[ a low, mumbling voice ]

My name is Randel Oland. Coroporal. Imperial Army State Section III - Pumpkin Scissors. I've been in Exsilium for two months.

I-- [ he takes a deep breath and gains a bit more confidence ] I know some of us have experienced war before. I have a question for those who have seen war end.

Was there anything done to offer war relief?

[For once, Koltira isn't using the video function. Instead, there's just his voice, echoing and soft and toneless.]

Ashraf Salib has returned home.

[There's a stretch of silence. He isn't the only one in recent memory--the boy he met, Jack Frost, and Ashraf's friend, the monk--they're gone, too. Koltira hadn't known them nearly as long or as well as Ashraf, but he hadn't missed their disappearances, either.

Still, finding Ashraf gone was a punch to the gut. Despite their rocky first meeting, Ashraf eventually became one of the few people to fully and unconditionally accept Koltira for who--and what--he was. The priest's devotion to his beliefs, his essential goodness, his willingness to learn, his warmth ... these traits were uniquely his own, of course, but they also reminded Koltira of someone else he knew and cared for. Liadrin. A woman just as perfect in her faith as Ashraf, and just as determined to see the good rather than the bad.

She was gone from him, too, though, and had been for a long time.]

I suppose I should be happy for him.

[Another period of silence, and then the feed ends.]

[Adrasteius stares into the feed silently for a few moments, eyebrows drawn, jaw set.  He's somewhere outside in the city, on a sidewalk, surrounded by an ever-shifting throng of people.  The masses don't seem to bother him, though.  He has the look of someone who was struck by a sudden thought, and then by a subsequently urgent need to voice it.  There's a shakiness to the feed as he talks, which suggests that the hand holding the tablet is quaking--though whether that's from emotion or some physical problem is not clear.]

I've noticed that a number of you claim to be leaders in your worlds.  Princes.  Kings.  Queens.  Nobility of some stripe.  

[Adra pronounces all of those nouns with the same tone another person might use to discuss vermin, and the venom only worsens as he goes on.]

Perhaps you were a general or a lieutenant.  Perhaps a politician.  Or you controlled a gang.  [The tone indicates that he pretty much lumps all of those positions together.]

Whatever you were, it seems clear that a few of you think this entitles you to the same position here.  This is, of course, fucking ridiculous.  But let us entertain, for the sake of argument, that you should retain your privileged status in this place.  I ask: why?  

[His eyes narrow, and he leans low over the tablet, his eyes bright and angry.]

Don't misunderstand me.  I'm not asking for a record of your 'heroic' and 'worthy' exploits.  I don't need to hear about how many battles you've won or organized;  about how many goddamn corpses you've piled up in your past.  I care not one fucking iota about your pathetic, disgusting warmongering.  

Don't fucking tell me about how you can punch through twenty walls with your immense strength, or how your magical prowess is so great that you can conjure thousands of swords from thin air, or stop hearts, or bend minds, or any of that other fucking.  nonsense.  Do you understand me?  I don't care if you can kill any man, woman, child, or other semi-sentient thing you set eyes on, and if you try to brag about it, you will be instantly dismissed as a witless fucking troglodyte.

No.  I'm asking you what you stand for.  What is your philosophy of leadership?  Do you favor fear and violence?  Do you favor control?  Do you claim to speak about cooperation, when what you actually want is doe-eyed agreement from a bunch of teat-suckling yes-men?  Well, goddammit?  What makes you fit to lead?  Fit to serve?  I don't want to know about your muscles, physical or otherwise.  I want to know about your fucking convictions.

[ the feed comes on just in time for the tail end of a crazy breathless laugh and the sounds of someone running away. for a moment there's no picture but that of the inside of a pocket, but there is a tilting of the camera, a dizzying spin and now you're graced with the appearance of Takegami. He's smiling, his lips blue and his hair straggling into his face, his breathing sharp, shallow and painful. A harsh cough brings up bright blood and he moans something in Japanese, quick and too fast for anyone to catch it all. ]

It seems... some people do not... have a sense... of humor.

[ Laughs slightly and then another cough, this time the netbook falls from his weakening grip to fall to the ground. It shows a bit of the alley and the Transport apartments just a few blocks away. ]



[ooc; The end of this log results in a couple shots to the lungs, which means he's got a couple minutes at the most. He might be able to respond before his lungs fill up completely before dead silence and then he'll be back in a couple days, so have fun! ]

[The video feed flips on, focusing (after a few seconds of jostling around) on Galadriel, sitting on the steps of the Initiative Hold, her sheathed sword beside her. Having just finished training, she’s attired appropriately, wearing a simple dress and with her hair braided and wound about her head- displaying those pointed ears quite prominently for those who might have missed them before.]

I grow weary of the constant grey here. It is overlong since I have heard a running stream or seen the sunlight filtered through the forest canopy.

Tell me, those of you who have journeyed outside this city: does greenery yet remain in this world? It would do my heart well even to hear of it.

[it's a minute or so of a melody hummed, something thoughtful, simple. it persists even when she finds what she wants – that there video function, the telltale thing she knows for sure is her window to everyone else floating around with these things.

far too quiet for her, and quiet only a moment longer before she speaks up:]

I want to understand what it is your name means. Tell me?

[Among the influx of video feeds there's one of this kid glaring at the screen. Don't worry, it's just his natural expression.]

This is Squall Leonhart of Balamb Garden, ID number 41269. I'm looking for anyone from Garden --

[No, he's not hoping that Quistis or the others are here, what're you talking about?]

-- or from my world.

[Not being one for idle conversation, the feed switches off.]

[Here we are inside Unit 605, and Urahara is sitting in an armchair in his room. Since getting back to the apartment from the bunkers, he's tried to make the modernistic surroundings more his own; a scroll with some calligraphy hangs from the wall, he's somehow managed to turn his linen green and there are one or two odd nicnacs he's managed to unearth from somewhere, which includes the armchair he's currently sitting in with a very content looking black cat sitting on his lap. He's idly stroking her with his fingertips, while he taps his chin with a folded fan that he holds with his right hand. ]

Good evening everyone, I hope you are all in good spirits.

[He keeps tapping his chin a little longer, then he snaps open his fan with a loud 'crack'.]

What a month it has been! Those bombs really were a most unpleasant surprise, hmm? And as for that business with androids being in charge of our enemy, what a shocker! It seems that this world is rife with misinformation. That is not surprising of course, seeing as the whole of the world's history has been coloured by numerous dark and terrible deeds of deception, I am not at all surprised it remains the same some centuries into the future~

[For her part, the cat merely opens an eye briefly, her tail making a lazy, sinuous lash before stilling once again. Urahara brushes a hand over her head for a moment, his smile lazy and indulgent. Clearly we have a cat person on our hands.]

Did you know that centuries ago, when fine European ladies used to want to get the attention of a man who'd captured their interests, they used to pass messages with their fans? Just an ordinary fan like this one I have right here- [He turns his open fan once, then twice, showing both sides and just how ordinary it is]- and it it could be used to arrange clandestine meetings between lovers or express a lady's disgust.

[He chuckles and drops the fan so that it's open over his chest as he tickles the cat under the chin.]

I'm a big fan of ingenuity like that, no pun intended. But it does make one wonder... if such a simple, ordinary, every day object can be used for subterfuge in the days long past... what could our more technologically advanced hosts and enemies be capable of?

[He scoops up his cat with his free hand, closes his fan and then taps the handle against his lips.[Said cat dangles from his hand without protest, but when she opens her eyes, she looks distinctly unimpressed.]

[He taps his lips again.]

[She yawns, still unimpressed.]

[He brushes the tip of his nose against hers.]

[And abruptly the cat seems to have had enough. She twists out of his grip, then pushes off from his lap to headbutt him right in the forehead. Ignoring his startled cry, she calmly turns and walks off screen, tail held high.]

Yoruichi-saaaaaan, what was that for?

[And then he sheepishly ends the feed.]

Welcome to Exsilium. There is much to discuss.

[recognize those words in that voice? Simmaeri's kind of an A+ mimic. she get your attention with that one? she likes to think so. we'll find out anyway.]

Discuss is to make understand, yes? [as far as she knows. the raised eyebrows seem to imply a need for confirmation. no rhetorical questions here!] I want a discuss. You help. There is much words to discuss.

[she leans forward a little, lifting her hands from her lap.] You speak words for you. Words for...[fingers settle near her collarbone; her eyebrows knit. she takes on a pained tone.] Why. I see...[her hand lifts, tracing from her temple down to her jaw, wearing a hurt expression.] No good face. I hear no good words. Much, no good.

[the next words she says are untranslatable, but laced with the desire to be understood:]

What causes you unhappiness here?


[OH RIGHT THE VOLUNTARY ACTION:

because where is this girl broadcasting from?

one of the stairwells at the apartment building, between the first and second floor. why not? who stays in their rooms, anyway?

feel free to not like. step on her computer on your way up/down the stairs.]

Bariyan is dead.

[ Someone is having difficulties sounding his usual calm and measured today! This comes out sounding pretty forced. ]

I tried to — I'm sorry. I could do nothing for him, and... and perhaps the Initiative, as they've done for others, will return him. I couldn't— 

[ a pause. ]

I'm sorry.

I'm looking for a man I haven't seen in some time. He's from my world, Rune-Midgard, and is dressed as a gunslinger. [ no but wait no one will know what that looks like. ] That is, he's wearing a heavy gray and white coat. Corosa, is his name— blond, with... [ awkward pause! ] One arm.

If anyone has seen him, I would appreciate the news.

But that aside, has anyone put any thought to starting shops or businesses here? If we're to be here until this war is finished, then I think Charles Xavier may have the right idea with his school, and the clinic we've already established.

There are a great many of us from a great many different places, and I can only assume we each come with our own skills and talents. United as we are by displacement, perhaps we might be convinced to lend each other the assistance such a venture would need. I know I've met at least one cook and one waitress that might benefit from working together.

 [The video is dark at first and there’s only a faint outline of a silhouette before a hand reaches out to turn the lamp on.]

Forgot about that. So – can I go home now? Not that this place isn’t cool and all, but it’s pretty much just like home, but it isn’t actually home, and I have important things to do back at my actual home. I’m sure everyone does. Kind of rude to just yank me out of there, messed up my sense of direction and everything. Where even am I.

[He flops back on the bed, curling up in his coat, and drags the netbook along with him.]

I mean, they told me, but it didn’t really answer my questions. Honestly? This is stupid. I’d like to be back in my own dimension now where the things I do actually matter. I don’t live here. I’m not entitled to help these people do whatever they’re doing. Rebel? They’re pretty damn tight-lipped about it if you ask me.

Anyway. [He waves his hand dismissively.] Anyone out there?

[The four-eyed alien on the screen is excitedly typing away on her laptop with two hands, and waving two more in excited ways. Because yes, she has four hands and she is making wild gestures to punctuate each and every word she says. She is not going to stop for anything.]

I can’t believe this! Humans are everywhere, this is the most amazingly perfect opportunity! I have been studying humans, of course, but my sample size has been very limited up until now!

Let me review my notes so far- [She taps a few times on her laptop to bring up said notes, rapidly reading over them a few times before she starts talking again]

Humans are a fairly low-tech pre-spaceflight species, not many of them have made it into space! Which is such a shame, they’re a very attractive species, even though they tend to be a bit hairy and don’t have enough eyes. But I haven’t let things like that get in my way before! [She laughs loudly, then continues]

What else, what else- I wish I had my original notes here, I really did! Oh yes- humans are remarkably stubborn, prone to irrationality...and quite a violent species, too, aren’t they? They certainly do love their wars! Only two sexes too, correct? Isn’t that a shame.

I believe that’s where my data ends! I need more, much more to fill out a proper database file. And if any are up for an examination....well, I am a doctor! I need to know how to treat all of you, don’t I?

Oh, I'm so excited to start working! Tell me where I'm needed, please?

[The sounds of outside filter through the network, distant with little to be heard beyond the faint rustle of the wind, but there nonetheless. A distinctive clink-fwoosh of a lighter disrupts anything further, followed by the slow crackle of burning paper and tobacco and a satisfied inhale and steady exhale. When he finally speaks, it's with a tone that lacks interest.]

Well, isn't this quaint. Doubt I would have believed it were I not seeing it with my own eyes. At least the woman greeting me was persuasive enough. [You can practically hear the dirty little smirk.]

Even so, I'm not quite sure how I feel out of my home and sent on my merry way towards college kid dorm rooms. Or rather, I'm perfectly aware of how I feel about it, just the words I'm looking for aren't for public ears.

Still. Judging by the archives on this thing, there's plenty of you about who know this world, so come on, share your wisdom with an outsider, would you? One can never know too much.

[A pause as he inhales another lungful of smoke, eventually adding with a thoughtful exhale:] Oh, and don't patronise me with the basics. I'm curious, not stupid.

[S'up Exsilium, resident fishdouche at your service.]

Two things. Firstly, this whole We-R bullshit experience has at least taught me somethin'; I'm startin' to really tell why exactly it's such a big deal people keep goin' on about how much some a' you suck at this war thing. Kinda puts us who got firsthand experience at a disadwantage tryin' a sawe your asses.

So I wanna get an idea a' who here can pull their own weight. What's the most impressiwe thing you'we ewer done combat wise? I'll start us off. I conquered a planet of Angels once then killed the whole lot of 'em.

Your turn, initiatiwe.

...

Also, for those a' you more inclined in the field of wipin' out that which was once thought of as fictional, here's another question.

How the fuck do you kill a Rainbow drin-...uh, wampire. And for all a' you smartasses out there, yes, I mean-

[Suddenly text!]

VAMPIRES.

[Having determined the netbook is capable of a video feed, Henry makes certain to broadcast only his voice when he reaches out to the network; given the effect his condition has on reflections and even digital images, presenting an empty backdrop for no apparent reason is not the way he'd like to initiate first impressions. With the channel open, there's the clearing of a throat, then:]

And thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges. I suppose it's about time fate doomed me to fight another man's war, eh? The Devil knows I've been asking for it. But it begs the question... What did the lot of you do to deserve it?

[The accent is unmistakably English, though a sharp ear might infer he hasn't been among Englishmen for some time.]

Ooh, I think I got it to work!  The little light's blinking. That's like the universal sign for 'working', isn't it? [ the young girl, clad in a quite.. quirky outfit peers at the camera on the device quizzically. ] That means I'm being recorded, right? Well, a magician has to keep up appearances, so! Hello, Citizens of Exsilium! My name's Trucy Wright, Ace Magician! Maybe you've heard of me! Or maybe you've heard of daddy, that usually seems to be the case. [ she bounces on her heels a bit. ] I don't really know what's going on, but while I'm stuck here, let's have some fun, okay?

Let's start with an icebreaker! [ Trucy holds up a deck of redbacked playing cards. She then spreads all 52 out in her hand. ] Pick a card, any card!

[ the video recording is obviously accidental.

Riku's back is to the camera, though his hand is on the keyboard. it more or less looks like he's getting a good survey of the room; you can hear a subtle exhale before he turns his attention back. he notes the blinking light atop the netbook with a quiet noise, and then proceeds to speak clearly, simply: ]

Sora's gone.

[ he chuckles softly, wryly. he can't help it. ] Guess he decided to go slack off back at home.

[ his smile quickly fades, though nothing but the lower half of his face (nose and mouth) can be seen. and seconds after, the video turns off. ]

( [ private text to John Watson ] )

[ It has been a while or maybe not, but when the feed clicks on - and it's never an accident with this man - what comes up is a close-up of a cup with a milky liquid and a couple of rolls. The rolls look fresh, the liquid looks sort of like skim milk. Some where in the background, Takegami sighs and there's his hand in view, picking up the cup out of camera range. ]

Sake wa hyakuyaku no cho...

[ The cup reappears and is refilled. Takegami toys with the cup and then starts speaking in English. ]

They say that sake was first made when a warrior tried to save his bride from a dragon. In order to lure him away, the warrior took rice and fresh spring water and boiled it together until sake was made. The dragon grew intrigued by the smell and came to sip the brew. While the dragon drank his fill, the warrior and bride were reunited. The dragon was so sated by the sake that he did not give them chase and the couple was able to live peacefully for all their lives.

[ Again the cup disappears as there is a pause in the narrative. The cup is set down with a sharp click and is refilled, and again a pause in-between cupfuls. Takegami's fingers are covered with half-healed scratches, his nails cut short, and the rings on each finger twisted into fine knots. ]

It is the drink of new beginnings and of fond farewells. We drink it under the cherry trees in spring, we bring the finest brew for the newly weds to drink on their first night, and we drink it for births and to celebrate those that had passed before us. There are holidays where we would crack open the barrels it seeps in, there are holidays where we toast the new-born sun. Some medicines are made more potent by soaking in it, and it always with good cheer we raise a cup to each other over our evening meals.

[ The cup is raised out of sight once more and he sighs softly. ]

A pity it is so hard to find here.



[ooc; Japanese proverb is 'Sake is the best of all medicines' ]

  Oh, bugger me.

[Hello, network. That little statement is followed by a serious case of shaky cam as the comm is literally shaken a bit at various angles. You know. Just in case this is a defective portkey in disguise or something.]

Heard rumors about a hidden swimming pool in the dungeons- bunch of bunk that was- but I’d have sworn on Merlin’s double-cursed split-ends we’d found every hidden nook in the school. Now- now I find a...what? A time door? A space portal? The bleeding future? And not even proper magic to it. No way. Stumbling in on strange, impossible places is more the terrific trio’s area.

[The camera goes blurry again as George tosses the camera in the air and catches it with a disbelieving exhale of breath. The door to his new room is momentarily visible in the blur. Looks like he's at least managed to make it that far.

When he talks again his voice is softer.]

Blimey. S’no fun exploring alone. 

[[ooc: George is about to head into the door to his room while he chats. If either of his roommates or anyone else outside the living area want to jump in with action, that is super cool with me]]