elnysa | Entries tagged with ouat: emma swan

January 2019

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pullsheavendown

[This should be coming from XIII, but recent shenanigans have rendered his username unintelligible. But he's on video, so it's not like he's trying to hide his identity. Those who have already met Roxas (or Axel or Riku) may recognize the black coat, but he's picked up a warm scarf to go with it, and a knit beanie cap is flattening some of his hair spikes.]

...hi. I'm Roxas. I don't know if we're supposed to introduce ourselves—I've never used one of these things before—but that's me.

[He gives a little wave.]

There's something I wanted to know. Have any of you ever been to other worlds before? I have, but I'm trying to figure out what makes this one so different. It's not just that it's a refuge from the storm or that time's frozen in other parts of it. Something about this place affects things people can do. My friend and I know a special way of getting around quick—it's not really magic, but kind of like it, I guess? Except it only takes us maybe a block now.

And there's something else I've always been able to do, a thing I can summon, except now I can't and I try and I try but it just doesn't—

[As he speaks, he's shaking his left hand in frustration when suddenly there's a pop and a black flash and suddenly a Keyblade can be partially seen at the bottom of the screen.]

Uh. Never mind about that last part? But I'd still like to know about the rest.

priorly

What's that poem about how the world ends? Fire, or ice.

Funny, really, we've been at the sharp end of both in recent weeks and here we all are, still muddling along, impossible to destroy. Like cockroaches, or Twinkies. Well. Most of us, anyway.

But it seems to me that ice is more a paralytic than an ending. Perhaps a precursor to slow cessation. A numbing, which - left long enough - allows one not to even notice as all the more vital components gradually freeze. Stasis, an ending without closure. They're the worst kind, I think.

But don't mind maudlin old me. I haven't been sleeping well.

At any rate. If you knew Byerly or Dorian -

Well, lucky you. They're gone now. Stasis. I thought some people might like to know and it turns out to be torture to have to say it over and over.

And it's colder here than I anticipated.

That's all.

sheriffing

Uh, hi.

[ can she have points for effort? the wave she gives is more uncertain than friendly, like she's not entirely comfortable addressing the entire network (she's not). she figures it'll work for everyone else the same way it does for her. when Emma has something to offer, she answers. when she doesn't, she leaves it to someone else.]

My name's Emma, and as a lot of you have already noticed, I'm new here.

[ she's been called out on it enough to know that it's obvious. some part of her still doubts everything here and it bleeds into conversation too easily. most people have been here long enough to accept this reality, but Emma's still thinking of home.]

I'm not gonna pretend that my first instinct wasn't to wallow in my disappointment until my family wakes up, but I know there's a lot to be done here. I've seen all of you getting things done here, and I just wondered... how have you been able to use the skills you learned in your home world to keep you busy in this one?

[ because it's time for her to think about taking on a job, and making a difference, and she's pretty sure that doesn't mean a sheriff's badge and a cruiser anymore. so far, she's been part of the clean-up effort, but she needs something else to get by on.]

Back home, I was the sheriff in a town called Storybrooke, Maine. Here, I don't know. How did you know where to start?

xwings

[ the video clicks on to a soft beep that ends in a worried trill, the sound mechanical and still managing to seem hushed. for a moment, the camera swings around, then it steadies, showing poe dameron in workout gear, hands and ankles taped, pummeling a punching bag. it's clear he knows what he's doing. it's equally clear that he's unhappy about something.

poe is clearly unaware of the video; this is bb-8's way of trying to get poe some company and comfort. there's a series of beeps that indicates as much, to anyone who understands binary.

eventually, poe stops, steadying the bag (and himself) and then glances at bb-8 -- and the comms device bb-8 is still pointing at him. poe runs a hand through his hair. ]

What're you doing that for, BB?

[ another series of noises from bb, i'm worried and maybe you shouldn't be alone right now. poe shakes his head, crossing the distance to bb-8 and holds out a hand. ] I'm all right, buddy. Give that here.

[ when bb-8 does, the video cuts off. ]

beknight

While we don't yet fully understand the process, over the past few months it's become clear that any of us could return to stasis at any time. In some cases, more than once. And while I'm sure we all have family and friends from our worlds we hope to see — sooner rather than later — those of our acquaintances from the many others represented here shouldn't be remembered as just faces in those pods.

I think it's well past time we organised ourselves a little to keep track, if only to expedite that process for all of us. To that effect, I've set up a noticeboard for refugee use.

[ GPS ping to an area on Thesa Station, the corridor leading to the mess hall. He’s already put up photographs of Charles Xavier, Kara Danvers, Kate Bishop. ]

I'd appreciate any names you had to offer.

[ bye charles :C ]

heorot

[ thankfully enough, james somehow managed not to hit send on the impressively awful posts he had started to type up/has been typing up for the better portion of about three hours. something to also note: this typing and not sending has all been happening while nursing a couple of bottles of alcohol, all of which can kind of be seen floating a bit awkwardly in the background when the video finally comes to life.

in the foreground, though, is james, looking tired and a bit of a mess. his words are slurred when he speaks, his movements carrying that fluid weight that is telling (if the slurring already wasn’t) to just how much alcohol he’s been consuming. and while he’s not holding a bottle in the video, he does seem to look right off the screen for a longer moment than necessary, as if he’s trying to decide if it’s worth reaching, but decides against it. ]

We’re-all foockin’ cursed, ‘ren’t we? [ his words trip over themselves, stumbling and rolling to a stop. the worst part is that james seems to notice and pause. then he blinks, and then another, before he seems to focus back on the camera. ] Like- you ever think maybe we shouldn’ta been woken up in the first place? Mayb’ none of us shoulda been. ‘Cause have you noticed how many are gettin’ sent back? ‘hoo just are here an' then aren’t? I’ve had- [ his face drops for a second, out of the drunken anger/annoyance/general upset demeanor to something darker, something pained.

but then he takes a breath, and the look fades. ]

Doesn’ matter. But ‘as anyone noticed? That somethin’s off? There’s gotta be something, right? A show, clue, whatev’r? There ‘as the sic’ness an' all, an' the pilotin’ instead of the transport, but-

[ he stops, his eyes going a bit wide for half a moment as he looks off the screen. was that a burp? or...yeah, let’s not go there. he takes the second, but then reaches down next to where he’s sitting and pulls up his wand, reaching to grab one of the hovering bottles and tapping it with the end of his wand. in a matter of seconds, the bottle refills with a dark brown liquid.

james hiccups, then takes a swig from the bottle. ]

Oh, also- [ he sways a second where he sits, before turning back to the camera. ] 'nyone want whiskey? Rations are short an' all that but I’ve got. [ he grins, waving his wand and bottle to the camera. sorry olympia. should he have mentioned that before? ] Jus lemme know.

[ and then the feed cuts. ]

learned_to_die

IT APPEARS THAT THIS IS SOME VERSION OF COMMUNICATION, AKIN TO MESSAGES RECEIVED VIA RAVEN. I CANNOT YET UNDERSTAND HOW SUCH THINGS ARE POSSIBLE, NOR CAN I UNDERSTAND HOW I AM EXPECTED TO SO ACCURATELY PRESS MY FINGERS TO SUCH PAINFULLY SMALL LETTERS ON THIS THING CALLED A "KEY BOARD."

[Ned is part of the Old Dads club; he has accidentally turned on his caps lock and has absolutely no idea how to turn it off, nor does he have any social precedent for understanding how hostile this makes him look.]

I AM TOLD THAT I AM IN A CITY CALLED WYVER, A NAME AS FOREIGN TO ME AS THE REST OF THIS IS. THE LOCALS HERE ARE NOT INCREDIBLY FORTHCOMING WITH ASSISTANCE OR INFORMATION, AND AS SUCH, ANYTHING THAT YOU MIGHT OFFER WOULD BE GREATLY APPRECIATED.

THANK YOU FOR WHATEVER YOU MIGHT PROVIDE.

-- EDDARD STARK, LORD OF WINTERFELL, WARDEN OF THE NORTH, HAND OF THE KING

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January 2019

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video; un: ??? | open to anonymous/misfires

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