So are we just not going to talk about the fact that this place is suddenly a lot less dangerous?

[Asagi sighs, and shrugs, leaning back in her chair as she always is.]

Alright then, let's talk about something else.

[She kicks her feet down and leans forward, chin on her hands, feigning attentiveness.]

Tell me then- what's your good end for the tower? What do you boys and girls out there hope winds up happening when the clock hits zero on our time here?

Come on.

Always did love a good fairytale.


[ooc: backdated to sometime the 21st, late forever]

[GUESS WHO'S BACK. BACK AGAIN. And is on the network to say hello. If you guessed a fish troll, you would be correct.]

...huh. Didn't think I'd ever sea this plaice again. It feels like everything and nothing have changed at the same time. New room, new people, same glubbing oatmeal.

[She laughs.]

How long has it been, anemoneway? Last thing I remember was getting a box of tentacles in my mailbox and a bunch of weird shadow kids following people around.

Right, right. I'm Feferi Peixes.

[She waves at the camera.]

I was here for - glubbing shell, I don't remember. You start to get somefin like aquadementia - ocean madness - after spending too much time on a dead world. Things get fuzzy.

I'm guessing, though, based on this timer and what people are saying, that we don't have a whole lot of time left. Figures that I'd be coming back at the end. It seems to be a thing!

[She doesn't look upset; more amused than anything.]

So. What did I miss? I want to hear everyfin.

[Veronica's face appears on the screen. She's sitting at one of the terminals, leaning to the side. Her entire right arm has been wrapped in bandages, the sleeve pulled up to show a few blood stains.]

...S-so, I woke up in a-a n-new room a w-while ago. I g-guess you a-all have too.

[At least it was surprisingly pleasant. Thanks Zo.]

I h-have to ask, d-does the t-tower feel... different? Like, n-now t-that J-Jason is dead.

[Locked to Rick Dawn]

...[It takes her a moment to collect her voice.] R-rick...? Are... a-are y-you there?

[She leaves the message open for a while, waiting to see if he'll reply.]

[Now this is unusual--the blonde man is on camera! Although it should be easy to figure out that whatever extenuating circumstances have driven him to this were not kind; unkempt, unshaven, blue eyes dead and glistening with tears, his appearance screams of a man in mourning who hasn't left his room for almost a week. And this is, indeed, the case.]

[A text apology would be the path of least resistance, but the last time he tried that people got angry at him, and he's sure that they're all angry enough with him as it is. He wants them to see how sorry he is, even if he's feeling too miserable to leave the first floor dorms. It's about all he can manage.]

[...If even that. Cameras have never agreed with Rick, and as he opens his mouth to try and speak, he realizes that they're certainly not going to be friendly with him now.]

--I-I--A-A-Ah--

[He closes his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut. Don't think about the fact that you're being filmed. Don't think about how everyone checking the terminals can watch your red face blubbering about your horrible mistakes. Which they are already judging you viciously for, by the way. Just ignore that for a minute. Right.]

...S-Some...s-s-s-something-- [Rick grinds on that first syllable a few more times through his teeth, falters, gives up.] --I-I m-m-mean--l-last--th--there--th--u-um--

[He can't do this. Rick swipes off his glasses and buries his face in his hand, taking several deep, long breaths. When he speaks again, his words are still muffled in his palm.]

...I-I've m-made...a m-m-mistake...

[The blonde man sits in front of the terminal for some time thereafter, as if he's going to try and continue, but when the words don't come he quickly reaches over and turns off the feed.]

[He doesn't stay to look at replies to his post--the idea of other people commenting on that embarrassing display almost makes him sick. Instead, he stumbles back to his quiet, dark room on the first floor and curls up in his bed.]

I've been thinking. It's getting to be almost winter, and I know a lot of times, especially during Jason and Ruana's months, there's no real heat.

[Either they lost power or someone turned it off or... something]

So I think that those of us who can sew should get together and try to make as many clothes as we can that people can use. Especially people who don't have a lot of warm clothing from home. We can't really do anything [read: mount resistance efforts against crazy administrators] if we're too cold to move.

Anybody who's interested could meet on floor 51. The fabric there isn't too good, but we don't have much else and I've read about how to survive in the cold; layers should still help. And we should pick a place where people can get the clothes as they need them.

[If nothing else, her room would probably work in the short term. There were two empty beds in there, though there was also the problem of people not being able to get them if there wasn't somebody in the room]

Could anybody help me with this? I'm getting better but I can't do too much by myself.

A-alright t-then. So the danger seems to have p-passed for t-the most part, but c-can you r-really tell in a place like t-this?

Ugh, this is what this place is always like, isn't it?

[Veronica vents a small groan. This place wasn't very fun anymore.]

A-anyway, while we're in d-down time, I-I'd like t-to m-make a request.

Does anyone know how to repair clothing? I-I got a p-package a long t-time ago of torn clothing that I'd l-like mended.

[Over the last few weeks Brunwulf had become increasingly restless. He wanted a fight. A sparring session with someone at least. His Nord blood demanded that he fight with someone to hone his skills, which were going to waste in this place. Aye, he had Floor Thirty Two to hunt and things, but sparring with another man would be better. He narrowed his eyes into the screen, as he sent his message.]

I am in need of some fighting action within this tower of torture. Would anyone wish to spar with me? With either blade or fists, I do not mind. A fist fight would be welcomed, as I have not had one of those for many moons. If anyone wishes to take up the challenge, meet me on Floor Thirty Two. This is where I often go to hunt and practice my blade skills.

[He wondered if anyone would be man enough to challenge him. Or perhaps a strong woman might even challenge him. Who knew?]

I know nobody feels like a party, but it's important to keep spirits up.

The Tower is a sack of shit like always, but the bombings are out of the norm even for this place. It's about time the people of the Tower got together to discuss these developments or just hang out, like we used to.

Cafeteria at Noon, Thursday. Bring your friends. If we could get music down there, that'd be great.


[OOC: Copies of this message can be found in the mailbox if your character doesn't network instead, except for Sephiroth and Ganondorf.]

[Tetra's sitting at a terminal, playing a few notes on her recently acquired Spirit Flute before looking at the screen.]

So, um... It's a Ruana month. And she can be pretty awful sometimes.

[A lot of the time but Tetra's not saying that where Ruana, Jason or Riki could hear.]

There's really no way to get ready for anything that happens here so just everyone should be careful, okay?

[The feed flickers on, showing Fang leaning in rather close to the camera, her brows furrowed as she leans back, tilting her head in thought and crossing her arms over her chest. She looks considerably frustrated before tapping the screen and patting the side of the terminal.]

This light better mean this is on...

[She leans forward again, enough to have the camera gain a good view of her shoulders up. Resting her hands on the sides of the terminal, she hums under her breath before speaking.]

So...I'm not supposed to be here, but then again, I don't suppose anyone is. I want to know where I am, and why.

[Is that an undead woman on the video feed? Yes, yes it is. One that's still getting herself acquainted with the functions of the network terminals, judging by the fiddling and mumbling she's doing.

Is this thing on... oh!

Hello, everyone! My name is Annika Whittenberg, and I have a few things that I would like to announce, if it's no bother. To start, I've noticed that there's not much clothing in this place. I'd like to offer my services as a tailor to anyone that might need something made. This robe is one that I've made myself... [She holds up an arm to show it off, then stands, turns herself about, and sits back down.] ...but I can make many other things. I'd appreciate a little bit of payment for my time, but I'm sure that won't be hard to work out. I've always been reasonable about such things. I believe you can send me a message on this... network? Or look for me in the dorms, I suppose. I'm in room 1-05.

Ah, yes, and also... if you're out and about and trying to fight monsters, please don't attack me. I'm not one of them. I'm one of you. Honestly, we're all pretty much on the same side, let's not be too jumpy...

Oh, and... I ought to ask properly... if there's anyone else here from Azeroth? Please let me know. Thank you.

[While the recording here was rather short, it was pretty obvious that it was something that a little kid sent, both by how the voice sounded and how the person spoke.]

Hello! I'm Yotsuba Koiwai! I beat Zett in a race and I'm trying out the ter..terminals! It's suuper fun! Who are you? Are you good people?!

[..Yes, this is a five-year-old on the network. Have fun with her.]

We are, all of us, growing volcanoes that approach the hour of their eruption; but how near or distant that is, nobody knows — not even God.

[ A pause, after reciting an old quote from a certain philosopher Wilhelm may or may not have an attachment to. There's some soft music playing in the background, but the volume, for once, is turned down to where it's barely audible, just loud enough for a listener to know that it's there. ]

This Tower has endured much. The revelations of our true nature here, the Promethean fall of Dax, and the fate of our worlds...

[ Yes - Wilhelm admits he was wrong about the worlds. It appears the Administrators mislead him. Well played, well played. ]

Though there is but one detail that still eludes me. Something I believed inconsequential to the grand scheme, until now.

What exists outside of the Tower?

[ Yes; there is a reason he is asking this. He leans back into his seat, in his small corner of the library he claimed as his own long ago. Those that regularly spoke with him knew where to find him. ]

[The person seated in front of the terminal is probably a new face to everyone in the tower. She looks quietly at the screen, managing to somehow appear both calm and furious. Three shadows of varying size stand quietly behind her.]

I'm sort of new to this type of thing, so I'll just cut to the point.

Is there possibly a seamstress in the tower? Or anywhere I could repair clothing? I... I would be extremely grateful.

And to whoever did this; I don't know how you managed this sick joke, but you will be found.

[But it's not their fault, Veronica. It's all your fault.]

Shut up, you're not Fran.

[Are you sure about that?]

[She give one last glare before the video ends.]