video;

[philosophe]

[Here's another who looks like he's been through the wars. That is, in fact, true -- the last he remembers of home was being bayonetted through the chest. So to say the least, this young man looks a bit worse for wear, shirt bloodied and ripped, waistcoat hanging open and cravat undone, and rather deathly pale to boot. Despite all that, he still manages to give off a faint aura of extreme curiosity -- if it didn't hurt to move so much, he'd more than likely have been running about Tu Vishan the moment he arrived.

In any case, he studies the screen cautiously, but gives it a smile soon enough.]

I have been told I may use this device to communicate with other -- arrivals to this place. This is fascinating, truly -- one may send messages instantaneously, I take it.

[Here he pauses as if to adjust a pair of glasses, before a slightly sheepish look passes over his face, and he shrugs.]

Anyhow, to business. I am called Combeferre, and I am, as you have no doubt gathered, a new arrival to this place. Anyone who can answer my questions would have my gratitude. Firstly -- I would like to know if any of my friends are here as well; they would more than likely be calling themselves a member of Les Amis de l'ABC. Failing that, anyone from Paris would be most welcome. ...Secondly, I am -- rather in need of a doctor. I would attempt to do it myself, but I'm afraid all I have managed since my arrival is bandages.

So, ah -- thank you, and I look forward to speaking with you.

Verse 01 - Video

[poeticverses]

[The feed opens up on a...pretty beat up redhead. Dried blood, bruises starting to form, cuts and scrapes, everything short of bullet wounds, really.

Those were healed before he woke up.

It takes a second for him to realize that he got it to start recording and he blushes a bit. Not that you can tell with all the bruising and whatnot, but. He looks like any beat-up 19th century Frenchman: dirty, bloody shirt, bloody blue waistcoat...basically, he didn't bother to clean up before figuring out this console.

When he speaks, his voice is fairly soft and he's terribly awkward, and not just because he's talking into a box]

The gentleman who brought me here said I could use this...device to contact others in the city. Does...is anyone else here from Paris? If so, are you familiar with Les Amis de l'ABC? My name is Jehan--Jean, but I prefer Jehan--Prouvaire, and I need to know if I'm the only one of us here. If I am not, could you please direct me to my friends?

[Don't ask if he wants to be alone here or not. He couldn't tell you]

I also need a doctor, please. I don't think I am in any danger of dying now, but I would rather not risk it.

Ah...thank you.


[[ooc: for those of you not familiar with French, "Jehan" does has a different sound than "Jean"]]

(no subject)

[cravats]

[The post opens on the video setting, with a curious-looking rather pointy-nosed sandy-haired man in Victorian garb looking at the console. He adjusts his cravat slightly.]

I believe this is the 'video' setting? And you all can see me? This really is marvelous, you know—or perhaps you don't, if you're used to it-

[He then abruptly switches to the audio setting, his voice gaining a shading of amusement.]

And I can certainly see the advantages of being heard, but not seen. How thoughtful of our hosts.

[Then the audio cuts off too, his fascination with this new technology overwhelming his usual good manners.]

And this, of course, is text. Most similar to what I'm used to, though this letter arrangement does not seem to be the most efficient. Are we capable of changing this? I'm sure there's a better arrangement for these.

qwertyuiop

That makes very little sense.

01: text, anonymous

[occupygotham]

[ text, anonymous. Upon arriving, Bane has kept to himself, patiently reading through past entries on the network and evaluating his current situation. he has seen more questions raised then answers after his research ]

It would seem that the state between death, dreaming and life has more to be desired. The reason for our continued presence remains a mystery as we play the role of docile prisoners to this...Emperor. While others may seek contentment in their cage under the guise of routine and monotony, I must question one simple thing:

Tell me, fellow occupants, how long are we to be kept in the dark?

Surely none of the Kedan's guests were aware of the creatures lurking beneath the shadowed depths of Tu Vishan. A small, inconsequential thing, perhaps, to those who no longer have the fear of death instilled upon them, but the opportunity to prepare for such onslaughts was stolen from us. We are all strangers in a strange land, fellow outsiders, and it seems as if the Kedan are more than happy to maintain that relationship. A relationship that leaves us in a state of inaction.

Citizens, for that is what we should rightfully call ourselves here, it is time to find our voice.

[ a separate text message is sent out anonymously: ]

I seek the services of a medical professional- preferably one with a hand in anesthesia. Chemists, would also be welcomed.

001 || Video

[wilsooon]

[He doesn't have to do much to put on his playboy mask for this - he looks as haggard as he feels, eyes sunken and skin that particular kind of sallow that indicates a person is either going to pass out or throw up. The cocky grin he flashes the screen comes naturally, even if his mind is running five different directions. Mckenna, Diggle, the Count, the Bratva, the possibility of Thea's trial. A pause as he gathers himself, and he makes a show of that for the benefit of the act.] I have never actually partied myself into another universe before. First time for everything I guess.

[He throws a two-fingered salute and has to pause as the world follows his fingers into a tailspin.] Oliver Queen. I'm sure there are all kinds of questions I should be asking, but right now I have only one: where can I find some advil and a nice, greasy breakfast.