Uh, hey... [everybody.] Slow night at the [Pause, because why does he work here again?] Devil's Compass. So, all drinks half off. [Weak laughter. It's funny because everything is free and, okay, maybe it's not that funny.] We're in Sector 5. Just look for the sign.

Oh, right. It's a bar in case you weren't familiar.

Dean, Cas, you know where it is. [Hint. Hint. Nudge. Nudge. There are things to talk about. Lots of things.]

Thank god all those people are gone. This place is crowded enough without Acumen going haywire. This is the second time it's done that. First monsters, and then accidental arrests - the robot is totally losing its touch.

So. [ she sounds cheery! beware ] Name something you hate about this place. [ she's just full of positive thinking ] I can't be the only one that can't stand Marina.

[It's late when he makes to the shelter and its kitchens. From far enough away it was faint, barely noticeable, but close up like this, the smell is strong. He hadn't realized he was following his nose until it led him to something that was pretty fucking disturbing even for him.

A fridge full of human blood? Really? Come on. As if this place wasn't bad-touching him enough, it was like it was going out of its way to fuck with him now.

He shuts the door to the fridge harder than he had intended, leaving a small dent into the handle. What kind of twisted place was this that there's a fridge of blood that smells fucking human? He has to get away from the temptation. The itchy, empty feeling is under his skin.]

This place has a fucked up sense of humor. All that's missing is pre-packaged altars on sale at the supermarket.

{OOC: You can catch an agitated AU!Dean inside the shelter or on his way out. Don't worry he won't bite!}

[Meg might not have been there too long, but she's gotten the hang of things. Including how to use the filters.]

[Filtered from Sam and Dean]

Wow, I must say that all of this does make a girl feel wanted, you know? A special little hell under the sea and you want me in it. [Unless you've never been to hell and know nothing about what it's really like, hey, this could be one.]

So is there anyone out there that would like to help me make a call?

[Meg will be keeping herself entertained, wandering around and finding the best dark, shadowy places for attempting a little long distance connection.]

{OOC: For anyone agreeing to help with said phone call, no deaths will be occuring unless a player agrees to it, although some violence/maiming might happen.}

[ She doesn't exactly MEAN to access the network, but Ruby does just that while she's stalking anyone she recognizes through it. It's a few seconds before she realizes that she's broadcasting, and she's got two choices. Disconnect and disappear like a cockroach, or... ]

Seriously. Who do I have to maim to get a decent order of fries around here? Oh, also? I'll be needing my knife back.

[ Aaand. Then she makes sure to get the hell out of where she was just a moment ago. Which means you might find her anywhere at all in the sectors. Especially because she's been having a hard time BAMFing in and out and a harder time getting any kind of blocking spell to work. ]


[ ooc: anything goes, put her anywhere, track her down, stick a bag over her head and give her a good beating, whatever! she's canonly just arrived at the police station in jus in bello, fyi. ]

[Have a very familiar looking guy in a dusty trench coat staring seriously into your screens. His eyes are intense and his face is furrowed with the weight of something unknown.]

Wherever this may be, I cannot remain here. There is a war being fought and I must return to it. You do not know the consequences you bring by holding me here. The wrath of Heaven--

[--and he breaks off unable to keep a straight face at that moment and laughing--nervously.]

Okay, okay. I'm sorry. If bad acting is a crime, I will be perfect for every take from now on. Really, I need to get home. If I don't get back, they might give Cas a new body or even write him out of the script altogether! Acting is not something that waits for anyone.

[He holds up a square device about the size of his palm. Some may recognize it as a cellphone.] And doesn't anywhere in this place get internet reception?

{OOC: This is not the real Misha Collins. This is a characterized version of him from season six of Supernatural. Spoilers for that series may be mentioned in some of the threads.}

[There's a young blonde walking through the sectors, eyeing her surroundings while clutching the left side of her stomach tightly, out of instinct-- her clothes are torn and bloody, but she's fine. Somehow. All the more troubling in her opinion.]

Cute. Real cute. 'Underwater prison' was definitely on the list of what I pictured Hell would be like, right next to 'meadow of fluffy bunnies.' What's next? Sit around waiting for a musical number to greet me?

[Not that she had much to complain about, considering the alternative, but... Well. Whenever things didn't feel right, they probably weren't. Siiiigh. Then, more of a mumble to herself,]

At this rate, if there isn't a bar or clothing store nearby I'll be sorely disappointed.

[ A middle-aged man in a fine, coal-black suit appears on the network stream, regarding the camera with the disdain of someone coming across something unsightly, like a rat or a mysterious stain on the upholstery. He's lounging in one of the library's many armchairs, one ankle settled across a knee. The tapping of the Marina brochure into the palm of his other hand is the only thing that betrays his fraying patience. For now. ]

Is this Limbo?

Did I take the wrong exit and end up in the bloody nursery?

This isn't quite the vacation home I was expecting, so how's this: first one to point me to the exit wins the mystery prize.

Let's not be shy, duckies. I'm on a bit of a schedule.

[ He hasn't felt quite this terrible in a while. Did someone have him gargle holy water before they dumped him here or what? Of course, he can't show that sort of weakness, so he cuts the broadcast as soon as the message is out. Stretching over the back of the armchair, he lets out a muffled groan of discontent. The hand he uses to massage his eyes and temples does little to comfort him. ]

[The video feed turns on from the communicator revealing what appears to be a young boy(or a girl depending of your perspective) looking very confused. A few seconds later, he notices the communicator and he's fiddling around with it for a bit, staring for a moment. It's clear has no idea how it works as he lightly taps on it and starts talking a bit loudly at first]

Hello? Hm~ I wonder what this thing does? I've never seen anything like it before.

This place is definitely not the castle and--

Oh no! Did I manage to sleepwalk out of it? That means I'm lost or-- wait is this a [Raenef flails a bit, looking very panicked as he notices the the iron ball attached to his foot] ...kidnapping?!

[He looks like he's about to cry, before a thought hits him] Hey! I'm a Demon Lord, you know, so you can't really keep me here so easily, I can just--

...Teleport and get out of here, yeah!

[There's a really long pause as he tries to visualize the castle so he can easily leave, but when that doesn't happen he'll go right back to panicking again]

Eh? It's not working? ...The only thing I can get right and it doesn't even work to get me back! Don't tell me I lost my powers?! Eclipse, please don't get mad at me for this! It's not even my fault-- !

[And the transmission turns off]

[ and now, for everyone's listening pleasure(?): a rather hesitant voice articulating very, very mechanically slowly and clearly. ]

Play. Rewind. Stop. Play. Play. Ah... LED... light? Recorder -- ?

[ pause; yes, yes it is a recorder and not an old school voice-command operated music-player. ]

Test. Ka-ke-ki-ko-ku. Sa-se-shi-so-su.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. None. Ten.

Zero... one. Zero-One. Zero-One. Zero-One.

Mi... Misato. Katsuragi. Misa ---

[ ...maaaaaaybe a little too much frustration for that one. A bit of heaving, followed by silence, then back to the neutral reciting. ]

...to. Tsu. Chi. Ta. Te. Test.

[ even more tentatively -- ]

Hello... world?

PACKAGE RECIPIENTS

• Jun Ushiro: a package from Nakama.
  
• Castiel: a package from Karen Kasumi.
  

[Today is a fairly light day as far as the mail goes, but that's alright--PM spent much of the day training one of her shiny new volunteers. Hiling will need work and discipline, but PM is willing to make the effort in the name of giving her friend something constructive to do that does not involve punching people indiscriminately. Either one can be found at the post office throughout most of the day.]

[On her route, PM has no ice cream, but she is on the lookout for people to lecture about the mail talk to.]

--
[Click here for pen pal signups. Mail submissions for Day 126 go here!]

How the hell did I get into this mess, huh Salty?

[ Dean bends down and scratches Salty's head, looking around the shooting range. He had hoped that Acumen would have a sign-out for the guns, but apparently that was a no go. Shit, how the hell was he supposed to get back into practice without a gun?


He felt like he was getting rusty after all that time spent not wanting to go back home. Not that he wanted to go back, but he'd as good as promised that he would. Really, this whole thing sucked and Cas still wasn't talking to him. He needed to fix that. Sam at least, he was doing marginally better. Things were just really not working out for him lately. ]

((ooc: you can catch him randomly walking Salty from Sector 3 to 6 via the park if you'd prefer to catch him there. Backdated to afternoon))

[ On one of the pews near the front of the open church, two figures sat. One, dark-haired in a trench coat, sitting straight and contemplatinve, while the other, lighter-haired in a rumpled jacket leaned his head on the other's shoulder.

Or perhaps they're just looking around, going about their own ways, looking at the stained glass and watching those who come and go... ]



(( OOC: Joint post for Castiel and Gabriel! The thread between them is closed, but do tag in and just say which angel you'd like to talk to! ))

Does anyone else feel like this place is becoming too small?

[His words start off slowed, reluctant, almost regretful - but then there's a note of humour in his voice.]

I mean, what if we end up all stuffed in together, ten people to a room? The dome isn't expanding but the population is. We'll be a jar of pickles. [He means the thing people say about sardines.

Ryoji's outside - when is he ever inside, if he can help it - lying on his back on one of the park's picnic tables. After today, he needed fresh air and dark skies and quiet - even if he's not doing a very good job of obtaining it.]

[It's evening, and an Angel is sitting on the edge of the koi pond, doing - well, what is he doing?

It looks odd, anyway. He leans forward with his elbows on his knees, with a look of deep concentration... then grips his head as though in pain. Pensive look, gripping head. Again and again, until he finally stops, even paler than his usual chalk-white pallor and looking vaguely nauseous.

Damnit, this isn't working.

But what is this?]

[ Did she, did she dream all of that? The angel attack, the coma, the momentary lapse of insanity - ]

[ her head is aching, which only serves to exacerbate her already spoiled mood further. ]

Oh come on, you could have at least let me kill all of them! Stupid robot. I only had three left - I could have beat them all in the next minute. But no, all I get is a splitting headache. Thanks a lot.

[ closes her eyes and massages her temples, and -- actually manages a smile ] ...I forgot how good it feels to kill angels.

[Karen's at the beach this morning, sitting in the sand and taking in the sunlight (artificial though it might be). Beaches were a little hard to come by in Tokyo so she's taking the opportunity now while she has it.

She's building a sandcastle, or rather, she's piling sand into a loose geometric structure, all the while enjoying the feeling of sand slipping through her fingers.]

[ after throwing a tantrum over the fact that his powerz are not workign!!11!! sylar's now sulking all by himself on a park bench ]

I guess this is the part where I defend myself and scream obscenities at whoever will listen. [ oozing sarcasm ] Luckily enough for all of you, I don't feel like engaging in a pointless speech about how I'm innocent and how all of this is ridiculous. Blah. Blah. Blah.

[ flipping the pamphlet open and reading ] I'm here, aren't I? Might as well endure the long haul. [ he doesn't want to, no one can make him, if only his powers worked then he could wreck this entire dome apart -- ]

[ his eyes coast across the faq section, focusing suddenly. and then his mind blanks out and he completely forgets, if only for a moment, that he is in an underwater asylum with no chance to get at Peter and the other genetically gifted individuals ]

[ ...to restrain the powers of the convicted... ]

...Supernatural abilities? Do people even have those here?

[he's been sitting in the library, orienting himself; he thinks he's gotten a good grasp on the situation and that it's safe to use his communicator to chat. Charles is meandering through the library as best he can with his restraint on, observing the stacks]

From the Ivy League to the CIA to the big house. [a little laugh] It's quite an unexpected leap. I have to say this reading selection is a trifle lacking, but I suppose that's to be expected... Other than the material in my welcome basket, of course! That was quite appreciated. I love the sunglasses, they're a nice touch.

[--he is more than a little disoriented with his telepathy sealed off like this; things he could normally have picked up in seconds are mystifying him. but even though the welcome pamphlet talked about "powers", he's not comfortable just casually talking about that in public. he mulls over how to put this into words, and finally asks cheerfully]

So, come and tell me. Who else is, or was, excited by all this far-out technology? I can't be the only one who was astonished to see half a dozen computers in this library, each of them small enough to fit in my arms! And these communicators, they're amazing, just -- really amazing.

[Sam reaches up to rub his head and bumps the buttons on the control panel, beginning a fantastic recording of a stack of books at the library. You may see terms like lycanthropy, phases of the moon, and shape shifting for a moment before he realizes what he's done.]

Shit. [He turns the focus around on him, wincing a little, since he didn't mean to address everyone with that or with anything at all.] I mean, hi. Sorry about that. You think you're used to wearing the headgear and then...yeah. [Soft, self-deprecating laugh.]

So, go back to the stars and the beach and the fireflies. Have fun. [So much for laying low! But as long as he's at it...]

[Private | Hiling Care]
Hey, Hiling. We need to talk. [Long overdue.]

[Private | Sasha]
...Hey. [Also long overdue if a little underwhelming.]