MarinaNova Asylum

Yo, clinic staff and anyone else who's got a little experience with CPR or lifeguarding, is a particularly strong swimmer or whose got skills that might be useful for us if the water rises much higher - put your hand up. The Force here's looking for volunteers but I'm going to be the one poking you all with a stick to get organized.

[Karev's wet to the bone, still packing waterproofed supplies - the last of it from the clinic. Anything for small abrasions from floating garbage to CPR mouth guards. Not that they'll likely see much use, hopefully. He looks a little tired but it's not the first time he's worked through a hangover and frankly, it's forgotten pretty quick. As terrible as it sounds, he thrives on a good disaster. The ability to do something in a good disaster.]

Keep tabs on your friends and neighbors, not everyone knows how to swim or how to admit that they never learned. Once someone goes under there's only a short period of time to do something in. After about seven minutes, they're gone. And don't go trying to be a savior if you're not trained to, either, because a drowning person can drag you down too if you're not prepared.

[Private to Gwen Cooper]

[This comes a little later after his first broadcast, and this is only voice. He - debated doing this, honestly. But here he is because ignoring it didn't help, it only made him pack three of the same thing into one pack.] Yo.

You getting along okay in this crap?

[So. Here it is. A couple of days ago she had joked about it. Laughed even. Oh sure. As soon as the opportunity came up she would be poledancing. As if it ever would. And now here it is. As Gwen stands in front of the metal pole, that stares back at her using her own face, Gwen thinks about how this was something she thought she she'd do. She had felt that sort of rightous pride over it, 'oh no, not Gwen Cooper, she would never do something like that'. As if women who did were somehow... Less than others. But you can be taught to rethink a lot of things.

Gwen swallows, then watches the instructions. If she ever wants to make reality of her talks with Kitty about becoming an entrepeneur in this, there is no time like the present to learn. So you will find Gwen learning poledancing, all day, a lot less gracefull by early day, perhaps a little more by the end. Or at least more tired.]

[A rather distressed, blushing and sweaty Welsh woman pops up on the videofeed. Her eyes are rather round and the freckles stand out in a very pale face. The shoulders too are freckled, and for some reason bared.]

Uhm, Hello, ny name is Gwen Cooper. I'm having a bit of an issue right now. You all know how there was a rather nice... Exhibit today? Well, I went, and I.. Uhm.. .Well I visited the gift shop. And I bought a pair of.. Well.. Sparkly... It doesn't matter! Problem is I I can't get the bloody things off!

So if there's anyone out there who knows how to.. Uhm... Well I would like some help is all. Please. Anyone.

[You won't hear them coming. You won't see their snare. The mistletoe bots are out and they're hunting you, two by two. You can run and you can hide, but eventually you will be caught, and then there's nothing left to do but kiss your way out!

Chapstick stations will be available.]

(OOC: Mistletoe Bots Info)

The festival continues. The dome's "sun" begins to set and the the sky is painted in gradually darkening shades until all is dark beyond the warm glow of the lanterns and sparkling of the colored lights on the rides and booths.

The speakers high above on the floating island begin to play soft, instrumental music and the dark dome flickers to life once more as projections of landscapes light the sky. They fade in and out every few minutes with images of cityscapes, deserts, seasides, mountain ranges in shades of futuristic, ancient, post-apocalyptic, foreign, and outer space. It may seem like a random assortment at first, but then the scene shifts again and just might take your breath away as you recognize what you're seeing. No people. No animals. But the landmarks are all there. It's a place you grew up or lived or worked or fought for or died at, and then it's gone again, fading into someone else's memory. Sometimes the scene is distinctly autumn-themed. Sometimes it isn't.

After an hour or so the scene shows another sunset and the sky goes dark aside from the sparkling of a starscape. New lanterns are lit leading a path to the beach where there's a large white open-style tent with a dance floor, the ceiling strewn with fairy lights. Flames light the fire pits and there are several cozy resting areas set up with plush cushions and thick candles half-buried in the sand for light. The music takes on more variety and life, perfectly suitable to dancing. Refreshments are available for those who've yet had their fill or simply need a moment to cool off away from the dance floor for a moment.

Happy Anniversary, Marina Nova!

You may have noticed the veritable fleet of maintenance bots zipping all over the dome throughout the night, working hard to clean up the dome and set up decorations for this momentous occasion. Come morning there isn't a corner left unfestive, with brightly colored garlands hanging across the streets and wrapping around the sector gates. Even the trees have been primped for the occasion, colors changing into rich reds and oranges. Strings of light hang from the branches and lanterns line the streets, here and there broken up by a pile of stacked hay bales perfect for taking a rest on.

Of course, that is far from all! There wouldn't be much of a festival without entertainment and your loving wardens have made absolutely sure that there's something for everyone!

( Let the celebrations begin! )

Enjoy!

[Rubber ducks. There existence hasn't ever phased her much. She had one, as a child, as many children do. It bobbed around her as she sat in her bath, and it's presence had been that of any toy animal. A friend and a comfort, with it's company spoken through her own mouth, it had pretty much stopped existing as soon as she got out of the bath and got dry. Years later she thought about buying a new one, for the memories, but never got around to it.
Now Gwen stands still. Watching an assortement of the vinaly creatures sorted from small to large she tries to remember how big hers was. It couldn't have been the largest, although her hands remember them that way. But her hands had been smaller. Putting a finger against the glass she mutters to herself.]

That one. I think... I think that one.

[Maybe you saw a glowing door open and avoided it or maybe you have no idea anything just happened, but you know something is up now because everything just went dark. Seriously dark. No ambient light of any kind. The kind of dark that makes you wonder if something's wrong with your eyes. Oh, and there's a siren going off from the speakers on the floating island. Don't worry, that will end in about thirty minutes, but you're not so lucky when it comes to the dark.

The kiosk was open earlier, but it's gone dead now and the maintenance bots are in the same condition. As a bonus some people are missing too! Welcome to Day 296.]

(OOC: This mingle is for those who did NOT go through the doors. EVENT INFORMATION)

[ Camping out on the beach is fun, right? Sleeping under the stars, lulled to sleep by the lapping of the waves and the rustling in the palm fronds. This isn't a refugee camp, this is a resort!

Several larger tents have been prepared on the beach. If this isn't enough there's a bunch of smaller ones ready to be set up, along with the permanent beach huts if tents aren't your thing. The makings of hot dogs and s'mores are available by the fire pits and if you have additional dietary desires, the convenience store isn't far away!

Enjoy! ]

(( ooc: Event information HERE! Please remember that if your character does not spend the night on the beach, they'll be forced to camp out on a park bench or in a coffee shop. The apartment buildings are off limits until next dayweek. ))

[It is late night before Gwen Cooper finds herself outside of the small sparsly furnished apartment she has learnt to call her home. The day has passed her by,but not in the way lazy sundays do, quickly running through your fingers and filled with sweet nothings. No it had passed slowly. Terribly so. Every second had felt not like the ticking of a clock but a thick and heavy heartbeat stretching from beyond the limitations of the clocks and into her.
The morning had not started quite as bad. There had been that plummeting moment before she opened her eyes, those fractions of a heartbeat when she had forgotten where she was,and all of a sudden remembered. Then the morning announcment had come. And something had struck her. The first thing, the first of many, that had kept her inside this day.
The day's where off. When you are being confined against your will and they allow you to keep track of time, you remember the days. And these weren't right.
The rest of the day had seeped through the cracks of her apartment floor as she lay competely still on it, and listened to the new voices, saw the new faces,on the piece of technology Torchwood should have, but hadn't, made her accostumed to.
But now the night has fallen, and Gwen makes her way outside. It is wet. So very wet. Thins that used to be whole are broken. Torn aport by a storm she is certain that she should have heard. Standing still outside of her apartment she draws breath, and then let's it out, slowly between pursed lips. Emptying her lungs into the cold night air as if it was a rude intrusion. A violation, a revolution, from her to her captors, there you go, there you have it you bastards!
Then she breaths in once more, standing still, not able to move one more step.]

Scenario 1 [Can we build it?]

[Why the hell not? Gwen was a capable woman. There was no lack of drive or will in her. Nobody could perhaps call her well read but maybe that wasn't important, maybe that didn't really matter when you had started to get used to being stuck somewhere for a very, very long time.

Who said she couldn't build a damn aircraft in one day?

But as she is standing in front of the material itself, there is something in her that starts to think that drive and determination maybe isn't all it takes. Scratching her head Gwen makes a grimace.]

Maybe... Start with the wings? And what bits are that then?

Scenario 2 [Have a drink.]

[The crystal clear liquid swirls in its thick glass casing. The smell it gives of is very distinctive for anyone who has ever drunk it. Of course there is the underlaying aceton smell of alcohol, an absolute of any liquid that could make you stupid for a night or two or fifteen. But over it is something different, worse than the nailpolish-remover-stench of the alcohol. This smells like it could remove the paint from a car, with just the slightest touch of lemon.
Tequila demands to be remembered.

Gwen stares at the drink. Since it was poured in her glass it has not moved closer to her lips. A little plate of lemonwedges, and a pile of salt, stands in front of her, along with the three other shots that she asked for. There is no doubt she wants this. No doubt in all of her. The mist of grief in her head needs to be replaced, if just for one night, by something else. Something that isn’t the faces or voices of people not here.

The liquid remains untouched, and Gwen sighs, putting her forehead to the bars wooden surface in defeat.]

[Morning]

Sarah sat in the library, a book of birds open on the arm of her squashy chair and her sketchbook in her lap. She was working on capturing an eagle, if at all possible.

[Afternoon[

Sarah couldn't remember the last time she'd been to a beach. But it certainly was warm enough. She found a one piece swimsuit and a flowy skirt to wear over it along with a beach towel with dragons on it and a big brimmed sun hat. She'd been back to the tattoo parlor to get a new temporary tattoo a few days ago, and anyone who was looking would see a dragon twining around her foot and disappearing under the skirt. For the moment though, she sat on the towel and opened up a book.

[Dream 1 : Changing Channels]
[You've just stepped into the Twilight Zone. Or maybe a documentary on wildlife in the serengeti. Or maybe an anime with magic girls or a soap opera or a commercial. The possibilities are as endless as the shows that have been produced. Of course whatever it is acts more like a generic genre than a specific show, but the only way to get from one scene to another and hopefully to the monster at the end of this show is to play along. At least that's what Sam things. He's done this before.

[Dream 2 : Hunting]
[You're in a haunted house which isn't such a big surprise since this is Sam's dream. He's been in more haunted houses than he can count, but this one is special. New treats behind every door—maybe a literal ghost from his past or a metaphoric one. Go ahead, turn a knob.]

[The endless concrete corridor is badly lit. From the ceiling there are hanging naked light bulbs, sending a course yet dampened gleam through it. The light can barely cut through the darkness, as if the surroundings long since stopped giving way to it. As if the darkness down here had learnt something that people seemed to forget.

That light is only temporary, and darkness is forever.

The concrete tunnel is not only without end, it seems to be without beginning. And along the walls are large windows. They seem to be made out of thick plastic, with holes for air drilled in the top and bottoms. Some cells are empty. Some feel occupied but look empty. And some… Some have creatures in them. Creatures from other worlds. Snarling, biting, rasping, animals contained and distorted. Others are humanoid, sobbing with fear and confusion.
Gwen Cooper stands between two cells, her eyes wide with fear as she looks between them. One contains an asian woman, slumped against the wall, her eyes blind to the world. The other keeps a Caucasian man, sitting on a stretched, just watching her with something close to hatred in his eyes.]

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

[Irritated welsh noises make the sound crackle]

Could ... Will you please... Oh go on!

[An irritated welsh woman joins the noises as she finally gets her video going.]

Aha! Knew I could do it. Wasn't that hard at all. Hello. This is my first video... Thingy. Sorry I'm not good with these sort of technical things, I usually leave that up to my friend, she is brilliant. Was.

[She looks stricken. A pregnant pause ensues.]

Moving on. I've already been here a few days, I know, I'm a slow starter. But here I am! Started. And with my own face. Which is a sentence I never thought I'd have to use. Is this going to happen a lot? Do I have to start stocking up on men's boxers? Because all my underwear options lead to very unsettling situations I can tell you that much.

[She clasps her hands to her face]

I must have gone insane. This can't be real. A dream after eating bad pudding. This can't be real.

( This portion exclusively in Dexter's head )

[ video ]

[ When he activates the feed, Dexter has managed a small, tight-lipped smile. Pleasant. Friendly. He's good at this. He can do it. ]

There seem to be an awful lot of broadcasts asking what people recommend we do with ourselves here. I have to admit, it's something I've been wondering about, myself. I've never been much for picking up hobbies, but you know what they say about idle hands.

[ And mine have been idle for far too long. I can feel it getting impatient. Restless. ]

So, that brings me to my question. What's a blood spatter analyst do with himself at the bottom of the sea? Doesn't exactly seem as if there's much demand for my professional expertise.

[Gwen desperately wanted to believe to believe that someone had put a whole hardboiled egg in a pita bread, but the fact that it had an iris sort of made her question it. It was quite lovely though, the iris. A soft brown, like whisky with chocolate in it. Although she expected the taste would be quite different from chocolate. At least the consistence would be.
Suddenly there was a great lurch in her stomach. Gwen gripped the edge of the table where she was standing, and a tint of green lay over the freckles in her face.]

Get it together Gwen… Just… Take it easy. Maybe it isn’t an… An eye.

[Another glance down the bread told her that it might very well be so. A big eye. Too large to be human, at least that was a comfort. It was laying quite peacefully on a bed of some type of light yellow cheese and what looked like cabbage. Regular cabbage. Earth cabbage. It was strange to see it out of it's natural habitat.
Because surely this could not be Earth. Earth held no prisons like this. At least she hoped they didn’t. And if they did she didn’t want to know. Gwen bit her lower lip hard and lifted the bread to her lips slowly, then lowered it. This was not going well.]