sirenspull | July 13th, 2012

July 13th, 2012

[The feed turns on to reveal a giant blue eye, staring directly into the camera. It blinks, before a feminine voice is heard.]

Okay. I think it is working now.

[The eye pulls away from the camera to reveal the youthful face of Flonne.]

I want to speak today about something that is very close to my heart. Something reaaally important. Even more important then giant robots, so you know that it is pretty darned important. That is, of course, heroes! A giant robot can't save the day without its heroic pilot after all, and without people to stand against it, evil would always triumph! And that would be just awful. I imagine even the evil people wouldn't like a world where they always triumphed. I mean, what fun would that be? But that is is beside the point!

[The angel shakes her head.]

The sad truth though is that a lot of people that call themselves heroes just aren't all they are cracked up to be. I've met several in my time. The Defender of Earth...well, he wasn't SO bad in the long run. Not like the Prism Rangers. I want to root for them, but their seven lights just don't spring to the task nearly well enough! I don't feel inspired, I just want to pat them on the head. And don't even get me started on the Unlosing Ranger. That guy is just totally false advertising. But aaaanyway, you don't need to dress in flashy costumes to do heroic things. It helps, but it isn't necessary. Like this, for instance!

[The camera draws back a little, revealing a kitten sitting on her desk. It is currently engaged in a game of swat the rabbit with Flonne's pet bunny, who looks none too pleased with the fact.]

I found this cute little kitty in a tree earlier, and took it upon myself to rescue him! I named him Fluffington von Furrystein. It was sort of not that heroic I guess, since I have wings and all, but other people were just being mean and leaving poor Fluffington stranded in that tree! Of course I found out how he got there not long after I got him home.

[The kitten, bored of assaulting the rabbit, suddenly seems to turn gravity off and begins to hover over the desk, spinning lazily like a kitty astronaut.]

..Yeah, like that. I'd never seen a flying cat before, but I guess they exist! But I lost track of what I was talking about. What was it? Oh yeah. Let me finish with two questions, since I'm curious and haven't talked to people for awhile. What does the word 'hero' mean to you? To me, it is someone that does the right thing, even when it seems hard. A flashy costume makes it more interesting though! Oh, and the other question..umm..does anyone want to adopt a flying cat? I've already got a pet, so as much as I want to, I can't keep him.

debtor

[(backdated to the afternoon of the 12th!!)

Whatever it is that's broadcasting the video feed appears to be... flying (maybe?), from the way it's kind of bobbing several feet off the ground. And the camera is focused first on a rather sparse single bedroom apartment.

Then someone quietly whispers 'Tim', and the camera turns itself to the face of a teenage boy. He's wearing a white shirt that he's adorned with a string tie for whatever reason, his shaggy, equally white hair is pulled back in a short ponytail, and he's got a rather striking scar carved into one side of his face. But he looks otherwise perfectly normal.

Also a little uncomfortable, because he's sending this against his better judgement. Like a good fugitive, he's been keeping (mostly...) to himself since his arrival, but it's time to finally suck it up and use this 'network' thing. If there's anyone out there he knows, good or bad, it's best to find out sooner rather than later, right? RIGHT? This isn't like home...

Though his discomfort could also just be attributed to the fact that he's alone and addressing an indeterminate number of unseen strangers and that's just an awkward thing to do. But once he realizes he's probably being recorded now, he puts on a nice, presentable smile.]

Ah— Is this working? [The camera bobs up and down— as if it's nodding 'yes.']

Oh. Er, good afternoon! My name is Allen Walker, and I've... arrived recently. [He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck.]

I've already had much of the situation explained to me... But, there's still more I'd like to find out. If someone could tell me what's known about the 'Core', exactly, I would appreciate it.

Also, where is a map of the city available...? [Expression turning a bit sheepish; if he's going to be stuck here, might as well bother to actually learn the layout. And he glances off to the side, thinking for a moment.]

I should look for a job, as well. —I don't suppose there's anything like a circus in this city? Though I have experience with other odd jobs— [And then, whether or not he had anything else to say, the video cuts out.]

( private: gilbert nightray )

( private: nill )

thepull_mods

Friday, July 13th 2012

Weather Mostly sunny. Risk of a shower or thundershower in the early morning. High 27°C and a low of 24°C (81deg;F/75°F)

Current Moon Phase: Waning Crescent

Morning sirens go off at 5:27am, and evening sirens are at 9:09pm.

News & Advertisements

Music Bidding Us A Sudden Cher-Well

It looks like Siren's Port can say sayonara to some of her vibrant music scene. In a total and very bizarre fell swoop, all evidence of the musician Cher has vanished from Siren's Port!

Starting last Friday, commenters on Network forums started noticing their Cher CDs going missing, replaced in their jewel cases by something called "Kidz Bop 14." One magic user who tried a locating spell reportedly set his husband's hair on fire. Even radio stations are finding that all attempts to play Cher music result in a traditional wedding march blaring over the air.

The phenomenon came dramatically into public light on Wednesday, when a live Cher tribute act headlined by French singer Jackie Bouvier crashed and burned in front of a live audience at the Sector 1 nightclub The Amber Room. Witnesses report that when Ms Bouvier got on stage, all that came out of her mouth was "Hark, The Herald Angels Sing." She reportedly hasn't been able to sing or speak normally since. Attempts to interview her ended when she tried to answer a question with "Stray Cat Strut."

From missing CDs to cursed radio waves and live performers, it seems someone has it in for Cher fans this week. Will she make another comeback? Hector Swardson of WOKQ, a station specializing in off-island music, has offered a $500 reward for any information about the magically-imposed Cher black-out.

-Cookie Craze May Turn a Thin-Minted Fortune!
Keelson’s Auctionhouse was a flurry of activity yesterday, as American-born Outsider Becky Fernswerth (44) purchased eighty Cases of imported Girl Scout Cookies for nine thousand five hundred dollars. Miss Fernswerth is a Girl Guide troop leader in Sector 5, and plans to sell at least half of the 960 individual boxes in the Underground Mall, having contacted the UCMA to set up a booth immediately following the auction.

As it turns out, Miss Fernswerth barely even made it to the parking lot before fellow bidders were making offers to take some of the highly sought-after boxes off her hands. Thin Mints and Samoas were immediately purchased by fellow bidders for upwards of 50 dollars each, as she was packing cases into her van.

These cookies are in high demand and going fast- who knows when the Port will see a shipment of these rare offshore treats? So if you’re looking for your fix of Black Market cookies? Best get there early. Otherwise, you might be stuck fighting soccer moms over the last box of outrageously priced Shortbread Trefoils and Peanut Butter Do-Si-Dos.

------------------------
[ News Notification Thread]

fidele

[ There is little audio in the background of her post to indicate that the post has come up at all; in the quiet breaks between jobs, her surroundings are ominous rainclouds and grey brick as she sits perched in the rusty emergency stairs of an apartment block. It's in these short times that she allows herself to think, and on this occasion, remember that she, too, has a voice on the network. ]

In this place, some of us are far away from the people we were raised by. Our parents and friends. Some of you may be reunited in this world, or separated again. Some of you may only be connected by a common friend of the same world.

[ Friends have left the port not long after she finally found her comfort in them and the term friends. There were those, too, that came from her homeworld but proved to be more causes of friction and annoyance than anything resembling an amiable bond. Yet they still gave a sense of familiarity that, to her, could have been as comforting as seeing her own world again. As though swallowing a lump in her throat, she pauses, gaze lowered by a few degrees, before continuing. Discussions are not her strong suit. ]

I was separated from my father soon after being reunited in this place-- nearly a year since we had last seen one another. Now, two years. I can feel the distance of the worlds between us. But...

[ But the emotions that envelop and burn around all mention of her father, those that motivate her to protect him and to jump at the bare mention of his name, won't let themselves be shown. Her eyes are as steady as ever, barely betraying this trailing-off, this uncertainty in what to say next. It's like a wave of self-doubt and camera-shyness has overtaken her, before she seems to pick up again as though that pause had never happened. She does have a request to make, after all, and inclines her head slightly before making it. ]

I do not mourn his parting from me, as he is not gone. He does not miss me as I do, but I still miss him.

So, please tell me about your families. What you remember of them. What you feel at this distance as you miss them. Whether you are missed too.

[ Despite such a straightforward question, she has still opted to deliberately turn the video function on. Firstly, to show the more recent arrivals her face. Secondly-- to draw out those who knew her father, or sees their connection in her resemblance to him. Her eyes remain fixed on the feed a while longer, unblinking, before she leans to switch it off and shuts her eyes in a small, careful motion. ]

hulkbusted

[It's Saturday morning and Bruce's NV is propped against something to show him seated with a cup of something (tea, considering the string and tag hanging over the cup's lip) in the foreground. People move behind him, some holding cups of coffee before they take seats out of the camera's view. Looks like he's at an outdoor cafe. It also looks like he's found a charity that offers clothes to the poor and/or new arrivals because he's wearing a slightly dingy pale green button-down shirt with the cuffs rolled up over his forearms and a couple of buttons left open at the collar.]

Hiring in Siren's Port doesn't go the way it does most other places, does it? I couldn't give the panel at Siren's Port University my CV and published papers for examples of my work, but a few days of filling white boards with equations seems to have done the trick. It's much faster than hiring back home, too, but I guess there's a lot of turnover around here.

In addition, I'm offering my services as an after hours tutor while the days are long and until I go home, whenever that may be. If you need help with math or science up to the post-graduate level in most disciplines, contact me [he leans forward and swipes his fingers over the display, and a link appears at the bottom of the video screen] and we can make arrangements.

In the meantime, I'm at Cafe Bijan, and there are a few people who have been helpful to me since I arrived that I would happily buy a coffee. [He smiles, and the humor is meant mostly for himself and maybe one other person.] Unless you don't drink... coffee.

hi_bestie

[ When the NV switches on, the image of a woman with long, dark hair and glasses comes into focus. You can see behind her that she's sitting in one of the Starter Apartments. She huffs out a sigh, glancing around her with her brow furrowed deeply, before she returns her gaze to the camera, looking both very confused and very irritated. ]

Hello? Can anyone hear me?

My name is Amy Farrah Fowler and I appear to have been kidnapped. Alas, not in the way often specified in such saucy, steamy bodice-ripper novels - there is a distinct lack of any mild bondage or a roguish captor with long, flowing locks and a rippling, muscular physique.

[ Her frown deepens at that. ]

If anyone gets this message then I ask you to inform me of the quickest way I may use to return home to Pasadena, California. If you are yet another person not in full possession of their mental faculties and try - once again - to convince me that I'm in an alternate dimension, then I urge you not to waste my time.

Thank you and good day.