005 - Help Wanted

[onlyanapple]

Who: Crowley and YOU!
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Málum - Iskaulit
When: 12th June

[The feed switches on to Crowley's smirking face behind the bar in Málum. It's the smirk he usually has when he's done something he strictly shouldn't but doesn't really care. The usual, then.]

So, while all...that bullshit has been going on, I figured we might as well have something for people to do that doesn't involve excessive violence and getting blood all over the place. So! If you turn on your network devices and have a little flick through there, you'll find a little game. Think of me while you play it.

[ True to his word, there is, indeed, a certain game where you play a snake eating tiny dots and trying to get other snakes to crash into you suddenly on the network. Like the rest of Crowley's games, it's horribly addictive.

That done, he gestures to the bar in general around him.]

While we're on the subject of things to do. I find I'm horribly bereft of staff in my fine establishment. Anyone fancy a job, come on down, so long as you're not a psychopath or a satanist, I'll probably hire you. I pay well and you get free drinks for working with me, which is always a bonus.

[He goes to turn off the feed, but realises he...probably should say something. At the risk of showing he cares.]

Anyone on the Starstruck wonderinf where Felix is, he's passed out in my quarters on the Pathstone. One of those hyper sleep things, probably. He's still breathing and whatnot. Best just leave him be until he wakes up.

[His tone is flippant, but honestly, he's worried. He WANTS to keep an eye on Felix, lest whatevers in him decides to turn him into a puppet or something equally terrible. He's not letting the man go anywhere.]

Anyway, enjoy the game and healing from your injuries. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Crowley out.

Open, Fleetwise, 001

[burnstoohot]

Who: Fëanor and YOU!
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: HS Marsiva
When: Morning

[A hand reaches out to grasp a mechanical limb before grey eyes even blink open to stare suspiciously. Fëanor feels rested, energized even, despite the most recent long hours spent over the forge's fires working on his masterpiece.]

Who dares...?

[Awareness flickers through him and the elf pauses. He sits up from the bed, though doesn't immediately move to get off, nor release the robot's 'arm'. An impatient hand reaches up and shoves a lock of black hair that had gotten free of the loose braid back behind a pointed ear and he studies the robot a bit more closely.]

Do you have a name? Are you a thinking creature? [A pause and he absently hums, head tilting a little in thought.] I think not in the ways of Arda.

['Bot, be glad he has no tools on him.]

(Closed)

[castintoflames]

Who: Maedhros & Maglor
Broadcast: Nope!
Action: On the SS Bishop.
When: Not long after Maedhros boards the ship.

He had much to learn where weapons were concerned, however his mind was on other matters. For the hundredth time, he rearranged various items pertaining to security and tried to be patient. But patience had never come to him easily. He was Fëanor's son and...rash.

Far too rash. Narrowing his eyes, he began to pace, grinding his teeth together.

Maglor had welcomed him - with positivity, even. However he knew his brother was very good at hiding his emotions. Maedhros didn't fear a punch or two, but to see his brother's pain -

That was not easily swallowed.

He would not shy from him. His brother deserved an explanation and...his protection and love. If he was willing to accept those conditions again.