We knew it. [It's a rough, angry rasp, and one might hear the sound of something sharp being dragged against the walls.] We knew it was trap! He just couldn't settle for being wrong, could he? Couldn’t handle the fact that he needed us…

[One might note that the voice is... peculiarly double-edged, half human, and half, sibilant hiss.] Your little prisons have never stopped us before, Spider, and they won’t stop us now! How many innocents must fall at your hands this time?!

[They pause to gulp down a few, ragged breaths, pausing to grasp at their face. They feel disorientated, maybe a little sick. The Other, however, steadies them again, and they bare twisted fangs at the screen.] We’ll rip you limb from limb.

[ 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

[For quite some time, Walter has been shuffling about, sitting in corners and observing things on his own time. Perhaps you've seen him in passing, but he surely hasn't spoken a word since he woke up on the ship. He's still not certain if he's alive, dead, or somewhere in-between.

Though he did consider his communicator before, he simply didn't know what to say to it until now. And even so, he doesn't think he has enough to say to warrant a video like so many others posted on the feed. He just wants to try and speak for now. Baby steps! So if you're tuning in to his post, you'll hear a few moments of hesitated breathing, with the timid voice of a 30-something man with all the social grace and experience of someone only half his age following.]

It's lonely here. Lonely and cold.

Feels like home.

[there's a sharp exhale, as if he's silently laughing at himself.]

I'm not the only one who thinks that, am I?