Um.

[The video feed kicks on at some ungodly hour during the night and finds Isaac- or, more accurately, the faint outline of Isaac. The world around him is dark, but for what it's worth, he seems to be outside. In the snow.

The first thing you'd probably notice is that he isn't dressed for it at all. Isaac is actually pretty much wearing a t-shirt, fabric pajama pants, and has no shoes or socks to speak of. He's drenched, shivering something awful, and seems to be rather in the middle of nowhere.]

I could use a little help. [His teeth chatter as he speaks. Not fun.] Is anyone awake? I just kind of... woke up here a few minutes ago. So, uh- a jacket or a way home would be nice.


[[ooc: Isaac's weapon is sort of in the process of leveling up and as a result, he's sleepwalkin'. Anyone is welcome to find him! c:]]

[Adrasteius is in some quiet, dimly lit room, balancing the tablet on his lap. He looks relatively, momentarily peaceful, though he fiddles with a wedding band around his finger throughout his broadcast. Those who saw him during his last stay in Exsilium may notice that he's healthier now -- still short, still skinny, but with a ruddier tone to his skin and some amount of muscle definition on his slender arms. He's as self-assured and forward as ever, but there's far less frailty to him than there was before.]

Hiya, folks. Name's Adrasteius, and I used to administer the clinic. Then I got dragged back home, et cetera, et cetera, no one really cares -- point is, I'm back here again. I'm happy to leave the titles and so on to my colleague, Ashraf, but I'd still like to get back into it.

I know we've got a new structure in the works, and that's great, that's absolutely excellent, but I'm also wondering about the roster. Y'see, we lost our record keeper recently and I just haven't got the first clue as to who's still on the rolls. So -- if you've joined up recently, or if you're looking to join, do an old man a favor and tell me about yourself.

Oh, and ... we need a new record keeper.

[He bows his head slightly.]

Light be with you.

[ the video's not all that well focused or held, mostly getting her shoulder and part of her face except for the moments she readjusts it back to focusing on her face temporarily. the light is dim, wherever she is, and between the blood drying on her and the way her voice keeps hitching as she stumbles over words, the unsteadiness of her hands holding the tablet, and the way her head tips back against the wall she's leaning against every so often as if she can't quite hold it up - she's not in great shape. ]

You know, someone should get to work on this machine's timing. Adjust it a little bit. Make it stop being a fucking piece of shit. Or taking people who don't want to be taken. Or - I don't know, what else is it up to lately? How long's it been.

[ breaking off. she's forgotten what she needed to say, is looking off at nothing in particular for a long moment. abruptly - ]

What's that story about the lady and the tiger? With the princess whose lover has to pick one of two doors as punishment, and one has a tiger and the other has a woman he'll have to marry. And she makes a gesture to tell him which one to pick, but the story doesn't tell you which one the door had behind it.

I guess a little closure's too much to ask for.

[ blood loss: good for clarity. ]

I could use a doctor.

[ ooc: charlie cutter & tempest get providing aid rights, but if you would rather action it up she'll be wandering around the area for part of the day and can be run into most anywhere just checking everything out. ]

[ when the feed clicks on, marduk is in what appears to be a ruined building near the edge of town. there's snow on the floor and holes in the walls, but he's not wearing a single scrap of winter clothing. more importantly, he doesn't look especially pleased to be doing this. ]

Recently, one of the locals here went missing. Don't ask me what his name was, I'm not the one who gives a shit. I'm just here to solve the mystery.

He's missing because he's dead, and he's dead because I killed him.

[ he pauses here. it looks like it's for dramatic effect, but really he's just trying to figure out how to end the announcement. ]

Most of you would call that murder, wouldn't you? Can't remember if you all figured out what to do about that, but-- if you want retribution, you can come and get it.

[ good enough. the video ends there. ]

[ bright and early, splayed on the network feed in somewhat old-timey poster fashion: ]

IMMEDIATE HELP WANTED

with the

Refurbishment and Construction

of

Shelters and Outposts

for purposes including but not limited to

Accommodation, Assembly, Defense, Medical Aid, Technical Support, Supply Reserves, Agriculture

and other prospective services to Transports and other associates.

All forms of assistance and input welcome and encouraged

including but not limited to technical aid, general labor, delivery and supply, security, liaison with third parties, and crew support.

Inquire in this post for further details.

----

( video version, within the same post )

(( OOC: APOLOGIES FOR THE SLOWDOWN IN REPLIES I'll get to everyone's as soon as I can ))

( Cue one video post with Mr. Casey, looking a couple years older. The thin grey sweater covers up all the major markers of change in terms of more tattoos and more scars, save for a thin one running across his throat. Maybe the light obscures it - maybe it doesn't. The real thing is that he looks calmer, less uncomfortable with himself, even doing a video post. More steady, less haggard. Like he actually might sleep instead of being constantly run down. )

Uh, hey. I just-- thought I should um, let p-people-- know I'm back.

( Actually he got a little while ago, as those living with Max probably know, but he's sort of been sticking around her pretty constantly all that time. Not being around when she returned to the house seemed like a bad idea, all things considered. )

Or if you knew uh, a guy c-called-- called Atlas. That was me, too. I don't um, don't really do the secret identity thing anymore. Just if anyone wanted to uh, track him d-down.

( he takes a couple more pauses when he speaks, goes through more slowly, less of the urgent need to jsut spit it out from before.

Well. There's... not much more to say. Really he needs to go and catch up with people one on one, talk to the clinic, find his friends, see how things are. This just felt necessary.

A little nod to the camera, a slight smile, and the feed cuts. )

All right, I think I've finally found my way around this thing. And what better way to use it than broadcasting what I have so far of my newest work? I usually have Varric give my friend-fiction a quick read before I share it with anyone else, but I think this snippet is particularly fantastic. It's dedicated to a certain new sparring partner I ran into.

Settle down, everyone, Aunty Isabela's got a story for you all.

( Not explicit BUT NOT FOR GENERAL AUDIENCES EITHER. )

[The face that pops up on the screen is clearly in need of at least a small shave -- he's gotten lazy in the middle of the tundra. Of course, as soon as he turns on the feed he seems to be having second thoughts about doing so.

Probably should've been a little more discreet about what he's asking to keep certain people from fussing. That's almost the exact thing someone might hear in their head when they catch his awkward pause on camera before he jumps right into...whatever it is he's going to say.]

So. Hey. Good day for freezing your ass off, isn't it?

[There's a series of deep playful barks that occur off screen. Focusing on the backdrop of the flat, one might spot a flash or two of black and white dashing away as Nate moves aside for his new companions. The camera focuses back on him pretty quickly, which is about the point that Nate decides he's going to ask a different question.]

Most of you don't know me, and I don't know most of you. Or maybe you do know me. I've apparently been around the bend here once or twice before. But let's forget about that and talk about venison. Game-y sort of meat, right? I'm sure deer is being declared an endangered species in these parts by now even with that in mind -- so if you're looking to turn some over I'm your man.

Name's Drake. And hey, if you have other food stores you're looking to get rid of, talk to me. Between you, me, and the wall I'm not quite ready to dive head first into the snow.

[Which is a lie, but nobody has to know that.]

[Today, the message is brief - and Sonya's back to her usual excessive brightness, a deep contrast to the last time she sent out a message.]

So what are everyone's New Year's resolutions? I'm a big proponent of publicly announcing what you intend to do so that later, people can publicly shame you if you don't keep to it. And yeah, okay, no one bust in with "We've been chatting about them elsewhere on the network," I don't stalk you, you shameless egotists, so I haven't heard, and I totally want to know.

Anyway, my number one resolution this year is to quit smoking. Again. And to learn how to cook something - anyone have any suggestions as to where you should start when you're learning to cook?

So this Christmas thing is pretty great, but it isn't something I really knew about 'til I left home. When I was a kid we had a solstice festival thing instead. Today's the 21st... shortest day of the year. Not that you could tell, what with how dark it tends to be around here anyhow, perma-winter and all that. [A shrug nobody can see. This feels so weird. Okay, come on Lea, you can be social. Maybe. Sort of. Just. Say something nice.]

Well, I guess happy solstice anyhow. Keep a light on you, just in case.

[Nailed it.]

[the camera shifts beneath the hands of an amateur as it's set on a flat surface. it's on a bit of an angle, but the position is acceptable. Loki skitters back eagerly, peering into the camera and then waving his hands in show. as he scoots back it's apparent some awful fashion travesty has happened, because he's wearing a terrible Christmas sweater, complete with a big bow pulled over his Asgardian robes. it goes down to his knees.]

It's been an exciting few weeks now, hasn't it? Hello again, Exsilium! I've come to give the gift of Christmas Spirit, marketing gimmicks aside, of course! [he takes a few steps backward as he faces the camera, holding a hand to his chin.] Why, what could be done to spread the cheer of the Yule holiday? With everything that's happened, it does get a bit depressing here ... right in the center of a self-defeating winter full of abominable beasts that wish for nothing more then our untimely demises. And there's still time travel to think about! And our impending existential crises! Terrible, right?

[he holds up a finger suddenly.] Yet I bring Yuletide cheer to brighten all. Surprise! Nothing so extreme as coal in socks and indefinitely kept cakes of fruit, but something more humble in its ageless practice! The ugly Christmas sweater! [he suddenly steps aside and there is a very festive looking red and green pile of awful, terrible, but very warm looking ugly Christmas sweaters. the mass has to at least be up to his shoulder, and there are all different kinds. but is where he got all these fugly knit novelties really a question that anyone wants to ask?] I'm opening requests to lend everyone some spirit! Please make them below so they can all be filled in a timely fashion, all formality, of course. No need to crowd, there's plenty for everyone. All requests can picked up promptly.

Jolly exclamations of ho ho ho and stuff!

-
UGLY YULE KNIT THREADS ADOPTION FORM
(1) Your name (or your unknowing buddy's name), of course, and the sweater you wish to adopt.
(2) Tell me of your intended sweater schemes. How will it aid you on endeavor to spread holiday cheer?
(3) Very fashion!
(4) Are you a super hero (Peter Parker)? Put your name (not Peter Parker) here!


( OOC: go ahead and pick a sweater, he has a load of them. you don't have to fill out the form or anything if you want one! just go ahead and reply however you want. obviously come put them on people who will not put them on themselves. )

[the camera starts off upside down, before Tempest hisses out a curse and rights it. She briefly makes a face and pushes some hair out of her face - hair that is distinctly longer and a different, somewhat lighter color than the stark black it had been. Which . . . could explain why she's been MIA for the past two days, and why she looks confused at first]

Well, this is . . . hm. Odd. [she mutters just loud enough for the camera to hear] It really has been a while . . . .

Anyway, I've an offer and a request. I plan to do some hunting, so if anyone is in need of meat I would be more than willing to hunt a little extra. I am not looking to trade, though I will not say no to anyone who offers to.

As for my request, I am looking for someone familiar with . . . hm, symbols? Any kind. My thanks in advance.

I don't think I've ever - actually posted anything to the network before. [ a small, amused smile creeps up on her face and wow, belle, really? you've been here almost half a year by this point. ] For those I haven't had the pleasure of meeting, my name is Belle. [ the smile grows wider; she waves at the camera. ]

Actually, I have a question concerning the - um - the monsters in the woods. The yetis? I ran into one on the original scouting mission, but I'm afraid I never actually made contact. Does anybody have any information about them? Maybe some safety precautions if one actually intended to study them? I know there are similar creatures in different worlds, but I don't know if things like temperament are consistent between them all.

[You are treated today, Exsilium, to the sight of an absolutely irate looking woman who is not even close to hiding her hurt and disgust from the camera- and likely wouldn't be able to even if she wanted to.]

All of you who speak of laws in this place, of justice and freedom- you all wear two faces and you lie! You do not know what is fair, you bow your heads and you do the bidding of these slavers who have dragged us here to fight as pawns in a war that is not ours without complaint and you cage those who have the courage to make a stand for your freedom.

[And here comes the crux of the matter, here stands a mother grieving for a loss she believes she has been dealt due to her son's involvement in the mutiny. Timing's a bitch, it seems.]

My son wanted nothing more than to see us all free once more, he cared for your liberty and someone in this damned place has taken him from here, taken him in secret and punished him and now he is gone from here. I do not know who, I do not know how, but I will find them whether they are in this metal prison or the land below. Is this what people call justice?

[Vehemently, she takes the hatchet she claimed for herself months ago, and with all her strength she buries it in a water pipe. She does not seem to care for the upset to the plumbing she has caused.]

His name is Ratonhnhaké:ton. He is called Connor by some. Whoever is responsible will know me and will not suffer their regret for long when I find them.

[She ends the feed, with water still gushing over the blade of her buried hatchet.]

[He's so bored, he can't take it anymore. Asking for trouble, maybe, but there's all kinds of excitement he's missing with the new arrivals, and he's not used to missing out on it. He keeps the video feed off, unlike usual, because both his cell and he himself are a mess. His voice is only slightly hoarse, recovering from a first week in custody that was spent screaming.]

So what's the deal with all you new guys? Usually I do this in person but I'm, uh, a little tied up right now. Anyway, lemme hear it. Where you from? Whatcha usually get up to? How you feeling about being in this skanky shithole up on the moon?

Hope the rest of you guys didn't leave 'em starving.

[Hello, friends. A cold-eyed elf with a fairly significant skin condition stares at the camera, his jaw set, his mouth a thin, inscrutable line.]

Talk of a council is all well and good, but we have another matter in front of us.

As many of you have pointed out, there is no formal system of law in place. At present, those of you who acted as peace officers have simply continued as you were in your own worlds. If you brought others to justice, if you spoke about justice -- you have continued to see this as your right.

[His eyes narrow, drawing his long eyebrows together.]

But it is not your right. Your laws are not universal. Your morality is not sacrosanct.

We must decide on appropriate conduct as a whole, with consideration given to perspectives outside of our own.

I propose that any code we settle on be simple and direct. For example:

1. Murder shall be abolished. In the case of murder, execution.

2. Theft shall be abolished. In the case of theft, the hand shall be cut off at the wrist. Repeat offenders shall lose both hands.

3. Conspiring with the United Earth shall be considered treason. In the case of treason, suspected or actual, execution.

4. Bodily autonomy shall be respected. Knowing efforts to mind control, telepathically invade, steal, or otherwise forcibly take spiritual or physical authority over another sentient being will constitute assault. In the case of this assault, execution.

And so forth.  These are merely ideas, of course.

[His lower lip twitches, suggesting that he's perfectly aware of the extremes he's recommended. Suggesting that he's just trying to get your attention, to get you to think about how you would define your own terms. What constitutes murder? Theft? Conspiracy? Justice? He's only asking.

Maybe.]

[After several hours, the post is edited with a very carefully recorded text attachment.]

( alternatives.txt )

[Last time Jaime posted as Blue Beetle, he kept to text. This time, he thinks that people might need a face - masked as it may be - to match to the words. His voice is put through a technological filter, just distorted enough for him to keep from being recognized. He's in the VR room in the most professional looking room he could think of, which is essentially a large table with wall-to-wall windows behind him looking out onto San Francisco - potentially recognizable to some canonmates as a loose copy of the Titans Tower meeting room, which is fairly generic anyway.]

So... hi. I'm Blue Beetle. A bunch of you already know that I've been trying to dig up as much info on the Chimera Project as I can - those are the cloned children, for you new guys - and I think I've got enough information to get going. Thanks to everyone who helped me out with this, by the way - you know who you are. I know everyone must be really tired of hearing people give long speeches by now, so I'll try to keep it short. [He smiles at the camera for an instant, a flash of white, human teeth behind the armour]

[He's making an effort to sound professional, but he's not used to public speaking. Sometimes, he looks down at his lap instead of the camera (consulting his notes as if he's giving a speech for class if he's honest about it) and he's stiff, uncomfortable, but his voice is even and steady. Small victories, and victories born of actually rehearsing.

Are you ready for a fun history lesson, Transports? Because you're sure as hell going to get one.]

( Non-IC cut! )

Hi! Hi again, to people I know already, hello for the first time, to anyone I haven't met yet. I'm Ashraf Salib, one of the heads of the clinic, high priest, snazzy dresser… [ He waves a hand. ] General things like that.

So, I'll get straight to the point. In the wake of the mutiny, I've seen a lot of talk on the network that I haven't seen before. Establishing a code of conduct, uniting… there was even some discussion of who you personally look to as a leader. Whatever your opinion of the mutiny may be, you have to admit that it's sparked some new subjects for us. And I'd say they're things we've been needing to talk about.

It isn't just a matter of wresting control from the Initiative, I think that was overly hasty and shortsighted. I think what we should be looking at is how to take control of ourselves. We're a really big group up here, with over three-hundred of us. That's a lot of voices to be heard at once, especially when none of them have much in the way of a recognized authority.

So, I think that should change.

My suggestion would be a council, voted on by the entire Transport body from a number of nominations. The people that we most trust are the ones we should have speaking for us — deciding for us. Because someone needs to. That we're still locked in this base after over two months up here should be evidence enough that it's difficult to achieve much of anything with no one calling the shots.

I've got some specific ideas about the organization of this council, which I wrote down and can attach here, but I want to hear from you. How should we organize ourselves? How can we decide who to listen to? This won't work if we don't all agree to it, and we need to agree on something. We're in a precarious position up here that frankly can't last, and it's past time that we take it into our own hands to change that.

( Council Specifics )

['Sup fellow moon people. Here's a face you've never seen on the network before, though some of you have seen the kid around by now.

Stanley is a teenager, about 16, with blond hair hanging in his face because he hasn't had it cut since at least June. In spite of that, a bit of his startled eyes still show through. His voice catches a little, and he's out of breath. There's an unusual urgency to his tone, for those who are familiar with him.

And while he's kept his mouth shut through the mutiny, now he seems to have something to say. In spite of how insignificant the question seems when he poses it, there's a barely restrained edge of panic to his entire being. Something is most likely up here.]

I-uh. I'm looking for the lost and found. But it's not-it's not on the map. Little help?

(OoC: That recently announced world change came with a few significant other changes. Namely, to the former Exsiles. Including smuggled children. For those that knew about Peace this will be an easy puzzle to solve. She's gone, guys. Never existed at all, officially.)

[Sonya appears on the screen without her usual preambles or cheerful introductions. Her manner is very, very controlled. The casual Bronx vowels that occasionally creep into her speech are gone. The profanities are gone. Every once in a while, she glances down; this is a prepared statement.]

Earlier today, Jesse Pinkman snuck into one of the prisoner cells under false pretenses. He’d been friends with one of the mutineers before all of this happened, so he claimed to merely want to visit.

While he was in there, he mutilated this prisoner in spirit and soul. He ripped from her her ability, her inborn gift, to cast spells. He tore away from her something as vital to her as eyesight or touch might be for you. And did he did this to defend someone? To stop an attack or a threatened attack? No: he did it to punish her. To make her suffer. And then he said to her that this is how things are running now.

( fuzzy drama funny drama drama drama fuuuck (ps not an ic cut) )

[Saul would've come to the network sooner, but his earpiece picked something up not long after the network came back online.

So, he waited.

And waited.

And now, he thinks, is as good a time as any for this broadcast.

He's seated in DITR's office; the interior looks much the same as any other bedroom on the base, but in lieu of the beds, there's a medium-sized desk. This is where he's perched in his usual pose with elbows on his knees, hands folded, leaning forward just slightly and addressing the camera — which someone else is holding — with an expression so grim it somehow almost seems amused.]

This is not how you get what you want.

[A pause. He appears thoughtful for a moment, then waves a dismissive hand at nothing and smooths down his tie.]

I mean, sure, it must've sounded great in theory. And I'd bet any amount of money that you all thought you had your bases nice and covered, buuut —

[Tch.]

Looks like maybe not, if the network being back online is any indication. Hi, by the way. Are you having fun yet? Because that whole lack of gravity thing — man, that was a blast. I'm just wondering, you know, if this is gonna work in your favor the way you'd all hoped. Messing with the systems is all well and good and yeah, okay, we get your point: you're mad as hell and not gonna take it anymore. Fine.

But I think — and this is just my lawyerly opinion — you're gonna have a hell of a time dealing with the fallout from this. And I promise you, Charlie, there will be fallout. Civilized fallout, of course, assuming no one gets hurt. I'll keep my promise if you keep yours.

[He grins, then winks.]

Anyway, I dunno about everyone else, but I'm waiting with bated breath for your next move. And if you need anything from us —

[A quick sweep of his arm to indicate the entirety of the room and, with it, the entirety of DITR's staff. Whatever anger he's been keeping at bay finally seeps through, Saul's eyes narrowing for the split second it takes him to say:]

Good fucking luck.

[And off goes the video feed.]

( A few minutes later, a text message for the DITR staff: )

[Look, everyone who was worrying over him. He's still in one piece. He hasn't even ripped out his stitches!

Kili still looks remarkably tired though, and he gives a quick smile to the network before getting down to it.]

I haven't had a good smoke since before I showed up here. Does someone have a pipe and some pipeweed I could trade for?

[It's one of those comforts of home that he's really been missing lately. There were plenty of nights spent around the fire, Kili with his whole family -- Thorin, Fili, and his mother, Dis, of course -- smoking contentedly and sharing their stories of the day. While maybe he's only got Fili here, he's been missing his mother more than usual lately and it would be great to have a reminder of home.]

( private to Galadriel )

[the feed clicks to audio, and suddenly there's a very loud enthusiastic greeting.]

Hellooooo Exsilium!

Nailed it.

[the greeting ends as soon as its last syllable of "um" drops, and the post switches to text.]

Great! Everyone heard that, right? Now that the whole pleasantries thing is out of the way (as well as our B-Movie undead run-for-your-life quasi-fiasco), there are some suggestions that I must present to make us all the more comfortable. Please kindly lend your ears and open your hearts! The Initiative is welcome to take such suggestions, so I hope you've your ears open. I've condensed these to a brief number! Onward!

(1) A party every Saturday featuring the round Italian pastry covered in a copious variety of cured meats. I also propose that we're offered a number of stylish festive hats for the occasion. Top hats are in season, and nothing is complete without some kind of festive hat to show our enthusiasm.

(2) While I hardly mean to offend the technology offered to us by our captors, we're left regrettably with a single App that does a single boring thing and absolutely no games! I would settle for Birds of the Angry Emotional Feelings, or perhaps the Saga of Crushed Candy! Anything mind-numbing to pass the time. Even some Exsilium produced space-cat forum!

As a side note, anything of interest and practical use may also be warranted for App exploration. Perhaps something for these "missions" I've heard so much about. Or lists. Yes, lots and lots of Apps for lists. Perhaps a App of lists that lists all the App lists.

(3) Also include the Internet On-Line World in the suggestion above.

(4) I suspect it vital that we all learn how to walk on the moon. We're in luck! I've heard of what's appropriately dubbed "the moon walk." It's a series of difficult steps in Midgardian dance that cause the illusion that you're walking forward, yet you're walking back! Quite helpful in the scheme of things while we take residence.

This is a very small list for those of us who have been captured from our homes and drafted into an unknown future-war that none of us even had suspect of happening! All in favor of boosting morale.

Oh, yes.

I see that some of you are quite aware of the handle of "Loki." If you could give me any such knowledge of your experiences with this fellow I would be eternally grateful. Eternally grateful ... IN SPACE!


Posted from my StarkPhone

[The video snaps on showing an unusually contrite expression on Rosette's face. Or perhaps it's a bit more sheepish and nervous. EITHER WAY. It's not the normal bluster you may know her for.]

OKAY! So.

[A pause.]

There might have been a freak accident involving a zombie tearing open one of the walls in the shower room and those are completely closed off right now. I guess you can't get in at all, but I wouldn't try either.






...




[After some thought.]

We... probably need some mechanics. With space suits. before everyone stinks


((OOC: So yes, Rosette used a grenade inside a space station. TOTALLY FREAK ACCIDENT, and there is now a hand sized hole in the outer wall of the showers. AI has already locked the area down so there's no way to get to it from the inside to preserve the rest of the base from damage.))

[The voice on the network may not technically be shouting, but there's a distinctly hard edge to the words that easily translates into 'Oh my god I can't even believe this right now.']

Oi! Anyone using fire to deal with this nonsense had better knock it right off! I don't care if your fire's made of magic, Harry Potter, it's still probably burning up oxygen when you use it to light these bastards up-- and I don't know if you've noticed, but we're in bloody space.

[There's a beat, a sharp intake of breath as Charlie wills himself to not flip the nearest table. Finally, in a low steely tone:] We need oxygen for other things. Like, oh, breathing. Figure out a different way of doing things.

Halloween's all about spooky things, right? So let's tell scary stories.

Okay. So when I was a kid, I would go near the fence separating us from the wilderness and look out there. Never did I dare to go past that- I wasn't even supposed to be there- but one night, I heard something odd. There are these things called mockingjays in my world, right? I'll tell you all about them if you want. Anyway, the important thing to know is that mockingjays can replicate both bird whistles and human melodies.

I heard this haunting melody, and I could tell it was coming from a mockingjay. But I saw this woman in a white nightgown, walking around past the fence. I saw her meld into the trees and disappear. I saw her every night I went there, and she always did the same thing. Until one night, when I called out to her. She looked at me and screamed a blood-curdling scream.

I ran for it. And I never went back. [He makes a ghostly 'oooOOOooo' sound. Is he making it up? Or did it really happen? Who knows?]

So, uh. I'm pretty sure that a bunch of people know that kid Stanley. He's a really lucky asshole, because he up and freaking disappeared. Went to take a piss and never came back. Just poofed. Great for him, sure.

But he sorta left me with...something. That he'd brought here.

[underneath peter's voice, which is pretty soft and even considering what he's saying, there's what sounds an awful lot like the sound of muffled sniffling.]

Which was big of him and all and fine for right this second, but this is not an ideal long-term arrangement. So if anybody wants to help out with that, it'd be great. I'm in the cafeteria, we can talk.

[anyone who comes to the cafeteria will find peter there with peace, who has cried herself out for the moment and is sucking on peter's hair and falling asleep on his shoulder while he walks her around and rubs her back, singing little snatches of songs in some foreign language. getting to this point was obviously a feat; parts of his hair and the shoulder of his shirt are soaked with toddler tears and snot and his ever-present leather jacket is draped over a chair to save it from the babypocalypse. he doesn't seem that fussed, though, for a seventeen year old boy left with someone else's small child. surprisingly good with kids, this one.

ooc: tempest is going to end up with the baby, but everyone is welcome to fuss or help out.]

Okay first off, before y'all start yelling at me, I been assured that we got plenty of supplies for this and I ain't cutting into our rations. Everybody's been doing a good job going on missions and bringing us stuff, so thanks for that. You guys are awesome.

So most of you know what I'm gonna say next: it's almost time to bake cookies. New guys, the deal is that we usually do this every month. It's a little something to help new arrivals feel better about being stuck here. We get together, we bake cookies, and then we pass 'em out on the first of the month and talk for a while with anybody who's got questions or needs a shoulder to cry on or whatever. It's just a nice thing we try to do.

Last month sucked but we're picking it back up again now, so anybody who wants to help out, we'll be having ourselves a little Halloween party in the cafeteria and baking all night. It's fun. You don't gotta be no master chef or nothing, I'll help you out.

And speaking of that, too - I heard some people ain't been eating right 'cause they don't know how to cook. That's messed up, yo. Don't stay quiet about something like that, okay. Ask for help. Nobody wants you starving and getting sick up here. If you can't cook for yourself, just come and find me. I'll make you something. You won't be bothering me 'cause I'm bored outta my mind anyway. I'm in 144 right now, so you can stop by or leave a message. Jesse Pinkman. It says right there on your screen.

Aight, I'm done.

In my world, there was a story of a hero named Drualt and his love, Freya. The man slayed dragons and fought to protect the people of the land, but when his lover was attacked by griffons, the townspeople of Bamarre were cowardly and did nothing to save her. When she perished, Drualt turned his back on the people, saying that he would return only when the villagers became brave once more. Most remained cowards, retreating inside their homes and behind their walls. My sister Meryl, however, is truly brave. She swore she would rid the land of monsters someday. Were she here, she would have be more determined now than ever to help the people of Exsilium.

[A small hum of thought. She remembers when she finally saw the horrors of living in Bamarre, and how she'd sworn to herself that she would no longer turn a blind eye to this injustice - how she had sworn that she would help her sister fight against the monsters in Bamarre if she ever made it back to the castle.]

I can no longer stand by and watch. I do not think I'm predisposed to it, but I should like to learn at least basic combat, if anyone would teach me.