with_my_teacup

[Pretend you're talking to a guy who only has enough social energy right now to interact with strangers for, say, a couple hours a day. Pretend he's been partitioning that energy between supervising the kitchen shift and being available to his inmate, and diving for the CES or his cabin as soon as that little well of fucks to give ran dry.

In fact, don't pretend.

Which just means that Riddick's been absentee from the network and the usual face-to-face gossip chains during the past flood.]


So anyone who didn't get a note, Mozenrath's out. Left voluntarily, so he's got one over on a lot of us.

I'm game. Anyone out there?

( FILTER: Beatrix, Marquis, Megamind, Rhade, Ben, Prefect, Narvin, Arthas*-- also Chris and Anya )


( Private to Ned and Thomas )

( Private to Davros )

[This voice transmission goes out to anyone who's awake at three in the Goddamn Morning, in Riddick's gravelly voice. It's just shy of a murmur, like he's being considerate to sleepers.

Or he's just in a quiet mood.]

Anyone seen the sun in the CES since the changes? Anyone catch it on a good weather day, a little light with your rubble? Different weather at all?

( Open Earlybird Spam, tag Selina )

[Public]

So.

The admiral's getting a little difficult to please these days, ain't he? 'I've made some changes. Go explore them. They may kill you.' Now, me, I love a little urban free-for-all, but apparently not everyone grew up playing survive the streets.

Still, the admiral wants us ready to handle environments like this. I can try to train people who are interested, but I'm an animal kind of guy, all instinct, no playbook, and that's hard to teach. I'ma need help. People who can teach, who can get me up to speed, who have specialties. And people who want to learn.

( Oh boy, obargefood. )

So, anyone know how to actually fight with one of these?

[Riddick jerks a thumb behind him at a massive polearm -- the skull's been prized off, but the lettering that reads 'SUFFER' up the axe head is going to take more scrubbing]

Besides the obvious.

[Private to Arthas]

We picked you up something in port.

[Update- Heart Container filter: Mozenrath, Grumpy!Tirion and Arthas]

Hey Fordring. Arthas is willing to get his shit back together literally, if Mozenrath can look over the heart and make sure it's not gonna possess him.

Hey Mozenrath, Tirion's got a heart we need you to look at ...

For those of you who haven't heard yet, the admiral recently decided I wasn't quite bad enough to keep an inmate. So now you've got one more warden to look out for.

This means a couple things. The one you're gonna care about is the fact that we're back down to one supe, one worker for every meal shift. Slade Wilson's covering me for lunch for a while, but I'm not asking him to do two shifts indefinitely.

So how about you peruse your free time and see if you can't take a couple hours and keep people on this boat fed?

[Expanded 'Friends' filter] (follows the one positive conversation rule)
Can someone cover my lunch shifts for two days? I am fucking exhausted and I need to get someplace quiet.

Still doing dinner shift.

Pieman, I'm still coming to lessons.

Anyone needs me, I've got my comm.

[Library spam]
[Riddick is curled up in a secure library corner with a massive stack of apparently random books around him. The Q'ran is closed on his lap as he catnaps, the Bible beside him, Rand's fiction, Nietszche's philosophy and an assortment of economic texts forming a strange wall between him and the world.

But he's only half-asleep, and will twitch awake if approached.]

[Why is Riddick upset today? Because the admiral has forced his hand. He has to be a productive member of society. Oh, he hates this. He hates. This. But the alternative is letting things backslide in a direction he's all too familiar with, and NOPE.]

( Gambler filter )

( Kitchen warden filter )

( Piemaker filter )

( Private to Prefect )

[PUBLIC] (follows discussion with Rhade)

You know what a protein waffle is? It's a low-grade, low-cost way to keep a prisoner alive. The minimum nutritional standards, carbohydrates-fat-protein, compressed into something about the consistency of particleboard. You can live on them indefinitely.

Tasty. I've probably eaten about my body weight in that over my lifetime. Somehow I think I can do without them for a while longer.

But it got me thinking.

What do you eat when you ain't feeling entirely put together? Comfort food, cultural shit like that. Recipe would be a bonus.

Disclaimer, obviously, about the kitchen staff being limited, but we can start putting things together. We aren't busted down to protein waffles yet.

[You don't get many of the deep-sea mers up this high. They prefer the quieter, lower altitudes, little to no light, comfortable freezing temperatures and soothing high pressures. Even those who live at this level don't like all the light and activity of the ship graveyard and the ruined city. Attracts so many predators. And the crowds. Awful.

But then there's Riddick, curious despite himself, who comes to scavenge weapons out of the sunken ships and occasionally even speaks to other people. He's really shockingly gregarious that way.

Often he's only visible as a bright light in the darkness, a small lamplight that could fit in your palm, jogging and twitching temptingly from near one of the wrecked ships.

But sometimes his curiosity wins out and he comes close enough to the barge to be illuminated, peering in the windows of the the cabins when the lights are out and it's not too blinding.

He's a very attractive mercreature (at least to fellow anglers, other mers seem to have other opinions), dull red, not scaled as much as leathery. He's very... dense. He has what he considers perfectly lovely fins and some very pretty sensory skin-bumps-- and of course, his pride and joy and mealticket, the cartiligenous lure protruding from the hide of his back like a semi-rigid, bioluminescent tail. And a mouth full of needle-like teeth that protrude past his lips even with his mouth shut.

He probably won't eat you, and he may be willing to trade strange deep-sea artifacts for food.

But don't make fun of the lisp.]

[OOC: Riddick's open post! Catch him among the wrecks or by the barge. Spam or log format, I'm easy

Mun is sorry about TL:DR bathypelagic blahblahs.]