(no subject)

[notkittenaround]

Who: Marhi and anyone!
Broadcast: Video.
Action: Marsiva.
When: Now!

[ There has been plenty of time for stress, and not near enough time for discussion, in the opinion of a certain Miqo'te. She has already tired of searching the Marsiva in slight panic - a panic she would never admit to - in an attempt to discover the truth behind their entrapment.

She has no doubt others have searched alike, and perhaps found their own clues.

In the public baths of the Marsiva is a public hot tub, and in that hot tub is one Miqo'te, and room for more. She's wearing the tank top and the shorts as swimwear, and she stares at the camera quite confidently. ]

Though I cannot say the same of this ship, nor our unkind kidnappers, this hot tub is without flaw. I wish to learn what others have learned of this place, or hear words on the worlds from which you have come.

You may join me in this bath if you desire; There is more than room enough.

01 - Action/Video

[dualcross]

Who: Dracule Mihawk and Anyone else.
Broadcast: Video - Fleetwide.
Action: Marsiva.
When: Now.


[It's the annoying chill that stirs the swordsman from sleep, already frowning as he pulls back the sheets and cracks his neck once. Chill tends to stiffen one's body and bones. Now, as her rubs his face with a long yawn, Mihawk peers around at the unfamiliar space, the even more unfamiliar clothes, and his scowl only seems to set in place. He's not unfamiliar with being dragged from his home, his world and thrust into a whole other one on the whims of whatever nonsense that sees fit to haven him there, but there is one thing that is lacking the confined space he finds himself in.

One very large and exceptionally important thing.

At the very least his clothes and his cross necklace (doubling as a small, concealed knife) are inside the chest. After dressing, he sweeps up his communicator and easily flicks it on. He's had previous experience with gadgets like this, after all. He doesn't care where he is, how he got here, what his purpose for being here is. Mihawk has not a care about that frivolous bullshit, he just wants to know--]

Where is my sword?

[Later, after Mihawk has heard enough, he's gone to explore and to look for his sword. Regardless of what he's been told, he's not parting with Yoru so easily. One way or another he's getting it back. He doesn't look any angrier than usual as he prowls through the halls like a stalking wildcat, but the sheer presence of him, the sharpness that hides in the edges of his golden eyes...it's obvious Mihawk's not at all pleased with this so-called fine print. Not in the least.]

001 - Action/Video

[shoujoreject]

Who: Qing and anyone
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Marsiva's hospitality deck
When: Now

[It's amazing, how immediately things can change. How much can be lost in the span of a few eyeblinks, a whole walk home, a night of normalcy swirled in the realms of "probably" and "who knows". It permits the growth of terror in an individual, waking up in an unfamiliar place that feels like a hospital - simple metal walls, painfully clean, full of just the barest attempts to make it feel livable. It doesn't take long, fueled by that very same terror, to want out.

His only help is the familiarity of the qipao - not that he would have fallen asleep in the dress, he's sure - and the pair of hairties resting next to his communicator. Did someone drug him? There's no chance to be sure, though... they would have to, wouldn't they? Between the communicator mysteriously at his side and the faint feeling of something tugging at the back of his neck - the not-so-faint rigidity of something there when he reaches back to investigate - it seems clear. What isn't, of course, is why.

Why is something he won't find the answer to in a strangely-comfortable bed inside a metal box. So he does what he must - gathering what shreds of courage he can and sitting up - only to find the sight of a place that provides no comfort in spite of its attempts at amenities. When he speaks, the tone is soft and high, almost unequivocally feminine.]

... What is this... place...

[The question is asked to the open air and his arms wrap around his chest for a little warmth. His eyes widen when his gaze settles on the windows - the view of the open space beyond them - and he can't seem to look away for the longest time. This isn't possible. It can't be possible. The shock is clear on features far too smooth, too young for his age, wide violet eyes trembling a little in the very, very visible struggle to compartmentalise terror. Red hair hangs down to nearly his waist, furthering the illusion of femininity and adolescence.

Getting up almost too quickly, the wrinkles of his dress smooth and fatigued legs creak under him, but he ignores all that to move, to find someone to talk to - some answer to what the hell is going on. Anything to dim the fear that's still burning in the pit of his stomach.]

mingle mangle

[takeabow]

Who: anyone!
Broadcast: why not!
Action: sure!
When: Whenever!

[ what are you up to, flooters? passing the time playing cribbage? watching Die Hard with a Vengeance, or maybe trying to repair friendships and perceptions of people that were dashed by invasive dreamscapes?

This is a mingle, so enjoy! ]

two ➵ video

[versusnurture]

Who: Abigail Hobbs & you
Broadcast: Fleetwide!
Action: Marsiva!
When: 11/21

Has anyone considered the possibility that being stuck on the Marsiva is a means of negative reinforcement? Once we achieve a certain goal, whether that's reels of usable footage shot or something more specific and harder to guess at, we'll be removed from this more psychologically dangerous environment.

Or maybe even that Atroma's goal is to skew our perceptions of what's normal and what isn't. In comparison to this, individual ships are practically homey comforts. We might even get to sleep through the whole night without tripping into someone else's mind, or vice versa.

[Is it paranoia if you're right? Anyway.]

Anyone who tripped into my mind and wants anything clarified, let me know. If my secrets are going to be publicized without my consent, I might as well make sure they're being interpreted correctly.

And one more thing: I'm trying to figure out who's been here the longest. From when the lights first came on. Help me out?