sirenspull | Entries tagged with c: mary winchester

[ It's only after she's had enough time to fully process what has happened that she addresses the network, sitting calmly in the middle of the field. There are several things that she now knows for certain.

She knows that she definitely isn't in Heaven any more, the most comforting knowledge of all. Somehow, something has managed to assist her in an escape. She also knows that there are family members here, and that's far more concerning. Lastly, she knows that whatever has happened here, she needs to get inside before dark ~~see someone read the signs~~ or all Hell breaks loose.

Still, as ominous as that situation is it's not enough for her to drop her guard, so she avoids any videos for now. It's not that she doesn't trust the idea of other angels being here, she just...doesn't trust the idea of other angels being here. ]

If there's anyone listening to this, some help would go a long way. [ This feels stupid. Still, she presses on all the same, letting out a soft exhale of breath before continuing. ] I've woken up in a baseball field and there are warnings about staying inside during the dark. If anyone could just...direct me to the nearest place where I can keep away from this 'darkness', it would be appreciated.

And...that's all, thanks.

other_winchester

[ At first there's just a lot of crackling and what's on the screen is an incoherent blur as Adam turns the NV over in his hands, muttering to himself. ]

How the hell do you--?

[ When he finally figures it out, he holds the NV up so you get an eyeful of a blond-haired boy in his late teens, sitting in one of the Starter Apartments and looking very, very annoyed as he takes in his new surroundings. ]

So, an alternate version of Canada. With, uh, monsters in the dark. That's just... great. Really. [ Sarcasm :| ]

[ He shakes his head and spares the camera an eye roll because really why him?!?! ]

I'm, ah, I'm looking for these two guys, I guess. Uh, Sam and Dean? That's their names - Sam and Dean Winchester.

Does, uh, does anyone know where I can find them? If they're-- If they're here? I'm their brother.

upstairsbrain

[ Well, he's taken some time to mull over what Magento told him about his time in the Port: the time he doesn't remember. And thinking it over, trying to reason it out, searching for a shred of memory to explain why he'd done it... nothing like that had worked. So, finally, the younger Winchester comes over the feed, his voice almost jerky, mechanical. To many, it may seem like he's just tired, but to those who know him well... ]

Sorry about being M.I.A. If anyone needs me, I'll be around. I'm taking a sort of--

[ He trails off, and then clears his throat. ]

... Anyway. I'll be back soon.

[Private to Dean Winchester:]
I'm not going to be at home for a few days. Don't tell Mom, alright? I don't want her to worry.

[Private to Castiel:]
Can we talk? In person?

aslandish

[ Months have passed since he last addressed the network, and though he himself is well, there are things that trouble him. Today, there is no joyous song for the morning, but rather a solemn address. ]

The worlds are ever-changing. Conflicts arise when choices are made.

Without temperance, there is much to be lost and little to be gained.

Guard yourselves, and be mindful in all things.

[ooc: Permissions post is here! As always, anyone with the ability to sense who and what he is, feel free to do so! ]

showbizpanache

[Kurt is usually pretty composed when he posts on the network, but not this time. He looks frantic, exhausted and frankly ill. His head is in his hands, his fingers gripping his usually impeccably-styled hair as he speaks without looking at the camera.]

All of you, please.

Please don't do this. I'm begging you. There has to be something else, there--there just has to be.

[In case it isn't clear what he's talking about... :c]

carryonmywaywardson

[Backdated to this morning.]

[The video belongs to one Ben Braeden. It kicked on with some kid laughing, heavy toned in his voice and so not Ben. It then got tossed to the side, lodged into a tree root, which is half blocking the video.]

[You can see, at a sideways video glance, little Ben. Sitting on the ground, one shoe missing, sock dirty, jeans ripped at the knee and a hand holding his bloody nose, eyes glaring darkly over his hand.]

[Someone can be heard, just barely, laughing. Something else might be a muffled voice (the speaker is in the ground) about “...not your girl, so back off. She doesn’t need no Norm tainting her perfection.” Someone else laughs. “Why not run home and play with mommy? Oh wait, you can’t. You’re stuck here and she’s not. Haha, for the best. She’d be whoring herself to AGI fast I bet--”]

[The words were cut off as Ben suddenly got up, hands grabbing the ground, pulling himself up and dashing off camera. Yeah, someone just got tackled. There’s a few yells of cheering or booing friends (of the other boy) and then a foot can be seen coming in and kicking the device. Turning it off.]

-------

[It comes back on, inside a wooden cabin, and Ben is sitting there, glaring. He thought this was private to Dean, but the NV is faulty right now. He sniffed, rubbing a wrist over his nose. Seems to have been a bit since this was posted.]

You need ta come pick me up. I’m not stayin’ here. [so hard a glare, and he sniffs again, rubbing his poor nose. The scruffy kid glances off to the side and mumbles]

They said they wanna talk to you, or something.

[The video flickers and the screen weaves a bit, then he grumps, tapping it with his hand] Can I just walk home?

[[Feel free to reply to him. He'll reply back while waiting for someone to get him, which could be a while.]]

integrity

The citizens of this city, registered and unregistered, are somewhat pathetic.

[Hello, Siren's Port. Have your neighborhood friendly demon, sounding oddly serious and composed.]

We are brought here, against our will, by a mystical force that none of us can control or see. While we are trapped here, we are treated as second-class citizens, the proverbial Rosa Parks on the bus line that is the multiverse, and not weeks after a neighborhood friendly hunt on the newcomer population, individuals seem to have... shrugged it off. Moved along with their lives and their husbands and wives and paper routes and white picket fences.

[There is a slight creak as Crowley shifts in the chair he is sitting in. He pauses slightly, to collect his thoughts, before he continues. A good orator always knows when to draw the line and when to keep talking. He seems to be deciding where it is now.]

Whether or not this is just another display of humanity ignoring when terrible things occur in favor of the new bright and shiny politician on their doorstep is irrelevant. What is relevant is your amazing ability to ignore what is directly in front of you -- we are held in the hands of a group of individuals no more or less powerful than we are and yet we are the second-class. Even those registered as citizens, those with powers in government -- you can't tell me you are truly invited to the weekly bridge game of our Canadian cousins.

[And suddenly, his voice grows slightly harder.]

What will it take for all of you to realize that we are nothing more than cattle in a small pen being poked at with sticks? Would it be the brutal murder of someone you love or the relinquishment of supposed unalienable rights that you hold onto so tightly? What will it take for you to finally open your eyes and understand that you aren't free. Your tiny little slice of life is nothing more than an illusion fed to you by a series of corporations and egotistical human overlords who think themselves better than everyone else because they have a pretty picture stamped on an ID card. So come on -- be honest. What would you rather have -- eternal peace at the price of freedom or the knowledge that you did something potentially great regardless of the consequences?

[There is the clink of a glass -- and Crowley ceases talking. But the feed stays open.

It's a serious question. And a testing of the waters.

He wants to know how many dangerous people are truly in the Port.]

showbizpanache

[It's Kurt's second post within a relatively short while. It's video this time--and he looks put-together, crisp and diplomatic. He clears his throat delicately before speaking.]

First of all, it seems we've received some new arrivals. I'm Kurt Hummel-- And as assistant director of the Newcomer Community Center, I'd like to welcome you all, and encourage you to come by the Center if you need any assistance or wish to lend a hand toward our cause. If you have any questions about the Port or our objectives as a community, please don't hesitate to ask.

[A pause, and he looks uneasy.]

Second of all, I-- I didn't really publicly acknowledge it before, but... I was among those hunted last weekend, and--and I don't find it prudent to deny that anymore.

I am currently working with the NPP to mobilize our forces to do whatever we can to pursue justice--but in the meantime, I think it's more important than ever that we work as a community. To pursue individual acts of revenge is futile and dangerous to our survival here in the Port. I ask that everyone involved remain open to the idea of releasing an official statement to the mainstream media about what happened-- And for all Newcomers, even those who have just arrived, to commit as much time and energy as you can afford to contributing your support. Any donation--whether it's money, time, or lending a few moments to talk to someone--it all counts.

[He hesitates.] I know this may be shocking to some of you, but I think it's better if you all see this before I show anyone else. [Slowly he sets the NV down and pushes up one sleeve. Though he doesn't appear to be in pain (thanks to Michael), his arm still looks absolutely terrible--a skinned, mangled, hideous mess.] This is what those hunters did to us, among worse things. I'm showing you all because you're all part of this community we have built here as Newcomers, and you should all be as disgusted and incensed as I am--along with Ms. Mary, and Gohan, and Mercy, and all the Newcomers who have ever faced violence and prejudice here in the Port.

[Hastily he pushes the sleeve back down.] Let's fix this together. This can't happen again. It won't. Not if we work together.

Thank you.

bigandbad

[Bigby's voice is a little harsher when he talks today, a little tighter. Older. Harder.] I'm not usually big on sharing, or storytelling, but that's exactly what I'm here to do today. Call it wild hair up my ass.

There's a place called Israel back in my world. Here's what you need to know about it: Israel is a tiny country surrounded by much larger countries dedicated to its eventual total destruction.

Israel stays alive by being a bunch of tough little bastards who make the other guys pay dearly every time they do anything against Israel. Some in the wider world constantly wail and moan about the endless cycle of violence and reprisal. But since the alternative is non-existence, the Israelis seem determined to keep at it. They have a lot of grit and iron. I'm a big fan of them.

I've done a lot of wondering this past week about what would happen if our little group adopted the Israel template in whole. You can no doubt guess that in that scenario, certain groups would play the part of the vast powers arrayed against us.

Every time they hurt us, we'd damage them much worse in return. It would always happen. Always. They would be the only ones who could end the cycle. They have entire empires to protect. Businesses, transports, research facilities. They could guard a thousand likely targets and there would still be a million ripe, unprotected targets open for a hit.

Interesting to think about.

benditlikekorra

[When the feed comes on, the video is upside-down because the NV is being held incorrectly. Korra quickly flips it to the correct orientation and holds it at arm's length so her whole face is framed on the screen rather than just her eyes. Her expression is weary and she looks tired. The tapered muzzle of a massive white dog(?) can be seen floating just behind her shoulder.]

I need to know if anyone here has any idea of how to return to the worlds we came from. My friends back home... they're all in danger, and there's nothing I can do for them here. I need to get back.

[The doglike creature behind her whines and bumps her with its nose. Korra looks over her shoulder briefly, stroking its fur before focusing again on the screen.]

Look, there has to be a way, right? Can anyone help me? Please!

[Ragged desperation darkens her voice, and it cracks there at the end. Having to beg for help makes her choke up, and she drags the back of her hand across her face. Growling in frustration, she cuts the feed, muttering something along the lines of ‘how do you even turn off this stupid thing.’]

sharp

[ surprisingly no video or voice today, port. looks like a certain ginger is avoiding showing off her emotions. and possibly some battle wounds. or something like that. ]

I've been here a year. Exactly. That's 365 days. How did that even happen? WHY AM I STILL HERE?

Actually, what's the longest somebody has been here? Anybody know? I remember hearing the first appearance of a "newcomer" was like fifty years ago, but ... sometimes I wonder if any of us really will live out a lifetime here.

Sorry. Not a good topic, is it? Especially for you new lot. Hey there.

Anyway, I'm fine, if anybody was wondering. I made it out of that hunt alive. Thanks to everybody else who was captured. None of us deserved that. I really hope they're planning to do something about those people.

P.S. Has anybody heard from Damon Salvatore? Just wondering.

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.]

learnyourplace

[It's an accidental broadcast; Rachel has the NV in hand, having intending only to listen to whatever might be new as she walked through the city. (In no particular hurry to go anywhere in particular, walking seemed the way to go. She may have been wrong.) The audio clicks on mid-sentence, triggered by a restless and angry grip on the device.]

--aside. Move or I will move you. [There's more than simple frustration in her voice; she's angry. The audio is muffled, but it's clear she's not alone. There's raised voices, demands for information, insults hurled. She could just leave, but mulishness is apparently a family trait.

It may be clear that she might not handle this well without a little intervention, despite what she's told others about not provoking those who would confront them.]

universaljanitor

Given the rather interesting little bit of art that appeared overnight, I was thinking of getting a group of experts together to go and see what's what.

So, if any of you lot are exp- well, probably not experts. More likely aficionados, given this melting pot of realities - of extraterrestrial sightings, history, or any sort of symbology, really, give me a bit of an example of your work.

[... He's way too excited about this crop circle jellyfish thing, okay]

Ooooh its been ages since I've had something right up my alley. Ha!

( Private messages to Rose, Jack, Eleven, the TARDIS, Amy, Jubilee, Mary, Sheldon, Edriss and Washu )

thelightbringer

[Lucifer is lounging at Merlotte's, of all places. With a book, and a glass of--well, whatever he happened to grab. It might be water.]

Well, someone wake the Gregorians, I think it's my birthday.

Let's start the festivities.

[Basically, no one should plan on leaving their home. Maybe ever again.]

hostage

Hey - guys. Uh...

[A voice post from Jesse? Not his usual style. It sounds like he's outside and struggling to drag something.]

Can you believe there's like no cabs down by Sector 10? Like at all? What's the deal? Tried calling and they won't even come out this way. It's bananas.

So I just, uh -

[He sucks in sharply and stops moving. There's a thump, presumably as he leans against a wall.]

Any one of you guys a healer? Like a healer, not a doctor. I know, I know, it's gonna be dark soon. I'll pay you if you can just, like, get out here. Fast. Before dark. Please.

gaveherwings

[A very over-tired Dr. Yumeno has a bleary moment in Skye Medical breakroom, to turn on his NV and address the network with some wearied satisfaction. He looks like he hasn't caught more than catnaps in about a week, dressed in scrubs, a surgical mask pulled down onto his chin.]

SERO's come through well. A breakthrough much quicker than we anticipated, and ... yet not a moment too soon.

Congratulations are due to my colleagues who were able to be a little more involved in the process. We're very grateful for the good news. I'm considering the benefits of trying to get back into research medical and gene vector therapy myself, after seeing just how desperately the Port needs solutions in the field, to advance and adapt medicine for special needs.

Skye has limited resources for that- as those of you who've been with us can probably tell, it's been sort of a patient care zoo. We've been sorely understaffed, and that has shown in lack of patience, supplies, and time. [He winces, this is not something he's looking forward to bringing up, but there's something dogged in his eyes.]

On that note I'd like to apologize on behalf of any incidents I haven't been able to attend to personally. I've had my hands full, and I haven't been able to check in on the status of Newcomer patients as I would usually. If there are any more horror stories floating around of orderlies refusing to change out sheets or bring meals around to you, believe me when I say that as soon as there is time on my hands, I will be bringing that up as unacceptable staff conduct. If I'm to the be mouthy little newcomer tattler doctor on staff- well, they haven't sacked me yet and I may as well go down fighting for the things I set out to change here.

If there has been any discrimination going on, if anyone has been denied the basic rights of public health care, I urge you to seek legal representation here on the network and also to give me some idea of what was going on and where, so I can speak to my own supervisors as an advocate on your behalf.

But I'm sure what you're all waiting to hear about is cure distribution procedures, so I'm going to address that for a bit-

Skye Medical's just received the first batch of the injection serum an hour ago, and SERO promises more at both city hospitals as soon as they can manufacture it. As far as I'm aware, SPGH is following the same distribution procedure, in needs-based triage stages: first to our patients in critical care, then to hospitalized patients by order of day of admission .... except admitted newcomers without previous medical records, who will likely receive the last batch before going to stage 3, public distribution at the Hospital Walk-in Clinics and the Stadium Quarantine. [That exception does not sit well, by the way his mouth is pursed]

I've been on the phone with the city CDC for the last hour, and it seems we've also been slated last for cure distribution at the Newcomer Center Clinic. I've been told we can expect to receive limited dosages June 6th at the earliest, and that we must shell out for it ourselves as a private health care provider. ....nevermind that we are non-profit!

So- [There is a briskness to his abrupt sigh, a thinly veiled frustration. It has been a very trying hour on the phone.] My advice to those of you still waiting for the cure at home is to wait till the second day of Stage 3 release, which they're tentatively forecasting for June 3rd or 4th. Come to Skye Medical's 24 hr clinic, or SPGH's public distribution center. Arrive early after morning siren, be prepared to wait. While in line, if you are questioned by anyone other than a medical professional about your citizen status, please try your damnedest to pass yourself off as a local. [ Disgusted, Daedalus looks aside.] (Two years, and this is what 'progress' gets us...)

Thank you again for bearing with us. I'm trying my best. I'll be available for a little while, to answer any questions.

knocker

[Voice]

[The voice is low and sounds furious, at some points sounding as though he’s speaking through clenched teeth.]

Jesse, where the hell are you?! I was on top of the parking deck a couple of minutes ago and now I’m in some city I don’t recognize. Why aren’t you answering your goddamned phone?! And where the hell did your voicemail go?

I rescued you after you went and got yourself kidnapped not a few hours ago and now you won’t pick up? If you ruined this by getting yourself kidnapped again--[He stops abruptly, too seemingly angry to complete his thought.]

Call me back the second you get this.

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.

empetre

[She's been here for just over a day, now. But this is Fluttershy's first time addressing the network. ~~And her one hundred thirty second time in attempting to do so.~~ But she's managing, it seems, even if she looks like she's either about to have a heart attack, burst out crying, or just turn tail and hide in her new room for the rest of her stay here.

But no. The others might be here, and they might be worried for her. Which is why she's just taking a deep breath and pretending like... nopony's actually there. Like she's just rehearsing the little speech she's gone over so many times, now]

H-Hello, everypony. If it's not too much trouble, I um... well, you see, that is... if I'm not bothering anypony by taking up your time, I'd just like to... oh, no, that's not it. [She fidgets, her head dropping a bit, ears curled back and mane falling to cover a good portion of her face, now as her nerves take over] I don't want to trouble anypony more than they already might be... oh, no, not saying anypony is troubled, I don't want to assume, but...

[No Fluttershy, come on. You can do this!]

I-I know this isn't a pony city, the hue-manes at the field were very kind to explain that much, but... if anypony has seen any... other ponies... if it's not too much of a bother... um.

Please, if you could, let them know that Fluttershy is here, too?

[And she finishes with a timid, squeaky little]

Thank you.