I've been wondering this for a while.

What do you do without a mother?

[Obviously she is nowhere near as worried as she sounds, but you'd have to be a near mind-reader to see that.]

[The video feed turns on, and the screen is immediately filled with a lot of pink. Effie is dressed to the nines, looking like she's about to step foot on a high fashion runway. The tastefulness of her appearance is debatable, but the only thing more blinding than her attire is the smile on her face as she addresses the network.]

Good evening, Tranquility. [The accent is immediately obvious. It sounds affected, but the inflections come out naturally on her tongue.] I can understand how the ship got its name. It's very quiet around here, isn't it? [And dull. But she's not going to mention that.]

I've been here for several weeks, and it's terribly rude of me not to have introduced myself sooner. [Perhaps she was waiting for an opportunity to go home, or she was hoping to wake up from what was obviously a dream. But as the days and weeks passed, she's resigned herself to the fact that she's stuck here, for now.] My name is Effie Trinket.

I'm used to keeping busy, so I must admit that I've been feeling rather restless here. Do let me know if I can provide assistance somewhere. [She doesn't think she needs to mention that anything related to physical labor is out of the picture.] Or perhaps I can do something to liven this place up -- I could add a dash of color to the interiors, or organize a party or two.

[Her voice trails off, because she's Getting Ideas. She gives the camera one last ridiculously bright smile.] Well, that's it for now! I'll talk to all of you soon, I hope.

[A small wave, and the feed turns off.]

[ The first thing you see is... well, nothing.

Then there is rustling and clumsy movement of the communicator, eventually revealing September, eyes not meeting the video feed, but it indeed is him. The usual bright blue have dulled.

There's more rustling, September feeling for something on the communicator. ]

No video, just audio today.

[ But September, the video feed is on, can't you see that?

( Precisely, that's the problem. Even his sweater is on backwards. )

His eyes never meet with the feed, appearing to focus on nothing in particular. ]

Curious, but does anyone here actually have a sleeping schedule or sleeping hour?

And... has anyone been having nightmares lately?

[ Smooth, Mr. Dream Eater. ] Let's call it curiosity. By the way, you should all use audio, I'm kinda... caught up on something.

[ Liar.

Now watch as September turns off the feed a few failed attempts later. ]

( ooc: SO September has not been dream feeding for a long while and the effects are rolling in. He's temporarily blind until he feeds again, thus his lack of coordination! )

There are no mermaids.

[ oh hi tranquility. how's it going. had a lot on your plate these past few weeks? the fog and all that? yeah that must've been awful. ANYWAY, MOVING ON TO REAL PROBLEMS. who even lets this kid talk, he sounds like. twelve.

twelve and incredibly put out by this, thankyouverymuch. ]

There are no mermaids though there is a great deal of water to swim in. And without mermaids, there has been a dreadful lack of murder. I should like this ship much better if there were a proper drowning. [ wow that was not pc at all. peter's tone however, is somewhere between cheerful and petulant without ever quite being just one. somewhere in the background is the faintest sound of leaves being trampled as he stalks about- before he suddenly comes to a halt. ]

Also there are not so many pirates, and without pirates there is not enough stabbing and bleeding. And however could there be adventures without gutting?

Red-Face, can you hear me? [ is he-? y e p. he's totally trying to talk to smiley. ] It is terribly dull without them. If you should keep playing like this, I am sure I shall forget how to have fun!

[It's late at night when the transmission comes across and it's coming from one of the many kitchens where Angela's seated at a table, a small plastic tupperware container in front of her. The lid's been popped off and every so often, she reaches inside for one of the miniature Reese's peanut butter cups and unwraps it before popping it into her mouth. She's clearly been here for a while with the number of empty wrappers strewn around her, but she doesn't seem likely to go back to her room any time soon. At least not before she turns to the device and whispers into it.]

Most of you guys are probably sleeping or something. Who knows what time it is here, but I'm assuming you won't hear this until later. Either way, question mostly for the people who've been here for more than a couple jumps: do you get homesick? Or are you too busy dealing with the bullshit from the ship?

[Angela pauses to finish chewing the candy, following it up with another one that she swallows as she chooses her next words carefully.]

It's not like I've never been away from home. I've lived all over the world, some places only for a week or so, but at least I had a phone or the internet. Everybody I knew was never more than just a phone call away. I'm good for picking up and going because it's Tuesday, but I never stopped checking in.

[Another candy goes down before she lifts the wrapper in mock salute.]

Thanks for the candy, Isaac.

SON OF A BITCH!

[Surely no one on the Tranquility has motion sickness. If you do, sorry about the view you're getting of a very shaky camera feed of Wilee pedaling as his life depended on it down the halls of the ship, cutting sharp corners like a pro. It's obvious he's scared out of his wits by something. Maybe it's Smiley, finally showing up in person. Maybe it's some space monster that somehow managed to get on the ship. Maybe it's...

...an angry turkey. Well, that explains the fear. That shit is scary. It looks angry as it flaps its wings and chases after Wilee, no matter how fast he pedals. Fuck you, human on a bike. It wants to peck your eyes out.]

WHY ARE YOU CHASING ME? I WILL TURN YOU INTO A SANDWICH, SWEAR TO GOD. I'M TIRED OF SHIT COMING AFTER ME.

[Bed rest sucks.

[Now that we've got that out of the way, you know what doesn't suck? Dutch weed. Just a little bit of it. Not only does Murphy not feel like he's been royally screwed over by a bullet wound and injuries and sicknesses he'd endured from Silent Hill, but he's feeling pretty much like the universe is an okay place right about now. No nightmares of dead children and angry wives and shackles, prison, being a monster...

[Nothing's okay, everything's fine, fine fine. And we have Murphy here. Now's not the time to be tacking away over text! Instead, we're treated to a hoarse, haggard voice of a swell and phenomenally high man:]

"Y'know what's really somethin' that I've never taken into consideration before? We're in space.

"I said it, we're in space. You'd think the novelty of it wouldn't wear down after so long, but..." [He scoffs.] "Never even was one of those kids who... y'know, wanted to be an astronaut when they grew up, but...

"Hey! Here's a question: What did you wanna be when you grew up? Grow up. Sorry. Some of you are kids. But still...

"Me, I always thought it'd be kinda cool to be like Mr. White, uh... Minus the gettin' shot at part. 'Cause bein' shot really hurts, and..."

[There's a pause. Are we going to finish that thought? No?]

"Shit, I think I can feel my brain..."

[Another pause. There's a sound of something creaking.] "I'm really bored right now."

[Somebody take Murphy's communicator away before he says/does something he's going to regret... Or just talk to him, because goddamn.]

[Jesse's set up the communicator so it gives a static view of the scene. They're in Jane's room - the one she hasn't been living in - and it's been cleared to make room for one big art project of some kind. There are cardboard storage boxes everywhere, all cut up into various shapes and painted to resemble adorable child-sized robots. Jane and Lisbeth are in the background there, still working on a few pieces.]

Oh my god, you guys, you would not believe... We've got all this amazing robot armor, but it turns out we made it all too little. So what we were thinking is, if you're small enough to fit into this stuff, let us know right now? And just tell us your tattoo number, yo, and we can drop off some kickass robot armor at your room. How's that sound?

And hey - Grown-ups, don't try to steal any from the kids. It's too awesome for you, so. You know. Chill, okay?

[This is, of course, Jesse's solution to this problem.]

[ October's camped out in some nondescript hallway, jean-covered legs stretched out, an open book (thanks, Jim) sitting in her lap when she turns the feed on. Settling back against the wall, she twists the ring on her right forefinger a few times before she says anything. ]

I've noticed that a lot of the people here come from places filled with things that shouldn't exist. Either that or they come so far from the future that space travels and interacting with aliens is second nature to them, which made me wonder two things. [ She glances over at her device now. ] One: how many of you come from completely normal places? No werewolves, no zombies, no ghosts; nothing that belongs in a book, not in real life.

And two: has anyone stopped to think that maybe that's why most of us are here? Because we're used to the strange and the unreal so we might be able to deal better? [ It's a theory, one she likes better than wondering how many people on board are dead back home, like her.

She twists her ring around a couple more times before she reaches for the device. ] The possibility of it sits a hell of a lot better with me than "we're chosen at random" but if anybody's got any better ideas, feel free to speak up.

[ And then she cuts the feed. ]



ooc: anyone who might want to action it up, feel free~ she's hanging out in a hallway fairly close to wherever the 005 rooms are located.

Good day. My name, as many of you know, is Miles Edgeworth. I have been present on this ship for approximately two and one half months at this point; at home, I was a prosecutor.

I've a pair of proposals for your consideration. Each will be posted first via the text function, then read aloud for those who avoid the use of text.

( The 'buddy system'. )
( Mediation service; still in its beginning stages, looking for volunteers/input )



[OOC: If people sign up for the buddy system, I'll be matching them up next weekend sometime! An opportunity for forcing your character into new CR. :>]

[And now, a public service announcement from your resident lord and master of gross exaggeration, poster child of pointless overreaction, supreme champion of the ninety-mile-an-hour whinge--]

There's a cow in the oxygen garden.

[He doesn't even bother to hide the undercurrent of disgust in the audio feed, an edge to his voice that makes it clear he's most likely had a recent run-in with the aforementioned cow and/or a cow by-product.]

There's a cow in the oxygen garden why is there a cow in the oxygen garden on what strange, bizarro planet did any of you think this was a good idea?

Agh, it's--nevermind, I'm absolutely positive that at least some of you come from strange, bizarro planets where this sort of thing is acceptable. I mean, the cats and the dogs and--I heard there's a horse, too--are bad enough, now we've got livestock.

And don't even--don't even get me started on the bloody birds. Filthy. Eugh.

I know we're probably still hung up on certain unnamed parties forgetting how to swim, and yes, fair enough, it's tragic, but I think we could all use a, ah. Friendly reminder. This is, in fact, a spaceship. Not a zoo. How is that--What's the point, anyway? It's all--it's all great that the ship packed up your giant killer wolf and dumped it in your locker just for you, but maybe the rest of us are not entirely comfortable with the idea of cows and horses and giant killer wolves out! Anyone think of that?

You can't walk five feet around here without running into someone's pet. We have got to start talking about what to do with all these animals. Honestly.

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[ 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!