video; mirrornet (backdated to the 10th)

[attainment]

[Barnaby briefly debated on whether to do this via video or text. Text would likely be easier to digest, especially given the nature of the message. Ultimately, though, he thinks it's better to put an actual face next to this sort of request...so, video it is.

Normally he'd wear his suit for this sort of message, but that's not possible right now THANKS A LOT BUCKY. Still, Barnaby looks as composed as usual, blond hair neatly curled, and a polite, neutral expression on his face. Powersuit or no, he's clearly all business.]

By now, many of you are aware of the poison used against us during Sunday's ambush. Thanks to Ms. Kitty Jones' investigations, we now know that the venom contains nanomachines.

Unlike the nanites issued to every imPort upon arrival, however, these particular nanomachines appear to have been designed for the purpose of gathering data. We believe this is because the people injecting and attacking imPorts knew that anyone killed would most likely come back to life, and they wanted to study that process for their own purposes. This would also explain why our assailants were so intent on injecting people who had been killed.

In the interest of investigating further, we would like for those who were injected during Sunday's attack to identify themselves. Feel free to either comment in response to this message or send a private message if you'd rather avoid making such information public.

If you have any questions or concerns, please don't hesitate to contact either myself or Miles Edgeworth.

Thank you in advance for your cooperation.

( ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ )

[mantlepieces]

[ The camera turns on to show what appears to be a kitchen -- or possibly a living room -- and is propped upright on a table, showing two people sitting at it with somewhat sour expressions: Reggie Mantle and Sasha Blouse.

Laid before Sasha is a blank piece of paper, a pencil in her hand that she idly drums against the surface of the table. ]

Hello! It’s Sasha again. I— [ She wrinkles her nose when she has to correct herself. ] —we have a few questions to ask other imPorts. It’s for a school assignment so if a few people could answer our survey and help us out I would be very grateful!

[ Reggie’s brow furrows slightly and he sits back in his chair, making it evidently clear he would rather not be there. Restlessly he taps a pen as well, against the edge of the table with a sort of frantic impatience. ]

Yeah. We’re supposed to represent the "imPort experience" for about a quarter of our grade -- not that there’s any way they could check if we just decided to make it all up.

[ At that, he shoots a pointed look in Sasha’s direction, the person forcing him not to cheat. ]

I’m not getting another Saturday detention for this. We could’ve done this earlier, but you were procrastinating on it.

Well, that’s only ‘cause unlike you I actually got a social life. This is a waste of time. [ He gestures at the camera, looking at it briefly before looking back over at her. ] It’s not like everyone out there's just sitting around waiting to answer questions so that we can get an “A” on some dumb project. I mean, maybe if they’re bored enough-- here, I’ll read 'em, what do you got so far?

[ See, he’s participating! He grabs the paper from her, then frowns at its relative emptiness.

Sasha frowns when he snatches the paper from her, reaching to take it back. ]

What social life? [ She mutters under her breath, glaring at him sharply. ] If you wanted to be doing something else we should have finished this earlier. Jeez, I should have asked for another partner...

Like anyone else would want you for a partner. You didn’t even write anything down -- if I’d known that I wouldn’t’ve started recording yet!
( His Friends Hate Him, But What She Does Next May Shock You. )

( video | five. )

[cupio]

[ Clary's video feed once more shows her bedroom in Heropa. The stacks of comics and manga books, the half painted easels and thrown around sketchbooks, they're all part and parcel of who she is. But this time there's a sad little Christmas tree in the corner. It's only half decorated and is slumped on one side. Idris, her orange tomcat, is attempting to pull the tinsel free. Clary herself looks accidentally festive with a green sweater on and her red hair falling from her ponytail. But there's no Christmas cheer on her face. ]

So how do you guys do it?

[ Clary tucks a tendril of hair behind her ear. ] How do you deal with the holidays knowing that the people you're supposed to be celebrating with are another world away? [ It's been weighing on her since October but now it's starting to hurt. She should be celebrating Hannukah with Simon, going Christmas shopping with her mom, choosing a tree with Luke. She's never even seen how Shadowhunters celebrate - if they even do. But part of her longs for it anyway. She could be teaching Jace ridiculous versions of Carols right about now.

Instead she's here with the holidays yawning in front of her and nothing to keep her from being sad. She hasn't seen her mom in six months. That's a long time for a sixteen year old. ]

I could really do with some advice.

[ Idris finally gets a good solid yank on the tinsel and topples the tree to the ground. Clary jumps and turns to see the mayhem. But then she sits back down again. What's the point? It's just her. ] Figures.

002. video

[incantamentum]

[Eric appears on the screen, seeming to be sitting in a dimly lit office, glasses on his face. He'd sat there all day really, at his job, doing pretty much nothing. It was laughable, that they'd put him in a position such as this- Eric was a man who liked to be busy, hell he practically needed to be busy.]

Hello fellow imPorts. My name is Dr. Eric Dufosset, as some of you may already know. It seems that there is no end to introductions in this place, with how people come and go seemingly endlessly. [He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, he's just trying to be pleasant.]

I come to you all after another day wasted at my job. So I thought about maybe being a little more vocal about these things. My official title, as dictated to me by those who brought us here is Dream Interpretor. [There's movement to the side as he raises a cup of coffee and takes a sip, clearing his throat before talking again.] But here I am without dreams to interpret.

So, my fellows, would anyone care to tell me a dream? [There's a smile that basically admits he knows no-one will be interested.] Alternatively, there are many other things I can interpret if you'd like to visit my office. I have tarot cards, tea that can be brewed, palms to be read... Just give me something, please. I'm weary of the inertia.