In a sense, it's surprising that this sort of thing doesn't happen more often. Isn't that so?

The whole place being infested, I mean, with some kind of nightmare creature untouchable by normal means and whatnot. Think about it. All these dozens of people here, some of them have dreadful powers, I'm surprised more of them aren't... bursting the seams.

Too bad we can't turn these monsters against our enemies as easily as they got turned on us, eh?

[ Feferi looks worried-- frowning, braiding and unbraiding a lock of her hair ad nauseum. She doesn't speak at first, distracted by something offscreen as soon as she turns the feed on. She brings her attention back to the tablet after a few seconds. ]

I have been thinking a lot lately, and I think I understand now what other people have been saying the whole time.

We should leave here. I mean it, just leave the Hold! They cannot do anything about it if we do. I know they can't send us back, and they're probably not going to kill us because they need us, and even if they tried, I bet we could take them on! We fight and win against the UE, why couldn't we fight and win against the Initiative? We have magicians, scientists, doctors... everything! We could make it on our own if we wanted to!

[ She gets herself all worked up the more, the finally sighs and deflates a little, her shoulders sagging. ]

I don't want to be here anymore, I am tired of being the scapegoat for something we didn't do.

[ And, quieter: ] I wish my lusus was here...

[[ ooc: Feferi is currently falling victim to the runeblade shadow demon thingies from this plot here. ]]

[ When the camera turns on, Artemis' expression is carefully neutral-- almost bored. ]

As much... joy I feel to be back here, I would have thought you could have at least cleaned up a bit. This place has just as much charm as it did the last time around. [ He punctuates that statement with a bit of a sneer, before his expression returns to its blasé state. ]

Would anyone mind filling me in on what I've missed? Sparing none of the grim and gritty details, of course.

[ There is a pause, before he adds: ]

Don't tell me those sods bombed this place again.

[forward-date to around 3 or 4am 6/13. poster ID for this tablet is MARTIN DARKOV, but this is not the Martin you are looking for. here is a pretty face for you.

actually, no. this was a pretty face, but there is a lot of ugly going on here. scabs and grooved flesh all along the right side...eye nearly swollen shut.

this gal's brow is furrowed, straining, contradicting the lazy smile it wears.

slow, methodical, yet wavering after each letter:]

D. A. R. [swallow. a wider smile and a shakier voice.] K. O. V.

[it blinks a few times; there's a couple tears trailing from behind the monocle.]

Oh. Sh. Shh.

We solved a mystery.

[There's been a tremendous spike in patients recently, and the influx is only worsening as the days pass. The clinic doesn't have a robust staff as it is, so Adrasteius--and probably anyone else on the roster--is more than a little overworked. His expression over the feed is harried, haggard, and more than a little frustrated. Normally, diseases wither into nothing under the influence of the Light, but this illness has proved alarmingly resistant. He can treat the symptoms well enough, but the sickness itself keeps surviving. It would drive him to drink, if he even had time.]

This situation is getting out of hand. If you're still able, and you have the skill, the clinic needs you. I don't just mean healing skill, either--we need people to run supplies, prepare food, organize files, maintain records, all that sort of thing. Just tell me what you're able to do and I'll find you a place.

[Adrasteius runs a hand over his tired face, but his eyes are as bright and steady as ever. They might be bogged down, but he's damn sure not going to turn anyone away--not until taking in more people becomes unsafe.]

And if you think whatever this damn thing is has gotten hold of you, come see us. Not just because we aren't the Initiative--but because even their hospital is probably overflowing. We're busy, but we've still got clean beds and I'm still going to take care of you. I can't eliminate the disease, but I can mitigate whatever pain you're feeling, at least.

[ The name on this post is still Bariyan e Kodhi, but its current owner is mostly certainly not Bariyan.

Cat's sitting at a desk, elbow propped against its surface, his hand in his hair. The collar of his shirt has been pulled away to show the mess that's been made of his neck -- frost-nipped skin, bruising, great big bloody scratches. He's made no effort to tend to his injuries yet. He has, however, taken time to make sure that his hair is completely perfect.

He scowls. ]

Tell me, did anyone else here get physically assaulted by their roommate the moment they opened their fucking door? Or was I the only one who got tossed in with a goddamn psychopath?

[ Cat paws at his neck and looks surprised to feel blood-- he pulls his hand away hastily, tries to wipe it off on the back of his other hand, snarling in irritation. ]

This is the exact reason why I don't... like... sharing.

[ He's barely finished spitting his last syllable before he turns the tablet off. Then he picks it up and flings it at the wall, shrieking, but thankfully that portion of his incredibly mature and reasonable fit doesn't make it onto the network. ]

Hey, Transports-ya.

[Seated with an expression of amusement, Law settled back after turning on his comm and sitting aside from it. He was seated in a small looking little office, juggling a human head in one hand. The young man whose head it was, with brown hair and blue eyes and a load of sedated confusion in his eyes--looked around pensively once in awhile, wincing whenever his head landed and touched Law's palm.

Law didn't seem at all phased by this. In reality, he was treating the man for alcohol poisoning and separated his head from his body in the middle of it, but he had no etiquette when it came to delivering this message. Rather, he just enjoyed himself in the middle of the procedure. The young native man didn't utter a complaint at all, but one could tell this was completely surreal to him. On top of that--the spot where his head was clearly disconnected from his absent body was blackened and doing nothing to bleed. No one could even see blood vessels, bone or muscles through the black lining on his neck.]

I'm in the middle of waiting on something, so I figured I'd make use of this thing to kill a little boredom of mine. Let's talk.

So, just so I can get the gist of what it is I'm dealing with at the moment: How many people have you killed? Can you even remember the numbers anymore?