Jan. 1st, 2017

004; video

Jan. 1st, 2017 12:07 am
flayjoy: (Default)
[personal profile] flayjoy
Who: Theon Greyjoy
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: SS Paisley
When: January 1. Happy New Year?

[ The man who appears on the screen is a pitiful sight indeed. He’s has a gaunt, tired face, framed by brittle white hair, and looks as if he hasn’t eaten a good meal in months.

This is clearly a man with one foot in the grave, and is altogether unfamiliar—until he speaks.

My name is Theon. Theon Greyjoy.

[ You have to remember your name, he thinks as he chuckles dryly, a ghastly smile breaking across his face. His teeth are showing his teeth to be a painful, splintered mess; a far cry from the charming grin that’s become Theon Greyjoy’s trademark. He’s skin and bones and appears as if he’s aged ten years, though no more than a single year has passed for him. ]

You won’t recognize me, but I’ll recognize all of you. I will.

[ He still sees their faces clearly; those from his own world, his crewmates, and those he’s met from other ships. He remembers how this works. He may be addled, driven half mad by the horrific things he’s gone through, but his mind and memory both still work. His voice is hoarse, less commanding than it once was, and he seems to be teetering somewhere between laughter and tears with each word, but he’s holding it together none the less. It could be worse; it could always be worse. ]

Perhaps Atroma should have reconsidered bringing me back.

[ He chortles, gesturing to his skeletal appearance. He looks awful, nothing like the handsome young man he once was, but at least he can joke about it, right? What can he do to change it now? ]

They’ll only lose their audience when they see me. Do you regret it now, Atroma? I was of use to you before. [ Another laugh, something closer to a giggle. ] You’ve only harmed yourself, but not me. There’s little left that you can do to harm me.


[ And for all crew and visitors on the Paisley, this new Theon can be found in the armory. It’s silent, free from the sounds of what used to be his near-daily target practice. He isn’t even looking at the weaponry. Instead, he’s seated himself at the desk, staring at his hands. A quick glance will show that they’ve been mangled just as badly as his teeth. Three fingers have been removed, one from the left and two from the right, leaving nothing but nubs.

He knows he’ll never be able to pull a bowstring again.
stabsbothways: (Default)
[personal profile] stabsbothways
Who: Isabela and YOU
Broadcast: Unsuspecting Fleetwide Broadcast
Action: Hospitality Wing, Marsiva
When: January 1st!

[ Everything is wrong. The air: the smell, the temperature, the lack of breeze. Her bed: leathery but not, cold, sterile. She jolts awake and is assaulted with light. The light is wrong. It's too bright, it's too distributed, it's the wrong color. She can't help but swear in the most serious and dire way she knows how. ]

Maker be fucked.

[ She steps unsteadily onto a floor made of alien material, her boots making an audible sound as they make contact.

She's got her armor on but- no, her daggers are gone. No grenades, no bombs. Even her poisoned hairpin is gone. ]


[ She starts to wander, looking at strange blinking lights and confusing surfaces which- she knows how to use? What even?? She moves to one console and finds that she can understand the language onscreen, and knows how to navigate the interface. ]
bluediligence: (Vintage rainbow suspenders?)
[personal profile] bluediligence
Who: Aoko, anyone
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Not really applicable, but the Iskaulit if anybody does feel like it!
When: January 1

[ The video opens up to Aoko, perched on the edge of the Iskaulit's boxing ring. She's wearing both her exercise gear (which seems to include a scarf, do not question her questionable life choices) and a bright, beaming smile — the kind that may or may not preclude mischief. Her poker face could really use some work. ]

Hey! I need help. It's really important.

[ There's a beat. ]

… What's the best way to turn the word 'agent' into a cat pun?

[ She's asking for a friend, really. (If by that we mean, "she's asking so she can embarrass a friend, should he ever turn up amongst the fleet.") ]

Oh! And one more thing. If anybody here likes simple number games, check out the file attached to this video. Each box is filled with a number between one and eight, and a number can only appear once in each row and column. The inequalities are there to make things more interesting – and to act as clues! [ Her grin softens into something lighter, more cheerful than outright devious. ] I'll give cookies to everyone who finds the solution.

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