[As usual, Vincent's feed comes on to the sound of...well, nothing. He's gathering his thoughts once more before actually making the transmission.]

If I were to host a trip into Camp Carnival, who on this ship would have an interest in going?

For that matter, what reasons could you give for me to take you along?

[Beat.]I'm not going to pretend ( Read more... )

[You know that nice place Marco set up for target practice?

Vincent isn't there.

Instead, you'll find him at the buffet, in his full regalia--brassy gauntlet and spike-toed boots included--for the first time since his arrival. He's sitting at a table off to one side and feeding what appears to be bits of shredded meat to a very pretty bright red ( Read more... )

[Vincent's birthday was almost a week ago. Thanks to the timing of everyone's punishments and the fact that the only people who could POSSIBLY know the importance of the date were thereby indisposed, he seems to have gotten by without anyone attempting to pull anything stupid.

Or at least so he thinks. It's really only a matter of timeRegardless ( Read more... )

[Now that Vincent's horrific incident of terror is over, it's time to get back to work ( Read more... )

...Is anyone else unaffected by this latest stage?

[Because Vincent is back to normal. But NO ONE ELSE IS, or so it appears so far.]

[Vincent is twenty-one years old and has no idea what is going on. He's sitting on a bed, back to the headboard, in a room he doesn't recognize, holding what appears to be a black leather shirt in his left hand and a threaded needle in his right. Thus, he has no idea what's going on ( Read more... )

...Well.

[Something that sounds suspiciously like a sigh.]

It was...nice. While it lasted.

[This is more an announcement to everyone he knows that he's back to normal, please act accordingly so he doesn't EAT YOU, but this way he'll also keep from getting sprayed.

Long silence, like he's going to say something else.]

...

[Click.]

[Vincent is drunk. Properly and sincerely, for the first time in thirty-two years. He's sitting up on deck two, in the pleasant--if artificial--midday sun, with a bottle of something ridiculously high proof in one hand and another sitting next to him on the deck, with his legs hanging over the side of the ship and a cigarette in his mouth. He's ( Read more... )

[Although this is definitely Vincent's userID, the voice that comes over the line is distinctly not his: It's higher, less cultured, less pained, and his words are spoken slower. The accent is the same, the vocabulary, but the voice itself is very, very different.]

[Locked from Veld and Lucrecia // 62% Unhackable]People say you don't know what ( Read more... )

[It's been three days since Lucrecia showed up, three days since Veld met Chaos. Vincent has spent the majority of time laying down in Veld's room being almost entirely unresponsive. Hearing Redd shout his name over the network wakes him up, at least partially, and he rolls over in bed ( Read more... )