At least there's no elevator music...

[thespaceopera]

[At least two weeks have passed since the Drift Fleet passengers woke up on this strange wing of the Marsiva... Some new passengers have even joined the group instead of being Shuffled off to a fleet ship! The large monitor in the central room remains quiet for now, so how is everyone holding up?

Have you been relaxing? Enjoying the Earth media? If you can even remember them, how have Calibrations been treating you? Has anyone started getting a little stir-crazy?

Don't worry... This ship has no shortage of mysteries, and you'll be seeing a few more soon.]


ooc: here's another mingle for the current game event! players can start or continue threads here from any point during the event. the additional setting information is still being postponed due to sickly mods, but y'all are welcome to post additional topcomments for reactions and investigation once it's up!

Comments

[nextlineis]

Don't!

[Congrats, you rude-ass motherfucker. You get another memory. Once she's back from the arena, Joseph's irritably pulling her hand off the horse and getting a swift kick to the shin.]

Stop touching things!

[deshabille]

[The kick doesn't even register. It doesn't budge her; she doesn't flinch, or even blink. She's too lost in the memory. That . . . she only doubted him for an instant, but even that instant seems awful now, a betrayal. There's too much good in him for anyone to doubt him.]

[It's actually kind of annoying, come to think of it.]

[Slowly, she looks from the horse back to Joseph, her brow furrowed in a frown. This - she's getting close to something. She can feel it, hear it, smell it in the fear on him, the anger. But.]

[She cocks her head to one side, her stare unblinking and inhuman. She wants to know. But.]

What are you afraid of?

[nextlineis]

Nothing!

[It's a quick, snappish response without any thought put into it. He's frustrated that she doesn't even seem fazed that he hit her. It wasn't the hardest he could kick, but it should have done something other than get her to slowly look at him.]

[Joseph lets go of her, folding his arms again. He stands as tall as he can, chin raised, and trying to give the image of someone who's used to authority. Sadly, Joseph's only used to getting his way more often than not, not being in charge. There's a distinct difference. Still, he tries.]

I want you to go. Now.

[deshabille]

[Brave little lad.]

[The thought comes to her unbidden, in someone else's tones - Polly's, of course, the voice of her conscience when she's quite likely to forget it. It comes overlaid with reproach and implication: you are not a bully, you are better than this, even silly boys deserve respect.]

[Slowly, she raises her hand, a gesture of surrender, and backs away.]

I believe that you're afraid of nothing. Keep your secrets, then.

[Mm.]

I'm sorry.

[nextlineis]

[Is that really that? Should it really be that? Joseph looks momentarily indecisive because you're supposed to forgive people when they are sincerely sorry. Or that's what he's always been told. You're not supposed to hold grudges. He mumbles something, somewhere along the lines of forgiveness, and turns away from her to go back to his toys rather than trying to figure this stuff out with her.]