And here's Coma Baby, or Pandora, or Baby, or whatever you want to call her. She's been around, really, her typist is just lazy. Mostly wherever Jamie happens to be.

But right now, she's stretched out on a couch, humming something rock-sounding and reading a book. It's not a terribly interesting book, though. A distraction would be welcomed.

OOC ( Read more... )

A barefoot man wanders onto the deck, having walked all the way from the shore. He seems rather happy and...happy. Rather like someone who has had a little much of something green and mellowing.

He goes about blessing the ship, healing the seasick, and searching for fishermen to join his cult of doom mission of happiness.

[Typist: I wanted to get ( Read more... )

Hamlet sat on the deck, leaning against the outside wall of the cabins, engrossed in a book. One of the young German boys had given it to him -- Hamlet, by William Shakespeare. They were his words -- most of them, at least. The story was much the same, though some of the dialogue had changed. But it was all there. He boggled as he turned the pages ( Read more... )

Armand finds a tamborine somewhere and wanders the decks and corridors banging on it loudly and calling, "Wake up! Wake up! Is everyone here dead or something?"

A man is on the deck, crumpled and pathetic in clothes that are filthy and torn. It seems to take time for him to realise he is alive and unbound, but slowly and almost fearfully he uncurls himself and rises to his feet. He takes a breath, slowly at first, bracing himself for the inevitable coughing fit that will shake him as firmly as ever he had ( Read more... )

Rosencrantz turned a few times, taking in his surrounds. Then (unfortunately for the rest of the ship), he began thinking aloud, "This isn't the ship. Well -- it's a ship, but not the one I had been on. Or perhaps it is, and I merely did not get a good look at it in the dark last night when we boarded? However, it's quite a bit bigger than I ( Read more... )

*here, people of the boat, have a Collins! Who's leaning against a doorway looking like he hasn't slept in about three days (which he hasn't), and trying not to cough*

...Um. It looks like I need a doctor. *grins a little* Anyone wanna help?

Roger sat on the couch, idily playing his guitar. The everpresent notebook was at his side and the pen'd stuck behind his ear, in case of sudden inspiration.

Typist: Open post! Please badger the front man, he won't mind talking to people.

As soon as she enters, it is quite clear she is a queen. There's an air of royalty about her, despite the fact that she is rubbing her neck rather awkwardly. But still she enters, in all her glory, and glances around with a slight smile on her face.

Well then. This is a sight better than the last thing I remember seeing. Scaffolds are dreadful ( Read more... )

He's short, although the specially made heeled slippers gain him back a few inches, so he can look his friends eye to eye when he wishes. Yet the most remarkable thing about his current appearance is his confusion. A bloody bandage or possibly an ex-cravat drapes around his neck, and he holds his chin gingerly, prodding it delicately with apparent ( Read more... )