MarinaNova Asylum

Good morning. I know it's a bit early, but better to get a good start on one's day than not. For those who don't already know me, my name is Doctor Helen Magnus and I help run the clinic in Sector 3. We're here to help all your bumps and bruises if you ever need it.

I also wanted to extend an offer I've only recently decided to uphold. Some of you may recall my question on linguistics some time ago. Recently, I've been convinced to begin a study on Earth languages, specifically those known by the 21st century. I have a wide variety of languages available, so if you're at all interested, please do drop by the educational building, classroom 6 at 6pm on days ending in 2, 4, or 6. I would be more than happy to share what I know. If you have a specific language you would like to study, but aren't certain I know it, ask. I may surprise you.



[ later today, she can be found in the clinic as usual or heading for the sizzle and sear, as she wants a good cup of tea and that place reminds her of her not!date outing with jean-luc some time ago. ]




[ OOC: mistletoe kisses are reserved for picard. i'm not planning on doing scheduled posts for the language class, so feel free to assume those will start happening next dayweek. ]

[There is a lot of handwaving and mouth opening and closing before Reg starts talking, which takes a few moments before he nods, smooths his outfit out, and actually does so but hey, it's progress from an imitation of a goldfish.]

I'm a, I'm ah, Reginald Barclay, Lieutenant Barclay. [This is starting out so well.] I was looking to, see if anyone would happen to know of the, the [Hand waving in a circle is a go.] Federation or Earth.

[Because a prison under the ocean is clearly not on Earth and if it's in Federation space he'd really like to know how they managed to keep it under the radar.] And if this is some joke, something involving the holodeck it's very, very good and well done. [And that's a nervous laugh.] You can, you can stop now, I'd very much like to leave, leave now. I have dinner plans and I'd very very much like, to get back to them.

[That's some hand wringing, and there's the slightest hint of pleading there in his voice as he glances to the side.] Thank you, in advance, if uh anyone answers me.

[OOC: Reg is wandering about all over today just to try and figure things out as well. And I'm going to be slow tonight because my computer is acting weird.]

[ you. what are you doing here? ]

Hiding, like you. [ except— wait. no. this isn't right. this was familiar, almost tangible as if it were a collection of memory engrams locked away behind a series of unbreakable, undetectable algorithms that had begun to break free of their restraints. she knew this place, but it wasn't right. this— was not right at all. she didn't belong here. it wasn't her fault. that which she stood accused of wasn't her fault. an individual should not have to answer for the collective's wrongdoings.

she went away, like some do — she understood that much. or maybe she was still on the equinox. perhaps she was hallucinating. firm, unwavering in her stance, she'd been willing to perish instead of becoming what ransom and his crew had become. she wanted no part in any of it. she resisted. but he was trying to force her hand, made the doctor—

standing up, only dimly aware of the headset, of the feed, seven draws her hand across her temple and the metallic, ocular implant that's a stark contrast against pale skin and loose, bright blonde hair. she's intact, and an awkward, uncharacteristic clearing of her throat tells her that her auditory processor is operating under normal parameters. her voice is her own, controlled by her own will and not that of a hologram devoid of ethical subroutines.

only then, when she's certain that speaking will produce words and not song, does she address the dome directly. ]

My designation is Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix 01. I will not comply.

A long time had passed since Deanna had felt the distinct lack of her empathic powers. She had only felt this sort of emptiness once in her life before today and it was no better now than it had been then. Last time, she had thought she would forever be without them and felt as though she had lost a limb, but she was hopeful that this time she could figure out what had caused her to lose them in an effort to get them back. At least she had experience in dealing with this feeling. Not that this would help her much, but it was a start. It was better than nothing.

Unsure where she was or how she had gotten here, and feeling as lost and alone as she had ever felt in her life, Deanna wandered around the area. She passed what looked like a park of some sort, a library, and something that looked like a residential building. That seemed a little more permanent than she had been hoping for. She'd listened to the welcome message, but it definitely hadn't seemed like something the Federation would condone, which meant that she had been kidnapped somehow. That wasn't a good thing for many reasons and she didn't like to think of what Captain Picard might do when he found out, let alone Will Riker. It was inevitable that one of them would and she doubted either would take it well.

Still, being here was an opportunity to learn about a new location and Deanna intended to do as much information-gathering as she could despite the situation she had recently been exposed to and the one she was in now. What she really needed was a way to contact Starfleet, if not Captain Picard himself. She had found something that seemed like a communicator, but without having someone she trusted verify it, she was hesitant to use it. Whatever the case, she much preferred to make contact on her own terms and that included being in possession of her empathic abilities. So for now she kept searching the area. It wouldn't do her any good to stay in one place.




[ ooc: deanna can be found anywhere in the dome today, but she starts out in sector 2. ]

[ Option One ]

First thing in the morning, Jean-Luc stops by the Defense Force headquarters to check in. He makes a habit of this every other day or so, just to see if he's needed in any manner but his usual patrol duties. So he can be found here with a fresh cup of steaming tea. He probably won't remain for long though, so catch him while you can if you need him.


[ Option Two ]

As often as he frequents the library, he should probably set up residence there. A home away from home, sort of thing. But nevertheless, he is at the library again. He's perusing the bookshelves, for the rare novelty of a book from another world that Earth. He frequently finds them in this place, as the prison does pull people in from everywhere. And this is his own personal way to continue his exploration of the Universe. Books, after all, are one of the most obvious founts of knowledge. And we know what people say of idle minds...


[ Closed to Helen Magnus ]

Jean-Luc has packed a dinner for both himself and Helen. He had sent her a message to meet at the stables later in the afternoon. He's in the stables, saddling up two horses, one for himself and one for Helen. A bag settles on the ground at his feet. He's in full riding attire. But yes, he has accepted that this meeting of theirs is an actual date. And he's okay with that.

[ 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.

[ 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! ))

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.]

[ Voice, open to all ]

'Bout a week ago, some guy asked me how many people I'd seen come an' go since I got here. In three months it's somethin' like... 70 out of 110. Probably more now, I ain't bothered countin'... but that kinda stuff can really get you down, even when you don't know th' numbers. We lose people all th' time here. People we got to know here, friends from back home... [ He falls silent for a beat. Draws a steadying breath. ] An' it's sad. It's damn sad an' there ain't nothin' we can do 'bout it but keep goin'.

...I guess I just wanted t' remind y'all about th' Memorial Garden down in Sector 4. Anyone who wants t' plant somethin' there in memory of someone they lost, whether they were here or back home... you're welcome to. It's for all of us, th' ones that are still here an' the ones that aren't.

[ Voice, locked to Sougo ]

Hey, Sougo... I need your help with somethin'.


[ Action, open ]

[ Aidan will be dividing his day between lugging boxes between Sector 2 and 4, and later spending a few long hours in the Memorial Garden. Feel free to approach the pensive country boy! ]

[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.]

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 ]

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.

[ 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!

[The relationships group therapy attendees will all get a message telling them to report to The Winery in Sector 2. Sadly for them the alcohol is locked away, but there is an assortment of food and non-alcoholic beverages along the bar for consumption. Many of the tables have been cleared out and the chairs rearranged into a circle with booths along the edges for more intimate therapeutic discussions.

And don't forget the party favors! The wardens have left some helpful games and activity ideas to get them started. There's a bowl full of folded slips of papers with various questions.]

( Possible Questions )

[In addition to the questions there are cards with various prompts. One explains the game, I Never. Another suggests people pair off and roleplay they are in a relationship and then deal with various scenarios like what do to if one partner flirts with someone else or comes home late without calling.]

( Additional scenarios )

(OOC: Mingle style. You are not limited to the questions, scenarios, or games listed above. Assume there are more! I recycled a lot of this from last time so if someone was in this group twice they can feel free to notice, but assume there are lots of questions and prompts, so they probably didn't see them all.)

[It's really only through luck that everything is steady and not like being moved up and down or side to side with his fiddling of the earpiece, but after the incident that was Helen and her weird future communications device he's learned not to mess too much with things. Well, sorta kinda ish, at least he hasn't messed with the thing on his leg.

But the video turns on to one bearded English gentleman standing in front of a weeping willow and he's standing rather steady-ish as he talks because he's not sure how these things work and if jostling it will do something weird to it.]

Last I checked removing a gentleman's clothes and hat was exceptionally rude and not really the best way to insure he is willing to stay in your attempt at a prison. [If he doesn't sound all that pleased, well he's not. At least for a brief moment before he sighs and brushes his hair down.]

But I suppose not everyone has Scotland Yard's sensibilities when it comes to the well fare of it's prisoners nor it's taste in what to give them to wear. Even Lestrade is kinder and I have yet to meet someone as rude as he can be in his line of work. [He pauses to do what amounts to a huff before fixing his hair again because he lacks a proper jacket to mess with and really how rude can you people get giving him a bright orange jumpsuit without a jacket.]

But be that as it may, I suppose I should ask if there is anyone here by the name of Helen, with a similar accent to my own. Blond or brunette, I know two women that share the name and accent and I wouldn't mind speaking to either nor to anyone that knows of them. Or someone who happens to know a different woman from my Helen's [It really sounds weird to say that.] we can discuss similar traits in such ladies if you prefer.

[Okay so that's not the best way to go about introducing himself to people but he doesn't really care especially as he totally forgot to actually introduce himself whoops. This is all said by the way, from Sector 3 where he's been wandering about before settling in near the weeping willow if anyone feels up to poking him there.]

It’s late in the day and Jean-Luc is just leaving the hospital. Aside from the fact that it takes something of great magnitude to get him into any kind of sick bay, an abnormal experience had been made even more surreal by the cold sterility of the bots. Nevertheless, something had happened that made him feel that a medical exam was necessary. It had just been several ticks in his chest, right where his artificial heart implant was. It usually ran without fail, almost unnoticeable to the point that he forgot that he had an artificial heart at all. Given the unknowns of the medical advancements and knowledge of the prison, he had thought it best to reassure himself that all was well without drawing too much attention to the issue or himself. He knew how concerned both Data and Geordi, and possibly even Seven, might be were they to know that he felt... unwell.

It's his distrust of the bots as a whole which had him heading toward the clinic that Helen runs. He might run into anyone along the way, but he opens the voice function to Helen as he moved through the dome.


[ Voice locked to Helen ]

Doctor Magnus, [ He clears his throat, realizing his error. ] Helen, perhaps you might find the time to meet me at your clinic as soon as you’re able.



ooc: Picard is on a trek from sector 5 to sector 3. Anyone can run into him between point A and point B. Or afterward. Technology fail!

[Yesterday, Number One had been lucky enough to keep her uniform; today, much to her dismay, she's in standard-issue first-day orange. She's also still here, which apparently isn't a universal thing for those who'd ended up in the prison. As such, this is not shaping up to be her best day. Still, her expression is schooled into careful neutrality.]

I am given to understand that every individual in this facility was brought here under circumstances similar to my own: unexpectedly, and without any chance to defend him- or herself against the charges for which we are allegedly being held captive. As such, logic dictates that I am not the only one dissatisfied with the situation.

[She shifts, slightly, the only visible manifestation of her irritation.]

If possible, I would like access to any information regarding appeals to the authorities responsible for our incarceration, or other attempts-- successful or not-- to leave this 'Asylum.'

[A beat, and she adds:]

I am First Lieutenant Robbins, executive officer, U.S.S. Enterprise, registry NCC-1701. I would appreciate the opportunity to speak with any Starfleet personnel remaining in this facility.

Thank you.

[ Rose has been spending a lot of time in the education center doing research since the Doctor left again. After a morning holed up with books and computers, papers and theories, she heads out toward Bean Crushers for a cup of tea. She spends some time there looking over her notes and sipping her tea.

Her next stop is Två Park. She spends some time wandering through the hedge maze and stops in the butterfly pavillion.

It's a typical day for her and it makes her realize, she's really got to get a job of some sort. Too much free time in one place is driving her a bit mad. ]