[This is the first time Dorian's used this strange device of his to broadcast, though he arrived during the jump before this one. Best to be sure of what you're doing, to take care and try things out so you don't look like a fool. There's also no reason to speak to the group unless you have something important to bring up.

And oh, he does.]

As I remain here, I've gotten more and more concerned. Upon arrival, it was easy to ignore, as there were so many things to get used to, but I'm afraid I can no longer continue to stay silent.

[Dorian holds up the jumpsuit he found in his locker when he woke here. There were his mage robes as well, luckily, which is what he's wearing now - and perhaps that explains the look of disgust on his face.]

It's a travesty that some of you choose to wear this. It's so dull - no colors, no fine fabrics, no accents at all. Is there truly nowhere to procure decent clothing onboard this space ship?

[He says 'space ship' carefully, the unfamiliarity of the words sitting strangely in his mouth.]

I desperately need to be directed to a tailor. There must be other options. This simply cannot be borne.

[When she'd gone from the gardens to try to surprise Leia, the last she she'd been expecting it to run into someone. Especially someone who was supposed to be dead, she can remember his death and the smell of fires burning around them on Arima. She can remember Legolas' broken leg and the nightmares he'd given to his prisoners and more.

Panic had swelled in her chest and she felt like she forgot how to breathe as she looked up at him and he grabbed her. In another time and place, she apparently finds the courage to rival him but not here and not now. She freezes and then struggles only to be rewarded with a backhand.

It was enough to snap her into action and she did all she could. She sang, one of Daeron's songs but she infused what she could of her own power into it and ran, hoping it would hold him back.

She ran back to the gardens and there she fumbles with her communicator. Her hands are shaking and her face is pale except for a slowly forming bruise under her right eye.]

M-Morgoth-

I saw Morgoth in the halls. [Even knowing Thranduil had cut his head off, somehow he's there.]

Okay, so ignoring the fact that this has probably come up before I don't actually know what the answer is. But the pods - them not opening is pretty weird. I know everyone's concerned, especially if someone you know gets stuck in one.

( She's not experienced that side of it yet but she has been stuck in one now )

Why don't they open sometimes? Is the ship that broken and we're going to be permanently stuck one day or is it something else? Going in and out of them every jump is a bad enough experience without wondering what else you missed or what could have happened.

Has anyone died in one? Or had it never reopen? Other than when people disappear. Is there anything we can do for people stuck in pods? Other than give them a really good re-welcome when they get out.

Are we okay stuck in there or should I be worried about losing something? I know I'm at least picking a different pod next month. Just in case.

( She's not getting stuck in one again )

( ALLISON ARGENT + GWEN STACY )

I better not have missed movie night. Is there another?

I can't say I know very much about space, or how this spaceship works, but I have a few questions.

What does it run on, and who's piloting?

And is there a reason that we can stop by at the nearest planet and get off this thing? Anything has to be better than this, right?

[There's a pause.]

If these are stupid questions, I'd rather you just explain why, and spare me the sarcasm.

[Once she has Artanis back in the Gardens, Lúthien goes through the trouble of finding things they need from the kitchen, making sure they have all the things of theirs they might need and then pulls the ladder up into the flet.

She had considered sending this message anonymously but... Well, someone’s still fuming that her friend, her sister in many ways, had been wounded.]

I am Lúthien, daughter of King Thingol and Queen Melian the Maia of Doriath. And this message is to the woman that shot Artanis: I would recommend you stay away from the houses in the Oxygen Gardens trees. You are not our favorite person, currently.

[Not Lúthien’s anyway. And she can’t imagine she’s Artanis’ favorite.]

And the last thing I think you want is for the garden itself to turn on you. [Take that how you will. Some people that know her though will know exactly what she means by that.]

I will not stop anyone else but do not think I will be allowing just anyone to visit our flets before Artanis is recovered. As such I have raised the ladder. Do not try to force your way up. I have ways to keep people out even up here.

Color me curious. Since we're such a diverse group of people - how many of you are from "Earth"? I don't care what version of it, I don't care what time you're from. Considering that we're all supposed to be from different galaxies and times, why is it your wonderful planet that gets picked on?

Not that I'm minding, there are so many people from my own galaxy that I'd hate to see again (though, if there's an old man called Ben Kenobi or Obi Wan still hiding out here, I still want my money), it's just odd that it's that galaxy that gets all the fun.

Or, you know, tell me where you're from. How are you? What's Earth like? Something - it's just bugging me.

[ this month, elizabeth is all smiles—and it's neither forced not an act of pretense. she truly is quite altered from last month's angst now that her mother has awakened. her red hair is plaited with ribbons for the first time in months, and she is wearing one of the new gowns she has sewn with nuala. to a new arrival, it will appear as though she is seated outdoors, though she is merely relaxing by one of the streams which criss-cross the oxygen gardens.

her face is flushed with her joy, and it reaches her eyes to brighten them while she regards the camera with a barely-contained grin upon her face. ]

Greetings, fair Tranquility. How does everyone fare this month? I have a query to put to you all:

Once, I believe there was a tradition of large communal feasts being held here, be it weekly or monthly. And the good lady who held them has departed since, causing an end to it.

I would think she would find that a great shame, indeed. Thus I propose that we should hold them again, either weekly or monthly depending upon the preference of the majority of you, and that we take this opportunity to eat together and know one-another better. What say you?

[ she will even provide the music, if necessary! honestly, these dreams of home have rendered her a bit homesick for such entertainment and interaction with others. and here, she does not technically require to keep her true nature hidden from those she socializes with.

elizabeth hesitates, as though she believes herself to be finished, and then adds hastily: ]

Lady Éowyn, might we speak in private at your earliest convenience?

[The feed begins with an attractive older woman sitting in a chair, her glasses on. She seems calm, collected, despite the relatively unfamiliar surroundings. When she speaks, it's with an ease of authority, looking just over the edges of her glasses. Bill's been grumping about the Network. Laura is, meanwhile, going to use it to her advantage.]

Hello. I am Laura Roslin, President of the 12 Colonies of Kobol, and the Colonial Fleet. I am to understand that, as of this last jump, I am no longer with them. [She doesn't want to think what Zarek is doing in her absence. Especially with Bill on board with her.] I, as I'm sure all of you who too have found themselves residing upon Tranquility, have many questions that I require answers to. Why are we here, what purpose this ship serves, amongst others.

Does this ship have any sort of command that I could speak with? The Captain, or perhaps a collective of all data you have garnered so far, after being pulled from your respective lives? And if any amongst you happen to be familiar with the Colonies, and the Galactica, my- [What were they?]- associate, Admiral William Adama and I will wish to speak with you privately.

Good day, ladies and gentlemen. [With a short nod, Laura cuts the feed.]

Hello, my dear friends and employees, or otherwise unpaid labor, of varying qualifications and levels of skill. [The woman in the video looks like a man, actually.

Specifically, a younger specimen, fair-skinned, possibly English in ancestry for those of us for whom the idea of England has not gone entirely out of style or yet to come in. He has squidgy eyes, floppy brown hair, a smirk that gets him laid, sometimes, usually only if he's using it to format a particularly nerdy pick-up line. Charles probably looks approximately as inebriated as the last time you saw him, if you saw him since Arima, but that certainly is his comm device.] This is Charles Xavier, whom you should recognize as the leadership of the recent Xenobiology undertaking in the etcetera etcetera.

[He waves, vaguely. Etcetera. From the perspective of the video, it appears that the left half of his shirt buttons has been closed up two holes too high, leaving the front obviously misaligned.]

I regret to report that I'm entirely pants at drinking, and I am in consequence quite shagged. Not in the fun way, [he reassures.] No, I reassure you in that department I remain devoutly deprived. However, I would like to encourage you all to take the day off work, as I will be nursing a hangover in the thing. [He gestures off-screen, vaguely also.] And we must lead by example. Tuhraah.

[Click.]


(OOC: Done with permission.)

[The gardens are in the background. Thranduil appears on the screen looking impeccably turned out. His poise is stiff, his tone formal.]

It has been brought to Security's attention that the criminals Melkor and Mairon did capture twenty-two hostages from this ship. Of these, nine were enslaved with sorcery to do their bidding and keep the others entrapped. Their intent was to hide upon the station Arima and make their way to a planet from there.

[He lifts his chin.]

In doing so, Melkor and Mairon emptied several houses and killed and ate their inhabitants. When we arrived, there were piles of half-eaten carcasses to which some of the hostages had been bound face-to-face. The hostages themselves are in varying states of health. When we became apparent to him, Melkor set fire to the house.

[A muscle in his jaw twitches. Legolas' legs were broken.]

Melkor and Mairon are dead, and with them one of their willing servants--AM, I am to understand he was called. Their executions were quick and necessary to free those under their spell. They will not harm another soul here.

One hostage could not be saved. Meriadoc Brandybuck was murdered for his valour, and with his death he saved all his fellow prisoners. Because of the fire, Merry's body could not be retrieved. All effort was put toward saving the living from the fires. A funeral will be held for him. His honor is great even among the many great souls I am privileged to know here. The wake will be held tomorrow night, after a night and a day of mourning.

[He stops speaking for a second, though his face makes no change. At last, his gaze drops briefly and his voice becomes a soft hiss.]



Savo hîdh nen gurth.

[He cuts the transmission.]