sirenspull | Entries tagged with c: anna milton

[ Hello, world. Meet new arrival, Sam Winchester. But you might not know that it's him, because he's not showing his face yet, and: ]

This is Agent Murdock. [ He clears his throat, pausing a moment. ] If anyone's out there, and can hear me, or needs help... just let me know. I'm sort of at a loss, here, and I'd like some information. If this thing is even working, that is.

[ He's confident in his tech abilities, but something's definitely up with his phone. ]

... Thanks.

universaljanitor

[The feed today clicks on, showing the Doctor in... a rather different mood than he's been in before. Less cheerful, less manic. His face is lined, brow pinched and furrowed in a mix between utter outrage and worry, and his eyes are dark and intense. Blazing with a fire that most of the Port hasn't been privy to, yet.

For you see? Three of his friends are/were missing. And while it seems that reports from those that are missing are trickling in, now... well. The fact that Newcomers were the ones who'd disappeared, after so much anti-Newcomer sentiment surging through the Port... and then the talk of IDs being required?

He's seen this cycle of hate and dissent time and time again. And it makes him sick]

In all my years, I've seen many, many things. Brilliant things, amazing things. The triumph of civilizations against all odds. The utter kindness a man can find in himself in times of crisis.

But I've also seen horrible things. Death and war and strife and famine... I've seen the casualties of the Battle of Watling Street, I've freed the tortured caught up in the Spanish Inquisition. I've looked over the countless kilometers of unmarked graves in the Jangreeth Civil Wars.

( non ic cut for length )

[His lips are pursed for a moment, tension clear in his face, nostrils flaring in barely supressed anger. But befroe he can say anything else... he reaches forward, and turns off the feed. He doesn't quite trust himself to keep a level head, past there.

But three hours later, in the middle of the night, an anonymous (heavily anonymous) text message will be posted to the Network.]

( Anonymous Text, cut for length )

ofthursday

[The feed flips on to give a great view of a rapidly approaching wall, which it promptly crashes into, then the floor where it lands. There's the sound of a voice, speaking rapidly in a strange language--Enochian, for the beings in the Port familiar with it--then silence for a few moments until the NV is picked up.]

Oh. It was the NV.

[He mutters the comment quietly to himself; the screen is still aimed off to the side, but there's a flash of Castiel's trench coat and it's definitely his voice. The feed flips to audio, and Castiel actually addresses it this time.]

I encountered a creature in the Darkness earlier today and it's having... Sensory distorting effects.

[In other words, he's hallucinating, and the Core's flipping of some types of perception isn't helping. He may or may not have run into a Pox Pollen Mushroom. Blame Crowley.]

Does anyone know how long such effects might last?

[Guess who hasn't read the Darkness guide out of a general sense of 'I'm an angel nothing can hurt me?' This guy.]

[[ooc: For those that understand Enochian, his words are mostly jumbled minor curses and general 'get away from me.' Similar to what anyone might say if their NV looked like a giant whip scorpion with a vampire bat face and huge doll eyes.]

integrity

As everyone is delicately tip-toeing around what a few select people have figured out, let me spell it out for you, for the individuals who lack the brain cells to rub together.

It's guilt. The feelings of guilt. Decisions that you regret. Things you've done that you wish you could have done differently. That is what is causing you all to be so sick, why certain people are targeted and certain people are supposedly immune.

If anything, you should stop feeling sorry for yourselves and start wondering why, exactly, some people are so healthy. Those are probably the people you should be watching warily -- because I doubt they're all saints.

In other news, Castiel is in a coma, which I'm sure is a grand surprise to all that know him and have connected piece A with piece B. Stop texting him and calling him. I'm going to feed the NV to my dog shortly if it keeps going off.

The first person to suggest that I take him to a hospital will have their throat cut.

Continue panicking at your leisure. I am going to return to my work.

vw_coyote

[Mercy is working on a car. Her backend is hanging out of the hood as she mutters at a sparkplug. However, there was a reason she turned the feed on.

The garage doors are open, to let in a breeze because shops get stuffy and the weather's nice.]

So, a new batch of newcomers.

[And not a single wolf in the bunch. She's really getting tired of that.]

My name is Mercy. If anyone needs a mechanic job, my boss has an opening.

[She pulls out of the hood and pitches the sparkplug at a barrel. It clangs into the pile.]

It's only part-time for now, but might pick -

[She stops, because a rock catches her in the head and knocks her to the ground. There are shouts from outside about newcomers stealing the jobs of rightful citizens.

The feed shuts off when a bloody hand scrambles for the phone.]

carryonmywaywardson

[A bit after lunch]

[When the video starts, Ben is on the screen, frowning lopsidedly at the device. There is a large wall mirror behind him and a white sink, clearly a public bathroom. The Video is at the best wrong angle that in the reflection it can just be seen that one of the stalls is open and a familiar man is leaning over the toilet... making offerings to the porcelain gods.]

Uh... Mrs Mary? Or... anyone, really. [You can hear Dean in the background “dude, get that outta here or it’s gettin' flushed too", making Ben cringe and draw the device closer to his own face, whispering.]

I don’t think he’s uh... doing so well.

empowers

[ Shift, shuffle, rustle. Rustle, rustle... breathing. Breathing is heard, quite clearly, and a little panicked. If the NV had just slightly sharper sound technology, the thumping heartbeat behind its holder would likely be audible. This isn't where she went to sleep. This certainly isn't the launch pad. Did they thrust her into the Arena? Without the final pomp, the circumstance - without getting to eat breakfast, or get trussed up by Cinna and the others, or -- No. No, it doesn't feel dangerous enough. The hairs on the back of her neck aren't quite standing on end intensely enough. ]

Peeta?

[ Then a more frightening thought occurs to her, and those prickles? They're right there. ]

Peeta!

[ The voice isn't directed at anyone, really. She's not even aware the NV's come on, truthfully. She played with it and pushed some things, in hopes it would do something useful, but she doesn't know she's willfully turned it on. More rustling is heard, and there's the faint speaking of a greeter in the background as they approach and try to talk to her, but she's bristling rather loudly and she isn't having any of it. ]

Don't feed me that! Where are the other tributes? Why was I brought here?

[ Bystanders may note that she's keeping her weapon close at hand. She's not sure how it was handed to her; she didn't remember... But it's there, and she has an arrow poised and ready to be fired at the slightest hint of hostility. So far it seems like everyone wants to help. But if this is some Capitol trick, which she suspects it is, this is probably all a ruse and the niceness won't last long. Better be prepared than dead. ]

And where is Peeta? Tell me.

(( ooc; Anybody who might be near the baseball diamond is free to action it up here, as well! ))

learnyourplace

[Rachel manages to startle herself while poking around at the appliances in her small, starter apartment. With her NV in one hand as she does, it comes as no surprise that she turns it on as she backs away from an exploding toaster.

Obviously, she shouldn't be allowed near a kitchen. It's probably a good thing she doesn't need to eat. There's a moment of her just looking at the counter top -- then at the NV and her head tilts a bit to the side.

It probably shouldn't be on.] Oh. [She fumbles with it, trying to turn off the feed and finally, fed up, tries to turn it off via angel mojo. She only succeeds in blowing up a lightbulb. She looks very put-upon, very frustrated, hiding a thread of fear underneath it. She is not ready to let other know she's here. That choice has been taken from her, because of her own carelessness.

... She still can't find the right button to push.]

arealgem

[To be careful, Ruby is only going to be addressing the network via text. She has no idea who could be here, and who might want her dead. She isn't too keen on the idea of being murdered after being brought back so soon, after all.

She also isn't too fond of the idea of not familiarizing herself with everything new around her.]

So Merry Christmas, Happy Un-birthday, Jolly fucking Resurrection to me. Who knew I'd be coming back from the list of the dearly departed? This should be fun as hell. So how many others are like me, and how long have you been here?

unluckyinlove

[This post takes place early Sunday morning, but it's unintentional. The feed runs for a minute or two with with very few sounds. Shuffling, footsteps on a floor, the occasional deep breath. Then there's a musical note. It rings out in a quiet room and is quickly silenced. After a brief moment, a few more notes start playing until it's a song. It sounds like a music box. Some people in the Port may recognize the song. It's rather familiar.

As the music begins to slow, Jinx's voice finally chimes in, off-key and rough.]

Twinkle, twinkle little star...

How I wonder w-what-- [She chokes. The music fades out. There's some hitched breathing before the feed finally times out.

IC replies won't come until later.]

employeeofthemonthforever

[As a high-ranking angel, Zachariah has to put in real effort to look this boring. Bald, just a little portly, in a well-tailored but subdued business suit, on a park bench. The view is at an angle as he looks out toward the city, the NV in his hand, elbow propped on one knee. He grins a little ruefully.]

Somebody tell me there's a decent bar in this cesspool.

possessing

[Meg is not pleased and seems to have taken up a seat in the back booth of some bar. It's pretty dingy and smoky, definitely not clean, and not at all a respectable joint in any way. She manages to look completely out of place, her hair pulled up and in a white dress shirt. If it wasn't for the leather jacket draped over her shoulders and the glass that must've been something on the rocks, it could be easily assumed that she'd found herself in the wrong place. If you didn't know her anyway.She's got her feet kicked up on the table and she's probably got the phone propped up judging by the angle, though she's not quite as in frame as she could be.]

Canada. That's a new one. Haven't been here in …..Oh, well. An apocalypse. Who's idea was having a mystical hell hole trap in Canada...?

It's a nice little magical feedback loop they have going, real pretty and all, have to admit that. Can't get out, only can get in if you're "pulled".

[She pauses, and rolls her glass across the table, staring past the camera, and looking for all the world like she's got her thoughts elsewhere.]

I don't really have time for this.

[There's a beat, and she rolls her eyes.]

And even if I don't just get yanked out of history for all time, I don't like having my things get screwed with, got it?

I was on a roll.

[There's another pause as Meg thinks, her eyes lighting up before she finally starts chuckling. It's not really a nice sound, and she finally looks at the camera, raising an eyebrow.]

Just is my kind of luck though, these days. So. Come out, come out, where ever you are. It doesn't take much to sniff hell and angel dust, so who've I gone and gotten my poor little self trapped with, hm? Don't be shy.

paterelohim

[Guess who's back, gang! Looking cleaned-up and more put-together than normal, in a spiffy bright white shirt that's honestly oddly formal for him. Despite the snazzy clothes and overall manscaping, he looks like he's had the longest friggin' day of his life. The stress shows in how he runs his hand through his hair, messing it up hopelessly.]

Wow. Two weeks, huh?

[Hissing out a breath.]

Man, they really don't tell you how weird it is to go home then come back again. I mean, that's like the-center-cannot-hold levels of what the hell, a serious rift in the Force. It's been months...

[He shakes his head quickly, visibly trying to snap out of it.]

Okay, whatever. This would be big boy pants time, right? I can do that.

So I guess you guys have to tell me what happened while I was gone. Gossip or whatever? The Core forgot to send me Facebook updates across parallel universes, so I'm all out of touch. I'm pretty sure nothing fell apart without me, so you can get back from the edges of your seats now.

Oh, and- hi.

whycantistay

[After a half hour of trying to contact her boy friend, failing, and running to his apartment, she's practically collapsed. She's trying not to cry, but really, after everything? She can't handle this. Not after knowing she's dying back home, after everything that had happened here. Chuck was gone, the person who said he wouldn't leave, her rock.]

Chuck Shurley is gone.

unluckyinlove

[The video feed clicks on to a young woman sitting on a barstool. Her long fuchsia hair is pulled back into a messy bun and one of her legs is crossed neatly over the other. She's wearing a simple, black outfit. The top is sleeveless, showing off a tattoo of a swan on her bicep. It's still relatively new. Her hand is idly tapping a pen against a clipboard that she's holding against her knee.]

Listen up, Port. My name is Jinx. I own Purgatory. If you don't know who I am or what that is, you're obviously new.

[She clears her throat and recrosses her legs.] Purgatory is a cabaret nightclub located in Sector Five. We recently threw a party for St Patrick's Day and I didn't even get to enjoy it. Why? Because half of my staff didn't show and they're probably all deported or dead. So, think of this as a job opportunity. We're officially hiring.

[The sorceress takes a moment to jot something down on her clipboard before she continues.]

We need hostesses, servers, chefs, and talent. Singers, dancers, musicians, people who can stand up in front of a microphone and make drunk people laugh. I don't wanna say we're desperate, but I'm a crap waitress and there's only so many times Gabriel can pull rabbits out of things before people get bored.

So, if you're interested, say the word. Talk to me now, call me later, or contact this buffoon. [She leans in, putting a hand up to her mouth as though she's whispering a secret.] He's an archangel. Make fun of him for it.

[Jinx grins, showing off a very sharp row of teeth, then shuts off the feed.]

mulletrock

[Dean hasn't figured out the video function on his NV so he's blisfully unaware and accessing the network via audio because it's what he's used to.

His voice sounds rough with lack of sleep because he hasn't really gotten much in the past week but it's also lined with a hell of a lot of sarcasm and contempt for his situation.]

Since we got the whole parallel dimension snatching up civilians thing covered I guess it'd be stupid to introduce myself as Jerry Wanek.

What the hell's there to do around here except avoid the darkness and kill the crap that comes out of it?

This place'd be a lot better if I had my car.

[And because he hasn't figured out filters yet either he'll just be leaving it at that, even if he needs to talk to Cas and is going to try reaching Sam on his own time later.]

paterelohim

[Hey there, bros and brosises. Chuck is sitting on the edge of a stone fountain in a park somewhere, polishing off an iced coffee that's decidedly girly-looking, but shh. He gives the NV a very serious look.]

It's Pi Day, Siren's Port. Have you had your pie today?

integrity

[The feed turns on to show Crowley in the baseball diamond. He's just standing there -- and he looks slightly different. He's thinner, he stands straighter, and when he looks around, it's lacking that sassy nonchalance. No, Crowley is serious. And while he knows the NV is recording, he doesn't really seem to give a damn.

He's absorbing something. Calculating. Remembering. Catching up with the present.

And suddenly -- the feed crackles and Crowley is lost to static and buzzfeed -- there is an explosion of blue electricity and lights, and the baseball diamond is plunged into true darkness, sparks crackling to the ground, though Crowley, after the extension of his power, speaks calmly.]

Someone has precisely five seconds to explain to me why my dog isn't coming when she's being called.

[And the public feed ends.]

( [Filtered to members of the HoA sans Magneto // Private // Unhackable] )

( [Filtered to Elaine Belloc, Gabriel, and Christina Nickson // Private // Unhackable] )

( [Filtered to the Winchesters and Bobby Singer // Private // Unhackable] )

( [Filtered to Castiel // Private // Unhackable] )

( [Filtered to Magneto // Private // Unhackable] )

momchester

[Anyone who knows and talks to Mary knows that she doesn't really like texting. So the fact that this is text- it's unusual.]

Dean Winchester is gone from Siren's Port. He disappeared earlier today.

If anybody wants to find me, I'll be at the Newcomer Memorial.

[Most likely drunk. Her marriage dissolved even more this week, talk about an awful month.]

[Private to Castiel | added several hours later]

Hi. Just wanted to drop you a line and ask how you're doing.