tushanshu | Entries tagged with † cinna

[Iskierka is in her suite today, frowning at a hole in her wall, close to the floor. Through the hole can be seen the back legs and shell of a young turtle, and Iskierka huffs a moment, as she sees what her adopted progeny is up to. The turtle's happily munching away on a fine piece of cloth, draped somewhat artfully on a wall and pinned there.]

Yin! Do not eat that, it is not filling at all. [She abandons the console for a moment to attempt to hold the young turtle back, and then shoves the tapestry up a bit higher.]

Come along, Yin, we shall find you some fish or some plants; perhaps a stew -- may turtles eat stew? I suppose that Gong Su would know, but he is not here.

[Then her neck cranes back towards the console, still keeping a firm claw on the erstwhile Yin.]

Does anyone know what young turtles might eat?

bindsthedead

[Sabriel seems to have tidied herself up for this message. Her hair is freshly brushed, and she's a deep blue surcoat, dusted with embroidered silver keys over her clothes. Her voice is solemn and authoritative- particularly for someone who isn't out of her teens yet.]

I'm sure we all know about the Emperor's untimely death, and while I'm not asking you to mourn her if you don't want to. [Because Sabriel wasn't mourning herself. Deeply concerned and sad, yes, but she hadn't exactly been overcome by grief.] But I do ask that you consider what the consequences may be, because I doubt they'll be anything good for those of us who've been brought here. The Enemy is still out there, and even if we're returned to our worlds, it might follow us, once it's murdered Asti. This is something that ought to concern all of us, and we should all be working together to deal with this- this creature.

If you have no... power of your own, but still want to help, I may be able to give you one. [Sabriel raises one hand, tracing a glowing symbol into the air that promptly collapses to a glowing point of light.] Charter magic can be a powerful tool to heal, harm, and bind, and having more magic users to assist in the fight against the Enemy can't be a bad thing. [Of course this also means more people putting themselves in danger fighting Malicant, but that's probably ] I should warn you- Charter Magic takes time to master, and can harm it's users if they attempt to draw on power beyond their skill. And I will be teaching you with the expectation that you will use what I teach you against the Enemy, not just as a hobby or an idle curiosity. [And with another gesture, Sabriel puts out the light that she conjured.] And once you've recieved the power, I cannot take it back- so think carefully before you make this choice.

[Locked to Leonardo and Chekov]

Do either of you have any idea what we should name the turtle? I was thinking something like Eshaiel. [It's hideously uncreative, but Sabriel would have asked if they could name it after her father- if she had any idea what her father's name was.] I'd like- I'd like to give the turtle a good name. Something powerful.

[ooc: More info on Charter Magic Sabriel can only give nonpowered characters Charter Magic, and currently has four students, and three prospective students so there are ~~six~~ three slots remaining.]

dracobin

[It is well past nightfall when Temeraire appears on the network, his expression exhausted and his posture hunched.

He has spent the bulk of the day flying, trying to dull his--well, it cannot be called grief, when he did not know the Emperor well enough for that, but it must be something close, surely. One cannot win wars without a few losses of one's own, but this is a price unfairly paid: something stolen and not captured on the field of combat. It is the gravest offense imaginable, for a dragon, and there is as much rumbling anger in his voice as there is sorrow when he speaks.]

Given recent events, there is little point in delaying the matter any longer. I do not know what form our enemy will take when it comes to us, but we must be prepared for any possibility, especially now that Eshai's power can no longer keep it at bay.

To that end, I am announcing the formation of the Keeliai Aerial Corps. There is little point in formation-flying when we cannot predict our enemy's movements, but at the very least those of us who can fly must grow used to flying together, and those of us who can fight must be prepared to do so under any circumstances.

Pray provide your name if you are interested; we will meet once a week at the very least, for target-practice and drills, and we might discuss tactics, and new technologies, as well.

If it brings an army with it, we will at least not be caught unawares.

[corresponding OOC signup thread here!]

hijackedbread

[The video clicks on to show a boy of seventeen staring at the screen. The kedan have just shown him how to work the console and he assumes he’s meant to broadcast, as he would in Panem. So he flashes a winning smile, one that doesn’t quite stretch to his eyes.]

Hello. My name is Peeta Mellark, from District 12. They said this isn’t the Capitol. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure where Keeliai is or why I’m here. But I know that the Emperor wouldn’t bring me here without a reason and I trust her wisdom. I appreciate how welcoming you have been and I look forward to learning more about you and to fulfilling my duties here.

[The tribute is incredibly charming, but those who are extremely perceptive would be able to detect that nearly every word is a lie and may notice the sound of handcuffs being pulled taut. He pauses and his smile falters.]

If any other Victors have been welcomed here, I would be glad to be reunited with them again.

wintershepherd

[ Jack looks and sounds better than he has in the last week or two, a combination of the cold weather snap and feeling like he has been productive easily sweeping aside the thoughts which are wont to drag him down. In fact he's beaming at the console screen, Baby Tooth hovering by his shoulder and he's reasonably certain that most people have found their way back to being able to see and hear them so he just dives right into the reason for his post. ]

I've got something to share: the welcoming committee that I mentioned last month? Now that people are coming into the city again, I asked the Emperor about it and whether the kedan whose jobs it is to help us that first day could mention it and she said yes. But she also got me a permit for a stall in central Keeliai where it's easy for everyone to find, to set up a place where people can visit if they're confused by everything and need help.

[ He's giving credit where credit is due, because he is appreciative that Eshai helped out. ]

So now it's like a welcome center-- sort of? A really small one. But we can use it to have written maps and guides for learning the city, in different languages if people are willing to translate. Instructions on what the consoles can do beyond the crash course that the kedan give and also about things like how they turn to goop if you try to mess with them. Uhh... what else. Oh, right! Books that are in English or other languages that people might recognize, like a mini library! Also things like what you can't say out loud, because... yeah.

[ Questionable oratory skills aside, it's obvious that Jack is excited for the project. ]

Also if people are willing to show others around when they get here, it'll help them settle in. Sometimes it helps just to get the tour from a person rather than a map, right? Oh and here... I tried to make a schedule for the people who already volunteered to help.

[ Attached is a tentative grid for those who offered in the last post, with blocks of time set up for them to be "on-duty". It'll probably be all shuffled around shortly to accommodate people's schedules, but at least he made the effort. ]

I don't think I forgot anything...

lostundercover

[Costigan appears on screen, frowning but seemingly less anxious and restless than usual.]

I forgot almost everyone here I know for over two weeks. [A beat.] I remember now.

[He doesn't mention that it hurt both physically and emotionally when that happened, or how he might have intentionally overdosed himself if not for Abigail's presence.]

Anyone ever find anything out about that?

[97% encrypted to Arthur]
Thanks for helping.

[97% encrypted to Abigail]
Dinner tonight?

[97% encrypted to Olivia] - added later
How you holdin' up?

[97% encrypted to Evandau] - added later
Can we talk?

afirewithfashion

[It’s colder than it was. The light enters his new suite enters at a lower angle, casting long, ugly shadows. He hasn't taken the time to rearrange this one. He doesn’t like the deep stripes, like bars across the furniture, and it would be almost nothing to move things, give the room better flow -- but every time he tries, his hands begin shaking. He holds them under the desk, out of sight of the console.]

I don’t know exactly how much time has passed.

[He can’t account for it, the gap in his memory. Oh, he remembers. Late summer sunlight, sitting at the table, gathering the pleats of fabric, pinning them in place. The chill light of the city, filtered through the water, as the turtle dove. And then nothing. He sits in front of the console, dressed far too lightly for the sudden onset of cold weather. But his face shows none of the near panic, the unanswered questions. Just a pleasant, even expression.]

It’s obvious that some has; at least several weeks. Is Finnick Odair still here, or maybe Katniss Everdeen?

[Katniss was gone, but maybe... There’s a sick twist of hope in his gut that he struggles to keep hidden. Katniss would know. If she’s here, she could answer the questions that he desperately needs to know the answers to. But he can’t hang his hopes on that.]

Well, even if they aren’t, I’m going to need to get my feet back under me. I’m opening up commissions for made-to-order clothing. My name is Cinna -- I previously worked in Favrielle no Eglantine’s dress shop, and I have several years of tailoring experience. I’d hope there is someone here still who can vouch for my work.

[But he doesn’t know -- it could well have been years. Where was he, in the time he can’t account for? Who had him? He swallows.]

Thank you.

afirewithfashion

[Cinna looks a little less focused than usually -- that may have something to do with the collection of tribbles in his lap. The topmost one (yes, the pile is multi-layered) is the tribble that he's had from the beginning. Mostly sandy-beige, with white stripes on its belly.]

I know they're dangerous, I do understand that. They'll eat away the entire food supply.

[He trails off, his fingers in the fur of his favorite tribble.]

They're just so innocent -- if cold stops them from reproducing, couldn't we make cooled cages for them? Not all of them, but some of them?

[Like this one. He wants to keep it.

He feels better with the tribbles than he's felt since he arrived on the turtle. Better, even, than when they were in the plentiful current.]

I know it's a risk. But it seems wrong to kill them all.

olympicgrade

I've seen my fair share of weird things, there's no denying that, but this place? [ She shakes her head slightly in disbelief. ] It's a pretty large pill to swallow. I guess I can't really argue with the fact that we're, though; if we could, I imagine a good portion of you wouldn't still be here. [ "A good portion" because she knows about Stockholm Syndrome. ] So if it's alright, I'd like to ask you all a couple questions.

First: how long have you been stuck here? Second: if you could go home, would you? Why or why not? Third: how long did it take for you to accept that this wasn't some sort of dream? And forth: is there anyone here who has heard of or, even better, is part of Fringe Division, or am I all by my lonesome? [ She offers a friendly, though perhaps a bit uncomfortable and stressed out around the edges, smile before she ends the feed. ]

asouthron

[ McCoy does his best to look dignified despite the terrible and shameful embarrassment he feels inside having to publicly announce this ridiculous emergency. It doesn't help matters that his desk is covered in soft, cute little creatures that are softly trilling all around. ]

This is Leonard McCoy, Chief Medical Officer of the USS Enterprise. [ Yes, he's emphasizing that just so people take his warnings seriously as a highly-esteemed medical professional! And his affiliation with Jim can't hurt. Or can it? Oh God how many people actually like James T. Kirk? Shit Shiiit! ]

As some of you may have noticed, there's been a... contaminate leak in the Fire Sector. A foreign body escaped its... confines [ Fridge ] and has started multiplyin' at an excessive rate. [ And by excessive, he means the world is literally exploding with furballs. ] For those of you not in the Sector, they look like this [ He dutifully points to the puffballs on his desk. ]

Don't be alarmed! They're extremely docile, but in an unfamiliar and stressful environment, they begin to breed rapidly. Our Science Officer has calculated that they breed about every twelve hours [ 11.784 hours, but like hell McCoy is giving Spock the satisfaction of accurate fractions! ], producing anywhere from 8 to 12 at a time. Anyone with any kinda math skill can see that's a huge damn problem!

The best way to keep those furbags from eatin' you outta house and home and food is puttin' 'em on ice. It won't kill 'em, but it'll stop reproduction and slow down their life cycle.

If you have any questions, contact me or any StarFleet officer nearest you [ McCoy, Spock, or Jim will be more than happy to be assaulted by your questions. ]

McCoy out.

((ooc: For more information on the event, character plots, questions, or concerns, check out the OOC coordination post here ))

bonvivant

It seems as if the immediate danger has ceased somewhat and furthermore I've gotten more settled in, so, as of today I will be taking appointments for therapy. The price will be fifteen juulan per session and both day and evening times will be available.

While I was unfortunately not brought here with my degrees and certifications, I assure you that I have many years of experience in this field and take the matter of patient confidentiality very seriously. Nothing said to me during these sessions will be repeated anywhere else.

All sessions will be held on the first floor of my suite in the fire sector - in building FI-3C. If you would like to make an appointment I suggest that you contact me privately. Any questions or concerns you might have are of course welcome, as well.

demon_brat

[Damian is in a cafe in the Wood sector that probably some of the residents will recognize. He looks calm and composed, even if the few people who are likely to pay attention will notice he's still about a week behind on sleep. He doesn't act it, however. The sector is chosen because neither Rayner's nor his residence is here, among other things.]

Ladies and Gentlemen.

First of all, congratulations and thanks to all who worked to return the turtle to a better condition. For the sake of all of us. Those who are still in need of assistance in the aftermath, please do not hesitate to call for such.

Next, I have a somewhat more cheerful announcement to make.

There is an exhibition open in the building of--

[And that is how far he gets before there is barely more than a yellowish blink sideways across the screen, and Damian is sporting a bright green troll-type wig. He actually manages to name the address when a small motion of his head makes him realize there is something on top of it, and he tries to pull it down, mostly just finding out what it is.]

[His eyes narrow, dangerously, and his teeth clench, but, after a quick look around, he goes on with his announcement. Voice tight and tense, but he keeps on going.]

... the art currently on display is by two 'foreigner' artists, but if there are more people wishing to participate, it can become a permanent fixture.

You are... all... very welcome to look around.

Good. day.

[End of message.]

ooc: Damian will probably not be responding immediately, but there is a small, good display of art, mostly Kyle's (some Damian's) in the named building in Wood. For those who could see at that speed (or can guess), the culprit for green-wigging Damian was Wally - if anyone would reasonably have recognized that, he will also be answering some of the comments directed at him.

effective

[Katniss is looking as cheerful as ever. Which is to say, not at all.]

Even if all these investigations find a way to fix the turtle, what's going to be done about the game? The kedan are coming to us for food, and what you can call a forest has basically been stripped clean. Unless we're just all living off vegetables until the next few breeding seasons have passed.

trainwrecked

So, uh. Things're pretty bad for some of the people who can usually do more'n the rest of us these days.

I just wanted to ask if any of you're in need of an extra hand or something. I'm probably not the only person willing to help out.

That's all.

[Private to Bruce Wayne.]

Mr. Wayne. We haven't talked so far, m'name's Bucky Barnes. I know you run a company making medications, and I wanted to know if you have antibiotics. Something for pneumonia, and something for infected wounds.

If you do, let me know what kind of payment you'd like for 'em.

Thanks in advance.

Current Mood: worried

subject223

[ The video turns on to a view of a man’s face, and those observant enough to notice nitpicky details might realize that this is a man who’s familiar with and comfortable using strange bits of technology. There’s no fear in his eyes, no outward confusion or panic. He looks calm and in control, and when he speaks, he sounds like it, too. ]

Hello. My name’s Steve Rogers and I just recently arrived from a city called New York. I was debriefed about the situation and I wanted to offer my help to anyone who needs it.

[ He pauses for a moment as he collects his thoughts. These days, it’s not often that he goes somewhere that people aren’t at least slightly familiar with who he is. Providing a brief resume is a somewhat novel experience. ]

I’ve been a soldier for a long time, but I’m also good with my hands. Construction, farming, hunting, good old-fashioned heavy lifting, I can help with that. I can speak a number of languages, too, if anyone needs translations done. I know I’m new, but I want to pull my weight. So if you know anyone who might need a hand with something, let me know.

[ Offering a faint smile, he gives the camera a short nod. ]

Thanks for your time.

insecrets

[The feed turns on to show a shirtless Finnick, hair still damp from an earlier shower. He smiles brightly, leaning back in his chair. Gratuitous chest? You betcha. There's a pause as he pops something that looks like a sugar cube into his mouth.] With more people arriving, I'm sure the strain on food resources is going to become harder for some of us. But the ocean, that's still plentiful and unharmed by Tu Vishan's illness.

For you new people, or even those who have been here a while, I'm Finnick Odair. I have a small fishing business set up. [A pause as he smiles.] Basically what I'm offering here are a couple of job opportunities. I should be able to handle a few employees, if you'd like to earn a little money and food on the side. If you like fishing, or if you'd like to learn, here's your opportunity. [He winks.] Wasting it would be a shame.

virginprice

[The acute observer may notice two things different about Alcuin. The first is that there's a faint pattern of lines on his forehead that seem to form some kind of mark. The second is the bruise on his temple- the edges are fading to yellow and green, but it's still dark purple at the heart, though somewhat hidden under his hair.

But he doesn't seem to be minding either of them, instead looking pleased as he holds a small book in his hands.]

Some of the fruits of our docking at that city were sweeter than others.

[That's a joke. Definitely a joke. He hasn't been in evidence much, besides going to work everyday. Landfall was rough.]

A friend of mine was kind enough to gift me one of his discoveries- a book of poems written by my lover, Anafiel Delaunay. I cannot guess how it came to be there, but I am so glad that it was.

[He runs his fingers over the cover fondly.]

You see, back at home these poems were banned. It was unlawful to speak them aloud, or even to own a copy- not through any fault of the poetry, there were politics involved. But I would like to read you one of them, one of my favourites. It will be the first time that it has been spoken in public in many years.

( Cut for length and vague sexual content. )

[He closes the book, smiling softly- caught in a reminiscence of Delaunay. After a moment, he remembers the camera and turns it off.]

afirewithfashion

[Cinna doesn’t post to the network immediately after arriving. He listens carefully to what the Kedan tell him on their journey back to his new home. He observes his sector carefully. He knows what rationing looks like. He sees the anger in the Kedan population.

How much of this is real? How much is just another illusion? It lasts longer than anything brought on by the tracker jacker venom they used to torture him, and locked in the dungeons of the Capitol, he lost any ability to tell reality from hallucination. The venom played off his memories, the worst moments of his life. His fears for the future. This place, though, this is unlike anywhere he's ever been. So there's that.

Finally, he can’t hide anymore, and he can’t wait it out. So he sits before the console and switches it to video. Although he’s anything but calm, being brought here, being tortured and murdered by Snow’s goons, he doesn’t let it show. His face is perfectly calm and pleasant. His voice is even and soothing.]

Sorry to interrupt, I won’t waste anyone’s time. I got here a few days ago, and I need a job. I work in fashion back home -- mostly costume design, but I can do hair or makeup, too, if anyone has an opening. I asked at the Kedan-owned shops, but I gather they aren’t hiring at the moment.

[Or at least not hiring foreigners. Judging by his tone, it’s clear he understands why he was turned away. It's hard to be violent against someone so even, but he knows he was lucky. He's not going to complain. He just moves on to his next option.

Finding work. It’s a nice, safe topic, not like what happened to him or why he’s here. He’ll stay with that, and keep his other thoughts to himself.

So really, it’s just another day. One beyond the days he thought he had left, but he might as well make the best of it.]

Thanks.

ironwood

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Tu Shanshu

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