theclipper_tlv | Entries tagged with misty quigley

Taylor! Four, three, two, one, zero - I assume!

[This coded message from a just-demoted Patient is actually completely innocuous, as far as the ship as a whole goes, but feel free to assume it's a countdown to a bomb or something.]

wildguardian

Audio

Friends, comrades, shipmates! While I appreciate the frustration of our situation -- believe me, I get it -- I think we have reached a point in time where we need to work together for the good of our overall situation.

Point the first! Assistants, I think it's past time you stopped acting like we're all troublesome kids and started dealing with our legitimate complaints. The Sick Ward's in no shape to lock people up and drug 'em into submission, but I think we're gonna have some nasty scalds, if what I almost had happen washing my hands this morning is any guide. Why don't you come down here and start working on making sure our actual injured can get meaningful treatments? I'll even help you rip up some sheets for bandages.

Point the second! Love the skylight, amazing view. Let's not blow any more holes in our own darn ship without knowing what we're doing it for. Talk to me if you've got grievances. I'm willing to put together a list of demands. Raylan, where the fork are you, my friend?

See you soon. Second bed from the left, sick ward.

Spam

Zhao Yunlan has almost entirely stopped spending time in his room. His arm's in bad shape, he's keeping it patched up with a combination of gauze and the same ripped-up sheet bandaging he's offering to others, and he does not like the idea of being alone and injured around Bonesaw. Not after the way she'd looked at Taylor. He's got company down in the Sick Ward most of the time, and it's considerably nicer with those padded rooms largely shredded.

He'll occasionally venture up to the common room or wander around to find friends and fellow mutinous Patients, but can mostly be found playing endless games of cards with Wu Xie or obsessively checking his communicator.

tinstar

Who: Raylan, a small Revolution and you!
What: Vive la révolution - This is a free for all Log! Make your own top levels or tag into the chaos! (or both, whatever makes you happy)
When: Night of the 17th
CW: Violence but no strong language :3

Preamble

Something had changed. Raylan couldn't put his finger on why it felt like his stomach was eating itself, or why he couldn't stop having nightmares about James dying, but it felt like something Bad had Happened, and it made Raylan anxious and antsy in a way that, maybe, wasn't the most graceful for a man his age.

He'd do a whole lot better if he wasn't here.

But it was enough to spur Raylan into moving his plans into their next phase - plan execution.

--

It started later that same night, well after the Evening Song gathering which Raylan had used to catch a few people's eyes and managed to pass a single message. "Tonight." Jacobi, Garion. Oswald and Yunlan and Elle. Cloud and Steve. Maybe even Elias.. They had to wait, until most of the Clipper folk were in bed. Raylan was sure there were going to be a few night-owls, a few lingerers and that was exactly what Raylan wanted.

Folk they could lure into the mess. The goal? Get up the Treehouse, with or without an Assistant hostage and then - Barricading or disabling the Elevator up.

The Start

First thing Raylan made sure everyone knew as they showed up and moved through was that they were going for distraction and Chaos. Want to block a hallway? Go for it. Want to duck tape an assistant to the wall? Great. There were two fires planned and started in short order, one in the kitchens with kitchen rags and towels, one in the common room entrance with books. Yes, he knows- He objects on principle too, but means to an end and all. As soon as it all started, there wasn't going to be any stopping it or the rush of bodies that may come to try and stop them.

The crawl of fire and smoke didn't take long and Raylan just smiled at it all. Of course they might have fire detectors, but as heavily sanitized and flawed as this place was, Raylan was hoping they felt no need for it. That would change, wouldn't it. Despite all the violence on property they were doing, Raylan felt as calm and sure as ever.

Any Assistants that might manage to make their way into the common room was in for a hard time on their own - Raylan was actively hunting for someone to knock out with the table leg he'd snapped off and he'd made the fact that they needed one of the wristbands top priority. It was the key to the next step and he'd steal and lift as many of them as he could. Anything to stop them from taking out anyone who was causing the trouble.

The Hustle

There were a lotta moving pieces. Raylan knew that elsewhere, Steve and Cloud were also creating an equal amount of chaos - Give 'em hell. But he had his key upstairs and that's what he needed. After dragging Malcolm's body into the elevator with him, he held the door for a half second. He would have called for anyone to join him that wanted to, but frankly, he didn't want to have to deal with any more assistants that might try to take him up on the offer.

No, better take this himself, take the rap for it himself too, if he could. He knew this would come with consequences - he felt they were worth it, if they got any traction or got a meeting with the Authority.

Once the elevator is up, Raylan pulls Malcolm into the intersection of door and floor, using the man's body as a hold button as he starts dragging furniture into the elevator door. Soon enough, Malcolm was traded out for another two chairs and a coffee table - not the strongest of barricades, but plenty to throw a wrench in anyone calling it back down.

Now he could focus on calling up the Nurse with Malcolm's wristband.

dog_lover

[ She looks directly at the camera, smiling faintly even if it doesn't reach her eyes. Those eyes are... something else, bright gold, with red circles within that almost seem like they swirl as you look at them, drawing you in. ]

Hello. My name is Makima.

I'm here to help.

Anyone who has issues in controlling themselves. Or controlling their temper. Controlling their sadness. Anyone who's afraid of being overwhelmed or hurt, who doesn't know what to do. Anyone who just wants someone to make things simple and peaceful and easy...

We should talk.

[ Makima can be found in all sorts of places. After all, she doesn't need to be in the treehouse to look down at everyone, to watch over everyone. She sometimes is, because it's a nice view, but just as often, she's in the main common room, smiling sweetly and looking out for any trouble. She wanders into the sick ward just as often to see if there's anyone who might want to make a deal with her there, but she doesn't linger.

When she's not 'working', she'll be found in her room, staring (seemingly) at nothing at all. She's still smiling then, always smiling, but there's something missing in her eyes. That's why she makes sure she's behind a door before she does it.

So she doesn't bring down the mood. ]

[ ooc: Makima is the devil of control and can do all sorts of things with people's minds and memories. She'd be more than happy to erase all your sadness so you can be happy enough to leave. How's that for a way out? ]

routemistress

Iris has been wound up like a spring for the anticipated disaster, and then when it happens it's such an anticlimax that she begins to be really afraid. Being trapped in a faceless Authority's anodyne waiting room is infinitely worse than - well, almost anything, and by the time she receives the Nurse's offer she accepts it nearly reflexively.

And then she comes to in a room that looks like they hired the Scorchies as interior decorators. Most of the carefully curated collection of stuff she had in her pockets is with her still, but her swords, knuckleduster and staser are all gone. And when she finds her bottle of emergency tequila has been replaced by three pouches of Capri Sun, she knows she's in enemy territory.

She eyes the ingredient list to see if there's enough juice in it for toilet wine, and then she hides them in her cabin and looks at the network.

[Video, Public]

'Ello all, Iris Wildthyme 'ere. If you're one of us, please check in?

If not, hi there, nice to meet you. What's it like 'ere?

[spam, OTA]

She starts off optimistically enough: a ship with a giant tree through its heart can't be all bad, right? But she climbs the tree and finds no sky, only a creepy guard tower disguised as a tree house. From there she works her way in a downwards spiral, investigating every door and common area, and by the time she reaches the base of the tree she's having a hard time keeping control of her wolf, which is making her want to gnaw her way out of one of the cartoon windows. Thanks Nurse, she hates it.

She turns up to the evening singalong and pulls everyone she can into a rousing rendition of Complete Control. What? She's smiling!

(Soundtrack)

citizendetective

[network; audio; immediately after arrival; being a cliquey bitch in front of god and country]

Hello - roll call, please! The Authority wouldn't tell me anything; did we all make it? Did we all get chosen by the same ship? Pagan--

[Her voice quivers a little when she says her warden's name, and so she makes herself stop and breathe for a second or two, until she can sound smooth and airy and cheerful again.]

I'm an assistant now, so if you need anything - favors or perks, or, um, requests - I have clout! I think it goes without saying that we should all stick together as much as possible.

[actionspam; first few days after arrival]

[Misty's feelings about all this are deeply ambivalent, to say the least. On the one hand, she has no real attachment or loyalty to the Barge as an institution, and her prospects as a Clipper assistant seem much better than her prospects as a Barge inmate had been: all she has to do is graduate a patient and keep them on the straight and narrow for three months, and she can go home! And that should be the most important thing.

But on the other hand, there are people that she worries about; people that, already, she misses desperately and can't stand being universes away from, without any warning. Even beyond them, there are people that she thinks and wonders about - far more than she would have expected. The Barge residents hadn't been her team, but they'd been something, and to have all that ripped away throws her off-kilter.

So, naturally, she backslides immediately, making herself feel better by indulging in her worst habits of light stalking and petty power-plays. She patrols the circular hallways, keeping an eye on patients, enjoying the feeling of having power that she can use however she'd like. During at least the first few days, she participates fully in the morning and evening group meetings, and makes careful mental notes of who does and doesn't do the same. She'll dole out kindnesses and favors to those who treat her well, she decides, and to those who don't... well. She'll just have to see.

She spends quite a lot of time ensconced in the assistants-only treehouse, where she uses the binoculars to spy on people for hours on end: sometimes aimlessly looking around the whole visible space, and other times picking a person at random, dedicatedly following them until they exit the panopticon area and leave her sight. And when stalking people who are mostly strangers stops being enough, she retreats to her cabin, where she watches her saved security camera footage of Natalie, Shauna, and Taissa, thinks about how she doesn't even have a photo of Pagan, and - in private, out of the public eye - allows herself to cry.

She always carefully cleans her face and puts on eye makeup before leaving her cabin, wiping away tear tracks and concealing any puffiness. But whenever she spots anyone that she recognizes from the Barge, her public facade drops a little.]

Oh, my god--

[She'll say as she rushes over to them, uncertainty and anxiety clear on her face.]

You're here! This is crazy, right?