002: No Problem That a Knife Cannot Solve [Visual / Location: the Fifth Floor]

[anoblesavage]

Leela turned the tablet - a strange and unpleasant device, too cold to appeal to the instinct driven warror who wielded it - around in her hands as she spoke, broadcasting a disjointed image of her makeshift bedroom on the fifth floor of the Sanctuary to anyone who wished to watch it

Comments

[Visual] Late tag is so late >>;;;

[icanhaslogic]

Spock couldn't exactly say that he understood, either, and that didn't exactly sit well with him. He'd been here for months, and yet he was no closer to understanding a purpose--even a design--behind any of the actions that their captors had taken. "Amusement" seemed the obvious conclusion, but...

That was far too easy a conclusion to come to. It was far too convenient to throw everything under "it keeps them from getting bored" and have done with it. There had to be something else that he was missing...

Only he never seemed to be able to find it.

"Unfortunately, there seem to be few enough individuals who have any kind of understanding as to what our captors intend beyond simple amusement. I cannot say why they have chosen us or what their purpose is."

[Visual] You are never late!

[anoblesavage]

Leela did not think that she was wise enough to be the one to uncover the truth of this place, but she would certainly stand beside those who worked to complete the tasks that she could not. She would put her knife to good use on their behalf, if they had need of her.

"How many months have you been held here?" she asked, "The answers may become clear in time."

Most things - if not all things - did.

[Visual] Yes I am do not encourage me >>

[icanhaslogic]

There wasn't even a pause as he tried to quantify the time he had been here. He had already been keeping a very meticulous mental record of just how long it had been. And even if he hadn't, that was just how his mind worked, and the pause that that would have entailed would have been just as not-there.

"Seven months 28 days."

[Visual]

[anoblesavage]

He reminded her of the sort of Time Lord - the stuffy and often truly ancient sort - that worked in the archives of the Panoptican. He was methodical and cold, but he was also familiar. She was glad to speak to him, as her tone of voice suggested.

"Any time would be too long," she said, "I am glad you have not yet despaired. Only those who give up are truly defeated."