[Talia activates the video feed and offers the communicator a brief smile.]

Heyla... I don't suppose anyone aboard can cut hair? I don't mind often, but it's becoming a bit unmanageable. [The light curls fall past the middle of her back, now, thick and heavy. Her smile turns a bit sheepish and she laughs lightly.] I could cut it myself and have tried, but... well, the results haven't been the best.

Who: Talia and YOU!
What: Nightmares aren't only for the young
When: November 26th
Where: Around the Black Tide and Logan's cabin
Warnings: Bad dreams and cuddling
Notes: Will adjust rating if needed, but I don't foresee it happening.

( Nightmares weren't something kept solely to those young of age... )

[It had been a quiet night on board the Black Tide, and Talia was enjoying the evening while reading a book shed borrowed from the library. It was a history text from a place she'd never heard of and she was utterly engrossed with it when the explosion shook the ship.

She's tossed to the side of the hall on deck five, slamming into the wall and off her feet as heat and shrapnel fill the air around her. Coughing, she braces against the wall and tries to get her bearings as her body screaming in protest at the intense ringing in her ears. Sound is muffled not only by the smoke pouring through the hall around her, but by the damage done to her ears from such a close proximity to the blast itself. While braced against the wall with one hand, she raises the other to first her nose and then her ear and both come away bloody. Grimacing, she wipes the blood away from her nose, her head beginning to pound in protest to the damage it had received.

Dust and fragments of wood and cement dust her hair as she braces herself and moves to push back to her feet, but she freezes as pain shoots down her leg. She looks down, hand hovering over the wound in her right upper thigh. A piece of shrapnel, metal from the look of it, has stabbed through her leg. She closes her eyes, nostrils flaring widely as she focuses her shields to keep them firmly in place. She slowly forces herself to her feet, a cry of pain slipping past her lips as the skin of her thigh stretches and tightens over the metal in response to her movement.

She fumbles for her communicator with her left hand, the right clamped over the injury. She didn't know if she'd severed an artery and she couldn't risk bleeding to death because she'd tried to walk.

Finally managing to activate the now blood coated communicator, Talia looks a fright when the feeds kicks on.]

I.. I'm in need of medical assist... Deck five... Just outside the library...

***OOC: Mods, if anything needs to be adjusted, please let me know and I'll do so ASAP!!***


[Talia had a few days to adjust to having been collected by yet another ship's Captain on the premise of a 'rescue'. Now was a time to speak with the others that had been brought onboard the Black Tide, so that they might not make mistakes that she'd either witnessed or made herself.

Have a Herald, everyone. She is still terribly underweight, but there is a bit of a healthier look to her now that she's slowly beginning to eat again. The scar on her face doesn't stand out quite so prominently, nor do the smattering of freckles the time on the 'shore' had brought out on her pale skin. Funny how good food really was for you... shame that whole 'slowly dying' thing that would kick in around the time she'd start getting properly healthy again.

Oh well!! Couldn't bother with what you didn't know yet, right?! Right!

Talia activates the older communicator and to those that have explored the ship you might recognize the uppermost deck.]

Heyla. I know some of you, but to those I don't, my name is Talia. [She offers a smile and it very nearly reaches her eyes.] While I know that there are some onboard the ship without Gifts, I would impart that I am an Empath and a mind healer. I tell you this as a cursory gesture, as I've no wish to repeat things that have happened in the past when someone unknowingly finds out what my Gifts are and presumes that it is my intent do anyone ill. [Her expression is serious as she continues, smile fading.] I do not misuse my Gifts, nor would it be something I'd ever consider. I am the Queen's Own Herald and my monarch's trust in me had to be absolute... I'd not have been Chosen as a Herald were I not capable of the weight and duties of the task.

[Lots of pretty words that people might neither care about or understand.] Ultimately... Please ask me before presuming I am intent on doing you ill. My duties to my kingdom were as a keeper of peace and justice, not a brigand intent on twisting emotions in knots. But, I digress... There are more important things to speak about.

[She steps toward the ship's railing, but pauses to pick something up off the deck. Holding it up for everyone to see, it's a wooden bucket like any you might find in an old closet or barn.] Those of us that made a home of the Elegante know well that we couldn't leave the ship and why, but those of you unfamiliar with our first vessel have no such knowledge. Please pay attention, as I'd really rather not do this more than once. [She lifts the bucket, still in sight of the communicator. She's making a point of keeping the bucket fully visible as she holds it over the edge of the ship and lets go, releasing it toward the water. The image follows it down, down, down... only there is no 'splash'. In fact, the bucket vanishes altogether instead of even hitting the water. Talia's voice can be heard as she speaks from behind the communicator's field of vision.]

It was exactly as you saw it... More than likely, it will be found somewhere else on the ship, but it did not hit the water. [The communicator shifts to her face again.] Please don't be rash and please don't think jumping overboard is the answer, or fleeing on a life raft... I doubt you'd get far, even if you managed to reach the water. I would beg that you please adhere to Captain Rowe's rules and refrain from doing harm unto the crew of this vessel or unto the vessel itself... and that you would please avoid killing one another whether it is a permanent thing or not. [Just going to sliiiiiiiiide that in there. She wasn't certain if death was permanent on the Tide, and it wasn't something she'd see tested if avoidable.] I've no idea what the brig on this vessel is like, or what punishments one might expect at the hands of the Captain, but if there is one thing I learned upon the Elegante, it was to never doubt the creativity of our Captain.

[She offers a brief, tight smile.]

Thank you.