So, now that the crisis is averted? I'd just like to say that two people should have listened to me— I wouldn't be gauche enough to name them— [ yeah because this post is classy and not smug at all— ] but I'd say they know who they are.

[ he dressed up for this; the devore is pressed into as crisp lines as he can get it and his hat looks jaunty if he does say so himself. and he does, because being so much more right than petrelli is a damn good reason to be jaunty.

and since there's no need to waste a chance for a little pr, even among rampant douchery: ]


—and welcome to our usual crop of newcomers and offer my bootlegging services, of course, but largely just say "I told you so."

[ a beat, and a flourishing gesture with his hat for emphasis. ]

Publicly.

[ because of maturity you see.

speaking of maturity on that note mic drop, caffrey out ]
 
 
23 January 2014 @ 10:06 pm

 

 

[There's some muffled speaking, the view is a sort of blurry darkness – not really much of anything can be seen aside from fuzzy sort of darkness or heard for that matter, what one might expect for an entirely accidental effort to contact the network. There’s another voice.] Now it is recording, see? [and then silence.]

[The world spins briefly and the view of a wall slowly focuses, as if someone is carelessly holding the phone away from themselves, a male voice can be heard, near.]
That is exactly as Merlin has done before. [So the once King insists as if it might not be heard by others, as if the fault here does not rest with him.]

[The view upon the screen now eases into focus, Arthur is clearly being guided now in adjusting the device. You can hear a softer voice off camera, one that’s full of patience, that would be Gwen.]
Like this, Arthur. [ The camera is now sturdy and facing the correct way, you can see Arthur’s face in full view, no longer just an upside down view of his nose.] Thank you Guinevere. [His adoration is quite plain, both in voice and in the look upon his face. His gaze soon turns once more to the camera.]

For those I have not met, I am Arthur Pendragon
. [Largely the entire vessel is unknown to him, Arthur's preferred to keep close to those he knows best, for the most part his purpose here is to protect them.] My inquiry concerns work aboard the Tranquillity, if I may find it. I'd look to ensure the security of the ship, join the patrol. [Arthur's gaze lowers a moment, as if he's concerned his confession might sound foolish, and it is with brief reluctance he goes on, voice stern.] I'm growing concerned of the safety of the halls here. It is clear more than just shadows watch us.

 
 
22 January 2014 @ 03:34 pm
[Abbie is adjusting her device so that the feed shows up clearly and so she isn't being filmed in a stilted manner. That would be annoying!]

Alright. Seems a little late to be using this, but better now than never.

[She brushes some of her hair behind her ear and takes a deep breath before continuing.]

Hi. [She gives a small shrug and a wave.] I'm Lieutenant Abigail Mills and I'm from Sleepy Hollow, New York. Call me Abbie if you want. Right now though, I'm currently with the SEC that's been established aboard here. I may not have any crazy powers or special abilities, being human and all, but I'd like to think I'm more than dependable when it comes to security matters.

Formal introductions aside, I gotta ask about the things people are seeing in the mirrors and about the people who were dreaming in their pods. I'm hearing things about beasts and warped edges and frankly, I'm more than a little concerned.

[There's a pause before she hesitantly adds:]

I've been there before, believe me. And that was before I woke up and found myself in space. There has to be a purpose and meaning behind them.
 
 
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!))
 
 
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.
 
 
[ here's the thing: sleep deprivation makes idle whims seem like fantastic ideas-- and neal's not full up on self-control as it is, so two weeks of barely any sleep just raises great idea to best idea on his personal scale.

as such he's leaning against the wall behind his bed, pupils slightly blown. what is an intro he can't even. ]


Not we, my dear, you. I'm leaving you here.

You're what? Rhett, where are you going?

I'm going, my dear, to join the army.

[ his posture changes between; other than a few flat vowels slipping in as rhett, pushing for the accent seems a little too much and posture is good enough to convey the suggestion of gender, if you're careful. ]

Oh, you're joking. I could kill you for scaring me so.

I'm very serious, Scarlett. I'm going to join up with our brave lads in gray.

But they're running away.

Oh, no, they'll turn and make a last stand, if I know anything about them. And when they do, I'll be with them. I'm a little late, but better late than--

[ it's tricky to overlap your own voice, and his grimaces a little and shrugs as if apologizing for the lack of actual interruption in the scene. ( sleep deprivation or pretentiousness: the world may never know. ) ]

Rhett, you must be joking.

Selfish to the end, aren't you? Thinking of your own precious hide with never a thought for the noble cause. [ he yawns widely, skipping scarlett's line in the process. ] Why? Maybe it's because I've always had a weakness for lost causes, once they're really lost. Or maybe, maybe I'm ashamed of myself. Who knows?

[ he pauses, body language returning abruptly to his usual. ] I missed something, there. Anyway-- [ and back to the show. ]

You should die of shame to leave me here alone and helpless.

You, helpless? Heaven help the Yankees if they capture you. Now climb down here. I want to say goodbye.

[ that makes him pause, one that extends out into another jaw-cracking yawn and neal slumps down even more, almost prone now. ]

There's more, but it's really better with someone else.

[ and he's out. ]
 
 
15 August 2013 @ 01:23 pm
[ sherlock's in space. he's more or less come to terms with that, because the facts don't lie, and the facts say space - or at least a working model. he could ask targeted questions about the informational posts and the major players. he probably should, though he's fairly sure he won't get much more than what he's already gotten by reading other people's conversations.

the priority, currently, is the ridiculous reactions people keep having to his name. ]


2 Qs. 1: Have U heard of SHERLOCK HOLMES. If Y, which 1.

[ he's aware of a few. the question is admittedly petty and self-indulgent (and possibly stupid), but it beats working blind. ]

& 2: NE1 have HANDCUFFS? NTHG 2 trade, CHRITBLE DNTN.

[ unrelated to the first question, obviously. that's it for a few seconds, then: ]

Also ROPE. 200lbs/SWL 10, 5 @ push.
 
 
10 August 2013 @ 06:36 pm
[Right, okay. She can do this. It's just a piece of technology and Jenny's good with that. The video clicks on to show a young woman with bright blond hair pulled into a ponytail and a plain olive green shirt. This particular girl is standing near a window in the shuttle bay. When she speaks it's with a decidedly British accent - for those that even know what that means.]

Hello, I'm Jenny. [She gives everyone a smile before turning her attention to more serious matters.]

This isn't exactly what I had in mind when I set out to explore the universe. If I'd wanted to be stuck somewhere I would have stayed on Messaline. Out of the tunnels and into the hallways isn't much of a change. What do you people do here for fun besides get creepy things in your locker?

Does anyone know if people's ships show up here? I don't exactly know what happened to my escape shuttle so if it turns up let me know. I'd like it back, it's something I borrowed. [Borrowed she says with a bit of amusement. Who knows when she'll get the chance to return it.]

Seems my dad might've been here at one point. [Not that Jenny recognized the face to go with the name. Technically it isn't really even a name.] Can't say I'm surprised, he does travel a lot. So if any of you know the Doctor, I'd like to meet you.

[Okay, now she's done.]

Right, thanks.
 
 
12 June 2013 @ 09:45 pm
[ Peter's not exactly thrilled to be appearing on film, like handing over his location to the FBI with bells on, and he's not out to try too hard to pretend that he is. But he's taken part in his fair share of interrogations (on both sides) and he can seat himself in front of a camera and look serious.... and entirely well-intentioned, hopefully. ]

I don't do bored. I've never actually done bored very well, but before all of you jump on me and say I should give it a week and there'll be something for me to do- [ he holds up a hand; talk to it. ] I'll save you the time. I believe you.

Absolute chaos and destruction - combined with space's every attempt at a science experiment - should definitely give people something to do. [ Peter talks almost entirely with his hands, gesturing unconsciously all about. ] Not sure i'd expect anything less, but hey, not judging anyone if they choose to keep out of the fray, either. But the rest of the time, in-between one horror movie plot and the next, i'm not capable of sitting around and acting like this is the next best thing to a vacation without the benefits of getting to relax. Even though I can find my fair share of things to do, they won't be accomplishing anything. And at the end of the day there's only so many card tricks I can practice.

[ yes, okay, he's getting on with it. ]

I know there's departments, and I know what most of them are for. [ ... he pauses for a second and then shakes his head. ] Okay, I probably don't know everything they do, and I want to change that. I want to know more. Not sure I know much about farming, i'll just fess up to that now, but what I really want to know, is which departments need the most help. What you're looking for, what I can do to make things easier. Holding down a job isn't exactly a specialty of mine either, but I still want to get involved as much as I just... [ tensing for a moment, he finally sighs. ] -I like a good challenge.

You want to know what I can do? Sure, fine. But i'm only showing you mine if you show me yours.
 
 
[ neal takes a long time to prepare for this broadcast, even more than his usual. he's in the devore ( largely relegated to 'look, don't wear' by now ) for extra confidence. the usual fedora is off, though, the better to expose his new scar. there's an almost mocking edge to his charm, an aggressive tilt to his smile because the best way to handle your issues is pretend they're nonexistent.

he takes a moment to fuss with the cuffs before speaking, just to torment certain people ( cambridge ) more. ]


I know the representative from the great state of Montana already made his monthly PSA, but I thought I'd follow his good example for once and add my two cents.

[ his smile drops, eyes finally matching his mouth in full. ]

I wouldn't edge out of civilized territory if you like the idea of leaving the ship ever again, because the best option out in the wilds is agreeing to extend your stay as long as you're wanted. That's the shining light in the distance, and it comes at cost.

[ giving that a bit of a weighted pause, neal raises a hand as if to brush away the truly pretentious bullshit he just laid down and in an instant his smile is back, bright as if it never left. ]

Now that I've done my civic duty, I also wanted to mention I have a still and a reputation for being a deeply superficial person when it comes to my taste in aesthetics.

[ to wit: 'i make good shit'. the warhol shout out's for you, josh. ]

I'm in the market for... just about anything, really. Stories seem to be the currency of the day-- [ sup, madge-- ] So try one of those, if you want. The worst thing I can say is 'try the bar, their alcohol is free'.

[ his smile falters a little at the mention of the bar, but it's quick enough to go unnoticed. ]

I'd slip in a warning about the Kardashian menace, but reliable authorities tell me it's not as funny as I think it is. [ his expression clearly says: and look, i still think it's hilarious. ] But one PSA really is all I have in me, so...

[ with a little half bow he stole off robb stark, he's out. ]



( ooc | for the scar think roughly like peter's in five years gone, albeit more obviously new and raw. )
 
 
not an ic cut )



( ooc | same rules as the first and second go-rounds; this takes place at O'DARK THIRTY icly, may 8th. i'll do the same i did last time, spread out the comments so it's not 'be here now or suck it': all the bulletins will have gone up in a cluster icly.

this time it's more conscious, but neal will claim no knowledge again. due to the anon function no ic tracing can be done, but it's not like he didn't do this already so the people who know his work don't need to icly beat around the bush to spare MYSTERY etc.

other than that, have fun and remember: smiley is our friend.

...right? )
 
 
02 May 2013 @ 04:51 pm
[ it's time for a musical interlude on the network. for a second, it probably sounds like it caught a radio signal mid-song. hal's accent slips through once or twice, but for the most part it’s an uncanny mimicry of the 1950's original. ]

-back to Constantinople, no you can't go back to Constantinople; now it's Istanbul not Constantinople.

[ he stops abruptly, segues smoothly into speaking. there's no video, but it's easy to hear the grin in his voice. ]

Good evening, Tranquility. I'd like to personally thank you for last week's entertainment, and offer my sincere congratulations on your deft handling of the pirate incursion. I'm sure we can all sleep soundly knowing what we're capable of when we put our minds together. Or our teeth. Or claws, or guns; a fair few swords, if I'm not mistaken.

[ it’s said with an edge that keeps it from being genuine. which it isn't, obviously. it's a thinly guised mockery of the disorder and violence, but the amusement and thanks seem true enough. he picks up the lyrics again a beat later, and he only cuts the feed as an afterthought; he doesn't particularly care if people can hear him. ]

Why did Constantinople get the works? That's nobody's business but the Turks'-
 
 
10 April 2013 @ 05:17 pm
[ when the feed comes on, the first thing you'll notice is a head of curly blonde hair, extremely messy, and a hand running through it. Annabeth's currently looking down at something, unable to look at the feed just yet. Probably in fear of not being able to keep her voice stable when she finally starts speaking. ]

If anyone has seen Percy Jackson, Luke Castellan or Wichita since the jump...can you just. Get them to contact me? Or come find me? Or tell me where you saw them? I'll have my device on me at all times, but for some reason I can't connect to Percy’s and Luke’s and I think it’s connecting to Wichita’s but she’s not answering and I don't know if it's just the ship or...

[ she trails off momentarily, needing that half a second to take a breath and drop her hand, lift her head to the feed. She looks exhausted, like she hasn't sleep in days (not since the jump) and a little on edge. Her eyes, normally a much lighter grey, have taken to something like a dark cloud. Like the chaos that comes with a thunder storm. Her jaw is set, determined, but there's something a little off about her. A little dark. ]

I also need to know if there is any way to know, for sure, when someone goes home, and isn't just lost on the ship. Not theories, but facts, if there is a way to check that kind of thing.

[ She swallows, hard, but continues – eyes never leaving the camera. ]

Also, I wanted to know what happens when you die. Here. On board. I'm not interested in ideas on the afterlife and all that [ she made the mistake already of asking people about their beliefs once before, not again ] but more so if you die, does your body remain here? And if you have more to do, back home, does that mean you never go back? Does your story just end, and your time both there and here is over?

I just…yeah.

[ there's a pause and then she nods, having said all she planned on saying, and she ends the feed. ]
 
 
18 March 2013 @ 11:15 pm
[ From the doom and gloom of everyone's existence around here, rolls a voice that's... well okay, not very doom and gloom-y but give him a second. He'll get there. ]

Like one, that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turned round walks on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows, a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.

[ aaaand... a moment of silence. or appreciation. or both. both is good. whichever you'd prefer, because moz just needs a moment to enjoy. or quite possibly brag about this font of information in his brain. now, let's continue. ]

I'm just curious -- no one's actually shot an albatross around here, right? For fun or sport or just to see what might happen if you did, because i'm starting to hope that one of you showed up with some dice. Just, y'know, in case. And by 'in case' I mean every single day. Because those dice might just come in handy when any other frightful friends show up, and that's when i'll be there to remind you.

[ sigh, can you hear him shaking his head? ] I've begun to realize that you'll never run out of stories to tell because of this place, you'll only run out willing ears. The considerable lack of people - [ to use as underground sources ] - to play a game of parcheesi with is starting to become more of a disappointment than I ever thought it could be. What am I supposed to do with my sunday nights now? And if one of you tries to tell me to pick up Go Fish, i'll have you know that I'm only willing to sink so low.

And i've already sunk to the levels of bottom of the barrel three dollar cabernet, which is like licking the floor of a subway tunnel. [ .... er. ] Not that i've ever done that before.

[ well..... ] I might have paid someone else to do it.

But that's not the point. There's only so much boredom one man can stand. Only so many times you can play three-card-monte with yourself before you start getting it on the money. And the payout on that's not so big, if you catch my drift.
 
 
10 March 2013 @ 06:49 pm
[ The feed clicks on to show a man with blond hair and sharp blue eyes, expression calm - maybe even a bit unimpressed. When he speaks there's a similar nonchalance, emphasized by the slight southern drawl. He's wearing something that looks a lot like a bullet proof vest, and there's a gold badge prominently displayed on the chest. ]

Greetings, good people of the Tranquility. [ An edge of sarcasm, mocking the formality. ] My name is William Johns, and I've got a bit of a problem - I was transporting a dangerous criminal when things went a little haywire. Needless to say, this was not my intended destination.

[ There's a pause to consider the unresponsive screen and the futility of acting like there's anything familiar to be found here, but he goes ahead anyway. It's clear by his tone that he's going through the motions, isn't expecting anything useful to come out of it. ]

If the name Richard B. Riddick rings a bell, it's in your best interests to let me know.

[ And, with that out of the way: ]

Failing that, let me know if you've heard of the Tangiers or Helion systems. I'd also suggest having an engineer look at your cryo-chambers, see if they can't swap them out for models that don't make such a damn mess. [ That's a joke. Mostly. ]
 
 
10 March 2013 @ 08:45 pm
[ The video comes on and Nolan is putting on a tie over the pink polo he was given in his locker. He's not a fan of the uniform he was given. He has an annoyed half-smile on his face. ]

So let me get this straight. I get abducted, put in what is essentially goo, and then I'm expected to wear a uniform and march around the ship like a happy, obedient person.

[ He shifts a little as he gets the tie neatly in place. ]

I don't do dress codes. I may or may not even be wearing pants.

[ The camera is focused on his upper body for just that reason. ]

At least the rooms are easy to navigate, although the rest of the ship leaves much to be desired. I wonder how many individuals get lost to it. You can skip the 'you can't leave' thing. I've seen movies, and this is all very science-fiction.

( Locked to Emily Thorne | 100% Encryption )

Em. I know you're here. Time to talk.
 
 
10 March 2013 @ 04:27 pm
[ hair up sweats on chillin wit no makeup -- nope, nope. but that is sort of what erica looks like at the moment plus a whole dose of looking grossly pale and red-nosed due to lingering effects of the rat bite, so there's no way she's turning on the video. ]

so apparently, rat sickness + jump = having your insides feel like the human equivalent of a smoothie.

go figure.

speaking of those thing, did anyone get a good look at them? like a real proper "oh my god why are they so vicious and huge and where can i find the right exterminator" look?

i know there's worse monsters on here, but something about rats...

anyways i need to know if someone on here can sew? one of the things ripped my favorite jacket and im not ready to trash it. :/
 
 
01 March 2013 @ 10:54 pm
[Josias returned from the impromptu trip through the corridors a few days ago, but had unfortunately been stuck in the medbay, recovering from the symptoms of one of those rat bites. Or at least, he'd thought he'd recovered, and that's why when the video clicks on, it shows the inside of his room, the edge of his recently-slept-in bed.

But his expression, when he manages to turn the camera to face himself, is pained. Fevered, almost, disorientated and confused. He can manage enough focus past the pain in his head to remember that he activated his device, that he was attempting to contact someone - anyone.

But when he opens his mouth to speak, all that comes out is a garbled, guttural series of noises. He stops, seems to try and steady himself, then tries again. It comes out just as incomprehensible as before.

Clearly growing more distressed by this, he tries to speak faster, louder, but nothing that comes out of his mouth is in any way legible as any known language. The communication devices definitely can't translate it. He drops the comms to one side, frustrated, the pain in his head spiking.

The feed continues uncut, but all it shows is an off-angle view of his arm and shoulder as he curls into himself on the floor, a completely confused and desperate attempt to abate any of the pain he's currently experiencing.]
 
 
04 February 2013 @ 11:34 pm
[ Lucrezia is at the Space Bar, a glass of wine in hand. Pensive, she sips from it once and then again, quiet for a moment. She has been planning this for a time and yet.

And yet. ]


The Borgia family came from Spain to Rome. The father of the family, known as Rodrigo Borgia, has become Pope Alexander Sextus, elected to carry God's will and rule over Rome and the Papal States. He has a wife, beautiful and clever, Vanozza, whom the ladies of Rome, in their foolishness, dislike. Four children he has and all he brought to Rome, Juan Borgia who commands the armies of Rome, Cesare Borgia who took the red robes of the cardinal, Lucrezia Borgia who became Lucrezia Sforza of Pesaro and Gioffre Borgia, the youngest, who married Sancia of Naples. Their crest is the Borgia Bull.

[ and why is she telling all of this, well. ]

Yet there are some on this ship who knows more of me and mine than I do. The history remembers the Borgias, parents and children alike.

I would hear from those who know of my family. I would hear what their books tell.

[ a heavy burden, she asks to carry and yet. ]

I know that those tales might not be accurate to my own Rome and my own family and yet I wish to hear them still, if you would humor me.
 
 
02 February 2013 @ 02:36 pm
[This begins with a video: Seraphim's hand, holding a dish made of gross gelatinous goo. She sets it down on what is obviously a kitchen counter, and the video clicks off, and the text begins.]

I know we all are living on top of each other and in each other's space, but I think it's only polite to throw away your gross experiments or leftover food or unholy sacrifices. Or store them in places where other people don't accidentally put their hands in it.

I don't know what that stuff is but it smells like it's rotting and it was in the sixth floor kitchen fridge for I don't know how long.

I really don't think we should need to have a class on how to live in a dorm. Or something like a chore wheel.

Seriously whoever this belongs to, come clean it up. Please, and thank you.



[ooc: Thanks, Jaye and Mike.]