Lance is missing... [Though possibly not for long.] But yes, he seems to have a good way of handling stress. Cooking helps him.
I think... use your judgment. It's only at the level of a curiosity for me. Nothing severe. Just little differences is all...
[Because obviously the other topic merited most of the focus. She sighed and tried shake her... fuck! One second. It was stuck at the wrong... she reached up, grabbed it, turned it back into position, settled it so that her breathing didn't feel obstructed, and then retightened the brace with a sour look on her face.]
I died, naturally. A Guillotine, if you are familiar, so ... the cut was clean at least. Apparently, the sixth death means that I am stuck like this for six months. Believe me, we ever tried magical cookies from Sodder. Nothing works.
[...cookies for one hell of a booboo]
So, this is the event you will wish to be aware of. July was hell. It might have been worse than the plague entirely. And you remember how bad that was. Superior locked us in a bubble and began to strip away the layers of protection of Deerington to get at Sodder. She sent a robotic bear to torture us, putting on mock trials of our sins, real or fictional, and executing several of us publicly.
There hasn't been quite as much death among the sleepers since the plague, and everyone is still psychologically reeling. It hit us in ways I don't think they were ready for. They expected monsters, not to be put on trial by a demented bear.
Thankfully most of your crew managed... mostly ok. Hunk's death was more accidental than an actual trial. If a jury guessed "wrong" they were punished.
no subject
I think... use your judgment. It's only at the level of a curiosity for me. Nothing severe. Just little differences is all...
[Because obviously the other topic merited most of the focus. She sighed and tried shake her... fuck! One second. It was stuck at the wrong... she reached up, grabbed it, turned it back into position, settled it so that her breathing didn't feel obstructed, and then retightened the brace with a sour look on her face.]
I died, naturally. A Guillotine, if you are familiar, so ... the cut was clean at least. Apparently, the sixth death means that I am stuck like this for six months. Believe me, we ever tried magical cookies from Sodder. Nothing works.
[...cookies for one hell of a booboo]
So, this is the event you will wish to be aware of. July was hell. It might have been worse than the plague entirely. And you remember how bad that was. Superior locked us in a bubble and began to strip away the layers of protection of Deerington to get at Sodder. She sent a robotic bear to torture us, putting on mock trials of our sins, real or fictional, and executing several of us publicly.
There hasn't been quite as much death among the sleepers since the plague, and everyone is still psychologically reeling. It hit us in ways I don't think they were ready for. They expected monsters, not to be put on trial by a demented bear.
Thankfully most of your crew managed... mostly ok. Hunk's death was more accidental than an actual trial. If a jury guessed "wrong" they were punished.