[Finally arriving at the store in Sector Five, Yuta waits for miss Inara to arrive. He was looking forward to meeting up with her, when they first met she'd been nice to him and offered to help him settle in a little. He would need to get a pad or memo to jot down any things he thought he'd like to get, but this was a prison so of course some things might be more limited than others. Of course, she might have other things to attend to so he wouldn't keep her too long.]

[The feed shows the small red-headed Yuta. He's on his way to the Convenience store in Sector Five to find a few supplies. He takes note of the places around, he might visit. For now, focus on the task at hand.]

By the way, has anyone here played any sports?


[Private to Inara]
Inara-neechan, when you're not busy do you think you could come help me plan out some things to get to settle in?

((ooc: Feel free if you're in the area to give a passing wave or just a video reply if you'd like.))

[Inara is setting up a station of sorts in the spa with make up and hair care. She's dressed in a loose sort of flowing caftan thing that leaves her shoulders bare.]

I'm aware that prom is tonight and I'd like to extend my make up and hair experience to those of you who will be attending the prom. I'm at the spa and will be here until an hour or so before prom. If you'll bring your dress, I'll be happy to coordinate your make up and hair for you.

[Private]

I'm looking for someone named Yuta. I believe you spoke to a friend of mine named Malcolm Reynolds.

So... what the gorram hell's a prom?

[Good morning, Marina! Here is that friendly, harmless looking gentleman from just the other day again. Long, prematurely white hair, traditional Japanese clothing that looks a little big on his spare frame, genial smile and cheerful tone of voice. How could anyone find him guilty of anything?]

It appears as though Acumen has decided to make my stay here permanent. I now find myself properly arrested, tried and sentenced. Or rather, unfairly arrested, tried and sentenced, as any crimes I may legitimately have committed have already been judged by those with the authority to do so.

Ah well. I suppose there's nothing for it at the moment but to become accustomed to the settings and see what might be done going into the future. Oh, look at this! "Public drunkenness". My, my. Our jailor is rather enthusiastic about its job, isn't it?

I wouldn't be at all surprised if my replacement finds himself arrested as well. I'll be amazed if Kyouraku doesn't have him getting into trouble in less than two weeks.

[A video sudden appears on the feed revealing a tilted image of a young woman's shoulder and a part of her face as she mummers softly under her breath. The muffled sound of fingers pressing against the plastic can be heard over the audio as the communicator is flipped around and examined at all angles. In the background, the rushing and rolling waves can be heard indicating her location is somewhere along the beach in Sector 4.]

... I should read the rest of that--

[The sentence is cut off with a loud thud when she sets the communicator on her lap, the mouthpiece brushing against the steel of her boot. The video now reveals her face fully; bright blue, iridescent eyes scanning over the pamphlet. One hand is brought up close to her mouth with her brow furrowed as she is deep in thought.]

... hmmm.

[The newcomer looks down at the device with skepticism before picking it up and placing it properly on her head. She sounds hesitant, at first.]

... Am I really stuck here for good? Seems no different than my previous residence.

[A chuckle and then a sigh, her gaze wonders to the side towards the water. Perhaps it's the shock that causes her to fall silent but she makes no move to end the video, her thoughts elsewhere.]

[He's in mid-sentence as the feed cuts in, looking a little harassed after an ice cold rejection from a bot. Baby come back.]

--o need to get so testy. I was only offering-

[And then his attention is on the recording, and his look of bland annoyance at the rejected proposal is replaced with an infectiously jovial grin.]

Morning, folks. Captain Jack Harkness. I was wondering if any of you had a minute to help me out. I seem to be all tied up. And it's not in the good way- I mean there's literally a ball chained to my foot. Obviously there's been a mistake, so why don't we just get this sorted out?

Then we can talk about all of the 'arrested by robots, to be held indefinitely, for crimes committed in the past and maybe even in the future' nonsense.

[The man on screen shouldn't cut a formidable figure, all legs and arms and skinny as he is, with wild hair and Chucks, of all things, matched with a semi-casual suit. Yet, somehow, he gives the impression of great age and authority, even when the viewer knows that in this place, any power he might have could mean next to nothing. He takes a deceptively casual stance, leaning against a convenient tree, his arms crossed loosely in front of his chest. His tone is equally as casual, conversational and almost friendly, though if one pays careful attention, one might notice the sharp edge of anger underneath.]

I really ought to be very cross with you lot, but I'm finding it a bit difficult considering you had the decency to save my life after you kidnapped me. Granted, that may have been partially an act of self-preservation on your part. Can't have your prisoners wiping out a good portion of their immediate surroundings when they die, can you? How did you manage that, by the way? I distinctly remember dying one moment, and then the next ... I'm not.

But! I digress. Who do I see about getting this new fashion accessory of mine removed? Acumen, wasn't it? A ball and chain really isn't me, literally or figuratively. It seems rather excessive, honestly, considering the other security measures in place, not to mention you didn't bother with one when I got here. Why now, all of a sudden? I assure you, I cannot hold my breath long enough to attempt to swim to the surface.

Oh. And one other thing. Think very, very carefully before answering. What did you do with Rose?

[Welcome back to a picture of Flynn's face. Only he's got a better idea how the enchanted box works, and his brows are knit. And he happens to be sitting on the floor.] Okay, so I get that the gesture's nice and sweet and yadda yadda yadda—but whoever's laying out the baskets around here is a little bit late. [Holding up cookies. Free? Just like that?] How do I even know any of this is still good? And what's the catch?

… I don't know about you, but I've heard the story of the old lady and the poison apples oooone too many times. [Yep, spinning an apple in the air before dunking it back into the basket.] And can't you deliver these in person? It's creepy waking up and bam there's a basket.

Also, Rapunzel.

Rapunzel.

Can you tell me why I happened to wake up in your closet this morning? Maybe People Who Live in Towers do this sort of thing all the time, but I gotta say… it's not easy on the neck. [Rubbing it.] I think I'm going to be stiff all day, …ow. Just leave me on the floor or y'know, wake me up. How did you even manage to get me in there? And why did you do it?

[Hello Marina.

Who would care for a spot of comfort food or perhaps a touch of kitchen therapy? Sanji is definitely indulging in the latter and for a large part of the afternoon he'll be in the Shelter Kitchen, making all sorts of tasty late-summer morsels. Without Luffy to cook for it's easy to slack off and he could use any distraction that comes his way - hence cooking. Experimenting. Inventing delicious things.

Feel free to grab a plate or have a chat or both! Threadjacks also welcome!]

[ video clicks on, swivels, and we see a dirty-faced young woman with a slightly harried look about her. she peers into the device, tips her head to the side thoughtfully, and then addresses it in a breathy voice with a bit of a twang ]

...So, this here's a prison! Never been in one before, but I always wanted to try it! Providin' it doesn't last too long, I mean.

[ and with that, she gives the warmest, most brilliant smile you ever did see in your life ]

Don't suppose any o' you nice folks seen my cap'n around these parts? He's a big man with a face like life's been kickin' him while he's down, but he's a good one. And I figure, if I'm here, he and the rest of 'em can't be too far behind.


[ ooc: Kaylee is broadcasting from one of the parks, and hasn't quite figured out what's up with the dome yet. (You'll know when she does because she will get very excited.) Bump into her for action or reply to her broadcast for video. ♥))

Prison? Ri~ght...

[Proclaiming in his proclaiming voice.] If it's a crime to be as understanding and giving as I am to women, [Holds his wrists out] then lock me up and throw away the key! [Proclaiming voice over.] But really I have a thing to be at later, so can we wrap this up?

[He brushes nonexistent lint off his suit. This is just to draw your eye to how good his suit looks. You'll notice he's at the club. Bars are Barney's natural habitat after all.]

[The Doctor is standing in the park, a lonely figure in his long brown overcoat and scuffed trainers. He looks tired, his shoulders hunched just that little bit, his features haggard and drawn. The weight of centuries is clear in his eyes as he takes in his new surroundings, mouth drawn in a deep frown.]

Strange. Didn't think I was bad enough to be hallucinating. Then again, hard to say with radiation poisoning. Anything could happen. Still ... I doubt I'd be hallucinating this, of all things. The grass is completely the wrong color.

[ooc: Also! I wanted to apologize if I've been slow/lackluster with Zack, Cloud, Ukitake and Kurama or if I continue to be. Had a family emergency that has ended up demanding a lot of my time and energy. I am usually much more on the ball.]

I would never break the laws of my kingdom, much less those imposed by my own father. I suspect magic is at work, again. When will you sorcerers realize that it's futile to go against a prince of Camelot? If anyone belongs in a prison, it's those that commit magic and threaten the lives of my people -

[Oh look, a tiny robot] And just what in the world are these creatures?!

[come find Arthur the prat prince poke at a robot with his awesome stick. Yes, the stick he picked up from the ground.]

[ 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. ]

[ For anyone passing by, Diva's just a young girl poised over a sketchpad and colored chalk scattered on the grass next to her. She was trying things. Trying to be more exact, trying to replicate the things she's seeing in front of her. She's not succeeding, but she doesn't care, not when she's finally convinced someone to guide her. She just needed something to show him first.

Looking up, she'll be eying the first person and others after that who comes her way with a smile. She needed a model; flowers just weren't cutting it. ]

[ (1) Action]

[if you’re strolling by the waterfall in one of the parks early this morning, you might catch sight of a hooded figure, draped in voluminous, heavily-embroidered white robes, kneeling beside it. Is it somebody squeaking in a bit of meditation before they start their day?]

[not quite. There’s a welcome basket sitting next to them, with the contents undisturbed except for the open bag of pretzels… and what is that they’re praying over? A communicator? That earpiece looks a bit strange, and the screen isn’t shaped quite right, either. And there’s something else: three large, articulated metal tendrils, emerging from folds in the back of this person’s robes, are hovering around the device. Two have some kind of specialized attachments on their ends, but all three are tipped with a good-sized claw, and these are opened menacingly towards the communicator, twitching a bit.]

[OOC: Felicia refuses to put on the communicator until she’s put it through some close scrutiny and cleansing rituals, so tag in with “(1) Action” in the subject line to interrupt her and say good morning! She won’t understand you, of course, but you can still give it a shot. (Only folks from outside her canon tag this option, please!)]

-----

[Video | (2) Action]

[the scene on the video does a nauseating summersault of blue, green, and white as Felicia turns the communicator over in her hands, but resolves itself into a view of the grassy hillock beside the waterfall once she clips the device over the sleek augmetic that serves her for a right ear. Felicia herself, now front and center, gives a cautious, yet friendly smile to whoever may be watching.]

Well! A vox, pictscreen, and translator, all at once—what an intriguing little piece of heretek this is! Completely unsanctified, of course. Any devout servant of the Omnissiah would break it to pieces in an instant. But, as it seems I’d hardly be able to get anything done without the thing, perhaps some transgressions may be pardoned, under the circumstances. Isn’t there another soul here who speaks proper Gothic?
[she chuckles dryly]

Oh dear, but I am getting ahead of myself. Magos Felicia Tayber of Perlia, reporting. To ask the first of innumerable questions, now that I’ve a way of reaching a wider audience: just where, in the name of the Emperor, have I fetched up? On what warp-cursed rock the Eloquois Ocean is located on, I’m afraid I haven’t the foggiest.

[OOC: put “Video” or “(2) Action” in the subject line for this option. Cain and Gaunt, tag in here!]

Ah, um, hello! My name’s Yako Katsuragi and I’m a detective from Japan. I’m new around here but I’ve got the basic idea of this place, even if I still can’t help thinking this is somehow Neuro’s fault even if he's supposed to be back in Hell thanks to the brochure. But I’ve got a small question.

[ here Yako’s eyes intensify, clearly whatever this question is has to be of the utmost importance. ]

Can someone direct me to where I can get some more food? That welcome basket only lasted me five minutes, I’m so hungry. And do we have to pay for food around here? Because I don’t have that much money on me after my favorite takoyaki stand raised their prices... Why do I get the feeling they only raise their prices when I'm there.

[The video begins almost completely dark, only a few slivers of light shining through as the sound of splashing water is heard. There's a quiet grunt as the darkness lifts--shown to be blue fingers covering the camera--and Kisame's head and shoulders come into view as he hoists himself up onto the observation deck. The view spins dizzyingly from his communicator tumbling away, knocked aside as he clambers up the rest of the way; he's soaking wet and dressed in nothing but a pair of swim trunks, hair hanging in dripping, drooping spikes around his face, but he looks quite pleased with himself in spite of the bedraggled state.

The camera is sprayed with water as he gives himself a brisk, dog-like shake, but even through the distortion, he can be seen--sideways though the view now is--drying his face and hands on a towel left near the rest of his clothes, and the massive bandage-wrapped length of his sword. (And yes, it is a sword, even if it doesn't look like one. It looks more like a club than anything else, topped off with a long skull-pommeled hilt. At a good six feet long and a foot or two wide, the weapon is probably larger and heavier than most people.) He scoots further away to bend over a paper--some sort of map, from the looks of it--and start drawing, expression set in concentration, muttering to himself on occasion and grabbing for a ruler.]

That ought to do it.....

[Afternoon|Open]
[Even from several meters down the hall one may be able to smell the aroma of the shelter kitchen. Anyone who enters will see the steam lightly blanketing the air from the plates and platters covered with food. It looks like someone has been cooking for hours--and she has. Rapunzel moves around with a closed, distracted focus as if she's not paying attention to everything she's doing. The food still comes out perfect--she could do it in her sleep.

But she hasn't even noticed that her smiley face chocolate chip cookies are all starting to frown.]

[Evening|Closed]
[It's after all the baking is done, the food packaged away as best she could--what she could fit anyway--and the kitchen cleaned that Rapunzel realizes that this distracted didn't work at all. She's gone and Rapunzel feels like she's lost all over again. For a moment there had been relief--she could do what she wanted now and Mother's overprotective shadow wouldn't be there--followed by guilt. How could she even think like that?

She goes to the only place that makes her feel safe. The clock tower. Roxas won't mind, will he?]