[Action]

[Being as it is a permanent fixture of the Hold, the mareketplace has manifested several trappings of a mall-like nature. Like, say, an arcade. Well, actually it's just a few "antiquated" game machines stuffed into a corner, but with the training routines disturbed by the VR shenanigans they'd reached a level in popularity again.]

[One in particular, "Superah-RealCombato Sim 3000" has a ring of holographic projectors no more than six feet across, that cast flickering red shapes in parallax for characters standing in the middle to aim a virtual weapon at and shoot. The resulting sea of red gradient that they loosely call a "firefight sim" is hardly realistic, somewhat headache-inducing, and kind of flickery thanks to the wear of years.]

"HEADSHOT. DOUBLE-KILL. MULTIKILL. SURVIVALIST. NEW HIGH SCORE..."

[Wait, is that Gordon in there? Where did he learn to shoot like that?!]

[Watch? Comment? ...Try to beat his score?]

[audio --> video]

Attention, [intones the deep, rough, and rich voice of a newcomer.] I was told that I could contact other-- [the barest pause] -- transports with this device. This is a test signal. If you are able to hear me, please respond.

Or perhaps there is another way—?

[Without any warning, the video feed switches on, showing a green blur at first. At last it evens out, centering on a wrinkled green face possessing two startlingly blue eyes... strangely gentle, despite his otherwise beastly appearance. His hair is black and braided in front, and some of it leaks out of his beige hood. His expression is grave, concerned with recent events and things yet to come.]

I appreciate any information you can give me regarding the nature of missions and the history of this center. If I am to fight for my freedom, so be it, but I will not fight blindly.

[Another pause.] Thank you for your help. [He fiddles with the netbook for a second, then the transmission ends.]

[Lea fusses with his netbook for several seconds, half his face looming over the video pickup, before he sits back and beams at it.]

Okay, so, I think I finally got this one. Check this out!

[He reaches down and picks up a slightly battered guitar, re-checking the tuning with a strum and smiling a little more brightly to hide the brief attack of stage fright. Wow, it's a lot easier playing in front of real people than when he's making a video --

But it's still just playing in front of people, he assures himself, and launches into a wobbly but decent rendition of Born on the Bayou.

It had been way cooler with the band, but the way he's grinning when he finally finishes the song suggests he thinks it was--]

-- Pretty cool, huh? Hey, does anybody else around here play guitar? We should jam!

And, uh, if you can show me a couple tricks or something, that'd be great.

[He waves at the camera and shuts the recording down.]

[Have a very confused looking teenage girl, transports. She's been thinking about this problem for awhile, but hasn't really had the time to ask it.] I was just wondering... How do we count how time passes here? [That sounds stupid, Chloe, maybe you should explain.] I mean! With the time travel thing. On our last mission, I was with a group that was trapped in time for six months, and I've been here in Exsilium for three. [Which sucks, by the way.]

If you count the time away during the mission, does that mean I've missed my sixteenth birthday already? Or should that time just... not matter? 

[Currently, the netbook is upside down when it's finally turned on, so there's a weird angle on the young woman's face as she leans into super close to the screen. Seriously, she spent about twenty minutes pressing buttons and commanding the mirror to turn on. Anyone paying attention to the network probably saw a lot of keysmashing and hearing her say some crap like "Mirror Mirror". :| It's pretty embarrassing.] This is a piece of junk. Is this like one of the magic mirrors I've heard about? Because it's no wonder only witches have them.

[Her cheeks puff out a bit as she moves back, and while the video is still upside down, you can make out that while the girl is pretty, her dark hair is messy and full of leaves, her clothes are slightly dirty, and she's scowling pretty intensely.] I am sick of magic. And also people holding me against my will. [The girl taps at the screen, hard.] Or people using me for their own means. [Basically? There's a long list of things that Belle is sick of.]

Send me home. I will make any deal you want, give you anything you ask for.

[video]

I dinnae what a 'netbook' is. The wee woman wasnae very helpful ...

[There are sounds of movement from the netbook, but the picture is dark. It takes a moment or two of rustling around before something comes into view. It's blurred from quick movement, and then an eye appears, filling the screen. It's brown.]

What are ye, now? [The voice is male with a Scottish accent. The picture pulls back to show a man's face; wild dark blonde hair with grey at the temples, a mustache and soul patch that's serving for a beard, and a scowl that conveys a great deal of attention paid to the netbook.]

Magical box. With voices! Well, bugger me. At least it's got a wee typewriter attached.

[tap tap tap on the screen]

'allo, people in the box! What're ye doin' in there?



((ooc: heading to bed, will respond in the morning!)) Back!