Uh, hey? [Willow gives a little wave, looking anxious and worried because the last thing she remembers, is running from the first ever slayer trying to kill her in her sleep. She's not 100% convinced this is just a part of that, or whether she has been... teleported somewhere else? She was pretty damn sure sure that wasn't the case, mind you.] This is a weird piece of newfangled technology, huh?

[She gives a small laugh, still looking very unsure about this whole thing. The... faceless lady had talked to her, or well 'talked' to her. She wasn't sure if it was like one of those demons Buffy had fought before - the telepathic ones - but it still gave her the heebie jeebies. In fact, this whole place did.]

So, anyone out there want to give me any help? I mean this is a... little new, what with the God's and faceless maid's and all. [She smiles into the camera, still nervous because hello network post, giving awe inspiring speeches is more Buffy's thing - that's why she's a sidekick and not a leader, thank you.] If anyone can point me in the direction of where Odin's House is as well, that'd be super helpful. Nothing like being lost to make new friends, right? I mean, at least all that fog cleared up, that was a bit foggier than I like my fog.

[In fact, that's a good point. Buffy. If she was transported here from that horror nightmare dream-y place, then it's possible her best friend was here too. Xander and Giles as well.]

Oh! One more thing, if anyone happens to see a blonde girl, ye height [She uses her other hand to make a height with it] with some super strength, let me know? Goes by the name of Buffy. Oh! Oh, or Giles! He's this ruggedly handsome, kind of old guy who's really smart with the books. [The smile this time is a little more hopeful, almost even cheeky because that explanation would probably not go down well, but he's also probably the best guy for having any clue of what is going on here, it's pretty much why it's those two she asks for as well.]

I guess it'd kinda help if I introduced myself, wouldn't it? I'm Willow, new resident of Odin for all that counts for anything.

[There's another awkward wave, before she ends her post to the network.]

Well, well well.. What is this?

[John turns the device in his hand over with an arched brow.]

This is a bit...gaudy even for me. And the jewelry? Not really my sort of thing, but I'll humor you.

So...[He sort of chuckles.] This isn't the brothel I was aiming for sooo... Where is this exactly?

[There's a somewhat short blond man standing in Fryer's welcome hall, with a guitar on his back, and he's looking rather fretful.]

Alright, so we're supposed to be here to help; that's fine, I'd like to help if I can. But, what I want to know is what's it mean about the world we came from?

I mean...it's safe, yeah? All our friends and family... And we'll get to go back when we're done helping here...right? [Optimistic, but definitely not a hundred percent sold.]

[Watson's leaning in the window of his newly colourful clinic, eyes on the street outside before turning back to the feed with a rueful grimace.]

It seems that the sudden return of colour is more than superficial -- none of this morning's patients have shown up for their scheduled appointments. Rather odd that ... still, let's make the most of it! If anyone needs the staff of the Yakuzen Clinic, you'll find us at the Gefion Park.

[Filtered to Staff and Friends of the Clinic (ie. people who helped out after Zen left/patients/interested parties)]

As a thank you for all your hard work, I've ordered a couple of picnic hampers from the bakery. I thought we might relax, get to know each other a little better and simply enjoy the sunshine and colour. I hope you'll all come -- if the god's letter is to be believed we might not be here much longer ... and there is someone I should like you all to meet.

See you at the park.

((ooc: And log here! All welcome!))

Alright.  So I was trying really hard to deal with this for a long time, you know...ever since I've been here, really.  But I'm feeling claustrophobic in my own head, I'm not used to not being able to reach out, and...yeah.  [It's not easy being a former psychic fish trapped in a human body with no telepathy in a strange place without his friends =(]

But we were given some other kind of...abilities here, right?  Something to make up for losing whatever we had before?  [He needs some kind of distraction, something to focus on instead of feeling walled in.]

Does...anybody know what that is?  Or how to use it or anything?  I don't even know what mine is.  Maybe I don't have anything at all.  That would be just my luck-useless.  Only able to talk and flail around in this body.

Good morning, Asgard.

[The sleeves of Watson's shirt may be rolled up, but his waistcoat and tie are in immaculate order -- just as are the instruments Watson is carefully arranging as he makes the recording. He's still not entirely comfortable with the video functions of the bracelets, but is making an exception for this special occasion.]

To those that do not know me, I am Dr Watson, late of London. Currently I'm acting general practioner of the Yakuzen clinic, Heimdall. The clinic was founded by Zen in the aim of providing Asgard's citizens with methods of treatment that might be more familiar to them than the services of the hopsital as well as providing the chance for more personalized service. He took me on as a partner, and our staff also includes Miss Tsukiko, whose ability to heal is known to more than a few of you, I'd wager. As I'm sure our current patients will attest, he succeeded admirably.

Unfortunately, Zen is no longer here. We intend to keep the clinic running in his absence. You'll find us in Heimdall and I'll hope that you'll consider our services.

However, Zen's absence has left us with a void to fill. If there are any in the medical profession seeking employment, particularly versed in herbal medicine, or any members of the House of Sigyn or Heimdall who would like to employ their gifts to aid their fellows, I should very much welcome your applications. My thanks.

[And a quick, military-esque bow and the feed ends.]

[Sam is sitting in a lounge at the hospital with what appears to be a laptop on his lap. There is no Internet connection here, nor is there any real practical reason for Sam to have his laptop with him, but he has it now, and it has a metric ton of information stored on it, so he wants it. Besides, it's comforting to be doing something, even if that something is reorganizing the files for the tenth time in the past hour.

When he speaks, he sounds exhausted.]

The Ides of March is the 15th day of March on the Roman Calendar. It marks the day that Julius Caeser was killed. Before Caeser was killed, though, a seer told warned him that he would be hurt, but Caeser didn't listen, and he brushed the guy off. He was stabbed later in the day, at the theatre of Pompey, twenty three times in front of the Roman Senate by a group of conspirators lead by his former friend, Marcus Junius Brutus. So --

[Sam lets out a long breath.]

That's what this must be about. If you stuck around and listened to the old man that everyone seemed to run into, a couple days ago, then you were rewarded for it. That's why some of us got personal items from home -- but if you ignored the guy, you were stabbed by a close friend. Like Caeser was -- or, well, that's my theory, anyway. The theory fits the facts of what's been going on.

[He pauses for a moment.]

Any of the available healers should probably come to the hospital. There might be more attacks for the people that ignored the seer. Not everyone is going to be so lucky.

[And Sam shuts off the bracelet. He has some people to visit.]

ooc; If you're in the hospital because of the attacks, Sam can certainly come visit you! Just pop into this post with an offline tag and he'll poke around to ask you what happened. :)

[Dean must have jostled his bracelet in excitment, because it turns on and catches a glimpse of him... hugging a car. It's a beautiful car, there's no question, sleek and black and practically glinting even in the dim light. He has his arms splayed out over the roof, cheek pressed to the cold steel and a hand draping down onto the windshield as he smiles more genuinely than most people have ever seen. He loves his car. It doesn't even matter to him that it's currently housed in the most garishly decorated garage ever painted in pale pink and hot pink polka dots with frilly lace curtains and various heart-shaped decor. The viewer might be distracted by the hideous display to just barely catch Dean's mumbled cooing.]

Oh baby, I've missed you. Bet you missed me too, huh girl?

[He straightens and pulls the door open excitedly, finding the keys in the ignition. Biting his lip, he turns the keys slowly, smile fading when the car doesn't even pretend to think about starting up. He tries again and again, but the engine fails to turn on, let alone turn over.]

Sweetheart, what've these bastards done to you?!

I understand some have the capability to heal. [Powers just seem a little too surreal for her at the moment.]

However are there any medical facilities here or even anything for scientific purposes? Just to test basic functions and forces here.

[Claire Saunders doesn't exactly trust the nature or believability of this place. She crosses something off.]

How is society run here? I understand there is a war going on, but what do people actually do here? Are we supposed to fight it ourselves? I have some weapon skills, possibly more due to muscle memory.

[She needs to know what to do, and the why. Staying idle is driving her nuts.]

[Could this be an imprint? An imprint gone wrong? Claire didn’t know as she looked at the device. She knew enough that this was some communication device that the video feed was transmitting, that someone or more were watching. A brunette with slashes that were healed over stared into the feed, calm. It would take more to unnerve her.]

This is Dr. Claire Saunders. I need—I need to return to—Los Angeles. [She couldn’t openly call out the Dollhouse. No, she didn’t want to end up in the attic. Then another thought crosses her.]

Topher, if this is some sort of joke because I tried to sleep with you, I’m not laughing.

[But then it could be Alpha? Could he design a program like this?]

Alpha? [Even saying his name makes her blood freeze.] Alpha. I’m no longer a threat. I’m not even Whiskey any more, and Echo is number one now. Just—just take me back.

[Not even Adele could be stupid enough to unleash her on the world. Not when it isn’t her choice, and she’s programmed to dislike most everything.]

I—I don’t have a handler, do I?

[Her mind is reeling. How could this happen? All the likely scenarios and imprint technology goes through her head. She’s back to being calm, handling the situation as is needed.]

I need information on this place.