TARDIS Communication Network

As there isn't much in the way of entertainment here, it occurred to me to host a ball, if anyone would be interested in attending. And so I extend an invitation to each of you.

What devilry is this? I have come to know well the gardens of Minas Tirith, and these are not they.

I have grown tired, over the weeks that have passed, of having very little to do. I have watched the ravens whisper in the looking glass, but that can only keep a man like me entertained for so long. And while I have seen quite a number of people, there seems to very little life in most of them. And what good are we if our spirits are not high? We are nothing but walking shells, a body without true life.

My determination to bring some form of life to this ship has taken form at last, and after my weeks of labour, I have created something new. A place of rest and relaxation. A house of warmth and pleasure. Most are welcome to come and visit, but I cannot allow children. I do apologise, but the sorts of places I tend to own are not places best explored by the young and the innocent.

I am however looking for anyone who might want to work for me. I am sure I can offer payment of some sort for your time and efforts. You are welcome to leave me a message if you are interested.

With thanks,

Lord Petyr Baelish.

Such an interesting means of communication. It makes no wonder I have been called the superstitious type, but to actually hold something crafted from such... sorcery? Is remarkable.

My name is Lord Petyr Baelish. Judging from all of your little notes between lost souls, I gather we have all been brought here in the same manner? So where exactly is this place? And where does a man find lodgings until we are finally sent to our homes, if such a day ever comes?