The 100; a panfandom game

For many years, I thought it unlikely that I would ever marry. Templars seldom do, and I had troubles of my own, and it seemed unlikely my life would ever take such a turn.

I am very glad today that I turned out to be wrong. I would have been glad to have more of our friends and family present, but I am immensely grateful for those who were here with us today (especially Asala, who was so kind as to officiate), and if not for the circumstances that forbid the attendance of the others, I would never have met my wife at all.

My wife. It has a very nice sound to it.

Thank you to all of you who celebrate with us today. I cannot think of a better way to begin a new year here on Earth.

SERA:

Sera.

Sera Sera Sera.

Everything is clean and all the Christmas decorations are down, and most people are out of the hospital and doing better after the Bloody Mary thing. You wanna steal another wheelchair and race down the hall?

Sometimes I really hate it here. The good news is that we have enough of the good booze to last through New Year's Eve, but it will be a bit of a wait before the next batch is done. Enjoy it while it lasts, everyone.

Filter to Sera

Thanks for listening the other day. You're a good friend to listen through all of that.

I was told that my Mum only had one little bit of me, at the end. I hope she passed away before the rest of it. I hope she didn't have to know how bad I got.

I know someone who was killed like Emerson.

His name was Aaron Echolls. I don't know if he's a movie star everywhere, but back home, he occupied that Bruce Willis/Kevin Costner/Jason Statham niche that made him rich and beloved by all. He posed with his fans and donated to charities. He also had sexual relationships with sixteen year old girls and then bashed their brains out when they threatened to come clean. Alternatively, he used public sympathy from a recent stabbing (another affair, different affair) to minimize the damage he caused by locking another nosy teenage girl into a refrigerator and setting it alight with gasoline (me, of course. What, did the nosy not give it away?).

Because he was rich, white, and male, and because one victim couldn't speak for herself on account of being dead, and the other could speak until she was hoarse and still be labelled a foolish slut in the public eye, he got away with it. "Not enough evidence". Three words to level you flat, right? It's not supposed to end like this. Parents aren't supposed to bury their children. Truth prevails. Evil's punished.

He was shot after he was acquitted. I have my theories who did it, and I don't care. I hope he suffered. I know he didn't. It was fast, clean, and efficient - an execution.

That didn't make it justice. I saw him for years afterward. I still do I wanted him dead and now he's a ghost in my head, because I was happy he was killed that way. Culpable.

If you're fine with the way Emerson died, great. If you're not fine, also great. Also? No longer relevant. His story is finished, whatever comes out about people who suspected, people who helped, people who tried to stop it from happening. We're always going to be what's left. The collateral damage. We screwed up big-time, friends, now where are we going next? Is murder in the shadows our legacy? Has humanity really been so level all these years? I don't know.

But there'll be a next time. The calendar waits for no existential moral panic. Let's do better then. Let's deserve a system that works to protect us. We can think the world's better off without the Emersons and Echolls in the world. But that doesn't mean we're better for it.

This journal entry of angsty over-identifying is brought to you by the letter 'B', as in B-movie and bitter-like-coffee.

Chatter down on this end is that Emerson turned up dead in his cell. Anyone heard anything? Everyone's got their skirts in a bunch over it. Know what this means?

We've a mystery on our hands! Brilliant, right? Something to do that's not drawing the bloody treeline. Thank you, Emerson; your horrific murder is well-timed and awfully thoughtful.

Oh, and God rest your soul and all that, if that's what you're into.



...'Course, now we'll probably have another trial to sit through and argue over...

SERA:

Come have a drink with me, Matt and Foggy. It's been a long day.

BETSY BRADDOCK; STEVE ROGERS; BELLAMY BLAKE, OCTAVIA BLAKE, CLARKE GRIFFIN + LINCOLN - (three separate filters, same message):

How have you been? I know it's been busy, but I want to check in and see how you're doing.

It's strange how people who have always been able to rely on the rule of law react to a mess, as opposed to those of us who haven't.

The people here who grew up in stable societies or in the dominant group of their society tend to assume that nothing's going to "go too far." It never occurs to them that "just a little brawling" is going to end up with a few corpses at the end, or that "getting a little disorderly" could land them in any greater trouble than a night in the gaol.

When I was seventeen, a bunch of drunk human lords showed up at a wedding in the village square. We asked them to leave, but the law was on their side, because they were humans. The law was still on their side when they kidnapped several of the women and carried them off to their estate to be abused. The law was still on the humans' side after the women fought their way out. And that sort of thing was a regular occurrence: humans doing whatever they wanted, particularly the wealthy ones, while those of us at the bottom tried to either de-escalate any situation that looked like it could turn bad, or keep our hands on our blades and our feet ready to run.

I've spent a lot of time with humans, and even in my own world their casual approach to a lot of things remains strange to me. Here, most of the humans are completely alien to me. You start a fight, and it never occurs to you that anyone might end up dead in it. You get drunk and belligerent, and it never occurs to you that anyone would look at you and think they'll probably have to put a knife through your ribs for their own safety before the night is over. You walk in a room and it never crosses your mind that someone might report you to the guard for stealing just because your things are too nice for you to have--and if such a thing did happen to you, you're sure you can just explain and they'll let you go without a scratch. I don't even know what to make of feeling that safe all the time.

I have been informed (well after the fact, I might add) that I am no longer allowed to sing euphemistic pirate shantys about fisting in public, and I potentially scarred some children at the musical revue.

So if you want to hear more euphemistic bar songs and pirate shantys (possibly about fisting, mostly about other things), I'll be at the tavern tonight. And other nights. Most nights. I'm also not allowed to stand on the bar anymore after my stage dive off of it last week, but don't let that put you off. (Shout out to everyone who caught me. We're bonded now.)

DONNA NOBLE:

How are you doing?

Right then, now that we've all had time to cool down and heal up, good evening Mount Weather. (Bit of a pisser of a name, am I wrong? What's duller than the weather?) Name's Jacob Frye, I'm four minutes and forty years younger than my fair sister, Evie Frye, and I'm your newest mapmaker.

But all that's window dressing. Heard there was a constituency here keen on sending things sky-high, yeah? What've we got, then? I show you mine if you show me yours.

[ Filtered to Dr. Tam ]

Sorry about your face, head, neck, torso, etc.

[ /Filter ]

( ooc; slightly backdated to Nov. 10th, morning )


With the snow coming down, travel among Mount Weather, the Dropship, and Camp Jaha is rougher than usual. I'm heading out with Erik in about an hour to clear the path. We should be back in a week, assuming there are no significant delays.

Don't break the mountain while I'm away.

EUGH.

it's like the frigging emprise out there, i'm freezing my tits off. but SORRY NOT SORRY about the snowballs in your faces. eat it!


HEY CULLEN
i made you! in the snow! got your face and everything but you can't see it because your furry cape thing is swallowing it.

I think this is going to be the first holiday season in over ten years where I don't have the end of the world hanging over my head. I'm actually looking forward to it.

What's everyone's Thanksgivings like at home?


FRIENDS*:

I've got a weird question for you, if you're up for some girl talk.


( *ooc; if you think you are, you are? it's at least Kaidan, Angel, Faith and probably Lito? )

What are weddings usually like in this world? Or in any world that someone here comes from, really. I'm curious. I've only ever seen Andrastian weddings, and only then either in the little foothills village I grew up in or in Kirkwall. I never thought much of what they would be like somewhere else, but now I find myself in the position of arranging one and therefore the topic holds more interest.

[Filtered to Asala Adaar]
Speaking of which...are you still amenable to officiating? After some consideration, Penelope and I have decided that the 31st night of December will be a good time. It is the last day of the Earth year.

You're all going to hate me for saying this, but Maker I'm sleeping so much better, even living in this bizarre, technically underground city with no dwarves in it. Except the dwarves who are here, but they're different, they're not if-you-see-the-sky-you'll-fall-into-it dwarves.

Thank you to whatever god created this place for not also making nugs, as well. Bless this reality.

How do you exist on human feet? They are unbearably sensitive. I could walk on my hands and it would be more comfortable.

Hawke, I apologize for when I mocked your shoes. I did not understand.

What kind of world is this where this is possible? This must be dark sorcery of some kind. I don't like it.

I'd like to return to my proper form now. Men are so... short-lived.

I've always wondered what it would be like, to be tall and statuesque. I can at least say that I am now tall, and I have quite lovely ears. Not that I didn't like my ears before, but my new ones are pointy and have a delicious curve to them.

I am having trouble remembering to duck every time I go through a doorway, however.

I think we've gotten the alcohol content on the whiskey a little less terrifying. It's an art as much as it's a science, particularly under these sorts of conditions. With such limited resources, the experimentation process takes a while. So while the alcohol content is more what we're going for now, the taste is still leaving a lot to be desired. I've started three new batches of mash today. Here's hoping one of them gets us closer to the victory.

Killing darkspawn was much easier than this. Significantly more likely to have me meet an untimely end, but easier. It's funny how that works, isn't it? When you have one major overriding goal (kill the archdemon, end the Blight, track down the key to ending the Calling), a lot of decisions are simple. You do the things that lead to the goal, the end. That's it. I have to make small decisions now that don't affect anyone other than me in any significant way, and every single one of them is harder to make than any of the ones I've made that affected whole countries.

Urgency breeds clarity, I suppose.

SERA:

We should talk about something important, you and I.

[Filtered to Clothing Makers, Katniss, and Alison]
Katniss, Alison: I do not believe you were informed last night, but I had to bring Penelope to Medical yesterday evening for what the doctors have discovered was a morphine overdose. You will all be pleased to know that the doctors say Penelope will make a full recovery. They are still trying to determine how she received such a large dose of morphine in the first place, but she is feeling much better now. Staring at the screen still makes her a bit dizzy, but she says I am to tell you that she is now "at home to visitors" if any of you wish to come by and see her.
[/filter]


[Filtered to Sera, Adaar, and Remus]
Thank you all for coming to sit with me last night. You were an immeasurable help.

Having questioned me twice, the doctors and the guard are apparently now convinced that I did not in fact poison my betrothed. They do not, however, know how this happened yet. A search of our quarters turned up nothing out of the ordinary, likewise the kitchens and the mess hall and the clothing-makers work area. There have been no other reports of anyone else getting sick. Dr. Crusher took blood from me to be analyzed by the lab, to see if I have any traces of the drug, as that might help determine its origin; she assures me that the blood will not be involved in any magic. We are now waiting on results. That is all the news I have for now.