIOP90000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

[ the view is black when the feed finally enters video mode, but the sound well. that leaves much to be desired. whatever he's doing to make the communicator make that noise should definitely be illegal.

it's actually kindof. terrifying.

the camera picks up a handful of images of the oxygen garden as it spirals backwards and drops a few feet, sorry to those of you who get motion sick. the communicator comes to an abrupt stop on the ground (the clunk of metal on grass isn't as bad as it could be, but still isn't all that promising) and for a long stretch of moments, you're pretty much stuck looking at a tree trunk.

until-

a stick. s l o w l y turns it over onto it's back, and you get a nice view of the treetops overhead. guys we have a nice oxygen garden, it's really pretty in he- oh wait, nope, you're being rolled back over onto your other side now. silence, and on the other end of the feed, peter is leaning over to listen, which gives you a glimpse of a blond curl at the top of the video, before it's snatched away. WELP. he's satisfied that he's killed it. ]

O, the cleverness of me!

[Being from the third wave, you'd think Konoe would have come out to play on the network again sooner.

Let us present, then, reasons why not: One - showing up alone is weird. Two - he doesn't like being watched by just anyone. And three - what's encryption again? He really hates to fuss with this thing, so in the mean time, he's made his own filter.]

( this means you, roomie )

[That's right, he's held up a piece of paper to his camera without a word of explanation, so closely you can't see much else. Perhaps that's not a bad thing in itself; any further away and it probably won't be legible.

After what he hopes is a long enough moment later, he replaces it with another note (still careful not to show himself).]

( this is totally what the devices look like okay )

[This is what happens when you grow up without computers. Or pencils. The picture cuts out after another few moments, replaced by what's clearly one of his first attempts at - gasp! - using the keyboard.]

wheniwriteitonititlooksstupid

[Sure, he can read what appears on his little screen every day, but to say Konoe is a skillful typist himself would clearly be a mistake. He's being brave today, finally asking for help... he knows it's been long enough in the dark.]

[A mess of black hair encompasses the screen, slightly tangled and dishevelled still, until the device is pulled back. Blue eyes peer out from beneath that hair, solemn and angry without the slightest trace of warmth. Clearly,  he's still not happy and from what he has seen of this place, he is utterly confused. Just how big is it... and what is it? Like nothing he has ever seen.

There's something muttered under his breath, sounding more or less like 'lord of light' if those watching happen to be listening closely. There is a gruffness in his voice as he is not used to having tubes shoved down his throat - let alone any of the other things that he had awoken too.

To those of Westeros, his face may very well bear a striking resemblance to those who knew the late king or even the Lord Renly.

To Gendry, he's just some bastard son born to an alehouse worker.]

I don't know what type of a ship this is... I never paid for any passage. And I'm not going too.

[A challenge there, as if daring someone to say something, suspicion etched across his features. He still doesn't quite believe what he has seen. It is too far out of his realm of knowing to make any sense at all. All these strange and foreign objects...]

I don't know why I'm here or why I was sent to some passenger's quarters. I'm just a lowborn 'prentice smith and I never did nothing to anyone.

[Unless someone knew about the Brotherhood... But then why would he be alive. His brows furrowed, a pained expression as he thinks some more.]

So just return me to the Crossroad Inn. ... or point me in the direction. I'll walk the rest of the way myself. Just want to be left in piece in my smithy.

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

Now, for the required advertisement: ]

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

( OFFERING: )

[ Well hello, Tranquility. If you were wondering what the ships resident pirate and saint were doing, the answer is fairly obvious as the video feed opens up to show one Captain Jack Sparrow and one Kitten in the same room together. Kitten's seated on Jack's lap, wedding-style, and has an entire bottle of wine to herself. Unsurprisingly, her face is rather flushed and judging by the amount of bottles littering the room, they've been drinking for quite a long time. ]
Dearest Tranquility, the Captain and I-- [ Hiccup ] --have come to a terrible conclusion. And that's that everyone has been very naughty and quite rude.

[Jack waves a finger around in a drunken fashion for a couple of seconds, before pointing it at Kitten. Except, no wait, he he's talking to a tiny screen and not the woman in his lap. Whoops, totally his bad. He's quick to fix that, and point at the screen instead.]
Aye. Aye. The woman be right. None of any of y'all have be helpful in the slightest.

In the slightest. This place is far too ooky spooky for myself and Mr. Captain--Sir Captain... [ She peers over at the other, trailing off, confused before shrugging ] Jack can only play big strong man for so long. So you have to be a dear and fill those of us who've lost track of time here into your dilly-dallying and vague paranoia.

[Woah now Kitten, woah there. You have said words Jack does not agree with. His displeasure is obviously seen in his face; his eyes widen and a frown tugs at the corner of his mouth. He raises both his hands--or rather, a hand and a bottle of rum--and sets out to correct her.]
Now, luv. This ain't nothing I ain't seen before. I've 'feated both Davy Jones and Death itself. This stuff ain't new.
[The next part, he directs to the screen, pointing with the rum bottle for emphasis.]
But that don't change nothin', crew. I've got no wits about me and no one's botherin' to explain anythin'.

[ Kitten raises an eyebrow, having been drinking when the other was talking, but she stops (and fuck manners, this is the Tranquility) and begins speaking again. ] So we have a big scary list with big scary names and big scary maps with big scary X's, but what are they for? And before that?


((OOC: Kitten and Jack, respectively. Be prepared for both of them answering and threadjacking. ))

[Some people may have noticed an absence since before the last jump. Even when the passengers were awoken, Bass made sure he found isolation before any familiar faces found him first. The entire process was different this time around: yes, he still felt sick and his telepathy had become once again erratic, but he knew where he was, he knew what had happened, and he knew what mattered. He also knew that the clock was still ticking.

It's been over a month since he's last fed, now making its way to the second month mark. That means things are going to change - that he's going to change - unless he does something about it preemptively.

It means that someone has to die.

The audio feed clicks on, running silently before he speaks. Words are then recited from memory, taken from a prayer of warning he was taught many years ago.]

In the quiet of the night the sky tore open, and from the holes in the skies monsters began to descend upon Earth.

[There is more to it, but this is where he deliberately stops. Bass wants to know if anyone recognizes the tale of how his world came to be. He wants to know who could find out what he is, even if that person is just his sister.]