driftfleet | (no subject)

Who: Aaron
Broadcast: Network - OTA
Action: Anywhere aboard the SS Bloodsport
When: Saturday

ACTION » SS BLOODSPORT

[The new arrival on the bridge makes a quick getaway, out of the lights and the sounds of the area and into the corridor, slipping as best he can with his 6'1" frame into the shadows just on the other side of the doorway (but not before pocketing a couple of those pudding cups, one can never be too greedy when it comes to sources of food).]

This can't be real.

[The words are uttered just above a whisper before he reaches to his belt, where an empty knife case hangs, and his slightly uneasy disbelief is quickly replaced with panic as he pats his pockets (however unlikely it is that he absentmindedly slipped a big knife into a pocket instead of his holster). He takes a steadying breath, eyes darting about before heading forward warily, slipping into the kitchen/galley area. Seeing no one else around after checking several hiding places, anyone who investigates the sounds of opening drawers will find a man with curly, dirty blood hair rifling through the utensil drawers looking for...something.

Once he's found a steak knife (which is better than nothing, thanks), he's going to continue exploring every door he can open on this ship, so the odds of him stumbling upon another crew member are pretty high. No matter what state he finds them in, he raises his hands to show he means no harm.]

I don't want any trouble. I just need some answers. My name is Aaron.

NETWORK BROADCAST » AUDIO

[Later, once he's gotten his bearings more he makes the following broadcast, careful and diplomatic in his wording. He still doesn't know what to make of this place or the people in it, and he doesn't blindly trust people the way he used to.]

Hello. I've only just arrived recently, and I'm under the impression many of you have been here for much longer. If you can offer me any sort of insight into this setup, I'd really appreciate it. To start things off slow and hopefully on the right foot, my name's Aaron, and I've been assigned as a Communications Officer on the SS Bloodsport.

Also, if the following names sound familiar, or you happen to own any of them, I'd be happy to hear from you:

Rick Grimes. Daryl Dixon. Glenn Rhee. Maggie Greene. Abraham Ford. Rosita Espinosa. Michonne. Carl Grimes. Sasha Williams.

[He lets a moment pass before ending his broadcast.]

Thank you for time and any help you can offer.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Try saying that after you've tried eating it. With or without the slop you have to pour on to add a taste.

[She preferred things that already had a taste. It's the principle of the thing. Also a good way of knowing it came from something that used to be alive at some point. But she does listen patiently while he tries to talk his way through whatever strange phenomenon was at work affecting everyone's memories, and only speaks up once he's finished.]

I suppose that may be partly true. But it hardly explains why some of the ones coming back having spent months in their own universe without ever leaving the fleet. Some vanish, but plenty of others just sleep through it. You may find a few of them, if you ask around. Or others who remember someone vanishing entirely.

[And sometimes people just fall asleep for days on end for no reason at all, and don't come back with any new memories, but she sees no reason to share that information just now. Let the new human try to figure out the more common situation before introducing the more puzzling one.]

I probably won't have a problem.

[Aaron's just pragmatic that way. He does, of course, prefer good-tasting food. His boyfriend back home has him spoiled in that respect, even in the midst of the apocalypse, but he also knows what it's like to watch the food supplies dwindle to nothing. He'll eat the past and like it if he has to.]

They just...fall asleep and dream of home?

I suppose. But it's not quite dreaming, since others who know them in their own universe can appear and remember the events as actually happening.

It would not surprise me if someone has already attempted to discover how it works. Or how it's even possible.

[She'll shrug her shoulders at that, not even bothering to pretend it's a puzzle she herself is terribly interested in solving.]

Not me. I am one of those who have yet to go through the experience. I have died though. So I can at least confirm that is not a way to return home.

That's...a very good point. I'll have to look into that.

[He blinks.]

You...died?

Myself, and a few others. Though I do not know how many remain. Only that dying does not appear to be as permanent as any of us are used to. A few of your weeks, and you will be well enough to be returned to your ship.

No matter how you perished, or how little of you remained after.

Hold on, let me make sure I'm understanding you correctly.

[He swallows.]

The Atroma can return the dead to life?

The Atroma, or someone aligned with them, yes.

Even if there's nothing left to bring back.

Edited 2018-11-28 22:55 (UTC)

How is that even possible?

[A beat.]

That's rhetorical. I know you said no one knows.

[All he gets in response is a largely uninterested but nonetheless overly exaggerated shrug from the giant battle princess.

It's all weird as hell but honestly only slightly worse than the shit she's already used to. Her home galaxy has beings in it who can, individually, rewrite all of reality whenever they feel like it. All of this isn't so much incomprehensible as it is just a new type of shenanigans.]

It...just is.

[He nods.]

I...can go with that for now, I...guess. Are we really here for peoples' entertainment?

No one seems to know with any certainty. Some even believe otherwise. But I have no reason to doubt it, it would not be the first time I was suddenly transported to some ridiculous game show against my will.

[She says that with the sort of casual tone you'd expect from someone telling the time, which might suggest other problems.]

This time at least, there seem to be fewer giant beasts meant to kill us. Or devour us whole. But it does not make the experience any less annoying.

[Wait, hold on just a minute.]

This has happened to you before?

Getting out of it remains my last memory of my time in my own galaxy.

If it is any consolation, I do not believe the same person is responsible. Things here get far too dull for a Pugnavore to tolerate, and the Atroma much too secretive.

I don't know if that's a comfort or not. If it was a...a Pugnavore, at least it would be something we could understand, right?

They feed on negative emotions. Misery, anger, despair and the like. And will happily abuse their powers to transport you anywhere they feel is likely to torment you accordingly.

[Granted she'd personally argue that anger's a positive emotion given how helpful it can be, but she knows by now that most people don't agree.]

So unless you would prefer dealing with that, this is preferable. Barely.

This...sounds a lot better than barely, but I'll take it.

[He pauses for a moment.]

The 'Atroma' at least sound more varied?