bat_ai: (Default)
[personal profile] bat_ai
Bat'ai had never known whose idea it was to set up the small machine shop on the respectable fringes of the station's black market, but he'd really like to buy that being a drink. Okay, it wasn't in the more glamorous retail section, but what he missed in glamor he made up in foot traffic. It never ceased to tickle him when he'd get some furtive looking alien dart in with some bit of tech or another under a coat, in a pocket or in a bag. One enterprising sort had used magic to shrink a whole broken ship and had nearly returned it to normal size...inside the shop. He could heal, sure, but he was fairly certain that even his cell regeneration couldn't handle reattaching pieces or returning him from a liquid to a solid.

As he watched yet another way-too-casual shopper looking around the shop while casting looks over his shoulder, Bat'ai remembered fondly the discussion with the ship owner. He'd apparently won the ship in a game of cards but without any way to leave the station in it, he'd thought it worthless. He'd taken the 100 credits Bat'ai offered and had been grateful for it. Now that ship was permanently docked through an airlock at the back of his shop and served as his living quarters. He hadn't minded the dorm-like quality of his assigned quarters, and still kept a few impersonal things there, he preferred the solitude of his ship. Alone could be almost disturbingly quiet at times, but it was infinitely safer than the familial vibe he'd sensed from others in the quarters with him.

After ten minutes of watching the alien pick up random items and put them back down again, Bat'ai figured he'd been patient enough.

"Look, mate. No one's going to call security on you if you've got something less than legal under that coat."

He did nothing but grin at the range of facial expressions from shock, to outrage, to acceptance visible through the scales and feelers. They all tried, they all failed. He'd been here too long to react. He just waited until they were through pretending and brought their ill-gotten gains to him to fix, or buy, or whatever else they might need.

[OOC: Find Bat'ai in his shop. Your pup can either be the one he's talking to, or another customer browsing out of curiosity and looking to see what kind of tech he's got. His stock is a mix of alien machinery and human machinery - some can be recognizeable, some won't be. Go nuts.]
rememory: (mischievous)
[personal profile] rememory
To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To reach the unreachable staaaaaaaaaar....


From the kitchen that she'd designated as the focal point for de and reconstruction, Sabine barked, "Mimi!" and then choked out a laugh that was half a sob. Man of La Mancha had always been one of Byron's favorite musicals.

"What? You can't build without music and you don't have a boombox!"

"No one has a boombox anymore. Don't make me regret manifesting you." She shook a finger at the showgirl ghost who was lounging on the back of the couch like it was a baby grand.

Unrepentant, Mimi went on singing,

To right the unrightable wrong
To love pure and chaste from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star
.

"I love that line, don't you?" Mimi teased not just Sabine but Scott, even though he was out of earshot.

"Zip it, or it's Tsura's turn," Sabine snapped, cringing at the reference to their chaste, but far less than pure love.

"What was that?" Scott emerged from the next-door apartment through the hole he'd put between them to make testing the walls for support beams easier. There were two more like it in the filthy foursquare they'd chosen to turn into a community area -- for the time being.

"Nothing. Mimi was just asking your favorite musical so she could sing for you. Isn't that right, Mimi?" Mind-to-ghost she sent #Don't even contradict me.# Forbidding it with power was the simplest of her abilities, but Sabine didn't abridge her free will.

Mimi just laughed and laughed, sticking to Impossible Dream until the next person joined them Then she started in on songs from Annie:

It's a hard knock life for us!
It's a hard knock life for us!


Sighing, Sabine shot Scott and the newcomer an apologetic look then shrugged helplessly. "It's not like she's wrong."

[ooc: Gathering post! Sabine and Scott are clearing out a group of four apartments to start with to make a communal kitchen, dining, sitting area on level D. Mimi is audible and vaguely visible as a holographic figure of a showgirl with an indistinct face. She won't interact unless you ping me and ask for her. Will, Molly, Marie, Jack, Sebastian, Nick, Porthos, Maggie, all got a message inviting them for potluck and construction. Anyone else can have heard from them or have seen the 'excuse our dust' sign and stop by. Feel free; all are welcome. Tag Sabine with a note in the subject line; all other tags are top levels.]
sanctuaryrpgmods: (Default)
[personal profile] sanctuaryrpgmods
There were no flashing lights, no alarms. The doors to the quarantine chambers simply opened, the whoosh of seals breaking was the only fanfare.

Quarantine was on a quiet level of the station, a gently pulsing light set into the wall leading the chamber's temporary residents out into the station proper. Outside, station officials wandered by but paid no particular attention to the newcomers; new arrivals were nothing new to them, just a fact of life on Sanctuary. New people arrived in the chambers, station staff logged them, and the computers arranged everything else. So they went about their business, eyes glued to the screens they held.

Of course the newcomers weren't aware of any of this. Anyone who called out to the station staff was greeted with a wan smile and directed toward one of the many terminal screens lining the walls of the large open space between the central tower and the rest of the station.

The terminal screens asked for a fingerprint before offering any additional information. Their names flashed up with a map to their new home in the living quarters and some basic information on the currency contained in the chip in their hand and what it might buy them. A brief explanation of the silver communication unit followed, and then the news of the past twenty-four hours played. War on planets in a neighbouring system, the weather on a vacation world, sports scores for a game that seems a cross between lacrosse, hockey, and quidditch. Nothing of use, of course, nothing that could get them off the planet.

The quiet entrance to the living quarters was on one side of the atrium, and the sounds of a bustling marketplace that could not be contained came from a much wider opening on the other. People of all shapes, colours, and species walked through the space along with station officials and technicians using their tablet like screens, dark uniformed security officers chatting as they strolled their patrols.

The station carried on obliviously while the newcomers watched, each with only their credit chip, a place to live, and a basic outfit. Clearly that was all the welcome they were to expect; what happened next would be up to them.

[[Gathering post and opening of Sanctuary RPG. Put in your characters coming out their quarantine]]

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