Saw another memory. 

[Sam's voice is solemn, befitting the situation, but he hardly sounds thrown off by all this; he's unbearably used to visions by now anyway. This? This is similar enough. The added weight of feelings and thoughts make it heavier, and it's in the past instead of the near future, but it's still close enough.]

A woman someone called Biswas let a bunch of people out — experiments...? Test subjects used to try and... I guess mess with their DNA, make them better suited for to colonization. They all had numbers; she'd listen to them when she worked, sometimes, when they'd scream or cry for help. [He runs a hand over his face, exhausted suddenly by the thought.] She let them out, and 'Stephen' killed her. At least, I think he did; there was a gunshot, but...

[That's kind of where it ended.

His voice softens a bit, something cold sitting in the pit of his stomach.]

Anyone know anything about these people?

Worse off, do you think the numbers they had are like the numbers we had?

Are we — 

[He stops himself, frowning. Eventually, he just shakes his head.]

... I need to go for a walk. Keep me updated if you guys find anything interesting. I'll tell you what I can about what I saw in detail, if I can.

[And that's exactly what he does. Keeping an eye on the comms, of course, but also visiting the usual places: drink at the bar, resting with something to read in the gardens. Usually he likes the solitude — or maybe is just too screwy in the head right now to want company — but after seeing things like this... hard to want to be alone. He goes to the bar, to the library. He even combs over said library again, in vain. Like there'd be something new there.

Something about all this makes him too uneasy. Like something's going to happen. Not just the usual 'happen', either. 

He plops down and reads in the garden. Reads a downloaded, crappy story that was clearly half-assedly based on earth. Something about it being taken over and humanity being enslaved, or something. Very H.G. Wells, but with absolutely no accurate readings of earth, like an alien race guessed what the place was like. Funny how none of this makes him feel too much better.]

((OOC: omg ignore my delete i'm an idiot; also action brackets are okay with this post, if you're interested. I was gonna post a log, but this'll do :|b))

This day has found me sad.

[ there is not much of an introduction today. Lucrezia Borgia, wrapped in a blanket in her bed, pale fingers flipping through a book which lies open in her lap. ]

What can be done to expel such?

So, uhm. [clearing his throat. Guess what, he isn't drunk this time! Yeah! So he's just as shy as all hell instead.] There's... been talk about everybody coming clean, right? And - given what happened last month, with our memories and all - there's not really much of a point keeping secret. I think.

[He hopes there isn't a point. Pls.]

So, who... who here is a wolf? I don't mean werewolves - although they're perfectly okay! But I mean generally. Any kind of wolf.

[Insert silence.

Really long, awkward silence.]

... I'm a wolf.

[Ruby's in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee. She looks tired, though not overly so. Adapting to life on board isn't going all that great for her - but thank whatever deity you want to insert here for coffee, because Ruby is just going to survive on that. Hey, Grenny pestered her with early morning diner shifts often enough, and Ruby isn't ashamed to admit that she's addicted. Doesn't mean she's gonna kick the habit anytime soon. She smiles at the camera, friendly as always.]

Hey guys. Ruby here, for those I haven't met yet. Pleasure to meet you, not pleased about the weird circumstances, you know how it goes.

Two things... first of all. I gather I'm not the only one hallucinating. Or... having dreams. Memories. I'm not awake enough to puzzle that out. Is this some sort of... group hallucination, and what's so interesting about two people talking about how hot some prisoner is, anyway? Do I need to be concerned? Do I need to... I don't know, do anything about this, report it to anyone?

[She rubs a face down her hands, smiles, because all this sounds insane, but it seems to be common practice here.]

Second thing... well. I was wondering. I'll admit, I'm not the brightest bulb to ever light the room. So... we're in space. And I was just wondering, if you were. Say. Sensitive to the moon. 

[Yeah, this is harder than she'd thought. Crap. Ruby takes a long sip of her coffee, a little too hot for comfort, but the burn is quite welcome right now. She can't exactly go saying that she's a werewolf and very likely to kill anything that moves in front of her during three months a night, because she doesn't think she'll be in control of the wolf after not transforming for a whooping 28 years, plus she doesn't have the magical cloak that'll prevent the transformation - yeah, that's not gonna get her pushed out of an air lock at all. She's had enough angry mobs after her in her own time.]

Are we in any way affected by moon cycles, given that we... well. Have no... moon of our own?

[Yeah, it sounds even more stupid when she says it out loud, but does the truth of her little problem really sound any less stupid?]

[The feed opens to one very tired looking guy -- Tyler has not been getting a hell of a lot of sleep in the past few weeks.]

You know I was really, really hoping memory share time was done.

I guess I should be glad this time I didn't have to hold anyone's hand or anything [For a given value of glad, anyway.]

....Has anyone gotten anything about the ship? It looked like the Tranquility, sort of. And there was this guy -- except I guess he wasn't who he was supposed to be. And he had like bird hands -- talons and shit, you know?

It was really weird.

[There's more he wants to say, like he gets why the girl did it -- that he would do anything if he could have saved his own mother, but instead he just hangs up there.]


[ooc: Tyler was one of the selected to get a different memory than the rest of the ship did. Have fun with that, everyone.]

[ the camera comes on to show guinevere in the gardens, who, even after so much time on the ship still looks a little ill at ease on camera. it could be the technology or perhaps she's just modest and what she's about to do may seem otherwise, in a way. Biting her lip for a moment, she quickly gathers her words to speak--]

I know that there are many that are... not used to the clothing that ship may provide us. [wait, she's going to scramble not to insult anyone] Not that it is poorly made or unseemly, only that-- [ she lets out a breath, reminding herself to take a breath and that having a task is better than sitting around doing nothing.] What I mean to say is, I wish again to offer my services as a seamstress to any who would require new clothing or clothing that is better suited to what they are accustomed.  I have many fabrics to work with or I can alter clothing you already have.

[ she offers a gentle smile before she seems to remember--] Oh, and my name is Gwen, if you wish to contact me.

[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?

Is there anyone still dealing with, uh - bonding issues - since the jump?

I feel like if I start thinking I'm out of the woods, it's gonna bite me in the ass - but it's been a few days since I had the pleasure.

[ grudging sarcasm drips in her voice. the whole connection bit seems to have been fairly constant over the past few weeks - emma had barely gotten a breather, herself - but still, she's hesitant to go the optimistic route when everything's so overwhelmingly sucked for her lately. not even lately - since the curse broke, really. right now, she hasn't entirely ruled out a full-stop hemorrhage and vulcan mindmeld (or your appropriate, un-fourthwally sci-fi equivalent) being some fourth ring of empathy hell. ]

Maybe next time, we can just try trust falls, instead.

[ honestly, she's been trying to dodge coming to the ship's network about this at all for fear that anyone who'd gotten memories from her like irene had might crawl out of the woodwork and recognize her. but at this point, she wants answers more than she wants to hide from her past mistakes, and her present vulnerability. ]

While all of you are no doubt rather busy with your reunions and other such things, I believe it is prudent to take this moment to offer the services of myself or my colleague, Miss Sommers, in dealing with any of the issues that many of you have been confronted with in the last few weeks.

[ Hannibal is all neat collars and cuffs as usual, his black hair neatly groomed back, the lights adjusted so that the red in his black eyes stays hidden; the kindly and professional Dr. Fell, that's all. But for those who received memories from him, there might be a rumble of some familiar evil that menaces them; perhaps something they can't quite put their finger on. ]

Memories, particularly those of the kind we experienced, are difficult enough to overcome when they are indeed our own. Emotional conflict, losses, and for most the absence of friends and family that is not even your own to mourn, can be devastating if not turned in the appropriate direction. Some of you have been the victims of more vicious and unsettling images, such as may conflict with your own peaceable nature. I urge you not to combat these on your own. The psychological impact may be more grievous than you might at first imagine, and in those cases, the experience of a professional is a crucial tool in your continued well-being.

You are welcome to drop in any time. Please do not hesitate. If a confidential meeting or 'home visit' is required, please contact myself or Miss Sommers directly. Thank you for your time.

[The video turns on to show an elf-king in the gardens.]

To those newly come, le suilon. I am Thranduil, Elvenking of the Woodland Realm.

[At this moment, the head of a dog-sized fawn pops into view. The deer chews grass quietly at the camera.]

It was declared by one Arya Stark that this fawn came to us in the spring, and thus his name is Ethuil. If that day marked the beginning of spring, then now it is near midsummer. And three days hence, there will be a midsummer festival in the gardens. My son and I will supply the mead, as usual, and any with gifts, talents, or goods are invited to perform or to show their wares. There will be music for those inclined to dancing and food for those inclined to eating [ha ha] as we celebrate the summer together.

[Ethuil finishes his mouthful of tender grass, sniffs up at Thranduil lovingly, and ducks down for more grass.]

No doubt some will question why we celebrate the summer in a place without seasons. I encourage you, most of all, to come and find joy where you can, for you will not find it everywhere.

[He inclines his head to the camera, then hesitates.]

I would speak with Eric Northman in the gardens.

[And as is his wont, he abruptly cuts off the feed. Because kings don't really need to be polite all the time.]

[ this is going to be short.

annabeth doesn't even know why she's doing this at all, because anyone who cares enough will know, but wichita deserves something more than that. she's been here for ages, knew everyone, right?

this video is similar to her last, so long ago. her jaw is set and her eyes are dark, but where there was a storm raging behind them before, there's nothing. an empty look of pain, but not surprise. what more could the ship do, anyway? ]

Wichita's gone.

[ that's all she really wants to say, but the weight of all of wichita's things around her keeps the feed on. annabeth swallows, her eyes moving off to the side for half a moment before they return. ]

I don't know if- [ okay wow, this is a lot harder than she expected it to be. ] She's got a lot of stuff here. Some of it I'm keeping, but if anyone else knew her and wants to come by...

[ she bites her lower lip, before cutting the feed there. they can figure it out. ]