[When the feed clicks on, it broadcasts the voice of a teenage girl. One that's cold, angry, and deliberate, and becomes progressively louder as time goes on.]

I don't care. I won't do it. I won't-- [She cuts off, maybe as if she's changing her mind about whatever she's trying to do.

If there were to be any addition to that last thought, though, it's going to forever remain a mystery. After that small blip of words, there's nothing but silence over the feed. At least, nothing until...--

WHAM!

For the inhabitants of 901? Yes, that was the sound of a tablet being thrown against a bedroom wall.

You're welcome.]


[[OOC: Open both over the network and action for roommates! Responses will be somewhat ICly delayed :')]]

[Really, does this girl ever look happy? Because she's still as frowny faced as ever when the feed kicks on, idly rubbing at the fading scratches and bruises still left over from the fighting not so long before.]

I know at least some of you here are capable of holding your own in combat. [And even the way she says it almost gives the impression she's giving everyone much more credit than she thinks they deserve, whoops. But she's getting itchy feet without her apprentice here to help her practice her stances....] I need a sparring partner. This "training" is useless without one.

[Totally not so she can also gauge who might be a useful ally in this place. Who might be a threat and who might be worth keeping tabs on. Nope, never.]

[There is not much that outright startles Utena nowadays — she's fairly accustomed to the unusual and bizarre (and more importantly, used to rationalizing it), but the weeks since her arrival in this place have been a trial by fire, so to speak.

But she's adjusted, the best she can, and so when her comm device video flickers on, she looks to be in good spirits, all things considered. That is, if her viewers can actually see her. The video appears to be moving erratically. Often, Utena dips out of sight, only to be seen again. It's at an odd angle too, as if the device has been set on the ground, and is tilted slightly to the side.

It probably has a lot to do with the fact that she's doing lunges. In her assigned room. It's not a lot of space, but apparently she's making due. She stops long enough to address her (assumed) audience.]

Hi, everyone. [The device is lifted, and for a moment there's nothing but flashes of bright pink hair before her face appears — friendly, but a little tired.] I've met some of you already, but I haven't said hello on this thing yet. There's a lot of people listening to this, right? Um, I guess not everyone's "people," though, so maybe that's not the right word. Is it rude to say "people" then? If there's a better word, I want to know it. [She frowns, befuddled. Interspecies communication is a new thing for her, obviously.] My name's Tenjou Utena — er, Utena Tenjou. That's the order most of you would say it in. I'm from Japan; is anyone else from there? Or...er...Earth? I've been here for weeks now, and I'm still sorta getting used to this place. Those monsters from before...I've never seen anything like that.

[She looks troubled and shifts into a contemplative silence, but something else comes to mind that makes her brighten up.] I'm pretty glad it's over. Say, is there anything to do around here besides training? Does anyone play a sport?

[A sigh. She stretches an arm behind her head.] I could really go for a basketball game...or baseball.

[So it probably isn't every day that a nine or ten year old kid appears on these things, huh? Shelke is holding the device at a slightly askew angle as she studies it, and her unnaturally blue eyes narrow faintly as she realizes she's accidentally set it to transmit. Hmm.]

[From the look of things, she's found her assigned apartment, and is curled up on the couch of the couch in her Deepground uniform, the blue stripes glowing faintly in the dim room. She seems to take a moment, as if trying to decide whether to turn the little machine off or not, before she just shakes her head and lets out a slow, tired sigh.]

Given what I've already learned, I suppose there is little point in asking if anyone has found a way for us to return to where we came from.

[Another pause, another slow, tired breath. After the day she's had back home and here, the fact that she isn't passed out is a small miracle. She's very carefully choosing her words, it seems, and her eyes flick away, considering her room before she looks back.]

I am Shelke the Tra...[A breath.] I am Shelke. I am looking for anyone familiar with the city of Midgar, or the world of Gaia. Vincent Valentine, if you are here...

[This last part is said almost absent-mindedly, and she frowns faintly at herself before she continues.]

...And if anyone is familiar with a substance called Mako...it may have another name here. It would be the distilled liquid essence of this planet's Lifesteam. It would look like this.

[She holds up a thin glass vial filled with a faintly glowing blue-green liquid. It bubbles and shifts by itself, and the vial appears to have a small injector at the top.]

I would be...grateful.

[Another pause.]

That is all.

[Click.]

[Nick is sitting at a table in his favorite bar, a glass of beer sitting on the table and a silver-plated lighter in his hand. He’s turning the lighter over and over, tapping it against the table occasionally.

His usual pissed-off look has been replaced with one that’s more somber.]

Y’know, I’ve never actually killed a person before. I’ve killed hundreds of zombies, and my dad took me hunting when I was younger – deer and elk, mostly. But I’ve never killed an actual person until that mission we went on.

It felt… different… than I thought it would.

[He taps a sealed package of cigarettes lying next to the beer.]

I gave up smoking about ten years ago… I’m starting to wonder why.

[The pissed-off look is back as he shakes his head irritably.]

Fuck this shit. We went back in time, right? By our standards, those fuckers had been dead for thousands of years. We were just… reenacting history. Nothing to feel guilty about.

All this shit is pretty above my pay grade, so it's not like I'm speaking from experience here or anything, but it seems like we got a crazy ass mix of folks around here.  I don't think I've ever seen so many aliens in m life and I come from a world where those guys are all over the freakin' place.

Though I gotta say, it's freakin' weird to be around a bunch of people who've never heard of Kryptonians before. [Just.  Throwing that word out there.  Vaguely hopeful.]

Anyway.  It's late, I'm bored.  We've got a shit load of aliens and sword and sorcery types up in here.  Tell me somethin' good about your world.  Or tell me something shitty, we can swap horror stories.

[It's late at night, which means it's time for punks in masks asking bullshit questions on the network to keep themselves from broody navel gazing.  Not sleeping is kind of a thing for him, but this not brutalizing strangers who really deserve it thing is kinda new and borderline unpleasant.  Feel free to spot a brightly colored spot skulking around rooftops.]

Well, that was something of an adventure! Between the Russians, the newest arrivals, and our monstrous friends, why there's been quite a few things to keep track of. An awful lot of people. One of which in particular I seem to have misplaced... I don't suppose anyone has seen Bela lately? Bela Talbot?

[ A pause, as if he's actually listening for a reply. Or maybe just asking a completely rhetorical question and taking a moment to gather himself afterward. ]

Well, it was always difficult to keep her in just one place. Not like Sierra, Annalise, and Adamo, three natives caught by the UE bombs, near a month ago now. I would say they were entirely too — too stationary. That old woman in the market, too— with the jerky stand? She always claimed it was dog meat, but I really had to wonder. But she always had a kind word for anyone who stopped to chat, didn't she? I found a bit of her stand some time ago, but no sign of her. Maggie, she told me her name was...

My apologies, to anyone who knew any of those caught in disaster. At least we've managed to turn this latest one back to the status quo, mm? We have that much.

[ Another pause, and this one comes with a slow breath out. So... that's awkward. But! He can make it better. When he speaks again, he sounds just as cheerful as he had at the beginning. ]

You know, for all their flukes and faults, I would say there's one thing the Initiative is truly bad at. They can throw our lot into a room with food set out, but that's not any sort of party. So I propose we arrange one ourselves! We've the musicians for it, don't we? The cooks, surely! The tailors, seamstresses? We certainly have the headcount for it, by now!

Any opinions, mm? I'm thinking, perhaps, a masquerade. A ball! We kitrites excel at the organization of them, you know. I would be pleased to offer my services to a properly interested crowd! Have I any takers?

[the video opens upside-down. it is dim where-ever she is. someone with small hands is turning the tablet over in her hands, muttering to herself in what may sound like latin (because it is). after a moment she stops, flips the device right-side up, and it focuses on her round face. the girl looks to be in her late teens, with red hair and green eyes. freckles cover every inch of her that is visible. there are four two-inch long gashes on her forehead that look half-way healed, but she doesn't seem to care about them at all. her attention is concentrated on the device.

she stares intently at the screen for a moment before rapidly saying hello in french, spanish, mandarin, japanese, russian, arabic, irish, swahili, and hungarian. at last she goes for english, and sticks with it; she has a slight irish accent.]

Hello. I assume the most common language here is English, but one can never be too sure. [yeah come on she’s just being practical. because one small girl just shoving all those languages in your face isn't weird enough. anyway:] Interesting set-up here. Not sure I buy into it yet, even with the monsters. [really she is just trying to milk you guys for information. she totally buys it, and she has totally been killing monsters all morning. and anyway, she can feel it in her bones that she’s in the wrong world.

she pauses, head cocked to the side as she listens for anything that might try to creep upon her. she is also casually trying to figure out how to work this device because technology. the following words are said quickly, clipped:]

If this actually works—I am looking for a woman named Joan. She has dark hair and grey eyes. Looks about twenty years old. [another pause. her nostrils flare as she inhales deeply. this is added almost as an afterthought.] And also a set of twins—their names are Sophie and Josh. They’re blonde, blue-eyed, just fifteen years old. They are all in danger, and I need to find them.

[abruptly, the arm holding the tablet drops to her side, and it isn’t turned off. she swears in what sounds like gaelic.]

This place stinks of rot and foul beasts. Joan... gods, I hope she doesn't try to make friends with the wolves.

[ooc; please fill out her permissions post! and tags will come after i finish writing this essay.]

[This gentleman has already wandered out past the city's walls - he's sitting in some ruins, only marginally protected from the raindrops that drop between the camera on his face. He's a mid-30's average-looking guy - blonde, a little skinny, a day's stubble - but there's a tiny smirk on his lips and obvious amusement in his eyes. He doesn't seem to be bothered by the cold or the rain or the fact that he's in a monument to human destruction. A bastard sword with a white, ornate hilt and set with a diamond is sheathed at his waist.

He looks past the camera, considering his environment, before actually looking into it. Any one who can sense mojo through a camera will realize immediately that this guy is not to be messed with.]

So, they actually ran out of people to fight their war that they had to enlist us. Our varied, ragtag group of folks, newcomers. Feed us with food and arm us. I can't imagine they actually thought this all the way through, did they? I mean, they wouldn't really be capable of stopping an insurrection if we really wanted.

Well, no plans for that. Not yet, at least. For now, I'm ready to just enjoy the weather. Nice day out here. Nice place they got, too.

[Loki is slouched against a rock, with a bright cloth in his lap. He seems to be getting the hang of the communicator, because at least this time it looks like the video feed is on purpose.]

When last I spoke on this device, it was in great anger. So blinded was I by my rage that I could neither see nor think clearly.

And for this I....

[There is a long pause.]

...apologize...

I was stolen from my home while my people were on the brink of a great disaster. I could not bear being taken here against my will.

But my quarrel lies not with any of you, and 'twas wrong for me to lash out as I did.

Still, I think it is best I took my leave of the Hold. I do not belong there.

[He reaches up and touches his shoulder, as if nursing a wound. It's a calculated movement on his part.]

If I only I could...ah...

[He looks up, green eyes sliding across the sky as an expression of genuine fear and bewilderment clouds his features and he clutches the cloth against his breast like a security blanket]

Ah...oh.

Uh oh....

[GODS how do you use this thing? Hiccup will be pushing buttons and every now and then there's a short 'Wow', or 'Well that didn't work.' or... various other mildly frustrated phrases and then finally.]

Okay... so I push this and... tilt it like. Oh! Hey, I think it's working. If that... green light thing means what I think it means.

Okay! So. ... Everyone. I guess. [Man, how's he going to put this? He'll speak slowly, it's obvious he's double thinking this. Enjoy the elaborate hand gestures as he tries to describe his sentences.]

I haaave a question for you.

[More hesitation and some minor background noise since no one responds right away.]

I guess I should just come out and say it then, huh?

Right um. So how does everyone feel aboooouuut dragons?

Not that. You know, it's a big deal or something to be worried about or anything. Just... a general question of curiosity. Right. [Not suspicious, nope. NOPE.]

I'll just... hope somebody actually heard that.

[Katniss is in one of the training rooms, looking sweaty and dishevelled. She's holding her bow as per usual, but this time it looks like she hasn't been using it to destroy public property or kill helpless animals. Behind her is a target; clustered in the centre of it and buried deep is about half her supply of arrows]

They took Peeta. [She stalks over to the target and starts wrenching her arrows out, one by one] He better be home. He better not be hurt. [The arrows go back into her quiver, one by one, until she's left with just the one. She stares down at it, twirling it absently through her fingers] Or else my next targets won't be inanimate.

[The last arrow slides home as she speaks. It's a marked change from the girl who's spent half her time in Exsilium swearing she won't fight or kill. The thing is, Katniss doesn't care what the Initiative does to her. But you don't take the boy with the bread away from the girl on fire. The only reason she's not attacking them now is because she's mostly certain Peeta was sent back home

Her jaw clenches.] And I want my other arrows back.

[ That gauntleted hand lingers a little long on adjusting the image; wherever she’s from the technology clearly isn’t too familiar. Finally with a click she gets it right, all ornamented red braids and polished lizard hide armor. She looks taut and restless already from where she’s sitting; mouth tight and bare legs uncrossed. And she’s missing her left arm from just above the elbow. ]

So they intend us to be warriors.

[ Her posture doesn’t change, but the hard set to her expression does. That there is an icy, unimpressed, almost world-weary face. ]

I continue to lack the time and the patience for these tests, Grandmother.