Icarus (Sci-fi/Time-travel|IC|Open)

[Lara Monia]

Emily Wilson
____________

Emily sat with her knees pulled to her chest. She hadn't really gotten over her situation, but she'd accepted that it wasn't going to change. Whatever the machine had done to their bodies to fix them had staved off the physical withdraw from the pills, but the psychological need was still strong. She felt so useless compared to everyone. Why was she here? She wasn't a soldier, she didn't know how to fight.

"I... I'd help but... I don't think I could. I didn't pay much attention attention in history class because, well, everyone is history is kinda awful..." she paused and had a nervous laugh as she glanced around the others from other time periods, "Ha, no offense..." she paused a second at the Confederate. "Ok maybe some offense..." before looking back down at her feet. "So unless they had computers and video games back then and I could distract them with a livesteam, I think I'd be more of a hinderance than a help."

She didn't like feeling useless, but she knew she wasn't going to be able to contribute to the team unless they decided to take advantage of how distracted some people could be around women.

[Mountainus]

...
"I... I'd help but... I don't think I could. I didn't pay much attention attention in history class because, well, everyone is history is kinda awful..." she paused and had a nervous laugh as she glanced around the others from other time periods, "Ha, no offense..." she paused a second at the Confederate. "Ok maybe some offense..." before looking back down at her feet. "So unless they had computers and video games back then and I could distract them with a livesteam, I think I'd be more of a hinderance than a help."
...

Charles Louisson

"Oh, I doubt that." Replied Charles, smiling gently at her, "I'm sure you will fit in just fine in a few days. Give it time. And trust me, I'm a lawyer. I don't think that will be much use here either. We all need to just try and do what we can and learn from others. That's it." He knew he was somewhat right, but he did not know if this young woman would be willing to learn, or even try.

[Alcona and Hubris]

Lord William

William turned and sighed inwardly before following Hannah, "We have a distressed Dane for some reason? Please tell me they didn't decide to find Hamlet and let him loose upon us. Though perhaps that would be a...boon?...He did seem to have a good mind for deviousness...though far too melodramatic for his own good."

[Europa Undivided]

Leona Helstrom

---

After a momentary pause she pivoted on her heels, turning to Leona, "Alright, show me to your disquieted Dane! And get the sedatives ready if you don't have them already."

"Ah, yes, follow me..." Leona wheeled around to go the way she came, sprinting towards the pod room where the cries of the screaming Danish could still be heard piercing the air. By this point of time, he would have probably started getting his lungs coarse and dry from all the crying and screaming and shouting he was doing. What a poor thing, Leona thought as she took a glance at the jumpsuit clad before continuing to run towards the medbay in order to get the sedatives needed to calm the man down... by calm down, to put to sleep for the next few hours or so. Or maybe one hour. Five would be too much.

While Hannah and Ted attended to the Dane of Screams, Leona rummaged around the cabinets in the medbay, as it was the first time that she was in that particular room. She'd notice another woman in there with a bandage over one of her eyes; did she accidentally stab herself? Was it why the armory had been locked down? Probably.

Funny. The guy called Ted... she realized it just now, but he blushed in both instances that he saw her. Was he having a case of love at first sight? Or is he just embarrassed? Maybe he's an involuntary celibate that wanted love but never got it. Well... maybe they could have something arranged in the near future after saving history from Davin's antics.

After a few moments of searching, she found a set of syringes, along with a dozen or so jars labeled 'sedative' in a glass cabinet. Hurriedly, she took a syringe and drew in the calming fluid from one of the jars. After looking at it for a moment to make sure it was completely and absolutely clean, Leona sprinted back towards the pod room, where Hannah and Ted would, assumedly, be consoling the Lego man. If he was still screaming hysterically, she would ask for the two to hold him down so that she could inject the sedative properly. Otherwise... she might not.

---

Jean-Luc Lafayette

---

"Horse rustling... how fun." Jean-Luc rubbed his hands together, thinking about how badly horse stealing in the past could go badly. After all, very few of them knew how to ride a horse, much less bareback; one of the only people Jean was sure to be an accomplished horse rider was the Confederate, and he didn't exactly trust that man. Not after the ruckus that he did a while ago at lunch time. The Crusader, Sir Isaac, was a little better in his opinion, as he was... very principled, and perhaps an epitome of chivalry. Funny enough, most knights were bad at following the code of chivalry and honor, so this made Isaac even better in this regard.

With nothing better to do except to prepare for the incoming mission to protect Epimondamdas... however-the-hell-his-name-pronounced from the murderer and time traveller Athenades, who was most probably Davin using a stage name, Jean begun walking towards the armory to get time appropriate weapons and costumes for everyone, motioning for Spielman to follow him to make sure no one grabs a gun into Ancient Greece. He did, however, put an arm over Jay just like before, walking alongside the newfound friend while the screaming in Danish continued unabated.

"Take care of yourself out there, man." Jean-Luc winked at him, though the screaming in the background hurt his ears and caused him to wince in irritation. "I, uh, thanks for teaching me those takedowns. I imagine those will be useful in a time where I can't use my guns without destroying history."

[Nagakawa]

Kang Jae-hyun

“Hey, no worries, mate”, Jay replied Jean sheepishly, following him along to wherever it was that the loud Danish noises were coming. “I, uh, take it that we’re gonna have to defuse a situation?”

This is all so foreign to me, he thought to himself. Theoretically speaking, Jay did know how to handle himself, as well as people who were acting out and who needed to be subdued in as non-violent a manner as possible. That was the original purpose of judo, and anybody of Jay’s rank would technically be adept at those skills. And yet this was the first time Jay had heard such bloodcurdling cries- a freezing chill coursed down his spine, and he could feel his chest tightening and his breath becoming heavier.

You’re overthinking again. Calm the heck down. It won’t be that bad.

“We could, uh, practise some more later, if you’re up for it”, Jay continued to Jean, only to suddenly notice the presence of someone following behind them.

“Yes, don’t mind me, but, uh, I need a smoke.”

“Oh, it’s you”, Jay turned to at him, while still following Jean.

“Yes. I had no idea what was going on in the meeting room.”

“Oh, uh... I see. Haha.”

“Don’t mind if I do, I’ll just follow along”, he said, weaving between Jay and Jean. “My name’s Dương, by the way. Any of you got a cigarette to spare?”

[Demencia]

Miriam von Donnersberg

Miriam's wound healed as much as she'd allow. The eye was ruined, turned a milky white, and a large scar was prominent around it. She wore an eyepatch over it, just like she did in life. After keeping mostly to herself for a period of time, she joined the others when planning the first excursion. "Ich kann ein Pferd von Kindheit reiten." she asserted. "Besser als die meisten Männer. " She figured most people would have reservations about her skill now that she didn't have both of her eyes. "Mein Auge will nicht einen Nachteil sein. Ich komme mit." She wouldn't take no for an answer. Her whole life she had to prove to people that she was good enough to belong, this eclectic group would be no different. She didn't earn her place in knighthood by showing weakness.

She was hesitant about one thing though. She had some knowledge of ancient Germans that pillaged along Rome and Greece, so Miriam might be somewhat of an unwelcome presence in the time period. Hopefully the translator worked as intended, because speaking German in the middle of an ancient civilization that might have not had the greatest interactions with people speaking a similar tongue.

In order of appearance:
"I can ride a horse, ever since I was a child, better than most men."
"My eye won't be a hindrance."
"I'm going with you."

[Voxija]

Cornelia Quinta

"Computer!" she said, abruptly switching to address the machine, "Lay in a course for somewhere in Thessaly, midnight, 3rd of July, 371 BC. Try to put us down, somewhere discrete, near a suitable farm. We're going horse rustling!"

"Yes Ms. Brown," the computer responded. There was a lurch and the windows around the ship flicked from showing the void of space to an undefinable luminous whiteness that, after a few moments began to fade away, one pinprick of light at a time, fading back into a view of the planet. It would be easy to think nothing had changed. If you did, you would be wrong.

"Hmm," Hannah commented, her eyebrows raised, "I'd expected more drama."

Unlike Hannah, Cornelia was greatly impressed. Whoa! The view out the windows went all white, and then the view of space came back in again. Even though it looked the same, Cornelia knew that she had moved a great distance—through time. Cornelia gasped, and looked at the windows in wonder. The momentary glimpse of whiteness, accompanied by a small lurch, had conveyed movement better than any chariot could.

After a momentary pause she pivoted on her heels, turning to Leona, "Alright, show me to your disquietened Dane! And get the sedatives ready if you don't have them already."

Cornelia wasn't going to help the "Dane", whatever a Dane was. She, she didn't want to. It was silly, after all, Cornelia was going to go on a mission with a large chance of dying. But she still didn't like being around screaming people.

Cornelia was going to ask Hannah if she could help the captain decide what roles everyone was going to take, but alas, she ran off to help the Dane. Cornelia decided to figure out her situation herself.

The Roman was going to remake her hair in a Greek style, but she didn't have a hairnet. Cornelia vaguely remembered hearing some say something about a device that created clothes. Cornelia hoped that she would get the proper wear soon. When Cornelia was searching for clothes in her room, she had gotten the feeling that she'd taken a man's room by mistake. Oh, well. She couldn't change rooms now, there were horses to steal.

[Dyelli Beybi]

Hannah Brown

Kang Jae-hyun

...

“Don’t mind if I do, I’ll just follow along”, he said, weaving between Jay and Jean. “My name’s Dương, by the way. Any of you got a cigarette to spare?”

Hannah stopped, on her way to find the person who Leona wanted her to see, pausing long enough to address a couple of questions, the first from an Asian gentleman who she hadn't been introduced to, "Sorry... don't think I've seen a cigarette onboard yet. I'm sure we can find some on one of our stops... though probably not Classical Greece."

Emily Wilson
____________

Emily sat with her knees pulled to her chest. She hadn't really gotten over her situation, but she'd accepted that it wasn't going to change. Whatever the machine had done to their bodies to fix them had staved off the physical withdraw from the pills, but the psychological need was still strong. She felt so useless compared to everyone. Why was she here? She wasn't a soldier, she didn't know how to fight.

"I... I'd help but... I don't think I could. I didn't pay much attention attention in history class because, well, everyone is history is kinda awful..." she paused and had a nervous laugh as she glanced around the others from other time periods, "Ha, no offense..." she paused a second at the Confederate. "Ok maybe some offense..." before looking back down at her feet. "So unless they had computers and video games back then and I could distract them with a livesteam, I think I'd be more of a hinderance than a help."

And then there was the young woman who also hadn't introduced herself. At least she had calmed down a bit and wasn't calling Hannah a sex trafficker anymore, "Don't stay on the ship," she advised, "We're in a... strange situation -" strange was the best word she could come up with, but it barely scratched the surface of the unbelievable new reality they had been dumped into, "- if you want to become accustomed to it, don't hide from it. You don't need to do anything out there, just treat it as a trip abroad. A holiday, if you will. And in any case," she added with a smile, "You might not think you'll be much of a help in Greece but I can pretty much guarantee you won't be if you stay here."

Heins Alfsen

...
He tore his hand away from Leona's and hurried to the far side, where the wall was. He pounded on it, slammed the palms of his hands into it. It felt cool, like metal, and smooth, hard. Was it metal? What was it? "YRSA! Please, please be here, please, please, someone, please Yrsa, please, Yrsa, please, Yrsa, please, please, please...."

When Hannah did finally find her way to where the mystery Danish man was, she arrived to find him ostensibly looking for someone called 'Yrsa'. A wife maybe? She had no idea and he certainly wasn't giving much away, "Please what?" she asked, "And who is Yrsa?"

She didn't hold out much hope of getting a logical answer, but the process of trying to answer that question might calm the man down a bit. Hannah wasn't overly optimistic, but if he didn't, that was what the sedatives were for. She glanced across at Leona. Hopefully the woman would jab the man if he didn't seem like he was getting his shit together. Now that they had made the time jump they were, if Hannah had understood the 'rules' the computer had told her correctly, on the clock. They only had one shot at fixing this situation, and she wasn't even in costume yet!

"Everyone who isn't helping in here, go and get changed! And please, please, please try to make yourself look like a believable person from the period. We can't afford to stand out too much. Ask the computer if you need help."

[UniversalCommons]

Adam Richardson spent some more time gathering materials. He had left many of the piles of Greek clothes in a single place in open storage bins. He made a few Greek pins to hold the clothes together, along with some crude copper and bronze rings and bracelets. There was not much silver or gold available and he did not know how good the Greeks of the time period were at working with iron. He was surprised to find a hopper disk with bronze in it. The designs were not complicated. There was a set of basic CAD drawings for different jewelry and small items already in the machine. The program was called handy cad. He did not know if he could import images into the printer. He assumed that he could. All of the equipment was strange to him.

He had on a blue cloak, a white tunic, sandals, and a green cloth sash, and a few pins to hold things in place and a leather sack. He also had a crude silver ring on his left hand. He wanted to make sure there was enough detail where it looked somewhat authentic. The only strange thing was a tattoo of a blue bird on his right hand and a dragon tattoo on his shoulder.

[Western Fardelshufflestein]

Heins Alfsen

He was hunched forward, his right arm outstretched and pressed into the strange wall, and he was repeating, repeating his sister's name over and over again like it would make her appear. If he was dead, but he wasn't, then maybe she was here, too.

He couldn't stop screaming. He wanted to tear out his hair, slam his fists into the wall, return to a curled-up little ball and his home and his life and his death, where he belonged. Not here. Not here, where he was supposed to be dead but he could not find God or his sisters, or any of the other people he'd lost, and nobody was here--

"Who is Yrsa?"

He looked, up, panted, stared through strands of sweaty hair. How could he say anything? He didn't know what to say. His mouth didn't work--. "You're not her," he gasped. "You're not her, you're not her, you're not her."

Shaking, he stumbled forward a few steps, into this strange person. A woman, wearing the same clothes he was. She was in men's clothing, this was wrong, this was all wrong.

"YOU'RE NOT HER!" He pushed her away, the force of it sending his back into the wall. He thrashed, shouting wordlessly, not even needing to make any sense now. He felt someone trying to touch him; he pulled away, violently, seething and hissing and continuing to scream.

Teng Nuan

She was drowning, writhing in the dark depths of the rapids with darkness over her eyes. Her chest burned because she could not breathe, and she was being swept away, unable to reach the sun or break free. The river had her in its grasp, the spirits had claimed her, she clawed feebly as lack of air made her weak, she could not hold out for much longer. Everything was silent, utterly silent, but there was the flow of the water in her ears. And she felt, as she fought to stay awake, the darkness closing in, and she did not want it. But she was too tired. She could not fight it any longer, and her limbs were going limp, her mind blank, and then--

She heard a man screaming.

Nuan opened her eyes, finding herself in a wholly unfamiliar setting. Everything was clear, and gray, not at all like the villages she had seen in life. Was this the realm of the spirits? She was standing, and she could see a man, wearing a very short gray tunic and pants, flailing about as shouts tore from his lips. He was very clearly in distress, probably horrified by his new death, and in great pain.

She did not know what was happening. She barely knew what she was doing. On sturdy and untired legs, she ran toward the screaming man, knelt to his level, and locked eyes with him. Her left hand seized his right and squeezed it, comfortingly, to steady him, but it was acting on its own whims. She did not remember reaching out to take his hand.

When Nuan studied the man's face, it was all she could do to hide her surprise. He was light--not sickly white or pale like someone of high class who never had to work in the fields. No, his lightness was strange...spirit-like, almost. His eyes were gray, not dark, as though the color had been removed from them in death, and his hair was...yellow. Silt yellow. She had never seen hair that color before. Hair was black; everyone she knew had hair that was black. Why was his hair different?

He was still squirming, but he did not push her away. He probably found her as strange as she found him. But he had stopped screaming as loudly, for now, which Nuan took to be a good thing.

Heins Alfsen

Then, another woman. Standing over him, a weeping mess on this death floor in a not-death world. Narrow eyes, black hair, men's clothes again--and she was touching him. His hand in hers, like it was supposed to calm him down, like she would take the place of Jenge or Yrsa or his living family. His living family, who had to mourn him now because he was dead. Dead from a gun, his own gun, that he had fired into his own face.

He gulped, shivered, retreated from her. She could not touch him. She could not be near him. She was not Yrsa, she was not his mother, she was no one, the other woman was no one, they were not helping him, they were not saints or angels or God. God, God, why was He not here? Why was God not helping or condemning him? He was dead, dead, dead, dead--

Teng Nuan

The man with yellow hair darted back from her. Nuan, surprised, retracted her hand, but she did not stand up or acknowledge anyone else who was here. Because he leaned forward, ran his hands into his yellow hair. Started rocking back and forth and repeating strange things over and over. Nuan did not know what he was saying. A prayer, or maybe a name? Whatever it was, he would not stop repeating it.

Heins Alfsen

Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa, Yrsa--

[Mountainus]

Charles Louisson:

Screaming. Human screaming. Charles heard it, echoing its way to his ears, all the way from the pod bay. He immediately grabbed his spear and began clumsily* running towards the pod bay and towards the screams. There, he saw four figures- Hannah, an unknown woman who he had seen but did not know, a male newcomer (the source of the screaming), as well as another newcomer. They all were crowded around the screamer, seeming to try and calm him. "What is going on here?!" he demanded.

"Who is Yrsa?"

He looked, up, panted, stared through strands of sweaty hair. How could he say anything? He didn't know what to say. His mouth didn't work--. "You're not her," he gasped. "You're not her, you're not her, you're not her."

Shaking, he stumbled forward a few steps, into this strange person. A woman, wearing the same clothes he was. She was in men's clothing, this was wrong, this was all wrong.

"YOU'RE NOT HER!" He pushed her away, the force of it sending his back into the wall. He thrashed, shouting wordlessly, not even needing to make any sense now. He felt someone trying to touch him; he pulled away, violently, seething and hissing and continuing to scream.

"Calm down! Please! We mean you no harm!" Charles begged in a firm yet kind tone, approaching the screaming newcomer, trying to change the topic, "It's alright, we want to help. We can help. May I ask your name?" He then turned to his right and he quickly whispered to Hannah, "Do you have a sedative? If so, NOW would be a good time to use it."

---

OOC:
*I don't assume most day-to-day Ancient Greek clothes were made for running, and if they are, Charles isn't good at doing so in them.

[Demencia]

Miriam von Donnersberg

Based on what information was available, Miriam assembled an outfit to fit into the time period. She would not dress as a peasant girl, that was both below her station and also not a very practical use of her skills in combat. Instead, she tied up her hair and tucked it inside the open faced helmet. Wie unpraktisch... she thought. She lost her eye wearing a helmet that offered far more protection than this did. After that incident, she changed from the open-faced hounskull to a more secure great helm. It had her a little nervous about this helmet, but it was all they had at the time so she didn't have a choice.

The actual armor itself was also comparatively lackluster. It was only a breastplate with the appearance of muscles formed into it, with no protection for the arms or neck. Was haben sie ihnen dabei gedacht? The underlayer was decent, but not enough to warrant forgoing the protection of plate. The sword was interesting, shorter than she was used to but curved to allow better use from horseback. It would serve its purpose at least.

She emerged from her room dressed the part, though visibly displeased with the situation. "Was sind unsere Pseudonyme? Ich bezweifle, dass viele Männer als griechische Antike namens Miriam waren."

In order of appearance:
How impractical
What were they thinking?
"What are our aliases? I doubt many men were named Miriam in ancient Greece."

[Alcona and Hubris]

Lord William

Willam sighs at the screaming man, "One would think I was back at Edinburgh Insane Asylum...Mister Computer are there any doses of Chloral Hydrate available?"

The computer voice answers from around them, "yes...they are in cabinet A one five..."

"Thank You Mister Computer." He looks as Leona enters the space with a needle and a vial.

"Ah, well perhaps I don't need to ask you Mr. Computer. "Ah, madam is that what I think it is? And you you need any assistance administering it?"

He smiles at Leona as he would a pretty nurse. Then he looks back at Hannah, " As a medical professional I recommend we put him to sleep and allow him to wake in more normal surroundings, such as a real bed not a pseudo-coffin. It might help lead to am more cognitive reawakening and response...or not...but we can put him in a more controlled environment than this apparently never ending source of new souls." He sweeps his hand to indicate the other, yet unopened cells.

OOC: As a medical character who got stuck in and endless wait...Now usurped

---

OOC:
*I don't assume most day-to-day Ancient Greek clothes were made for running, and if they are, Charles isn't good at doing so in them.[/quote]

[Voxija]

Cornelia Quinta

"Everyone who isn't helping in here, go and get changed! And please, please, please try to make yourself look like a believable person from the period. We can't afford to stand out too much. Ask the computer if you need help."

Cornelia knew it was her duty to follow Hannah's orders, especially since it seemed they only had a certain window of time. But then again, who knew how time travel worked? But still, it was time to dress up.

Cornelia retired to her room to grab some sandals, and then searched the other closets for a chiton and himation. Cornelia thought that she'd probably grabbed a men's room by accident. Although it would be July, meaning warmth (Cornelia was glad that they still used the month of Caesar in the future), maybe some Greek would complain about Cornelia's immodesty if she only wore a chiton. Despite Cornelia probably posing as a prostitute. Eh, the Greeks.

Although someone had taken all the tunics, no one had taken away the women's clothes. So, the old crew that was here before had women too. Cool. Cornelia styled her hair and dress after her most favorite Greek slave, who was very good at making Cornelia's bed. Although Cornelia knew that fashion changed very quickly, and her outfit might seem to be weird future clothes, any oddities could be excused by the fact that Theodosia was very far away.

Cornelia strode onto the bridge wearing her ensemble, before remembering that Hannah was away helping that "Dane". Cornelia will wait until it is time for the mission to formally begin.

She emerged from her room dressed the part, though visibly displeased with the situation. "Was sind unsere Pseudonyme? Ich bezweifle, dass viele Männer als griechische Antike namens Miriam waren."

Another woman, this one dressed in men's hoplite armor, walked over here. Cornelia did not know who she was, although she did hear something about a German cutting her eye out, and this woman was wearing an eye patch. Cornelia snickered. Of course a German would be barbaric enough to poke her own eye out.

The German was wearing men's armor, which made Cornelia wonder if she should dress up like a hoplite herself. Nah. Even if Cornelia ignored the constant self-judgement from her conscience for dressing in man's clothing, she would be expected to fight if she wore armor. Think, Cornelia could. Fight, no.

The German spoke, Cornelia focused, and she heard the German as Latin. Despite being a barbarian, the German, whose name was Miriam, raised a good point about pseudonyms. Cornelia was a very Roman name, and not Greek at all. Cornelia contemplated calling herself "Penta", the Greek form of her cognomen Quinta, but then rejected that idea as ridiculous. Cornelia would take the name of her favorite Greek slave, Peregune. It was pretty ugly, but it was also pretty Greek. It'll do.

---

Albert Daza

Is this hell?

In the room with the pods, another coffin-like box opened up. Albert Daza looked out at his surroundings. Was this another prison? Had they moved him from Robben Island while he was sleeping? No, he was dying of tuberculosis, and even the sadistic guards of Robben Island wouldn't torture a dying man like that. But... Albert didn't feel like he was dying anymore.

Albert looked down at his body. He was in his mid-twenties again, young and strong. Just like when he was fighting the unjust system of apartheid, that had oppressed the native population of Albert's home, South Africa. His body, formerly dying of tuberculosis, had been rejuvenated, meaning this wasn't a human place.

He remembered: he was dying, and then he fell asleep, and then woke up here. Albert had a sudden realization—this was hell. He'd been sentenced here for, for opposing the system. He was violent! No, he was framed. But opposing the natural order was a crime worthy of hell. But apartheid wasn't the natural order.

Albert almost cried. Keep it together, Spamandla, Albert thought to himself. Spamandla was Albert's birth name. When he went to school, his teachers forced him to take an English name, and he chose Albert. Maybe this isn't hell. It could be, but apartheid was the real hell. Yet a significant part of Albert's mind assumed the worst. Albert will take it like a man. The flaming pits of hell cannot be worse than the terrible conditions of Robben Island.

Albert Daza saw a group of people talking, surrounding a distressed man. He rushed to talk immediately, but stopped in the middle. Most... were white. And one Asian, but she was a minority of one. Oh no, there's apartheid in hell too. No, they're all white, so maybe this isn't hell. Albert stopped and stared at these damned (?) souls.

"Uh, hello." Albert was about to talk in Zulu, his native language, but then he saw their white skin again, and began the conversation in English. "I'm Albert." Albert was trained to say "Albert" when introducing himself, even though he still thought of himself as Spamandla. "So, what is this place? Doesn't feel like hell, ja nee?

[Western Fardelshufflestein]

Teng Nuan

"I'm Albert."

A man was speaking over her shoulder. She turned, craning her neck slightly, not leaving the yellow-haired man's side.

"So, what is this place? Doesn't feel like hell, ja nee?" He spoke in a strange tongue, and his skin was dark like her eyes. She had never seen anyone with his complexion before, never imagined it. But the spirit world was not like the one she had left behind.

"Hell?" she repeated. The word sounded unnatural to her.

The man was still screaming. She turned her attention back to him, reaching out to feel his grain-colored hair. It still felt like hair, but it was short, at least compared to the hair of the people she had met in life. But the gesture did not help to calm him. If anything, he shouted louder, like his entire world had fallen apart.

She wondered if he had died with violence. Had he felt any pain?

The people around them were talking about strange things she did not understand. They must have been here longer, or maybe they were divine spirits. This strange man must be newly dead, like she was. Maybe the dead lost color in there hair and eyes; maybe she had silt-colored hair now. But that was a problem she needed to ignore if she was to help this panicking man. His transition into death had been much worse than hers. Was he from a place where they did not know how divine spirits worked, or did he follow a barbarian faith? Later, she decided, she would ask him.

[Europa Undivided]

Leona Helstrom

He smiles at Leona as he would a pretty nurse. Then he looks back at Hannah, " As a medical professional I recommend we put him to sleep and allow him to wake in more normal surroundings, such as a real bed not a pseudo-coffin. It might help lead to am more cognitive reawakening and response...or not...but we can put him in a more controlled environment than this apparently never ending source of new souls." He sweeps his hand to indicate the other, yet unopened cells.

Leona blushed a little as Lord William smiled at her as if she was a nurse. For one, the last person who gave her that kind of smile was Grisha, as the people in her former workplace were a little more... grumpy. Or, they were just creeps, for that matter. Ted doesn't count, as he was the one that got flustered at the sight of her.

"YOU'RE NOT HER!" He pushed her away, the force of it sending his back into the wall. He thrashed, shouting wordlessly, not even needing to make any sense now. He felt someone trying to touch him; he pulled away, violently, seething and hissing and continuing to scream.

"Alright, that's it..." Leona took out the syringe of sedative from underneath her coat, sighing at what she has to do for the nth time... or the first time since this was a second life that they have all been given. Or was it? Were they just clones...? Who knows, who cares. For all she knows, everyone in this ship was resurrected, and its best not to ask questions on why. The matter at hand was far more important than the question of how and why; the Dane of Screams was making everyone else nervous, or irritated, if the wincing of the Frenchman was of any indication.

"Hold him down, please." Leona approached with the syringe in hand. In his trashing state, she might as well just inject him in the buttocks, but that would be too embarrassing to do right here and now. What she needed was for Charles and William to keep the screaming Danish person still long enough for her to inject the sedative.

Surely enough, they held him down for the few moments that she needed to administer the sedative, and the screaming faded and the thrashing ceased. The Dane of Screams was no longer screaming.

"That was exhausting..." Leona put the plastic cover of the syringe back in place before stuffing it back into her pocket. "I, um, think that somebody should stay with him in the medbay while the whole mission in Ancient Greece goes down. Ted is going to be busy watching you folks from the ship, so I think I'll stay put... and maybe sedate any others that wake up screaming. Would be a shame if you came back here with the whole place trashed..."

---

Jean-Luc Lafayette

“Hey, no worries, mate”, Jay replied Jean sheepishly, following him along to wherever it was that the loud Danish noises were coming. “I, uh, take it that we’re gonna have to defuse a situation?”

"We won't have to, now." Jean replied as his eyes followed Leona coming into the pod room with a syringe of what one could assume to be sedatives; a few moments passed before the screaming and trashing on the floor stopped. The thing worked, and it wouldn't be long before the Danish screamer was carried into the medbay. Presumably, someone was going to watch over him in there.

Jean-Luc continued along with Jay towards the armory, wincing a bit as he opened the door. There was still some dried blood from the self mutilating German woman earlier on the floor; someone ought to clean that soon. "My head hurts from all that loud noise." Jean took a pair of daggers inside leather sheathes, putting them on his belt. Just as he was going to turn to go towards wherever they were gonna get time appropriate clothing, a pair of footsteps alerted him that someone was following the two of them.

“Don’t mind if I do, I’ll just follow along”, he said, weaving between Jay and Jean. “My name’s Dương, by the way. Any of you got a cigarette to spare?”

"No..." Jean scratched his head, unsure if there were any vanity products in the ship. "I'm not sure... if there were any cigarettes here... ah, how rude of me. I'm Jean-Luc, and this is Jay. I trust that you know why we're all here in this ship, Du... Duwong... sorry, I'm sure I butchered your name. Do you have an easier name that we can call you without desecrating it?"

Jean-Luc was sure that this person was Vietnamese... what if he hated the French for colonizing his homeland?

[Voxija]

Albert Daza

Teng Nuan

"I'm Albert."

A man was speaking over her shoulder. She turned, craning her neck slightly, not leaving the yellow-haired man's side.

"So, what is this place? Doesn't feel like hell, ja nee?" He spoke in a strange tongue, and his skin was dark like her eyes. She had never seen anyone with his complexion before, never imagined it. But the spirit world was not like the one she had left behind.

"Hell?" she repeated. The word sounded unnatural to her.

Albert interpreted the Asian woman's inquiry about hell to mean "is this hell?" rather than "what is hell?" He answered what he thought was her question.

"Well, this seems like an afterlife, but I don't know if it's a bad one." But then again, this white man was screaming. And the other people were injecting some sort of substance into him to make him fall unconscious. White demons, just like apartheid. But if they were actually demons, they would have gone straight for Albert. So, no, probably not hell.

"That was exhausting..." Leona put the plastic cover of the syringe back in place before stuffing it back into her pocket. "I, um, think that somebody should stay with him in the medbay while the whole mission in Ancient Greece goes down. Ted is going to be busy watching you folks from the ship, so I think I'll stay put... and maybe sedate any others that wake up screaming. Would be a shame if you came back here with the whole place trashed..."

This white woman seemed to have ignored Albert's introduction... he was used to it. She seemed to address the entire body of people asking them to stay with the formerly screaming white man. Albert knew nothing of this kind of talk. A mission? Ancient Greece? What? Where was a ship? Were we in it? Who's Ted? They had woken up? People don't wake up in the afterlife, but Albert was dead.

Albert cleared his throat, but it didn't help his confusion. "I don't have med... illegal... don't know how to doctor people up, but I might... I don't know. Can anyone please tell me what is going on here?"

[Talchyon]

The bridge
Nawa Tatsuaki Ukita (13th century Japanese gainyo)

After hearing no response to his question, Tatsuaki merely reflected on everything he had learned since he had woken up in that strange metallic chamber. And still adjusting to this whole concept, that he had died, that he was somehow now alive despite it, and that he was in a marvelous vessel that somehow transported him to the lands of legend such as Greece to assist in the rise of the conqueror Alexander, was a little much.

"I will stay."

Leaving the bridge, Tatsuaki took time to go explore the ship. He knew where the galley was. Likewise, the large pod room. He had seen a place with all different kinds of garments. And now he knew where the bridge was. But that was it. And getting his bearings was the first step in adjusting to this chaotic place.

After all, victory belongs to those who wait half an hour longer than their opponent.

[UniversalCommons]

Adam Richardson was aghast. He heard screaming. Clearly some of the people were not right in the head. He tried to concentrate on making another fibulae, but it was unnerving. He planned on staying here until the screaming was over. It was safe in the engineering section. He was not surrounded by weapons and people carrying weapons. Some of them might be cracked. He began to think some of these people are strange.

He moved some bedding to a corner of the engineering section. He had found a foldable cot in one of the crew cabins. He was not leaving engineering. There were people wandering around the crew cabins looking for things. He had not seen anyone here yet. He tidied up a bit more near his cot. When the screaming stopped he sighed.

He paced back and forth and randomly touched some of the cabinets.

[Lara Monia]

Emily Wilson
____________

People suggested she come, insisted she come. She didn't really want to, but she was still somewhat nervous what the people might do if they thought she wasn't pulling her weight. She heard distant commotion, but didn't want to go find out what it was. She was hesitant to speak up about the plan for the mission, but it was that or stay in her room with the door locked.

Hannah was going to disguise herself as some sort of prostitute. Emily wasn't sure about Hannah's background to know if that was a smart idea. She followed the woman to where Emily thought she went to confess something. "I uh..." she said meekly. "Might know something about what you're gonna do..." That didn't come out right, it implied she was a prostitute herself. "Er... adjacent to it at least... I mean I do-did some sex work... mostly for the internet but it's something I guess..."

She thought of a complication though.

"But what about..." she ran her hand over the tattoo on her left arm, and also felt the stud in her lip.

[Sarderia]

Abu Gaffar al-Tamani

---

His last memories were running. There was a blinding, red light and a deafening thunder that echoed through his eardrums. He felt numb; there was nothing to be seen, there was nothing that could be moved. For a moment, he thought that his feet had turned into jelly - but then, Gaffar realized, it was no more. There are only darkness; instant darkness, engulfing his being. Then he opened his eyes - body encased in a cold metal box. His surroundings were alien; he had never seen the likes of this room before. Very sterile, very clean - similar to the tents the white-and-red clad paramedics of Médecins Sans Frontières set in the deserts. Or the hospitals in Azaz, where he was forced to spent weeks in isolation with needles stuck around his hand. Either way, Gaffar's mind was of mixed emotions - fear and confusion, all merged into one. And naturally, he lashed out.

He leapt from the metal box, out into the cold floor - and he could feel the eyes of most people in the room watching him. An African and several white people - Americans? Russians? He had no knowledge. They were not recognizable; none of his compatriots was in sight. No Syrian, in fact. He tried to remember where he was. A road... on an unnamed town, against several armored cars of the Syrian Democratic Forces. Damned Kurds. He was holding an explosive. There was light and thunder.

And then it dawned on him. He never reached the Kurdish Humvee. He never got close to them - and he was not gunned down; if so, he would still be on the road. The bomb exploded on his hand. Gaffar's eyes widen, his hands shaking. Reality struck him like the waters of a flood through a collapsing dam. He was dead, what better explanation could there be? And this place is some sort of cruel jape of an afterlife - full of Americans and Russians, and this one African - perhaps a Somalian mercenary. He tried to remember the prayer he sometimes recited to find solace. But he cannot - was his mind wiped as well? He shuddered at the thought.

If this is hell, then I'm prepared to clear my way through. Gaffar raised his fist. He could charge if needed. "You Western Devils," he screamed, "what have you done to me? Where am I?"

[Mountainus]

Charles Louisson:

...

This white woman seemed to have ignored Albert's introduction... he was used to it. She seemed to address the entire body of people asking them to stay with the formerly screaming white man. Albert knew nothing of this kind of talk. A mission? Ancient Greece? What? Where was a ship? Were we in it? Who's Ted? They had woken up? People don't wake up in the afterlife, but Albert was dead.

Albert cleared his throat, but it didn't help his confusion. "I don't have med... illegal... don't know how to doctor people up, but I might... I don't know. Can anyone please tell me what is going on here?"

"Well, I don't know much, but here is what I do know-" Charles replied before he was cut off by another newcomer.

If this is hell, then I'm prepared to clear my way through. Gaffar raised his fist. He could charge if needed. "You Western Devils," he screamed, "what have you done to me? Where am I?"

"I- CALM DOWN! EVERYONE! PLEASE! LISTEN!" he took a breath before continuing, "You are onboard a time machine called the Icarus. Currently, we are in orbit over Ancient Greece. Our captain here-" Charles gestures to Hannah, "-Will inform you of the rest of what you need to know. Now, if you will excuse me, I will go and prepare for our mission as instructed." And with that, Charles stormed off towards the bridge. Before he could get out of earshot, he muttered "I swear this day gets even more confusing by the minute."

[Western Fardelshufflestein]

Heins Alfsen

Suddenly, the world was condensing into blackness, all colors and sensations disappearing until there was nothing left. He was in silence, in darkness. The warped afterlife faded away until he could not feel the odd ground or almost-wall pressing into him, could not feel his own body, and he was floating toward death.

He felt peace. Quietness. Then, nothing.

Teng Nuan

In the midst of the chaos, another strange woman approached the yellow-haired woman and stabbed something into his arm. He folded over fell silent, and was asleep within seconds. Nuan continued to watch him, doubting he would rest for long, unless he was dead. Was he dead a second time over?

The strange people surrounding her were talking about what to do with this man. They were calling him "Dane," a word she had never heard before. If it was his name, it almost certainly was a strange one. A strange name for a strange man with strange hair and strange eyes.

The second man, who was really dark, asked a question that had occurred to Nuan. She had not put words to it or gotten the courage to ask it. But perhaps this spirit-man was in charge of his family, so he could speak his mind--and he was male. Man and women had different places in society.

"Can anyone please tell me what is going on here?" he asked. Nuan looked at him and shook her head.

She reached for the yellow-haired man, who was curled up, and brushed his light hair away from his closed eyes. The position he was in looked rather uncomfortable. His chin was tucked into his chest, making his neck bend at an awkward angle, and his arms were folded inward. The left leg was drawn toward his body, the right was splayed outward under it, with his left knee bent over the right and touching the ground.

For the first time, she noticed how strange his clothing was. Gray, tight, with a short tunic and pants. It matched the clothing of everyone else, these strange spirits with light hair and eyes, and different colors of skin. She was wearing that outfit, too, but her tunic was not long like it should be. Half-consciously, she felt the bottom of it. There was a line running just above the bottom, a line with stitches. And it was made from material she had never felt before. Silk? She did not know.

Another man suddenly leapt from a small room shaped almost like reeds. He looked angry, terrified, and he was shaking almost as much as the yellow-haired man had been. She did hope he was alright. He scanned all of them, all of them except for her, and than began to shout an odd string of words. "You Western devils!" he bellowed. "What have you done to me? Where am I?" Spit was flying from his mouth. He was huge, domineering, and Nuan knew he would have killed her in an instant had they met one another while they were still alive.

She did not answer him, for she knew she had neither the knowledge nor the rank to do so. She instead remained still and waited for someone else to speak to him. Nuan sensed she would have been fearful if she had encountered him back in the physical world, but death had made her braver now. He could not hurt her because she was already dead. Still, his presence made her nervous, and she hoped he was not nearly as violent as he seemed.

Fortunately, another man spoke up. "I- CALM DOWN! EVERYONE! PLEASE! LISTEN!" His voice cut through the hubbub, and everyone became briefly silent. "You are onboard a time machine called the Icarus. Currently, we are in orbit over Ancient Greece. Our captain here--" he pointed to the woman Nuan had first seen "--will inform you of the rest of what you need to know. Now, if you will excuse me, I will go and prepare for our mission as instructed."

Time machine? Icarus? Greece? Nuan did not know what those words meant. Was this not the spirit world? Impossible. Nuan had been taken by the River of Sorrow, and she had died.

The weight of it hit her then, but she did not let the fear control her. Even after life, she had gods to worship, ancestors to honor. She had tradition to uphold. She would not let anyone down.

She stood, knowing she was leaving the yellow-haired man behind. She started to ask the man what a time machine was, but he had gone away, so she turned to the woman he had said was "captain" instead. That must be a designation for "leader" here.

"What is a time machine?" she inquired, hoping her voice still sounded calm.

[Theyra]

Tutayan Huyhua Achachau

It is was a lot to take in within a short amount of time for Tutayan. First, finding out that he was not dead and that he, for some reason, awoke in a metal ship with strangers. No seems to be of the Inca or Spanish. Though some of them certainly looked like Spaniards, even if they did not sound like them. And his question about what a time-ship it was not answered. Just redirected to this Hannah person who was busy with a scared girl. Before he could ask his question again to Hannah, a voice rang out about a major temporal anomaly in Greece. Greece? What is Greece and a temporal anomaly? What has the Gods sent him to. Tutayan had a bewildered look on his face. So many questions and, so far, few answers to his growing list.

He would follow the others to the bridge and listen to the briefing. Having no idea about the history of this Greece and its people. Much less who this Blackmore is and what can he could gather from Hannah answered some questions. So their purpose was to protect the timeline and stop this Blackmore from altering it. It sounded more like the gods should be responsible for handling a matter like this. Why put the weight of this important duty on a group of random strangers? That does not sound right, and does this duty mean he can't see his family again? The thought saddened him but, he did not show it, for showing weaknesses right now to a group of strangers was not an option.

After collecting himself and watching as more strangers appear, one oblivious angry, and shouting about western devils. No doubt about to hear the revelation that he was not dead and of his new duty. Then again, he might not take it well and end up like that one person that started screaming a woman's name and hissing at people. Hopefully not end up like that person..., he thought as he moved further away from that person as he was being sedated. By the gods, what is wrong with some of these people. Tutayan had no answer, and people started to volunteer to go or chose to stay behind for this first mission.

Tutayan was not sure really, he is still coming to terms with this whole thing, and he knows nothing about Greece or her people. So how can he be usefully and then he made his choice. Speaking up," I do not think I will be joining the mission. I need to get my bearings, and I know nothing about ancient Greece."

[Nagakawa]

Kang Jae-hyun • Trần Đình Dương

Jean-Luc Lafayette

"We won't have to, now." Jean replied as his eyes followed Leona coming into the pod room with a syringe of what one could assume to be sedatives; a few moments passed before the screaming and trashing on the floor stopped. The thing worked, and it wouldn't be long before the Danish screamer was carried into the medbay. Presumably, someone was going to watch over him in there.

Jean-Luc continued along with Jay towards the armory, wincing a bit as he opened the door. There was still some dried blood from the self mutilating German woman earlier on the floor; someone ought to clean that soon. "My head hurts from all that loud noise." Jean took a pair of daggers inside leather sheathes, putting them on his belt. Just as he was going to turn to go towards wherever they were gonna get time appropriate clothing, a pair of footsteps alerted him that someone was following the two of them.

“Don’t mind if I do, I’ll just follow along”, he said, weaving between Jay and Jean. “My name’s Dương, by the way. Any of you got a cigarette to spare?”

"No..." Jean scratched his head, unsure if there were any vanity products in the ship. "I'm not sure... if there were any cigarettes here... ah, how rude of me. I'm Jean-Luc, and this is Jay. I trust that you know why we're all here in this ship, Du... Duwong... sorry, I'm sure I butchered your name. Do you have an easier name that we can call you without desecrating it?"

Jean-Luc was sure that this person was Vietnamese... what if he hated the French for colonizing his homeland?

“Yes, it’s pronounced YOH-ng”, Dương replied Jean with a toothy grin, before quickly adding, “You can call me Young, if you want. I like being young.”

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” Jay asked, clearly somewhat bewildered by Dương’s tongue-in-cheek joke.

“Being young is good”, the Vietnamese man continued, muttering under his breath and scratching the back of his neck impatiently, his breathing becoming more prominent. “Fuck, I need a smoke. Chó chết quần què đĩ lôn, giận tím người.”

The screams coming from the room into which Leona had gone had by now subsided. Jay did notice that the lady was carrying with her a syringe, cap already removed, filled presumably with some sort of tranquillising drug of some sorts. It had happened so quickly- not only was it probably a really strong tranquilliser, but Leona’s venipuncture skulls were probably on point, to have administered the drug to the presumably heavily agitated man, whoever he was.

Speaking of tranquillisers...

“Say, Jean”, said Jay to the Frenchman. “How do you reckon this Ancient Greek mission will go?”

“Ancient Greek mission?” Dương raised an eyebrow.

“We’ll be going to Ancient Greece soon... right?”