MarinaNova Asylum

[ Charlotte is looking slightly worse for wear this fine day, part of her head covered in a bandage and eyes lacking the luster of a good nights sleep. She's contemplative, idly picking at the remnants of a pie on her plate (pear and gruyere, what else?). ]

You know, I was thinking... this is the first time I live on my own. I went from living with my dad to living with my aunts and then Ned. I've never really been on my own like this before... and that was fine, until yesterday. Not that yesterday was as bad as it could've been of course, but it still brings you pause.

How many of us live alone here? It seems like it'd be nice to have a roommate, someone who'll notice if you get eaten by a dinosaur or disappear or... you know. Lots of stuff could happen.

[To Sam Winchester, Jack Harkness, and Ianto Jones]

[When Martha's voice comes through, she sounds very sick. There's a cough or two and everything just sounds weary.]

I hope everyone is okay from yesterday. I'm well enough. Nothing made it through my door.

[To Helen Magnus]

Is everyone all right? Are you OK?

[A slight pause. She doesn't really want to ask.]

If it isn't too much trouble, could you come give a house call? I'm no better than yesterday.]</small>

[ Today is a day where most would be at risk of oversleeping.The dome lies dark like in the dead of night. The sun hasn’t risen today, streetlights casting a dull yellow glow and occasionally flickering out into nothing, only to spark back to life a moment later. There is no electric flicker from the kiosk. The Wardens are still. The wardens are silent.

The dome isn’t silent. There is a rustling of leaves, a snapping of twigs. Claws, scraping against concrete. The inhuman screech of an animal in peril, an animal hunting, an animal hunted. A screech that promises sharp claws and sharper teeth and blood.

The dome isn’t still either. There is something moving, thick as a shadow, tangible as a chill down your spine. Something that doesn’t belong here, something that snuck in when no one was looking. A boogeyman under the bed. A ghost in the closet. A will o’ the wisp, blinking in and out of existence under the flickering streetlights. Whatever it is it’s moving, leaving a trail of cold, dead fear wherever it passes. Something dark. A shadow so pitch black that it blots out the very lights in your heart, dragging your fears out screaming and kicking, reducing even the strongest, toughest man to a blubbering baby.

Perhaps best to stay in bed today, Marina. ]

((OOC: Event information HERE. We ask the winners of the raffle to fill out a simple survey and then tag into the Vapor thread HERE! Happy mingling, Marinanites! ))

Welcome, new arrivals, and hello to everyone. I wanted to take just a moment to tell or remind everyone about our school. Education is so important to everyone whether you've finished the curriculum of your world or not. We have many wonderful teachers with a wide variety of classes at different levels. Students and new faculty and administration are always much appreciated and welcome.

I was hoping maybe some of you would consider taking on a class. Hopefully, you've seen our course catalog in your welcome basket to see what we offer. Some of you won't get them until tomorrow* of course, but there is still so much we could teach.

We don't have any language classes. We used to offer English and Japanese. It would be wonderful to add those or any others again. We need more sciences, math, art, crafts, agriculture, sewing, dance, philosophy, physical fitness or self defense and of course any special interest classes you might think of.

I was also thinking we might have a school fair at some point once it can be organized. That way everyone could learn more about the classes and get to know each other better. If anyone would like to help with that or to take on any new classes, please let me know!


(OOC: *Welcome baskets won't arrive until Day 251 due to the Fear Itself Event. Please use the link above to add any new class you'd like to start!)

Hey, everyone. I was thinking about how back home, some of the senior officers used to get together a few times a week for a poker game. It's great stress relief. Even though we don't have money here, we could figure something out. I'm open to suggestions, or we could just play for chips and bragging rights. [He doesn't know about everyone, but he's competitive enough to make bragging rights a decent motivator.] We could even call it a club, so everyone could get some of those rehabilitation points toward things we want to ask for.

Oh, and if you don't know how to play but want to learn, it's not hard. It's just a matter of practice. And who knows? You might be a natural.

Anyone interested? I was thinking we'd start in a day or two.

[He's hoping the Captain and Data (the default dealer back on the Enterprise) will be up for this, but hey. Anyone who wants to get together and have fun is fine with him. Also, it's too bad Commander Riker was only here that one day; he'd probably have gotten a game together long ago if he'd stayed.]

[Clinic]

Helen hadn't been around lately, so Martha had a valid excuse to avoid the clinic. And she'd been avoiding Sam, but Helen was her main excuse. Of course, she was concerned for the other woman, but she figured Helen would seek her out if she needed help. After doing a quick inventory of the place and making sure everything looked good, Martha sat behind the desk and opened her book on pathology while waiting for any patients to come in.]

[Coffee shop]

[She hadn't been planning to stop by, but the tea in the clinic was boring her and she wanted something before going to the library. The line was longer than usual, but she made it to the front soon enough. A few conversations on her way out and then she was on her way.]

[Library]

[Pathology was definitely a fascinating topic. Martha spent quite a few minutes browsing through the section before grabbing a pile of books and making her way to a table to start evaluating which ones she should take out and which could stay. She could be found with books piled around her, an open notebook, and a forgotten cup of tea.]

[OOC: Feel free to run into her wherever.]

[There are multiple peg boards set up in Sector 0 today—some tall, some short, some on wheels, some long, some magenta with glitter! But what do they all have in common? They are covered in pictures with familiar faces.

Maybe the face is many years younger and surrounded by family or maybe it's a shot taken in Marina (version 1 or 2!). Maybe it was a time when no cameras were present and yet here is the evidence of that moment in all it's candid glory.

You could have grabbed that really embarrassing or incriminating one and thought you were safe only to find out there were three duplicates! Sweet, horrific, sad, casual, posed, past, or present—the wardens are good at variety, so enjoy!]

(OOC: Plotting post for sharing pictures people might find on the boards.)

While many who knew her are already aware, it nonetheless seems prudent to inform the populace at large that Seven of Nine is no longer present in the facility. It is likely that she had a number of acquaintances, outside those with which I am familiar, for whom this information would be relevant.

[ And if you happen to be acquainted with Data as he is in the facility, you may notice something missing in his words. Those from the Enterprise crew could likely tell you exactly what it is, as his speech has reverted to the perfectly even, controlled tones they knew well for so many years. ]

I am sorry that I must bear this news. Her absence will be noted.


[ ooc: hey marinades, I'm on hiatus this month so forgive the lateness of this post and any slowtagging that may ensue ]

[ normally helen makes her communications visible. she likes to see whom she's speaking with. today, however, is slightly different. it's still early in the day and goodness only knows where she is, but after recent events, she's not certain she can handle regaining her gentleman friend only to lose one of her best friends. ]

Out of curiosity, as I've found her difficult to locate recently... has anyone been able to contact Rebekah lately? I haven't seen her in a few days and I was wondering if perhaps we've simply missed each other.

[ she doubts it. at this point, her instincts are screaming that rebekah's gone, but with the way things have gone, she has to be certain. elena's returned, so perhaps rebekah is simply hiding out. helen does know rebekah was responsible for killing her, however short that death was. ]

For those who might be new, the clinic in Sector 3 is open to any who might need medical attention and would rather not be seen by the bots in the hospital. Any one of the volunteers who work there are perfectly qualified to handle whatever may come through the doors.

[ and with that, she's going to quietly spend a good portion of today mourning her lost friend. rebekah was one of the first she made here and the strongest other than jean-luc and james. helen will certainly miss being able to go to rebekah to talk. ]

It had been a simple plan, but a plan that worked quite well as Locutus, while seemingly malfunctioning, still thought himself superior to the ones offering to assist him. The other Borg within the dome having left, a hole inside of him once again void of the Collective, even a stunted Collective. They had lured him with the human doctor, offering the alcove of the former Drone designation Seven of Nine in assistance in repairing him. If there was anything he knew of the humans, they would not bring more harm to this body as they were primarily sentimental creatures. And mostly, it was the use of the Borg tech that had made the decision for him.

Once there, he had slipped easily into the alcove, trusting the Starfleet officers and the human woman to use the tech as it was intended, rather than to somehow use it against him. But as he felt that other consciousness begin to gain in strength and seep through the cracks, he began to struggle, had to be restrained until everything seemed to go black and he felt the steady arms of the android and the blind malfunctioning human catch him before he crumbled to the floor.

Jean-Luc was awake, barely lucid at the moment as he felt the shift in consciousness inside his mind. The freedom to roam, so to speak, he fought his way out, tearing at mental walls and clawing at psychological floors to come back. His chest hurt. His mechanical heart that had suddenly failed him, forcing the other tech inside to turn on him. His face hurt where Locutus had clawed at his skin. His mind felt as if it had been turned inside out, dissected and traumatized to the point that he could barely think straight.

But there was some familiarity here as his eyes barely opened, blinking into a light too bright. His eyes, Jean-Luc’s eyes, worried and tired, questioning in a human way rather than the detached way of the Borg. Locutus was not there anymore.


ooc: Closed to Geordi, Data, Morgan & Helen

[ There were blankets set out in the lush parks of the prison, and on top a feast was spread out. Fine china and chubby pots of tea, delicate cake trays filled with tarts, biscuits and sandwiches; yes, anything the hungry and weary prisoners could wish for was laid out for their convenience.

The sun was shining brightly and a playful breeze rustles the leaves of the trees. Surely a wonderful day for a tea party! ]


((ooc: Mingle for your mingling needs! Event information can be found here! ))

Jean-Luc no longer has the presence of mind to control anything the one wearing his body is doing. He tried for awhile. But until his crew intervenes, Locutus is the one in charge. And Locutus has been throughout the dome in search of the tech to repair himself so that he can begin assimilation of the inmate population at large. Seven’s regeneration alcove has been tampered with, even if his attempt at modifying the tech was a futile attempt at best. There are clean cuts on the right side of his own face where he had tried to begin repairs on himself. Dried blood coats his skin on that side.

At the moment, he is standing still near the edge of the dome in Sector Five as he contemplates his predicament and considers what the next logical move should be. He’s heavily leaning toward repairing the other malfunctioning drone within the prison. A lone drone isn’t nearly as powerful as two or more. Being a malfunctioning one of none is very… lonely. Assimilation is the only path to take.

[ As mentioned by the wardens yesterday, Eric is hosting a costume party. The Blood Shack is lit by candles for the evening (he remembers the last party he had being interrupted by a power outage) and a small buffet of sorts has been erected. It furnishes mostly hors d'oeuvre and finer foods, things that Caroline picked out as Eric hasn't a clue about human food.

There is blood on tap (naturally) as well as a full bar. Eric has made certain to include water, sodas, tea and various non-alcoholic drinks.

The jukebox is playing a variety of music, but patrons are always invited to pick out their own music. The dance floor has a disco ball and there's the ever present 'dancing' pole on stage if someone gets brave. Tables are scattered about as are sofas and chairs so that people have a choice where they sit.

Enjoy yourself, mix, mingle and admire everyone's costume and everyone is required to have a costume in order to be here. ]

[ooc: I've turned off replies so if you want Eric's attention please tag his thread. Mingle here, have fun and be merry? Everyone is invited, including and especially newbies. ]

Hello, everyone, oldbies and newbies alike! My name is Aradia, for those of you that don't know me, and I have a proposition for you all.

I've found that the vast beauty of Sector 6 seems to be neglected, unless used for unsavory purposes, and I'd like to fix that! It would really be a shame to let such an interesting environment go unappreciated.

My solution is -- I'd like to set up an exploration team! Anyone and everyone is welcome, though I must stress that cruel and deliberate harm done to any living creature within will not be tolerated. This will be for adventure, not for you to work off violent tendencies.

I'll do my best to round up suitable gear for everyone interested, though any help would be appreciated. Right now, I'm just aiming to get a general idea of interest.

[ aradia sees absolutely no harm in this idea. honestly. sector 6 might be dangerous, but she, personally, is used to that kind of danger, and it doesn't phase her that she is essentially inviting in newbies with very little grasp on marina in general into somewhere like that -- they're capable of handling themselves, right? she's just being friendly. ]

[Arriving at a strange place isn't new to Catherine Halsey. Her life has been full of odd occurrences and this shouldn't be any different. But it is, more mysterious than anything else she's been through. Prison? Again. Not rightfully so; hasn't she served her time? Hasn't she suffered enough, properly atoned without being put in a jumpsuit?]

This isn't the chain gang...

[It's muttered as she fumbles with the device, starting up a voice communication.]

To anyone who is listening: An explanation would be helpful, something more relevant than what I've received, a detailing of events and the essence of this situation. Additionally... [She pauses.] ...if anyone is near gardens and a series of greenhouses, I require physical assistance as well.

[Because newly arrived, stolen away only minutes after her life-saving amputation, she is now stuck in a greenhouse with a rather stubborn door.

At least the view is nice...?]

[ she'd been avoiding a lot of people lately and a lot of things and a lot of everything today. she hates that she has to, but she's worried and she's been too upset to do anything after her talk with seven yesterday. she'd come home and put herself to work trying to figure out how to fix jean-luc on her own.

she'd fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning, woken up early by her own internal clock, gone back to work, and fallen asleep sometime in the afternoon. it was late at night when she finally leaves her apartment and heads for james's. she needs her friend to talk about her potential romantic interest with, since rebekah is still mourning the loss of her own. taking a deep breath, helen reaches up to give a sharp knock on the door. ]

James? ...Are you awake?

[ if not, she'll head back to her apartment, but she has to hope he is awake still. she needs to talk to someone before she cracks under the stress of everything. she knows she looks like she hasn't been sleeping, but she doesn't particularly care how she looks or how red-rimmed her eyes are. for once, she just needs to talk. ]

( we are the borg. lower your shields and surrender your ships. we will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. your culture will adapt to service us. resistance is futile. )

[ In the dome in the morning ]

[ Jean-Luc, normally a very vibrant individual, normally a man with a mission and a purpose, no matter what that purpose might be, is standing very still in the middle of the dome. He’s in sector zero. Near the kiosk. Studying it with intense scrutiny, too still for any normal human being. ]


[ private to Helen ]

Doctor Magnus, I’m afraid I find it necessary to postpone tea. Perhaps we can meet tomorrow?


[ private to Trek crew ]

Is anyone…? [ There’s a moment of hesitation here, abnormal for this Captain on a normal day. He clears his throat and seems to come into himself, more stern and self-assured. ] Report.




ooc: Part 2 of the Locutus plot. The Trek muns know that Locutus is peeking into Picard’s consciousness. But anyone else who runs into him, he won’t be acting quite like himself!

[If this was a video post you might see how trashed the room (what used to be Matt's room) is right now. Someone's lost her temper over recent developments, to say the least. But as it is, she's leaving this as a clipped voice message. She hates making these posts but she knows at least Elena (and Caroline, she supposes) deserve to know.]

Matt Donovan has been lost to the dimensional stabilizer. I'm beginning to wonder if the thing has something against me.

[Because first her brothers, then Quinn, and now Matt.

That's it, that's the post. She closes it off after that.]

[ It's something she wanted to do since she arrived. Something she'd needed to do since long before she even knew about underwater prisons and therapy sessions that make you spill your guts more than you ever wanted in your life. She doesn't like lying and yet she's so very good at it... but no more. Ned isn't here to tell her no. Emerson isn't here to give her That Look. She can do whatever she wants here and she wants to do this.

Of course, that doesn't stop her from fidgeting, eyes kept off the camera. ]

Hey, so... some day yesterday, huh? It kind of got me thinking... and I have a confession to make.

When I first arrived here, I introduced myself as Kitty Pimms. That's not my real name. Back home some people know me as the Lonely Tourist, but my name is Charlotte Charles. It's a long story. Actually, maybe it's not a very long story at all. [ A beat. ] I was murdered and then I came back. Almost everyone thought I was still dead and apparently you can't just go up to people and say "hey, guess what? I'm alive!" even though you really want to and so I had to go around pretending that I'm someone I'm not just so...

[ Just so, what? She's still not sure of that answer. ]

Anyway... hi. I'm Charlotte. It's been very nice to meet you all.