THE DRIFT FLEET

Who: Adrasteius
Broadcast: Everyone
Action: the Golden
When: Now

[Oh, Light; Adrasteius is exhausted. He's barely slept for the last however many days, a product of his campaign to avoid the calibrations as much as possible. Even then, the memories of what he intruded upon dog him (especially in Coil's case), and--despite his discipline--he's drunk from sleep deprivation. But today is an important day. An important time.]

I don't know about the rest of you, but --

[His speech is a little slurred. He blinks a few times, sighs, and goes on.]

-- but back home, we have a tradition on this day. 'S called Pilgrim's Bounty. There's ... typically ...

[He makes a bunch of vague gestures.]

You know. Feasting. Turkey and pies and everything. We all sit around outside the capital and just--jump from table to table. And we're thankful. That's the key bit. More than the food.

We're thankful that we're still alive. That the Light, or --

[He exhales slowly.]

-- or the elements, or pure happenstance ... that it's preserved us. For this moment.

[He runs his hands through his long hair, his fingers tangling in his feathery bangs.]

And even though I'm here, and I miss my home, I'm still--grateful. Because I don't have my whole family. But I have my son. I have the grace of the Light. And I hope that, despite everything, you all can find something to be thankful for, too.

[He rests his head down on the kitchen table. He mutters.]

Light be with you.

Who: Adrasteius
Broadcast: All
Action: Marsiva
When: Oct 19

[It's been a few weeks since Archimonde's downfall. Since the collapse of the Iron Horde. It was a good moment, hard-won, but Adrasteius hasn't felt celebratory. The battle had ended in triumph, yes, but also a warning. Something is coming. Something that keeps Adrasteius from sleep, that keeps him up late fiddling with wards, praying to the Light. Keeps him staring at the sky with unease threading through all of his brittle bones.

But all living things must sleep, eventually, and he's no exception.

When he wakes up, he expects to see his wife; possibly some children, crept in after nightmares. Instead, he's alone. The room is stark, chilly, sterile.

Familiar.]

Oh, for the Light's sake.

[He rolls over, groaning. This again. Lying flat on his belly, but with his face turned upwards, he addresses the camera.]

Bal'a dash, everybody. If we haven't spoken, I'm Adrasteius. If we have--

[He sits up, albeit with obvious effort. It's hard to be old, even for an elf.]

--nice to see you again. Probably.

[Adrasteius runs a hand through his feathery blonde hair.]

What did I miss?

Who: Adrasteius; perhaps you
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Bishop; kitchens
When: N to the O W

[Adra's in the ship's kitchen, seated at the table. A shimmering, golden aura limns his entire body, concentrated particularly at the crown of his blonde head. The faint impression of angelic wings blinks in and out of corporeality on his back as he speaks, sometimes seeming almost solid.]

I'm here today to speak to you about the Light. No, I don't mean that thing in the ceiling, or the sun, or any physical, mechanical sources of illumination, so let's nip that idiot question right in the bud. I'm talking religion, people, which some of you desperately need. A religion that isn't bullshit.

[He leans forward; steeples his hands.]

First of all: no gods. No capital G 'God' or 'Maker' or 'Creator' or what-have-you. No offense if that's part of the dogma, I guess, but it doesn't strike me right. Most of the gods I've met needed a swift kick to their many-mouthed faces, personally.

Second of all: no judgment. Of course, those who wield the Light can and must judge, but the Light itself brooks no discrimination. Whatever you've done, and for whatever reason you've done it, the Light forgives. The Light is grace: by definition, ever present, albeit never deserved. A gift of the universe.

Because, you see, the Light is an omnipresent, divine force. It is the name we give to every person's individual connection the universe. Under its teaching, we recognize our place in the great span of space and time--and our responsibility to influence the universe positively, to bring comfort, to soothe pain, to offer hope.

[Adra gestures with his hands, and as he does so, Light sparks from his fingers. The energy darts around the room, looking for all the world like a cascade of shooting stars. He might be trying to show off a little--or, at least, just trying to demonstrate that what he's talking about can be empirically observed.]

Practitioners follow a path of three virtues: respect, tenacity, and compassion, taught in that order. Don't worry: I won't go into it. Not today.

[But another day. Sooner rather than later.

The glow around his body fades. He smiles, a beatific, genuine expression.]

The point is--religion doesn't have to be damaging. It doesn't have to be oppressive. There are philosophies, churches, that work for good. Mine is one of them. It's here for you. I'm here for you.

Just letting you know.