[The video feed is shaky when it starts, held by hands unused to recording anything. The chaos of the recording is only compounded by the sounds of it: a wolf howling, long and lonely, and a fire crackling, and the heavy sound of someone breathing, almost panicked. The fire is the focus of the video. Whatever fuels it has nearly burned up, but in the center of the fire, there is something that might be just discernible as one of the masks.

But it is not Bran's mask that is burning, because when he turns the video around, he's wearing it. It's an ugly mask, made of thin leather (skin?) and crude stitches.]

There was a girl, and now she's gone. [The mask makes his breathing clumsy; sadness and anger do the rest to flatten and twist his voice.] That was her mask. I found it. And I looked for her, I have been looking and looking for days, and my brothers have looked, but she's gone. I know it. I feel it. And Betty Ross--she was a great friend to me--

This ship takes people from us, and it isn't fair. You should not be brought somewhere if you are only going to be taken away again. You should not-- If we are here, aboard this ship, then we are here for a purpose. We were brought here, we didn't come here by any accident or mistake. I don't want to go home-- [The wolf howls louder, a stabbing sound, and Bran's voice twists--part lie and part truth. If you're paying close attention to the video, you might see the face of his mask shift, just a little, to something less boy and more wolf, white teeth gleaming with slaver--and then back again, only a boy's face of stitched skin.] I want to know the reason.

It isn't any captain that brings us here. It must be something else. And once I dreamed the ship was alive-- [The mask shifts again, as if something moves beneath the skin, and Bran's voice twists and flattens once more.] --but I can't find it. I want to know the reason, and I will find the reason, and I will not forget the girl that is gone. She was pack--

[The howling of the wolf is louder now, and Bran's voice seems almost to join it on that last word, somehow, as if it is a howl and not a word at all. He drops his device upon the ground, but it stays on for a few moments longer, focused up on the nearest tree, upon which someone has crudely carved a face. Eventually, the video times out.]

I know we're all preoccupied with Creeper McCreeperson breathing heavily on the network, but we all still have to live here on a daily basis and there's one thing I think we tend to overlook: the kids. What are you little guys doing all day? We grownups have our jobs, but really, I'm hoping none of you are getting into trouble.

Which leads me to ask, why isn't there some type of school or daycare or organized activities for the kids? Heck, not only them, but for the adults who don't work or who'd rather not work in any of the departments and need something to do. Blake has his basketball thing and I can easily teach art and computers, maybe a little science, and I'm sure a handful of others have a bunch of skills that can be useful. Maybe some reading classes? Math? General how to use today's technology if you're from the Middle Ages?

So who's interested? Don't have me talking to the void about idle hands being the Devil's toys.



[ooc: This is me gauging interest on starting some educational type stuff for both kids and adults? Nothing is required or formal. Think of it as a drop-in center when they are bored and looking for things to get into. If there is some people wanting in on this, I'll post something in the OOC comm in a day or so.]

Just so it can't be said that I'm a girl who doesn't follow through- ta daaaa.



And before you think about making fun of it, consider that I am seriously hung over and still managed to make this stupid thing without using comic sans, okay? That's an act of mercy. I'm pretty much a saint with that kind of self-restraint. [ it's hard to see the girl in question, when she's busy flashing this ugly calendar at you, but glimpses of Hayley's face can be seen from time to time, peeking out from under the hood of a sweatshirt. ]

I took the liberty of arbitrarily assigning holidays after what everyone was kinda talking about the last time I asked? And then like, threw in a few of my own. Holidays are in red, because hey nothing terrible ever happens when things in red end up on the network right? Okay! Ummmmm.

Something-tember the 4th is go find a personified country that gardens and follow him around for an hour asking the most irritating questions you can think of day.

Something-tember the 14th, as every second decided upon Wednesday of every made up month, is slap a lawyer on the ass day.

Annnnnd Something-tember the 21st through 23rd is Space Thanksgiving, because I like eating and holidays built around food should always last more than one day because. Food-comas. And you know, pie. Which is a thing that frankly, should just happen more than one day a month, alright?

But there you have it. Ask and you shall receive etcetera etcetera.
Man what does this say about me and my free time.

( Private| NEW TEAM JAILBAIT FILTER| kurt hummel, wichita, john connor, tate langdon, simon silverton, percy jackson, brendon frye, isaac lahey, allison argent, heather mason, jessica hamby, stiles stilinski )

[ Why hello there, Tranquility. Starting off on the video feed, as the picture forms, is the redheaded, pyrotechnically-inclined Wildling, otherwise known as Ygritte. She's standing before Jon Snow's bed, upon which several medieval-looking weapons are strewn over the soft comforter.

Normally she'd be smiling, having been kept in a very good mood since the end of last month, but not so now—not after what she's recently seen, and heard that others have seen, in the depths of the ship. Her features are stern, lips pressed together firmly as she nods into the camera. Today, she is all business. ]


Space training's all well and good, don't take me th' wrong way.

But 'fter what we've seen—and I think many of you've seen things that y' normally wouldn't, in the last coupl'a weeks here, not just myself—I think it's time we had some other kind 'f training.

[ She holds this up, to show to the camera. ] This is a dagger. Carved m'self, entirely from ox bone. Meant for close-handed combat, not t' be used as anything but a last resort, if your enemy sneaks up on you. Pref'rably, y'want something with serrated edges such as this, t'do the bulk of the cutting—the edges will make sure that y'get tearing through the skin and sinew. Even if it's not steel and can't cut through bone, you can still give your enemy a fatal strike 'f you aim for his entrails. Kills 'em nice and slow.

[ She sets it down, and picks up another weapon lying nearby. ] This is an axe. Not just any ol' kind 'f axe, neither—this is a battle-axe. [ She grabs the haft, the handle of it, and swings it in the air to demonstrate. ] Arm-length, 'though they can be longer, but arm-length is good for throwin' too if need be. Some o' my clansmen wield one in each hand, for fightin'. Steel bit makes the blade lighter, easier t' swing—but we don't got much steel north o' the Wall, so many times we use wrought iron, which's heavier—but if y'swing good and true, it'll land a heavy blow. Can crack 'n undefended skull, easy.

An' lastly, the weapon you should be starting with, for longer-range—the shortbow. Mine's made o' weirwood, the trees most found o'er the Wall, and in the godswood o' Winterfell, I hear. [ A slight smirk, just a quirking upwards of her lips, before she schools her face seriously once more. ]

[ She notches a grey goosefeather-fletched arrow in it, drawing back the string to demonstrate. ] Only three feet long, rawhide string. Smaller size is common for us spearwives, since we tend t' be a bit shorter than the menfolk; but it's also easier t' maneuver around with, during a hunt, when y'need t' be light on your feet.

[ There's a quick thwap sound, as she looses the arrow and it sings through the air, landing hard in the wall on the far side of the room. ] Shoots fast an' hard, for a small bow.

[ Setting it down again on the bed, she addresses the video feed once more. ] If anyone'd like t' do some one-on-one training with any o' these, I'd be happy t' show you how it's done. [ She cracks a smile. ] Shit, bring your own weapon and we can practice in that ...indoor trainin' field, whatever 's called.

But I think it's important we learn t' defend ourselves, now...all 'f us. That goes for th' younger Starks, 's well. Any babe who's no longer on his mother's teat should be learnin' this.



[ ...because what is decorum, Ygritte. :/ ]

[Cersei has practiced this speech, carefully planned it and learned it off by heart. She is dressed as formally as she can muster, her crown in place, and a deliberate warm half-smile is on her lips.]

Dear people of Tranquility, I have created this visual message in order to ask for your aid. Some may already be aware that a man by the name of Robb Stark attempts to usurp my position and take my life. While I am not typically the type to ask of favours of others, I must request your assistance on this particular occasion. I have held the title of Queen uncontested for sixteen years. Nevertheless, upon arriving at this ship, I have been threatened with both the stripping of my position and my death.

While some call for a woman's head, I implore no such monstrosities. Instead I ask merely for protection from Stark and his violent men. Is there anyone in this ship who might be able to guard and protect me, increasing my safety? I am a woman and am thus unable to defend myself. There is enough turmoil and danger on this ship already. I feel that we need not add to it.

[ The feed clicks on to reveal an average looking young man with light brown hair; he’s sitting, elbows on knees and hands clasped in front of him, not too far from the camera that he’s obviously propped up on a low table. ]

Hello, Tranquilit-ees… ? Tranquilites? [ A slight pause; yeah, no, let’s never say either of those words again. ] This is Josh of the planet Earth, and I have a quick question that I’m pretty sure wasn’t covered in the welcome packet – which was absolutely lovely and not terrifying at all, by the way, thank you very much to whoever put that together. [ Seriously though, “the list” and “smiley”?? Extremely reassuring. ]

Does anyone have any idea what the date is? I know this jump business has done a number on… well, everything, but this thing’s got to have an internal clock somewhere, right?

[ Despite his best efforts to remain relaxed, it's clear he's slightly nervous - fidgeting a bit with his hands, focusing to keep his attention on the feed. ]

[ it takes her longer than she likes to figure out how to work the device; after enough cautious tinkering, rhoda manages to work her way around the text function. it's still damned fiddly; the keys are smaller than that of a typewriter and she has yet to discover how to underline words for emphasis (which is perhaps for the best; she would certainly abuse that option, though now what you get is the wanton abuse of capslock in its place). ]

I understand that NO amount of scrubbing will rid me of the markings on my arm.
However, might I inquire as to whether there are any witches aboard this star-ship who have at the very least succeeded in HIDING it under a Glamour?
I would attempt to do so myself, but I don't know if there are any enchantments or wards upon the thing already. No one wishes to have their magic BACKFIRE upon them, naturally.
Beyond that, should anyone care to explain just WHY we must be branded like CATTLE as though we were PROPERTY of this vessel, I would be INFINITELY grateful.

Yours Faithfully,
Lady Rhoda Lamb

[Bucky has been doing some reading. Quite a lot of reading, about New York, and how it;s changed over the years he's missed, what's gone on -- well, as much as he can manage. And he has noticed one very important thing, here. He fixes the comm with a very serious look, before asking:]

....So, who do I need to yell at for not tellin' me the Dodgers left Brooklyn? Los Angeles doesn't even have trolleys, why do they need a team called the Dodgers.

[A little mutter:] At least the Mets are around, so we don't have to root for the Yankees.

Hey, Tranquilized!

I know you're all working on a calender, bUT by my mark it's Septemeber 10th. So in two days it's Miles Edgeworth's birthday. Active invites to anybody who knows he'd want him there, and if you're an a--a jerk trying to gatecrash I will hit you with a taser and some rebar. So don't. Especial invites to John Watson, Jack New York Face, Alayne Wolf Girl, Sirius I Won't Eat Your Dude Parts, Jenna Awesome Weed Lady, and Jane Jesse's Girl.

Tenth floor common area, unless anybody has a better place.

[filtered from miles edgeworth]

Does anyone know how to make a cake? Or like...punch? Or party food in general? I got decorations, just--I can't cook. I can pay. Like, a lot.

[open | amended later]

This party isn't obligatory.

[open | even later]

And you don't need to bring presents!

Given all the rah rah rah for morality that I've seen lately, I figure the topic should be broached.

To me, it doesn't makes a difference and that's what's taken me so long to get to it. If kids want to drink, they're going to find a way to get to what they want. Not to mention, I hardly hold the monopoly on alcohol. [ he's getting to his point in a very roundabout way, yes. ] I'd also like to say that there isn't a day that goes by that I don't see at least one person drinking on camera, drunk texting or boasting about their inebriated state in some manner or another. More often than not, they're what I'd consider underage. And I'm not inclined to give much of a shit about where the product is going because I'm not profiting from it specifically in monetary value.

We don't have a set legal system. Each of us are from countries or worlds where the age cap varies or is completely irrelevant.

That being said, my point is: should there be an age restriction on those I knowingly permit into [ hm, no he's not going to say my ] an establishment where drinking and partying could lead to one thing and then another? I've seen an awful lot of preaching about save the children. God forbid we overlook their sweet, virgin eyes. If we're going to be stuck together for an indefinite amount of time, this might as well be addressed to [ huh, okay, what word does he want to use with you assholes? ] keep the peace. Or something like it. So, let's have it.

Don't care, couldn't be made to care or alternatively, open it to discussion. [ he's bored enough to let strangers and friends bicker at him and among each other. ] And if you were hired by myself or my [ other half ] business partner, report.

[ the camera angle lowers like he's done or ready to shut it off, instead he's scratching behind his ear and shifting his jaw to begrudgingly announce: ] Oh, and by the way, for those of you that knew him.. I think it's safe to finally assume that Justin Taylor has gone home. [ or wherever the fuck people who aren't dead but simply gone go, he doesn't say but his condescending and bitter fucking uncomfortable smirk implies. ]

[ on flips the feed, and the sleeve of someone's jumpsuit is the first thing that is seen. It’s not exactly intentional, just Ariadne attempting to situate herself on the floor of her cabin before she addresses the network properly. ]

Um…I guess I should start by saying; Hi. [ she starts out casually, letting her device finally focus up on her face, as she offers the network a ghost of a smile. ] I know some of you don't exactly know me – which happens – it's a big ship. [ a beat, her hand going to the back of her neck as she unconsciously starts to rub it, quickly thinking out her next few words. ] But I've been here…going on ten months, maybe? [ she's honestly not exactly sure the exact time frame anymore, but whatever it is now, it's been a long ass time and she feels like she can at least say something about things now. ]

Anyway... [ she sighs, her head bobbing slightly as she lets out a small hum at her next few thoughts. ] I know we have security and all – I honestly don't see any reason to change that - but we shouldn’t be expecting them to be looking out for everyone – it's not possible – there's too many of us for that.

So…[ on to the point of her actually even addressing the network. ] has anyone thought about maybe creating floor monitors - people that could honestly focus their attention on the people on their own floors? [ a beat, her nose crinkling slightly ] And no, not someone that pries into everyone's business - just someone that at least would know the goings on with their floors. And yeah I know people have mentioned the buddy system - which is a good idea to a point. But I still think floor monitors might be something we should look into.

I don't know. Maybe this has already been mentioned as a thought. But it just seems like a good idea to know your neighbors.

[ she stops there, again offering the network a faint smile, shrugging a shoulder slightly as she does, figuring if people honestly had thoughts to add or questions, they would. so she doesn't exactly feel the need to expand further on her thoughts here.

but not a second later and another thought occurs to her, and she is adding: ] Also, I'm looking at redoing the maps – adding things and what not – if anyone has anything to offer with that, I'd welcome the help.

[ Judging by the background, Carolyn's in the shuttle bay today. It's fitting, because that's where she's been for most of the past month, but she hasn't spoken up in a while. Today she is, however, having cleaned up a bit from working on the shuttles with a slight smile on her face as she addresses the camera. ]

Tranquility, this is Carolyn Fry. Some of you may recall that Ellen Ripley and I have been talking about training people on the ship so that they're better equipped to deal with living in space. We're happy to announce that we'll be starting up our first session at [ insert time here ].

We'll be meeting in the shuttle bay. For those of you who don't know how to get here, Ripley will be waiting by the lift in the passenger quarters to show you the way. For everyone else, I'll be waiting here for when you arrive. A recording of the session will be available afterwards but we really encourage everyone to come in person -- we're going to be running some drills and getting a bit hands-on with some things. In addition, even if you already know a thing or two about life in space, this could be a good refresher -- or you could bring up something we miss, you never know.

If anyone has any questions before we begin, I'm happy to answer them. Thank you and I hope to see you all there.

((ooc: An open log can be found here!))

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.

As some of you may have noticed, a very significant portion of this crew isn't ready to stand up and fight if something happens, whether it be on or off the ship, as our recent shore leave proved.

If you don't want to learn how to fight, that's fine. However, if anyone is willing to learn, I'll offer what free time I have to teach basic hand-to-hand. I'm a trained Marine, and while I come from what some of you might consider the future, the basics on using an opponent's strength to disarm them have remained the same over the generations.

I'd like to focus on teaching people how to disarm an armed opponent and escape without injury, but if anyone wants to learn anything more advanced, feel free to contact me either here, or privately.

I'm not interested in arguing the pros and cons of civilians getting involved in a fight, so save your breath if you're going to raise complaints. I'm trying to make sure people who want to defend themselves have the tools they need to do it. All things considered, we could use a little more of that right now. ["And a little less irresponsible behavior" goes unsaid, but implied. Shepard is all for cutting loose and having fun, but not when people have been disappearing and dying all willy-nilly. Right now is a time for srs business.]