001: Happy New Year!

[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. ]

Hello?

[ 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. ]

Comments

[stabsbothways]

[ See this is an important piece of information that people have thus far been neglecting to mention. ]

Who's we? How many of 'us' are there?

[notanoptimist]

Uh... I'd have to look it up, but there's a good number of us, scattered across different ships all drifting together.

[stabsbothways]

[ Maker, there's so many questions, so much confusion. This situation is beyond her. ]

And we're all prisoners on those ships?

[notanoptimist]

Well, we can't leave the fleet, so... yeah. Pretty much. We're participants of a reality show, if that means anything to you. [He doesn't expect it to. He had to have it explained the first time he'd heard it, too.]

[stabsbothways]

Not... particularly.

Someone is watching us?

[ It adds a bit of context to these scrolling messages coming up on the screens. ]

[notanoptimist]

Yeah. We don't know who or how many, but yeah. Someone's watching.

[stabsbothways]

How could you not know?

[notanoptimist]

It's not like they're tellin' us anything.