Ned

[Private to Alpha]

Digby and me are going to go to the dog shows.


If you want to come...I mean, if you don't have plans. You're not. Obligated. I'm not trying to hover, I only thought if you wanted...

...

[Spam, Port-side]

Young Ned was six years, sixteen weeks, two days, and four hours old when he attended his first state fair in the company of his father. He recalled very little of it, save that it was loud and overwhelming and had far too many people in it for comfort. He remembered attempting to cling to his father's hand, only to look up and discover that it was not his father he was clinging to, but a complete stranger.

He was lost.

It's twenty-four years later, and Young Ned is now the Piemaker. Who, as it were, is also lost. Not lost strictly in a locational sense; he knew precisely where he and faithful companion and Golden Retriever Digby stood. Rather, he felt as though a part of himself was lost from all the rest of the parts that made up him: he figured it would account for the emptiness he'd been feeling for quite some time.

He doubted he would find what he was looking for at the fair, but if ever there was a person to struggle on despite mounting insurmountable circumstances, it was the Piemaker. He considered it his duty to push on.

On the morning he stepped out into the fair in a time-and-space-appropriate suit, he made it his business to stay and watch the dog shows in the kennel down by the pier. Trained professionals brought their animals through hoops and up ramps and danced with them to the cheers of the crowd; the Piemaker and Digby watched from the stands.

Later in the week, he could be found drifting through the agricultural trade, aimlessly buying up fruits and preserves that he would never use, but thought to place them in Riddick's, Dean's, and even - for reasons the Piemaker couldn't quite place - Hannibal's kitchens.

And on the last day, he entered the barns to witness a live calf being born into the world. A sight that was as disgusting as it was miraculous.

He made it his business to stay far from the magic shows.]

[Private to friends - assumed CR is welcome!]
( cw; talking about animal abuse )

[Public, but locked against Stark]

If.

If there's anyone who holds sway or can reason with Stark - inmate or warden - please, please tell him that I can bring back rotten food and at least keep this ship going.

I know we've had our differences - especially when I was. um. wardening - but no one wants to starve to death. Right? No one can possibly be that cruel.

[Except Stark. But that sort of goes without saying]

[Spam]
[It's an odd contraption the Piemaker's been forced into. He's wearing leather gloves, but they don't end at the wrists; rather, they continue all the way up through the arms, around the shoulders, and end where they meet at his shoulderblades. A padlock sits between them, effectively shielding the dead from the Piemaker's magic touch. It's a fortunate thing; he's touched almost all of the old guard of the Barge at one time or another. To have an inmate walking around who can kill by accidentally brushing up against someone, with the way the death toll is, is a recipe for disaster for the wardens he's not friendly with.

He's barred from the kitchens, but he finds ways of getting around. Mild-mannered is putting it lightly; here, the Piemaker has no real means of defense and instead spends most of his time out of doors avoiding other people like the plague.

But he still makes an effort to go see the people who don't have as much mobility around the barge, and can be glimpsed scurrying down the hallways on the way to check in on friends]

[Something's happened to the Piemaker in the days since he was held hostage by the inmate calling himself Hannibal Lector. He's shut down, closing out everything that could possibly remind him of the nightmare it was spending quality time with the man.

Effectively, this means not going back to his own room.

Instead, he sits on the floor of Alpha's room, having retreated there to make his post. He doesn't want to do it in the infirmary; he wants to be alone. And with his dog Digby cuddling up to both Alpha and new inmate Ellie, he's got his wish]

I'd like to share a secret.

It's something that a few people on this ship already know through either me telling them or the Barge circumnavigating my wishes to keep the secret a secret and whispering it into the ears of people I would rather not have known.

And. And until last week I didn't think it mattered that people didn't know because I didn't conceive of a way it could be used against anyone. It's redundant.

There's a reason I hate magic, and there's a reason I hate Halloween, and there's a reason why I don't go around hugging people all willy-nilly, and why my dog is neurotic and why my pies taste so good.

I can touch dead things and bring them back to life.

And...Dr. Lector found this out. And he kept the secret.

But he also kept me, in my room, while he used my magic to bring dead things he took out of people back to life.

And if I had told more people what I could do, or if I wasn't...here on the Barge to begin with, it probably wouldn't have happened like it did.

I don't care about who knows anymore. There's nothing worse you can do to me and nothing worse I can do to other people than what happened.

I'll answer questions about it. If there are any.

Alpha, I'm sorry.

[Private to Friends]

I would...really appreciate it if someone could go pick up some things from my room. I can't go in there right now.

Problem.

Very, very big problem.

You know that situation that happens when you bite into a chocolate chip cookie and you realize that what you thought was chocolate chips and looked like chocolate chips was actually raisins in disguise?

I think that might have just happened.

Only with...brains instead of raisins.

Four. Four brains. There are four people on this Barge that aren't themselves. My.....someone's switched people's chocolate chip brains for raisins and we need to find them.

Two wardens, two inmates. And I need help finding the raisins and putting them back to chocolate chips before something worse than mild disappointment happens.

Not to cause a panic or anything. No one's panicking.

[Later, Private to Charles Xavier]

Mr...Xavier? Charles Xavier?

It's Ned. The, um. Piemaker.

Just.

Just an informal head-count.

How many inmates don't like the rooms they've been given?

And how...can wardens move to change it to make the living quarters more habitable? Besides the bathroom....thing. This especially concerns unpaired inmates.

Inquiring minds wish to know. I'm thinking...Extreme Make-Over: Barge edition. And possibly sectioning off a budget for inmates to use to rearrange their rooms how they like it.

Thoughts...?

Alpha, Digby and I are on walkabout. If you need to reach us, please leave a message at the tone.


[Private to Alpha

I have to get off this ship.

We. We have to get off this ship. Pick whoever you want to be, I'll dress to match, and we're going to...go into this port and have a good time and I don't..know what else. Whatever you want to do.

[Private to Dean]

Um. Problem.

[Private to Arthas]

Hi.

Uh.

I know we don't...talk much.

I just.

Wanted to see how things were going.

How are things...going?


[Spam]

[The Piemaker has never been to L.A., never stepped foot in California before. But while the discomfort of another yet-unfamiliar place was, as usual, all-encompassing, at least this unfamiliar place was stationed on Earth. The Piemaker could pretend for a little while to be normal.

He's taking that opportunity now, dressing up in the manner of a Hollywood B-Lister with shades and expensive clothes to match. Now fully in his role, he steps off the Barge to begin his new, pretend life for four days]

I'm, um.

I'm leaving.

Thomas - my inmate - he's...graduated, he's left the Barge, so I think that's...probably my cue to leave too.

I'm...terrible at goodbyes, and let's be completely honest, I'm quiet enough that most of the Barge doesn't know I'm actually here, so I doubt I need to stay very long.

That sounds terrible.

I'm sorry. Something's come up. I have to go.

[The Piemaker - nervous, clearly hiding something, and agitated - leans over to shut off his communicator. Unbeknownst to him, he'll be back in a matter of days for reasons not clearly stated in this post]

[Private to the Marquis de Carabas]

And now it doesn't matter what you know.

Good luck graduating, you....bad, bad person.

To kitchen staff and to...


Everyone. I...guess. Everyone on the Barge. Or at the very least everyone accustomed to eating food, I don't mean to be exclusive but I don't know exactly how many that applies to since I've already run into two people who don't have or don't want to have the admittedly sometimes disgusting process of digestion so common to the rest of us and.


....Sorry.


I think....what I'd like to do, in order to make everyone feel more...at home, away from home...is to start compiling requests for native dishes.

Basically..

If you tell me what you miss from your home that you don't get to eat on the Barge, I would like to try a hand at cooking it. You get to feel a little closer to home, I get to expand my recipe book, my team gets to try new skills....everyone wins? I think?

Please let me know if this is a terrible idea and if I should stop.

[Private to Cass Cain, visible to David Cain]

I.

We.

Have something for you.

I am only just now realizing that a dark and terrible storm is lurking over the horizon and that I may or may not have the resources necessary to prepare myself to face it.


And since I have one, and only one skill to offer in exchange..


Pies for any sort of sword-fighting or survivalist training for me and my inmate.


Please.


We're not fighters. At least, I'm not a fighter...much. I don't like to put words in the mouths of other people. I like to put pie there instead.

Or...room-cleaning, or I know Morse Code but I'm not sure how handy that will come in, but it's sort of a nifty little party trick when you're bored and have nothing better to do, but that might take a substantially larger amount of time than a simple comfort food hand-off.

[Locked to Thomas]

Digby has been re-homed. My room is officially dog-free. So you can...come, and go as you please.

If it pleases.

Also I may or may not have volunteered us both to go to a card game. Do you play cards? I can do a, um. A crash course.

I would like...very much to not have to do that ever again. And now there are these...images in my head and I can't get rid of them and they must be from another life and is this what deja vu feels like?

Is this what deja vu feels like?

I think I just...asked that question.

[Locked to Thomas]

I'm...sorry about last week, it was extremely unprofessional to go AWOL without explanation and the only explanation I can offer now is that I wasn't myself and I will try very hard not do be affected by the Barge any...more.

This might not be entirely a success.

[Locked to Arthur Pendragon]

Mr. Pendragon...King. Sir.

I'd like to talk to you about a sword.