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third ink ribbon ☢ video + action
[ after a moment, claire sits down in front of the journal's eye. she leaves a steaming mug sitting at her elbow, and has her hair tied back in a manner that can only ever be described as professional. although it cannot quite be seen on-screen, it's apparent from the bob of a pen cap that she must have some manner of notepad on the desk before her. and she's already taking notes.
after a moment: ] Good morning, Luceti. I have only been here for four months, but in this short time one thing has become chillingly obvious. Many of us come from places -- Earths, usually -- ravaged by plague-like diseases. Viruses and infections and all manner of scientific progress gone awry. For a lot of us, it seems these symptoms target the recently-dead or soon-to-be-dead. I've always hated the z-word, but I suppose there's no avoiding it today: quite a few of us have zombie problems.
And -- as I understand it -- this world is no different. At least two of the enclosures have suffered under viral outbreaks. A vaccine was manufactured, right? Are the people involved still around? I want to speak to them. And to anyone else facing this threat here or at home. It's not much, but swapping notes might be the least we can do.
[ she will stay at her post to discuss any necessary topics for a good chunk of the day before setting aside her career in the early evening. although she still doesn't let her hair down, it's in a more relaxed bun when she steps into good spirits. her journal is left at home and her cream-coloured blazer has been traded in for a reddish-pink vest layered over a black longsleeve. she's here for a beer or two and to mingle, eager enough to approach strangers and ask them about their day. ]
after a moment: ] Good morning, Luceti. I have only been here for four months, but in this short time one thing has become chillingly obvious. Many of us come from places -- Earths, usually -- ravaged by plague-like diseases. Viruses and infections and all manner of scientific progress gone awry. For a lot of us, it seems these symptoms target the recently-dead or soon-to-be-dead. I've always hated the z-word, but I suppose there's no avoiding it today: quite a few of us have zombie problems.
And -- as I understand it -- this world is no different. At least two of the enclosures have suffered under viral outbreaks. A vaccine was manufactured, right? Are the people involved still around? I want to speak to them. And to anyone else facing this threat here or at home. It's not much, but swapping notes might be the least we can do.
[ she will stay at her post to discuss any necessary topics for a good chunk of the day before setting aside her career in the early evening. although she still doesn't let her hair down, it's in a more relaxed bun when she steps into good spirits. her journal is left at home and her cream-coloured blazer has been traded in for a reddish-pink vest layered over a black longsleeve. she's here for a beer or two and to mingle, eager enough to approach strangers and ask them about their day. ]
[Voice]
[She is having difficulties speaking of this, but she knows she has to.]
[Voice]
[Voice]
It happened around the end of October last year. The virus just spawned in the hospital. Even the cultists didn't know what was happening. When it came out of control, the Malnosso thought of using a shift-bomb on the enclosure to wipe it off the face of the planet if we failed.
We made the cure. It will be better to explain in person, ma'am.
[Voice]
In that case, I would love to meet with you.
[Voice --> Action]
[Gathering her paperwork regarding the incident was little problem, but it would be laying it all out. She would have picked the Battle Dome, but it had gotten busier as of late, and the tables in Seventh Heaven would work to demonstrate much of what she saw.
Not to mention, the seven feet tall girl needed the tea right now. Hunching over her cup, with her notes spread, she waits.]
no subject
sad, really, how thrilling she'd come to find papers and reports and studies. claire drops into a chair across from daisy and smiles. ] I suppose I should have offered to wear a red rose in my buttonhole.
[ like a blind date. best to start things off with a joke. ]