♕ 001 spam/text

[broughtwhiskey]

open spam - anywhere.
[Disoriented is a word for what Philip feels upon waking on the Barge. There's a dull throb of pain in his chest and his head, things he know he should be dead from, and his shirt is still slick with blood. He also recognizes the room he wakes up in with everything where it should be, but he knows it should burned out. The view outside the windows, however, aren't looking out into the streets of Woodbury, but an infinite void. He isn't sure if this is what death is supposed to be like, but he has a feeling it's not because it feels very much alive.]

[He's willing to stay as long as it takes to change and clean the blood off his face, but no longer than that. He doesn't feel particularly keen on lingering in a room with this many reminders right now. Already he's trying hard to not think of what just happened, the large amount of nothing he just left behind once more. He looks for any of his weapons before leaving to find them gone. So perhaps not everything is in its place. But no matter. He can improvise if the situation calls for it.]

[Stepping outside into the hall, he still doesn't know what to make of any of this. but if there's one thing he knows, it's that he needs to get his bearings and so he sets off to learn the layout of wherever the hell he's ended up.]

text.

[Later, after he's had the chance to explore and numerous explanations and perspectives on what this place is, he only has one question:]

How many of you are here?

Comments

private/text

[visetvires]

Define 'us'.

perma-private

[broughtwhiskey]

People.

[He does mean that in a very strict and narrow sense of the term, but does not really think that needs clarification unless asked.]

voice

[chaotica]

[ Crisply: ] Thousands.

[broughtwhiskey]

I somehow doubt that very much.

action whoa on deck maybe

[akweks]

[Connor is on his way somewhere else, because he is always on his way somewhere else. He usually doesn't stop every person he sees to have a chat, even if he's never seen them before. But it's very difficult to ignore people with eyepatches, because that usually means one of two things: disease or a very interesting life.

The former is worrisome on a crowded ship like this, and the latter, well. Connor likes to talk about interesting lives.

He watches this man for a moment, then takes a proverbial stab in the dark.]

Are you lost?

deckity deck it is

[broughtwhiskey]

[If there is one thing to be gleaned from Philip's body language, it's that he's tense. He doesn't trust this place. He doesn't trust the people here. He doesn't trust anything that's happening. He's ready for something, although what exactly is always up for debate. But nothing of what he's seen so far exactly assures him that anything can be trusted easily and a healthy (although sometimes extremely unhealthy) amount of paranoia has managed to get him this far, so.]

I suppose that's the word for it.

Text

[voluntaryapnea]

About a hundred, give or take on any given day.

[broughtwhiskey]

People come and go often?

text

[punched_hitler]

Just shy of eighty; we've lost a few people recently.

Who's asking?

text

[broughtwhiskey]

[He could answer the question directly or he could be evasive. He could also just outright ignore the question (and answer) altogether. He considers each a moment.]

Lost a few people to what?

[Ignoring wins.]

[Spam]

[tricksandmischief]

[In his exploration, Philip may see a tall man dressed rather peculiarly who is also wandering around. Even though Loki has been here for about a month, he's still looking around as if he thinks he can find something different to what he's already discovered - something like an exit. He eyes the stranger when he sees him, sizing him up. A new face.]

[broughtwhiskey]

[As far as strange is concerned, Loki is blowing the competition right out of the water. And one assumes he doesn't even have his cow helmet. Philip is ready to pass him by and move right along, but he knows that look. He's both given and received it enough times to know it. He returns it, but whatever his impressions are of Loki, he keeps to himself.]

Is there something you want to say?

text;

[16thstar]

What exactly do you mean? Inmates? Wardens? All together?

[broughtwhiskey]

All together. But if you happen to know the numbers for each, I'd appreciate that, too.

[Spam]

[keeps_a_cool_head]

[Scorpius is fully in the process of moving parts of his lab into Horatio Hornblower's room. The halfbreed alien is delicately carrying some small set of vials when he pauses, and gives a mean little smile at Philip]

And the Barge has decided to grace us with fresh blood today.

Good evening.

[broughtwhiskey]

[One, what in the actual hell is this guy supposed to be? Aside from ugly. OOOOOOOH!!! Two, fresh blood? While Philip has tried most recently (and abysmally) to not sit at the top, he is far from any and all implications that he's in sort of vulnerable position. No matter how true it may be. Philip gives Scorpius a cool, cursory once-over.]

Evening.

spamalamadingdong

[characterdefect]

[Let the record show that Roderick is not drunk. He's been reading, his neck bent and head down, tucked in a corner of the chapel with a short story. He feels a little disoriented and very victorious: it's been a long time since he got lost like that. It almost makes him feel human again.]

[Almost.]

[He bumps into Philip outside the chapel on the way back to his room. If he'd seen him a few minutes ago, covered in blood and gore, he'd have taken to him much more quickly. As it is, he just cocks his head, curious.]

You look fucking bewildered.

[broughtwhiskey]

[There is a brief moment in which Philip doesn't answer Roderick, just long enough for him to size Roderick up in a relatively subtle way. Almost as though it takes him a second to notice Roderick is there rather than any sort of assessment being made. There's nothing about Roderick that stands out, however. Not with the rest of all this serving as a background.]

I wasn't exactly trying to keep it a secret.

[Philip could if he wanted to, though. Probably. Mostly.]

[queen_cordelia]

[She's settled in now. It strikes her as strange that her apartment from LA is her cabin, that everything is exactly as she remembers it when she was last there, which is now ages ago, considering the coma. The only thing missing from it is Phantom Dennis, and she misses him a lot. It's probably strange to miss a ghost, but her life isn't exactly normal -- or it hadn't been when she'd been alive anyway.

She runs into him in the hallway, someone she hasn't seen before and he looks kind of disoriented. She offers him a small smile.]

Hi. Are you okay?

[broughtwhiskey]

[Philip doesn't return the smile and regards her neutrally, but he does stop when she addresses him.]

I'm fine. [He gets the feeling that won't be the only question she asks, however. So, he tries to answer the next obvious question.] Just trying to get my bearings is all.

voice

[themissingpiece]

Why? Taking a census?

[broughtwhiskey]

It's important to know the people around you.

spam.

[semifreakingnormal]

[It's the smell of blood that draws him toward the older man. He's been ignoring his senses less, lately, swallowing all the terrible smells so that he can be more aware of his surroundings.

Mostly so he can be more aware of anyone who might be out to hurt him. That was a rough lesson to learn.

Scott hesitates when he spots the newcomer - though that's not much of a surprise, since the scent under the blood was new.]

Um, hi.

[He's got to work on his introductions. Scott barrels on, lifting one hand in a halfhearted wave.]

Are you....okay?

[broughtwhiskey]

[Philip frowns at Scott when he addresses him. His frown only deepens at the question that comes out of his mouth next. At this point, he has been asked this question a small handful of times. Frankly, he is a little sick of it. But he'll tolerate it one more time.]

[One more.]

I'm fine.

text

[adelphoktonos]

The number changes often.

[broughtwhiskey]

How often?

audio (sorry for lateness)

[strangehistorian]

Around a hundred and thirty, I think!

ssshhh you're never late, okay

[broughtwhiskey]

And how many of those are inmates?