OOC: Ah something lighthearted, just because. You can expect replies for both - they can go to Arthur or Merlin’s comms. Merlin is blue Arthur is red!

[There’s a shaky motion to the view on screen, Merlin is in view after he turns on Arthur's comm, smiles and happily documents the following:]

I know the last few days haven't been the best, but I thought you all might enjoy seeing what a typical morning in the life of a King is like.

[Shuffling sounds, and the soft cluttering noise as the comm is set down where everyone can see the bed, as well as Merlin. Arthur’s face is in view, half pressed into the pillow in peaceful slumber; audio includes a soft, royal snore.

Merlin then walks over to the foot of the bed, trills:]

Good morning sire!

[Arthur’s muffled grumbling heralds further irritable barely wakeful type noises as he makes a determined effort to ignore Merlin, turning to plant his face away from the camera and from the loud, offending servant-like voice - is it just that everything seems heightened, or is Merlin’s voice actually that annoying?

Merlin smiles wider, grabs the sheets at the bottom of Arthur's bed, and yanks them off with no warning.]

Let's have you lazy daisy!

[Well, it’s just as well Arthur at least wears trousers to bed, isn’t it? His head lifts from the pillow enough that he might send a poisonous glare in the direction of his manservant, which may or may not lose a measure of it's conviction from the fact Arthur’s hair is striking up in odd directions.].

Merlin. What the devil do you think you’re doing?

[It’s a low rage perhaps but no less infuriated. The only reason he hasn't thrown something is because the King is visibly still trying to cling to sleep, this is currently sit in protest. Or rather a lay in protest. His tone is a very marked warning.]

[ when the video feed comes into view it's not the usual dynamic gunnery duo presenting. chris argent is standing just within view, arms crossed in front of him. making announcements to groups isn't anything new to him, though it's never been on a spaceship or based off of information from long range sensors. it’s certainly never been about a stolen shuttle. (he’s slowly, but sure, accepting that his life is an episode of star trek.) ]

Gunnery's long range sensors picked up what looks to be a colony nearby. It's fairly large and inside of an asteroid field. But that's not the interesting part. [ he pauses, turning to look at anderson. ] Anderson.

[ she is standing next to him, hands clasped behind her back and shoulders straight as usual. ] Our sensors also indicate that the shuttle that left the Tranquility and was up until now unaccounted for [ not counting that one network post of singing ] is there. Its exact flight path is unknown, but it reached the colony without any damage, as far as we can tell.

[ the implication being, obviously, that it may well be possible for other shuttles to replicate the result and make it to the colony as well. ]


( ooc: this lovely shade of pink is anderson. dark blue for chris. general discussion/threadjacking/etc encouraged! )

For those of you who are new -- or, ah, newer -- here... hi. [Awkward pause.] I'm Murphy, and I'm the guy who stocks your food.

After talkin' it over we've made the executive decision to tweak our system a little. After all, I'm only a one-man show, and stockin' kitchens in over thirty decks is gonna run me ragged.

So, from here on out you can get your grub on every fifth deck of the ship startin' from the bottom up. If you can't find what your lookin' for on the current deck you're on, try the next one up. I'll be puttin' up signs for posterity's sake.


[More pause. At first he considers hanging up, and then:]


Also, er... since I guess it's just that kinda month, there's gonna be a second wedding. Mine. And... Anne's.

Completely unplanned, honestly. But if you're not reelin' from the festivities of the last one, it'll be in the garden chapel tomorrow. Because hey, things could go to shit by then, they might not. I'm not tryin' to make light of our situation here, but I've been alive long enough in this place to not take anything for granted. Feel free to come or not.

That's all.


[ooc: Wasn't sure whether to make a log or not... It'll probably be a post-ceremony open log for both Murphy and Anne and anyone else since it's more or less going to be a small event. I'll set one up tomorrow. Edit: Aaand here is that log in question!]

[ the feed starts to complete blackness — it resolves itself into a clearer picture of a leather uniform once aramis steps back, though he also just so happens to be upside down. at least aramis has learned enough in his days aboard the tranquility so far that he notices and fixes it a moment later, leaving it lopsided, but the right way around.

he steps back a little further, coming to stand next to porthos. they are both armed, swords strapped to their sides, and not in the ship's jumpsuits but rather in their leather uniforms.

aramis holds a pistol, considering it. his voice is thoughtful. ]

They do say I am quite good with these.

[ porthos, for his part, is still staring suspiciously at the sleek looking square on his end. but he lets up long enough to add - ]

Finest in all of France, I’d wager. The better to serve their Majesties, King Louis XIII and Queen Anne.

[ it’s a spiel they’ve been through before. aramis’ eyes narrow. ] Speaking of their Majesties — if they are here as well, rest assured that we will find them and not look kindly on anyone who has committed treason and harmed them.

[ there’s a gruff hemm of his throat, before porthos adds; ] And if you’ve done likewise with two men who go by Athos and D’Artagnon, it may not be treason, but we’ll be looking just as unkindly.

[ aramis smiles at that, cheerful almost despite the dangerous edge to it. ] To those who are likewise captives, we swear to aid you where we can.

[ and he tips his head. ]



( blue is aramis, black is porthos! musketeers in space, aw yeah!! )

Another Jump has come and gone.

[ hey, Tranquility. Lucrezia Borgia's hair falls freely down her back today and her cheeks are rosy and her lips are smiling. though if you know Lucrezia Borgia, and many do by now, you would perhaps recognize something in her smile, a twinkle in her eye which is impish. ]

I have counted more than twelve jumps, near fifteen and my days on this ship had been many yet today I come to you with a plea, Tranquility.

[ notice the faux!serious expression on her face. ]

There is a man upon this ship who had promised me a most wonderful promise many months ago and failed to see it through. I do not know if it is a regular affair in this person's world to break a promise made to a lady but I have come before you seeking justice from him so he would see it done. Duel him, pester him, chase him down at my name, if you wish it. Only bring him before me or tell him to present himself to me and be given punishment for said offense.

His name is Sirius Black. He is taller than me with dark hair and mischievous eyes and a talent in magic and he had given me his word that he will hold a Christmas upon this vessel. I do not know the months but surely not celebrating it at all is worse than trying to. My Holy Father would say the attempt is as important as the result. I trusted Sirius Black with such and here I am, months afterwards and nearly married -

[ allow her to look very pleased for a moment ]

And not a Christmas in sight. That said, I call upon my friends to deliver him to me so we may settle this matter once and for all.

[Bran's smile is only a little wan--and that is only because he is distracted, because Summer is distracted. The great direwolf is sitting at his feet, but Summer has grown large enough that he is still visible in the video feed. Something is ailing the direwolf, making him skittish. He huffs a whine as the video begins, and Bran looks down at him, and lays a hand atop Summer's head.]

Be still.

[Summer's ears flick, nervously; he blinks, and whines again. Bran looks to his device, his hand still resting atop his direwolf's head.]

I am looking for paper--perhaps twenty or thirty sheets of paper, that is not being used. Most things on this ship are written by typing, but there must be some paper somewhere. I can make a trade for it, if it is necessary. And I will need tape-- [That is a new word, but he says it smoothly.] --and scissors, with which to cut. They must be able to do fine work, I think.

[Restlessly, Summer raises his head. The video jars a little, and Bran quickly reaches to steady it, as he gives his direwolf a slightly anxious look.]

In Westeros, great tourneys are often held, where knights prove their merit in the lists. That means a joust, though there is sometimes melee fighting as well. I have never seen a tourney, only heard tales of them--and we have very few knights here. So we are going to let our direwolves race instead, and have a feast, just as if it were a true tourney. [Summer whines again, more plantively. He shrugs out from beneath Bran's hand, turning in a tight circle.] Summer, quiet. It is only a shadow.

There must be a prize, at the end, and I have been trying to think of something good. I have ideas, but they aren't very good, so I thought--

[But what he thought is never realized, because Summer moves quite sharply then, twisting away from Bran and the video with a sharp growl. Bran's face pinches in worry, and he grabs hastily for his device, to steady it again, before he shuts it off. It is an ungainly end to the message, but his concern trumps his good manners.]

[ The device is already properly situated when the transmission starts, a young woman in a purple t-shirt framed from biceps up. Her hair is pulled back in a dark ponytail, and there's a bow propped against the wall just behind her. She lifts a hand and gives a brief wave, seeming at ease with this technology if little else. ]

Hi, [ she begins, with a smile that's just on the friendly side of polite, ] My name is Kate, I just got here in the last jump or whatever it's called. I'm looking for a couple of people, and hoping somebody might be able to help me out. I don't want to waste anyone's time, I'm sure I'm not the only one looking for someone, but I put together a quick list that's attached to this message and if you have a minute to take a look, I'd really appreciate it. They're all-- [ here her smile briefly warms and widens, ] --sort of distinctive? So you'll probably know if you've met them. Let me know if any of them sound familiar, I'll owe you one.

[ It's not a casual toss-in, that last line. She looks quite seriously at the camera as she says it. She will owe you one, potential future friend-spotter, and she will deliver on that debt. After a moment to let the important message sink in, she starts to reach to turn off the camera, saying, ] Thanks for your time.

[ Just before she hits stop, though, she pulls back, adding, somewhat less seriously, ] Oh, also. I heard there's a bar around here somewhere? Any chance there's also a diner?

Attached is a text file containing brief physical descriptions of her teammates along with first names.

[ caroline is in full wedding planning mode. okay, so maybe ric, the groom, is in stasis but so is caroline's boyfriend, so now's the time for distraction. and what's a better distraction then planning a big event? a wedding shaped event.]

At the risk of this sounding like a setup of a cheesy joke... I need a priest or a captain or someone who has the power to do a marriage ceremony. Step right up if you qualify. I need your services.


[private to jenna sommers]

We need to discuss colors so I can start on the invitations. Oh, and food. Also ceremony stuff, like the wedding party.

I'm sure you must all see a lot've messages like this.

[ The man who appears is one who has appeared on the network before -- soft-faced and earnest, anxiety tested in the lines next to his eyes and a direct sort of stare that manages not to miss the tiny camera embedded in the device he's holding. Still, he smiles, just a little.

His address is slow and not exactly formal, just considered. ]

My name is Charles Xavier, and I'm newly arrived. You'll have to forgive me if I ask any questions you've heard before, though I'm doing my utmost to gather what I can on my own. I believe I've got the basic picture, although any advice is of course appreciated.

What I would most like to know is how many are here that had some sort of... [ He hesitates. ] ...gift. A natural ability of some kind, beyond the usual human faculties. A conversation would be of great interest to me.

Thank you.

[Good morning-- Is it morning? Evening? Day! Good day! Courfeyrac still has a hard time determining this on this ship. There must be some sense of time, after all, even if not by the sun and moon. Regardless, here’s an early 19th century dandy who has writing all over his face in sharpie.

Yes. That’s correct. Not just writing, but terrible poetry and double entendres and all of the innuendo. All over his face.

But he’s still grinning all the same, because he knows exactly why this is the case. He rubs his eyes for a moment before actually addressing everyone, his smile mischievous.]

It should seem that I awoke this morning with writing all over my face. Alas, my mysterious scribe is nowhere to be found. Perhaps someone would be so kind as to read it for me? Everything appears reverse when I look into a mirror.

What’s more, if someone finds the culprit, please do return him to me, won’t you? I imagine he is wandering the halls with a permanent marker in hand looking particularly devious.

[The feed cuts on to reveal a smiling redhead who looks a wee bit too happy given the situation.]

So I gotta say, for a bunch of folks who've been kidnapped and are stuck on a creepy alien spaceship [her grin grows a little here here because seriously this is too freaking cool and why do the rest of you not see this?!?] you all are pretty organized. At first when I showed up I figured I'd probably spend the rest of, well, ever trying to figure out where I was and what was going on…

[A pause and she bites at her lower lip before looking a touch sheepish.]

Actually, that's not entirely true. First I figured that the Winchesters were somehow responsible because, well, Winchesters... and come on, let's face it. Hanging with those guys is like playing a really creepy game of Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon. With monsters. And likely death. [The obviously fake smile is back.] But then I did a little digging and what do you know? Handy-dandy 411 posts, at your service! [A beat, as she draws a breath. She's still grinning brightly.] Really, you all, super impressed here. Still kinda freaked out, pretty concerned my life's reached a point where all of this doesn't make me question my sanity and... Oh! I'm Charlie, bee tee dubs. Charlie Bradbury. For the record. Looking forward to chatting with you all!

[The video feed cuts off then immediately flickers back on. This time, the feed is locked like whoa to Dean and Sam Winchester. Charlie's bright, perky, totally fake smile has been replaced with an authentic grin and the slight arching of an eyebrow. She gives a little wave.]

Miss me, bitches?

[The video clicks on to show Cora looking really annoyed about the fact it's video. She'd prefer to go text, but if there's the off chance seeing her face will speed this process up, she's going to take it. It's been several hours since the memories started again, and she's already nursing a migraine. If there was one thing she could say she completely hated, these days, it was feeling ill.]

I'm looking for a guy called Sirius. Padfoot.

[Her tone conveys exactly what she thinks of both these names.]

If that isn't enough I've got a head full of waving sticks around and flying on brooms. And motorcycles. Hogwarts. Gryffindor. Regulus and Slytherin.

[That last one might be straying too close to the things she doesn't think she should broadcast openly, and she frowns, looking even more annoyed - even if it's actually at herself.]

Just respond so I can get rid of this damn headache already.

You know what? This is really silly.

And I'm really sick and tired of all this hiding and lying to people; I'm not even that good at it. And for what? On the off chance that, out of all the people dragged here from all over the multiverse from different planets and points in time, one of them is going to be a religious nutjob with the intent to kill me?

No. You know what? I'm more powerful that some guy who believe's he's doing "God's work" by killing innocent teenagers. I don't need to live in fear of-- of someone finding out, of all these memory shenanigans, of... bigots.

Peeps of the Tranquility:

My name is Cassie Blake, and I'm a witch. A full-blooded, hundred-percent witch. [The corner of her mouth tweaks upwards, like she finds something about that sentence funny.]

I like to think I'm a pretty peaceful person, you know? I don't like fighting. But if there's anyone here who has a problem with my evil witchiness, well, you can find me on level 20, room 5. Bring it.

Otherwise, peace out.

[ When the feed first begins, the crown-wearing woman on the other end takes a second to turn the device every which way. Despite looking quite exhausted, she still manages to look regal. Finally, upon deciding that she is doing this correctly, she smiles. Oh, yes, she is quite pleased with herself even she is still wary of this technology. If nothing else, it's at least helpful. ]

I have yet to become accustom to.. [ A pause, as she glances around. ] .. this, but I am certainly grateful that those who dwell here alongside me have been helpful. It is because of this that I feel I should apologize, even knowing I cannot help what I see. These glimpses and fragments of memories that are not my own..

[ And now she has to wonder what others may have glimpsed from her own mind. Her smile suddenly turns apologetic. ] Not all are pleasant, and I am sorry for that, but it is not my place to divulge the contents of them. I can only hope those memories are not a constant in their lives.

Are we meant to deal with such invasive happenings often?

[The young woman's face that appears on screen doesn't look nearly as exhausted as it probably should. Her voice, however, is as weary as she's pretty sure everyone is feeling.]

So I'm curious. Does anyone out there know the side effects of not getting any sleep? [She pauses to consider something.] Or maybe how long they'll take to start showing up? [Another pause.] I just think that might be some useful information for people in general to have and, well, like I said. I'm curious.

[For the record, Claire hasn't been sleeping pretty much at all. However her ability is working overtime to keep circles from appearing under her eyes as well as countering the other, less pleasant, side effects that come with not getting enough rest. There's still the random, occasional bleeding that she can't explain but that's neither here nor there, right?]

[ caroline's sitting in her room surrounded by her loot which is mostly clothes with some jewelry and other knick knacks including a good selection of booze. she and tyler made off like bandits.] That place was better than a mall even if I guess this technically makes me a space pirate or something. [ however, that's the not the worst thing to be called, after all.] Too bad the ship kinda had a freaky meltdown there towards the end.

[ she pauses, pushing the pile of folded clothes off her lap onto the bed.] Is everyone okay? I mean, no one got trapped over there, right? [ she's mostly talking to you, people she loves and even the new people she's met.]

I know people have kind of said that bad things happening is almost cliche around here but seriously? Was that normal? Do I even want to know whatever bad stuff has happened before this?