There is a girl wandering about the ship a key clasped tightly in her hand. She doesn't quite remember where she got it, only that it was given to her and she was told that there was a room for her...now if only she could remember where she was told to go. Feeling more than a little ill from the constant rocking of the ship, a ship which she had no ( Read more... )

And with more than a little ceremony, the next new arrival strides onto the deck. She's pretty and knows it and she walks with a confident swagger as she casts her head upwards, her hair cascading back along her dramatic red gown.

"Won't someone assist me?"

Typist: *bandwagon yay* Musetta from La Bohéme

There's another artist aboard the ship. This one is a young man, in his late twenties, with a few splotches of paint on his face and shirt. He peers in the door of the main room, looks around a minute, then shakes his head and peers around again.

"This is -- certainly not where I meant to be. What's happened to the loft?"

Typist: Presenting ( Read more... )

And here is a man in his early thirties, feeling as dejected as he looks.  His chin is covered with a dark, fine stubble, his hair mussed.  He's not all dressed to impress, wearing a long drab brown coat, and equally drab scarf and fingerless gloves.  His fingers, which are red with cold, are clutching a few papers tightly.  And only just now does ( Read more... )