MarinaNova Asylum

[Eric is at the Blood Shack, sitting slouched in a chair that looks...suspiciously like a throne on top of platform of sorts. All he needs is a crown to complete the look. Just off to the side is another stage. It's impossible to see if it's larger or not. There is a highly polished steel pole running from ceiling to stage. One corner of his lips quirk up in a smirk once he is certain the device is broadcasting properly.]

As you can see, I've made a few changes to the blood shack. Over all you'll find the same welcoming environment for both humans and vampires with perhaps a few more entertainment options, like a dance floor and a stage for those of you who want more attention. [He leans forward, elbows going to his knees.]

Speaking of entertainment, how would the community at large feel about a 'Come as you want to be' sort of evening? A masquerade, costume party, whatever you'd like to call it.

[Private to Caroline Forbes]

I've heard you're just the girl to plan the sort of event I'm talking about. Interested?

[Private to Sookie]

Should you care to act upon the sort of private show we discussed, I've made the necessary arrangements.

[ It's late evening when the transmission starts, a velvety darkness competing with the warm light that spills out through the open door. Aidan is sitting in the greenhouse tonight. Maybe he got stuck out there after tending the plants. Maybe he needed some space, fresh air, distance. Comforts of home.

Whichever it is, it's clear that he's got a lot on his mind, features ever so often lit up by the cherry of a stolen cigarette. He doesn't smoke — not really — but tonight he does and those of you that've talked to him over the last few days might've seen this coming.]

I've been here... some 40 days now. Now, I know that ain't much of anythin' compared to most of you but after a while... it just kinda hits you, y'know? How long you've been here an'... how many people you've met. New ones every week. Some of 'em... heh, we lose a lot 'round here, don't we?

We should still remember 'em, but I'm wonderin' if we do. It ain't like we get to say goodbye or nothin', one day they're just... gone. And I've been thinkin'... no one really seems to talk about 'em once they're gone. Not for long anyway... and there's a lot. Every week... someone disappears.

I want to remember them. Simon and Nia. Nill and Haine. Yuri, Kanda... Ava, even though she dumped snow down my shirt. Yuta. Agito. Rapunzel. Nasuti, Reki, Kaylee... Lina. Th' people I never really got th' chance to know, like Gareki and Gemini and Kurama. Atsuro. Reki. Gamzee... Evy. That guy... what's his name. Atton. Road. Birdman. Yuuki... and Toph.

And Jane. [ He falls silent for a moment after that. That's a long list of names, but it always is. The difference here being...] Heh... back home, I was always th' one to leave.

[And with that he cuts the feed.]

[ a certain sulky murderer is still thoroughly dissatisfied with this whole "prison" arrangement. one would think he would have grown used to it, given that his life has been a life led in captivity for years anyway-- but he hasn't. the banality of this place, the stiflingly mundane atmosphere, is making him restless. the recent excitement hadn't been enough; he'd jumped at a chance to kill when it came to him days ago, and now he can't quite shake it-- that urge to kill, to crush with his hands or open someone up with a flash of cold steel.

perhaps an evening walk will do him some good.

it's been too long since he has heard any word from jessica, and thus he ventures into sector four. he moves through the place with the same calculated grace as always, never betraying the faint, impotent rage he feels at the thought that she might be gone. the idea that she might have slipped away without a word, without a trace, without a chance for him to see her face or hear her voice again, like odinson and rand-- atton, that smug fool who he had so dearly wished to hurt again-- is unacceptable. he is not accustomed to loss, and even though he knows he must accept that things have been taken from him and, in mentat fashion, carry on, he can't help but feel cheated. not mournful, not sorrowful, but hateful-- and he'd almost like to take a moment or an hour or perhaps the whole evening to submit to that anger.

so he does. he thinks extensively about it, analyzing that bitterness and rage as he stalks through the prison in whatever comfortable shadows he can find. he takes to wandering through sector four and quatro park at first, eventually ending up in the winery at some point in the night for a bit of light drinking, further sulking, and, of course, glaring at anyone who passes by. ]