[In all her years the TARDIS has never been sick - not in the sense a human gets sick anyway. These were things she normally fought off in every single stray that crossed her threshold. Had to seeing as how there will quite a bit of diseases floating around out there in time and space. She couldn't have one of them bringing back some kind of space-disease to their planet.]

[If she had her abilities still then she wouldn't be sick now either. Even if she wasn't entirely sure what the cause was chances were still good that she would be able to neutralize it. There were only a few things she couldn't stop. Even then, the TARDIS didn't get the same kind of illnesses other species did.]

[So despite the fact that her symptoms aren't nearly all that bad, she certainly feels absolutely terrible. It's cold, her throat hurts, her nose is running, she can't stop coughing for long periods of time or keep anything down in her queasy stomach.]

[The video tunes in on what appears to be darkness but then there's a bit of light to reveal a pale, red-nosed TARDIS face.]

Human illnesses are terrible. It's always been the one thing I never wanted to experience. There's all this grossness involving bodily fluids and general displeasure all around. I feel colder than when drifting through space even though my internal temperature is high. How do you all put up with it?

You all should just leave me here to die if this is a common occurrence for a human being. [No, not really she's just being dramatic and grumpy.]

This isn't even the worst disease in all of time and space. Someone should really get on developing a cure for these common things. An instant cure.

[She seems to shut the video off but she really doesn't.]

( [Private to the DW Cast] )

[nevy is... adjusting. she still keeps to herself and gil's company overwhelmingly, but asgard isn't as bad as she originally, fantastically, believed it to be, and sometimes she even goes outside on her own.

today she's by herself in her apartment. gil's off somewhere, and she spends the day puttering around, reading, cleaning, practising floating around. she finishes sweeping the floor and tosses the dust in the trashbin, and then she fills a small bucket with some water and cleans the windows and the counter and the floor. nevy is on her way to carry it into the bathroom to dump out the dirty water into the tub, but her underhand toss is interrupted by a high pitched screech when the water crashes over not limestained ceramic, but a long, dark body.

half the water ends up on the floor as the bucket clatters to the ground with a loud sound. nevy tucks her knees up and hovers, but she loses control of the power a second later and crashes to the ground. she doesn't have time to get up, because there are two clawed feet on the edge of the tub and beady eyes staring at her.

she fumbles the bracelet on as she scrambles back across the room, the slithery black creature hissing at her as it squirms out of the tub and oozes across the floor toward her.]

Help, oh, for the love of Titan, someone! There's a monster in my bathroom, and it's-- [her sentence is cut off as she grabs a book to hurl it at the creature and then promptly hides her face behind her hands. the feed promptly goes dead.]

 [Xander's on your bracelets Asgard - and he's got company! Jumping in out of the frame as she tries to reach the shiny screen that he constantly moves out of her reach is a border collie puppy. He grins happily before leaning down to pick her up with his non-bracelet hand and she proceeds to try to lick and paw at the hologram screen. Enjoy the view.]

Hi there - Ass guard people - hey if any of you still need proof that we're dealing with pervs just check out that name [Arthur, he's talking to you~] - I got a little hot tip for you all! See Will here - well - I guess she's all you see and not that well - [he laughs as he scratches the top of the dog's head, between her ears. She looks up and starts licking his hand] cute, isn't she? You can't have her, she's mine, but she's got a lot of friends looking for homes at Alison's Pet Shop over at Freya. 

Think about it. Dogs are awesome chick magnets and far as I know none of them breaths fire. 

[Stiles is looking surprisingly comfortable even after all the nutso stuff that's been happening to him. There are some dark circles under his eyes (catching someone up with their depressing future takes it out of a guy, not to mention babysitting your de-aged best friend) but otherwise he seems healthy and energetic. Then again, he hasn't had any of his medication in months, so...]

If I were a job that an inexperienced teenager could get, where would I be?

[He's got too much energy and time on his hands and doing something to earn money would not only help him get rid of that, but also earn money (duh). As much as he likes his god's house and the food that can be had there, he wants a little more freedom since it's inherently limited here.]

I'm good with computers and research and writing if that helps. I don't think there's a lot of technology here but I've got the bracelets pretty much unlocked. There's a library here, right? Do they hire travelers? Maybe I should go look...

[He'll be rambling to himself about what the Asgardian Dewey Decimal System might be like when the feed tuns off.]

[ Hello, Asgard. This is going to be an utterly useless post that screams pity meeee, but it may or may not also be a way for the Doctor to further distract whoever has been all concerned about him taking off to Utgard for a day and a half. Meaning, he’s finally been persuaded to rest some. Not in bed, but on the couch, with a blanket over him, and curled up for ultimate sulking.

So why is he sulking? Well, the sniffling and his somewhat flushed face might be a bit of a clue. He’s not used to being human and, thus, not used to getting sick with regular colds and the like, so he never considered that spending all that time around a sick Oswin would lash back at him. So here he is now, resting. Chances are you’ll never see that again. ]

I’m sick. I never get sick, it’s awful, how do you people do it without going mad? It’s only been a couple of days and I’m sick-- tired of it.

[Speaking of Oswin, she is sitting on the couch next time in the same condition (though looking less peaky than she had before the flower festival) with her face flushed and wrapped in a blanket, curled up in her corner of the couch and reading a book.. At the sound of the Doctor's voice she raises her head to stare at him, eyebrows raised and lips quirking into a smirk. She sniffles.]

Come on, Chin Boy. Stop whinging. It doesn't become you at all. And also it's really just painful to listen to. Spare us the drama.

[ She gets an affronted look for that one because, rude, cutting into his dramatic cry for attention and making false accusations. ]

I don’t do whining. And this is your fault, you don’t have a say.

[ So there. ]

My fault? I warned you that I was ill. But no, you insisted that you don’t get sick and decided to hang about. And then you kissed me.

[NOPE. Not having any of that. Looking at him like he’s a child throwing a tantrum over something minor. What a baby.]

[ Excuse you, he's not a baby. ]

I didn’t insist anything, and neither did you. You could have warned me again.

I warned you plenty. It’s not my fault you can’t keep your hands, or lips, to yourself despite warnings and then whinge about it when it goes wrong for you. You just had to kiss the sick girl upon your return and are now getting the sniffles. It’s only a minor cold. Think of it as an exciting new experience. [With a dramatic roll of her eyes, Oswin grabs his wrist and pulls it towards her so she can directly address his audience.] Seriously, don’t anyone pity him or indulge him. It will just encourage him to think he’s justified in sulking here.

Oi!

[ Yanking his hand back thank you. ]

I am completely justified, and none of you listen to her.

[ With a sniff and a sharp puff of breath, he cuts the feed so she can’t sabotage any more of it. ]

((OOC: The Doctor is black, Oswin is red. There will probably be tags from both of them?))

So, this network thing's pretty cool, I have to admit. Like MySpace, only... bigger.

[ Yes, he's still from the days of MySpace. However, compared to the technology at school, Asgard's lacking.

He scratches the back of his head, unsure of what to say before he continues. ]

And I've learned a lot in the past day. [ Many terrible things to look forward to at home. However, he won't mention that now. ] Curses, gods, different worlds... Am I leaving anything out?

And, uh, I want to check something I heard. I know we get a new power while we're here.

[ It's still strange, being able to talk casually about having an ability. In his world, he was hated for being a mutant, but here... He could actually be himself. Out of everything he's experienced at Asgard, that was probably the most unbelievable. ]

But any power we might've had before... It's really true that it's gone? No way to get it back?

[ He's not asking for himself. Not really. He knows his cyrokinesis is gone, and it's a shame. He doesn't mind healing, but he misses his old ability. He'd trade back in a heartbeat.

But if Rogue arrived, she'd have a new power. He cared about her no matter what, of course, but to think that they wouldn't have to be so cautious whenever they hold hands, hug, or kiss... It's selfish to think about. He should want to return home as soon as possible, and he does. Still, he can't help but realize how nice that sounds. ]

[There's a pause before she speaks. She had been floundering on whether or not to make the post anonymous, but then figured, what did she have to hide? Still, the subject was rather awkward, so she does her best to put on a bright voice to hide her feelings.]

Hello, fellow Asgardians, Oswin Oswald here.

You know the tradition of people going on the network and asking deep and personal questions to everyone? And how said question tend to relate back to they asker because they're really trying to find out more about their situation?

...Nothing here that's breaking that tradition. Sorry mates, but I really have to get this figured out. Been driving me mad the past few months.

Basically what I want to know is... was anyone else dead before they woke up in Asgard? Not dying, but dead. Gone into the light, left the world and maybe even blown to bits. But then suddenly, woken up in Asgard, alive and recruited into their rather desperate army with everything intact.

Just can't help but wonder, what's going to happen to us after the war. The gods promised us a reward but can they really bring back dead people in other worlds? Seems like we might get stiffed in the end.

...Blimey, that was depressing wasn't it. Promise I'll be much cheerier next time and post something nice and fluffy about baking and cookies or something like that. No personal questions, just fun. I swear it.

[That's a very ill-tempered expression this new arrival is wearing. He's got a zippo lighter in one hand, and he glares down at the dancing flame for a moment before looking back up at the camera.]

You know what's bullshit, Asgard?

[He holds his hand over the flame just long enough to leave an ugly welt, then shows his palm to the camera; although the process is slow, the blistered red skin is visibly starting to heal.]

This, right here, is bullshit. I'm not Logan. Who the hell would want to be Logan. My name is Pyro, because I manipulate fire. I don't care who these "gods" are, or what they want, or why they did it - you don't mess with a mutant's ability. Give me back what's rightfully mine, what I was born with, and maybe there won't be any trouble.

[Totally unaware that he's just made the least original first post ever, he ends his side of the feed and waits for responses.]

[ The storm sirens have been shrieking in the city for about a solid minute before the video feed starts on Thor’s ruddy and smiling face. He adjusts the bracelet where it sits on his desk and steps back, already pulling on some pretty ornate looking armor. ]

Sound the bells of war!

[ His voice is low and bellowing, but clearly pleased. This is one god visibly pleased beyond measure. ]

Those lot of you bellyaching to me before about having nothing to do? I expect to see you on the front lines with me!

So.

Kissogram, not very ideal for a paying occupation, am I right?

[ Hello, you are now having a conversation with Miss Scottish. ]

I don't know about you, but putting myself out there is much better than money-mooching off Rory. [ A pause. ] I was kidding by the way, these lips are married.

Writing is a thing. Arts... and crafts is a thing. [ She crinkles her nose. It's better not to mention most of them were of the Doctor variation, an embarrassment she easily can hide worlds away from home.

Thank goodness there have been very little people who have seen her room— Rory has been victim to much more than that. Bless the bird-nosed man. ] Job help would be nice.

[ the device is registered under the name: 'THOMAS HARDY'. that's a fairly english name.

he's been observing the nature of this dream. it's quite quaint for a dreamscape, the constant shifting and subtleties aside. he's trying to measure just exactly how this set up works. gods work as some sort of leader-type that he should allegedly follow but somehow, as he's been observing out of the network - they're a little bit too self aware. to well constructed and he's not sure what the grand purpose of it all is.

but eames has always been willing to immerse himself to try to scope out more information. blend in. somehow he finds himself limited even within the realm of the dream. trying a kick out seems too risky with this level of sedation, he'll try to adapt, infiltrate the dream from the inside until he can figure out exactly who's responsible. ]

right. i'm normaly not one to give into blogging but i've got loose change, a deck of cards and no desire to find a suitable occupation.

anyone play poker?

So, here's a question for anyone who might know the answer: What happens when all this is over? Let's pretend we win, and we're actually sent home - do we get dropped oh so conveniently back in the same spot considering we were so inconveniently taken, or do things change?

Since we've kind of done the world a favor in the end, I feel like we could ask for a favor in return, right?

[ The recording starts just as a door closes behind two faces that should be plenty familiar by now, unless you’re brand new. The Doctor still has that fez, and this time he’s pretty much shuttlecocking it between his hands. ]

Hello, Asgard! Amy, Rory, Oswin. Me and Aladdin here have just been to the tailor. Or, well, a tailor. Because Aladdin here thinks that I have the right to a fez, so he was so kind as to take me there so I can stock up. He’s quickly gaining points, you know. Don’t want him to get ahead of you, do you?

[ He’s just joking, really, because he loves Amy and Rory so dearly, and Oswin is very much getting there. The grin is nothing but light, easy, and he drops the fez onto Aladdin’s head because new best friend.

Except not really, but yes. ]

Hello, everyone! Ms. Amy, Mr. Rory, and Mr. Oswin. You shouldn’t be mean to the Doctor like that. If you even think about messing with these one, you’ll be paying for it!

I don’t understand why you would get rid of a perfect good tarboosh...I mean fez.

[He’s pouting angrily at you all. It doesn’t last for long as he remember what else happen at the tailor.]

Yes, after we showed the tailor he was really excited about it. He says he’ll probably sell them as a regular item now.

[ The Doctor leans in, lowering his voice a bit but it’s still very much audible. ]

Oswin’s a girl.

[ And then he straightens back up. ]

So, you see! Fezzes are cool. Tailors know.

[He blinks for a second before turning to the man, he lowers his voice as well.]

Oh, it just sounds like a man’s name.

[He looks back, he doesn't appear to be too sorry for that mistake.]

Fezzes are cool, now everyone has a chance to get one!

((OOC: The Doctor is blue, Aladdin is red.))

[She'd meant to do this earlier, but with the whole animal event and a few particular people disappearing and/or going missing, she just didn't have the heart. But after a serious morning of 'get your shit together', Jo finds herself in front of the network.

Or, more specifically, at the dining room table in TFW's house cleaning a handgun, staring at her bracelet.]

Seeing as not all of us were gifted with a very offensive-type power, figured it couldn't hurt to ask.

[She puts the gun down.]

Self defense is useful, don't get me wrong, but would anyone want to learn how to shoot a gun? Not really planning on giving them out or anything, but if we're gonna fight a war and there are some of us with...well. Kind of useless powers when it comes to our own safety, it might help?

[If Bobby were here she'd be getting an earful. She's probably going to get it from her mom. Oh well.]

Can't make any promises, but I figured I'd check. Let me know.

[A shrug, and then it's over.]

So, how about a roll call for the powers everyone's been granted here? [ She's a little nosy. ]

I'll go first-- I can grow plants. I'm not sure how cultivating a garden is supposed to help this world, but it's not like I can ask the gods to change it back to healing.

[ When the camera clicks on, Simon is sitting dejectedly in his room at the Sigyn house, hands clasped tightly in his lap.

He'd gone to Odin today to visit River only to find that she was gone. After spending several hours frantically searching for her, one check of the contact list - now absent of her name - confirmed his suspicions.

He takes in a deep breath before he begins, trying to remain at least somewhat composed as he addresses the network. ]

For, ah, for those of you that knew her, my-- my sister - River Tam - has left Asgard. She's, ah, she's gone home.

[ The camera clicks on to reveal Simon, sitting in his room at Sigyn house. He looks nervous and he visibly takes in a deep breath to calm himself before he begins. ]

Um. [ Well. Excellent start there. ] For those of you that don't... know me, my name-- my name is Simon - Simon Tam - and I'm in Sigyn house. With, uh, with Healing.

[ A pause. What was his point again? Oh yes. Cue another deep breath. ]

I-- I would like to contribute to society here in some way and therefore I'm enquiring after some employment. In the medical field, if possible. Given recent... events, it seems my skills as a doctor could prove quite useful.

[ He reaches up a hand to tug nervously at his ear. ]

For what it-- For what it's worth, I am... very smart. Back home, I-- I graduated in the top three percent of my class at the best Medical Academy available and I successfully completed my internship within eight months as opposed to the standard year.

... I'm fairly certain there must be some medical practises here to which I could lend my services. I'm led to believe that there is a... clinic here of some sort?

Oh dear.

[ Lucy's face flickers into view, and of course, she is smiling. Though somehow she's covered in flour and a myriad of other baking supplies. She coughs, not realizing the bracelet is showing every comedic mishap she has gotten herself into.]

Why does this always happen?

[ She blinks up, flour smudged across her nose and she laughs, almost pathetically. ]

Does anyone know how to bake very well? I thought it would be nice to try and make something sweet to cheer everyone up with but... well.

If my brothers see this, they'll be so upset!

[ But she's grinning about this, and that may have definitely been a giggle and not a cough. ] I'm not sure who is up to the task, not after these long days but I just... I wanted to do something.

[ If looks could kill, anyone on the receiving end of the feed would have to say their prayers and wish for the best. While her eyes vaguely hint with a vague, possible murderous intent, she appears relatively calm and composed for someone who's just been kidnapped and prepping for a rant, albeit her tone has a certain venomous edge to it.

She purses her lips, tilting her head to observe the bracelet. ]

One word: tacky. You would think gods would at least be able to afford Tiffany's. What, is this place just filled with criminally awful fashion choices?

[ Priorities. She rakes a hand through her hair, trying to will away the exhaustion that seeps into her voice. ]

Okay, right. Norse gods who recruit teenagers and elven soldiers, apparently. [ Guess who did her homework by briefly browsing the important posts on the network? ] Even if the rest of this little performance sounds like a bad plot for a B-rated fantasy movie, forebodingly talking about preparing for battle like it's at our doorstep — their doorstep — isn't very comforting.

[ She pauses, raking a hand through her hair and biting her lip to stifle an approaching frown or fatigued sigh. ]

Serious question here. Since we can't click our heels three times and leave of our own free will, does this place have any redeeming qualities?