It takes some nerve to stop in the middle of a battle and think, "I'm hungry. I wonder which side is controlling the mess hall at the moment?" and decide that it's worth the risk to go find out. That's exactly what happened here and - fortunately - at the time Clef went to check, the Mess Hall was in fact a neutral zone. Which is to say that no one had thought it strategically important because the food was that bad.

Well, now it was being occupied by the crew. That is, by Clef. Who was sitting at one of the few still-upright tables and eating some grey mush like it was just a normal day. Occasionally some fighters on either side would run through and occasionally pause to go what the fuck? at him, but since nobody had pointed a gun at him yet he so far considered Mission: Get Some Lunch a success. Contrary to all appearances, however, he was quite ready in the event that circumstances should change.

[ooc: Put up a post so there could be multiple threads. Feel free to have a fighty thread in here! I think that would be awesome.

Edward sat at an empty table in the mess hall, prodding with a fork at the glob of slop slowly congealing on his edible tray. He was a big eater, sure, and not too picky about most foods (save one), but this?

He let out a loud, exaggerated sigh, sprawling out across the bench. The red cloth of his coat fanned out on both sides of him, slithered down to touch the floor. He hadn't been able to find any of the others, which meant they were still in the pods. At the very least, he'd been assured that Alphonse's soul would be safe. As long as he was in stasis, anyway. That had to be the one bright spot in this nightmare.

Come to think of it, the whole last day had been like being a front-row spectator in an inevitable, slow-motion car crash. Sure, there was stuff here he couldn't explain. And everyone seemed to believe, to varying degrees, the whole Ohm story. But then there was the mention of mysterious meetings and shadowy enemies and the laughable (to him) reassurance that as long as they played by the rules, their universes could be 'restored'.

By who? And how?

He glanced back up at the slop and made a face. At least the water here was normal.

[Ed's open to conversation, but at this point will probably be hostile towards any mentions of previous Edwards on the ship. Fair warning!]

Alendian was leaning up against the wall to the entrance of the mess hall. Robe wrapped tightly around her and hood up over her head, she clearly didn't want to invite outside conversation. Of course, she was rarely in a conversing mood but the state she was in now was borderline shut off. It wasn't because she was angry or feeling like cutting people out but because she was thinking. How could something like that have ever happened? What that was...well, it that spoke of Eldar and human relationships of a certain sort.

To help sort out that confusion, she called for the Space Marine to meet her at the mess hall. Her pride had taken a huge beating while doing that. Asking a human for anything was possibly the lowest thing on her list of things she ever wanted to do in life.

As for why she called the Black Templar, it wasn't to blab what she knew, that was for sure. Sharing misery could be fun but she didn't want the fool running off and doing something stupid. Instead, she wanted to figure out what was so fun about spending time with a human. It never occurred to Alendian that Erhart was definitely not the best candidate to test this out on. All humans were the same to her. Even if some were almost twice the size of others.

Damn, she really didn't know why she was doing this but she kept waiting. It was better than embarrassing herself by running away. That was something she'd definitely be called out on.

Somehow, he'd gotten himself into a bet. He didn't even really remember how it had happened or how they had gotten on the subject. But then suddenly the bet had been accepted and it was too late to back down, and now he was sitting at the very same Mess Hall table Sakura and the others had been sitting at the other day while they'd been discussing the source of the ship's mystery meat food supply.

To be fair to Sakura, he'd picked a shade of pink to match her own, natural hair color. But the results were... jarring. Also, hopefully no one would recognize either of them.

Who: Karkat and YOU.
Where: Right outside the Mess Hall
Summary: Romance troubles? Shhhhshoooshhshhshooosh Karkat is here.
Warnings: Language.

( I WANT YOU TO SHOW MEEEE )

After the 'bitching about Stacy' session finally reached a head, Sakura and Howard decided to actually do something about all the questions they had about their spacefaring fleshy home. Granted, they couldn't really find anything out about the Ohm on their own, and the Daligig were Right Out, so that left exploring the ship itself.

Time for them to find out what it is that they're putting in their bodies.

They drew on a few people they trust, or at least have figured out well enough to not distrust (more than they usually do), and now they're gathered at the mess hall at some awkward hour when no one is there to eat. They've brought Kanoe Zouichi (specialties: stuff going boom and wrangling Howard into being cooperative) and Ian Chesterton (specialties: hot cocoa, also science). And Ian's brought Barbara Wright (specialties: ??? and pissing Howard off).

Howard's tucking away at a tray of slop, figuring that if they're going to find anything that puts them off eating food forever, he might as well enjoy sweet, delicious ignorance now.

Within a school, despite the bad reputation for what is actually served there, cafeterias are a popular gathering place for almost all students, for Transmigration Nine however, this is not the case. In fact, this cafeteria had an even worse reputation for what was dispensed here and due the the fact the crew was not contained to a school and had other places they could freely be, they felt no need to force themselves to sit infront of a pile of grey, unidentifiable slop and chat when they had their own rooms, or better yet, a bar to kill their free time at.

Yet, this was where Diana could be found, sat on an empty table (though, to be fair, the vast majority of the tables were empty), with a trey of the glop sat infront of her, with two spoons sticking out of it. Her table seemed to have been picked at random, yes, it was close to the food dispenser, but not as close as it could be, and neither in the center or right at the sides.

Despite this, it would not be her singularity (which she seemed rather at ease with) that would draw your attention to her, nor her very attractive appearance.

No. Instead it would be that strange, croaking noise coming from her hands that are resting upon the table.

Diana takes one of her hands away to pick up one of the spoons, and sheltered underneath the remaining hand there's very young baby bird. Just hatched it seems. Rather ugly looking thing to be honest. All pink and skinny, with a neck that seems like it'll snap any second, and with no feathers whatsoever, just stubby little fleshy appendages that are supposed to grow into wings someday.

Its eyes aren't open, there's just these grey slabs where the eyes should be and lined with yellow beak is a gaping red mouth (the only colourful part of the creature really) which opens and shut periodically as it makes the croaking cry for food.

The only break between those cries is when Diana spoons some of the gray slop and presses it into the raw read hole, forcing the tiny creature to gulp down the strange sustenance before resuming its demands.

It's rather jarring, seeing this gross but fragile looking creature manhandled by such a pretty young girl. And just to add to the oddness of it all, piled next to the hatchling are some perfectly beautiful looking shards of an egg, that catch the light in just the most amazing way.

[ooc; Image by iKink on DA.]

It's going to be one of those days.

In the hallway directly outside the mess hall lay a book. The bright red body and overall size clearly pointed to it being the Overlord, for those familiar with him, but his back cover was the one facing upwards. No sign of any minion around. None of the cursing, struggling, and flopping one would expect from Zetta in such an undignified posture.

Just a tome, lying flat on the ground, as if a crew member had simply discarded it thoughtlessly.

It had been months since Stacy had released Sarah Kerrigan but the meatship hadn't seen very much of her. It wasn't because she preferred to spend her days alone, at least not solely. It was safer this way. For her and for everyone else on the ship. She had come clean to the Captain, given him a short explanation of her reign as the Queen of Blades. She knew that he could not legally imprison her for crimes she had committed in her own universe but she was still surprised that he hadn't arrested her on the spot. It's what he should have done. Murderers shouldn't go unpunished, especially not when they'd murdered billions people. But then just because Kerrigan wasn't behind locked away didn't mean she wasn't a prisoner. She didn't remember everything but what she did was played out in brief bursts. Images flashing into her mind before vanishing as quickly as they had come. But that was good. That was what she deserved. And slowly she became accustomed to this new life. Barely interacting with others, training, waking up wracked with sobs and shaking.

And then he came. One day. One day with Jim Raynor. Because Stacy hadn't tormented her enough.

If one were to speak in metaphors, you might say that there was a hole in her heart. Kerrigan would say that was a terrible metaphor as she no longer had one. It was more a reminder of what she was missing. What she could have been had the zerg not claimed her.

Now Kerrigan sat in the messhall. It was not as popular as it once was now that there was a supply of real food but it was not as empty as she would have liked. Usually Kerrigan ate quickly and left but today, and in fact every day since Stacy's surprise "gift" to the crew, she sat staring at her slop but not seeing it at all. You would expect more from a telepath. They were supposed to get lost in others' thoughts, not their own.

Hikari sighed, leaning back in the chair at the mess hall. Considering everything that had happened lately, she really wasn't sure if she should be relaxing. But there wasn't much that she could do, other than training anyway. Well, that and taking care of Nyaromon.

Speaking of Nyaromon, her partner was in the middle of devouring her third bowl of slop since they had gotten here today. Hikari was really starting to get worried. It had been quite a while since that thing with Vilgax. The fact that Nyaromon was still, well, Nyaromon was just one of the reasons why. Sure, she knew that a digimon evolving to the Ultimate level took up a lot of energy, but she couldn't remember Agumon, Gabumon, V-mon, or Wormmon ever being stuck in their baby forms for this long after evolving, even after their first time.

And then there was the other reason why she was worried. Sending that energy to Tailmon had hurt. There was no reason for something she had done countless times to hurt, even if she hadn't quite sent that much energy to her partner people. Oh, and she didn't even know she could do it and wasn't even trying to force Tailmon into the Ultimate level, she just wanted to give her enough energy to become Angewomon again.

But Holy Dramon had definitely given them results. Hikari had no doubt that without the added power that Tailmon had been given in her Ultimate form Vilgax could've likely killed Devlin or one of the others. Or even her. They wouldn't have been able to win without that power. Which meant that...

Nyaromon let out a growl and looked over at Hikari. "Hey. Hikari! I'm still hungry!"

Hikari blinked, shaken out of her thoughts by her partner, who was sitting over at her without a bowl. She must've eaten it. Again. "Okay, okay, let's go get you some more food."

Hikari moved, grabbing the small furry head in her arms and started to head over to the slop dispenser. She just hoped that Nyaromon would finally get full after her fourth bowl.

Celestia had lived a long life, but the past few days were the strangest she had ever experienced. She had awoken from a pod in a strange chamber, only to find herself whisked away to a strange maze soon after.

This maze had had her most concerned - as Princess of all Equestria, she had duties and responsibilities, after all. She could only hope that her sister Luna was managing on her own, and do her best to escape this maze and return to her beloved subjects.

Escape came unexpectedly though, when Celestia found herself suddenly dropped from the mess hall ceiling, where she landed on top of one of the tables with a thud, her hooves sending plates and trays and cutlery flying in all directions. Have a rather elegant pony - or perhaps a horse? - with a long horn on her forehead, graceful wings adorning her back, and a mane and tail that was a multicolour and gravity-defying sight standing on your table, diners, looking rather bewildered.

"Oh! I'm sorry. I hope I didn't ruin your meal," she said, with a chuckle. Then she looked around at her surroundings, her expression turning concerned. "Now this doesn't look at all like Equestria..."

The really great thing about crawling across the ceiling was that people were less likely to notice him up there.  That meant easier eavesdropping and a greatly lowered occurance of screaming episodes.  On the ceiling, he could be quiet, secret and stealthy.  Like a ninja.  A ninja made out of blood.

It got boring up there after a while.  His mind, such as it was, wandered, and soon he had stretched into a long, thin river that chased itself  around and around on the ceiling, coiling in spirals and arching under himself in giggling fits of glee.

 Having missed nearly everything that had transpired because of his naps, Judau had needed to get up to speed as to what exactly happened. Thus far, he had learned of marriages and such, but of course he knew nothing about the newly weds, nor did he care. The only thing he cared about was that if there was a dinner party he had missed. When it came to food though, unless it made him gag with horror, he didn't care what he had to chow down to get through the day.

After doing a few more tune-ups on the ZZ Gundam, making sure the machine was fully functional for when it came down to an old fashioned space fight, he had wandered into the cafeteria, munching down on the food in the cafeteria like a mad man. There was no restraint at all, as if he was literally gulping down everything his arms had grabbed, save for blood reserved for vampires. Even knowing that tiny fact, he didn't give a care in the world. So what if it was slop? At least he could actually digest any of this!

After a forceful gulp from taking in far too much in his mouth, he leaned backwards to stretch his arms and back, belching loud enough for anyone in the mess hall to hear him. He sighed in content, smirking to himself after the much needed food. Sure, it wasn't like that pizza place Torres had shown him a few months back, at least in his world, but it was leagues better than anything served in Shangri-La.

(ooc: Yes, I know the food is technically disgusting, but Judau has lived on a poor colony for nearly all his life. Added to his starvation, so long as it is edible, he'll devour it.)

When she made her contract with Alaya -- the part of the world that governed humanity -- the girl known to history as the King of Knights had understood that it would involve certain sacrifices. She had been pleasantly surprised to learn that in eras well into the future of her own, good food would not be among them. In fact, the cooks -- she was hard-pressed to call them that -- of her own time were so terrible that she had wondered if food was merely a form of punishment. It was only after she had been summoned as the Servant Saber in the Fourth War for the Holy Grail that she had been awakened to a new reality: eating could be a pleasurable experience. That is, if the food was pleasant to the taste.

Whatever this 'food' was that was foisted upon her was decidedly not pleasant by any stretch of the imagination.

It did not seem to be an unreasonable thing: the little blonde was not especially picky about food as long as it tasted good. A simple but tasty (and large) meal was far preferable to a fancy but bland (and small) one. The indecipherable mass she was served was the worst of all worlds: unidentifiable, small... but worst of all, tasteless.

She accepted her 'meal' with her usual impassive expression, seating herself in silence. Yet, she made no move to begin eating, staring at the slop with no change in her stony mask. However, those sensitive to supernatural phenomenon -- or even those who were simply observant -- would most certainly feel the heavy weight of a killing aura surrounding the otherwise proper and elegant young girl as she sat in morose silence.

((OOC: Buyer beware--lots of narrative/introspection going on here. Click at your own risk, and be TL;DRed at.))



These past days--weeks, now? Time seemed to blur together disorientingly here--had been long ones. In spite of being alone--as alone as she ever could be, at least--, however, Edriss still felt she was making progress. To an inferior mind, it must have looked like she was doing nothing but reeling in shock at the sudden catastrophic change that had befallen her, wandering aimlessly and trying to adjust to the new life that had been given to her--but she knew better.

Every hour spent exploring the ship's layout, studying the voluminous backlog of messages on the Omnicomm system, or perusing the offerings of this Media Library was time well-invested in gathering knowledge suitable to this new environment. Every hour spent familiarizing herself with the Hub, the Medical Bay, the Sensoriums, the City.... all of it was vital intelligence to allow her to get where she needed as quickly and quietly as possible, should it become necessary. All of it was useful in establishing herself as a new crew member, lost and bewildered, overwhelmed, innocuous, benign. All of it served a purpose, even the seemingly useless and interminable time spent pacing along the endless catwalks to study the pods that still held people in stasis. The pods from which even she had emerged from, not so long ago. Any human, after all, would doubtless want to search for those they had once known and cared about. And though the effort had proved fruitless, she had thought that perhaps she might be able to look for the familiar and distinctly alien silhouettes of Hork-Bajir, Taxxons, or Gedds within them. (Or even, Heaven forbid, an Andalite. It was better to know one's enemy and be prepared, after all.)

( Is this stuff FDA approved? )

But this too would pass; all would come in good time. As much as she wished she could skip directly to making her ambitions a reality and all her wishes come true, she needed to focus on more directly and practically handling the here and now..... which meant taking care of herself and her immediate circumstances, not dwelling on things she couldn't understand or do anything about. Which meant, unfortunately, yet another serving of--given the ship's nature--what was probably regurgitated nutrients. (If they ate this, then what kind of fuel did Stacy function on? And what could possibly be capable of fueling a ship of this size while still providing nutrients for the entire crew?) Edriss gave the tray that was presented to her a look of silent distaste, before calmly moving to sit down at a table and start eating regardless. She wouldn't have minded so much if they at least had ready access to water to get the taste out of her mouth....

Iniss stared at the slop, willing it to turn into something marginally palatable.

The slop remained inert and gray.

< I don't think it's going to magically morph into a cheese burger, Iniss. You may as well eat it before it gets all cold and congealed and starts tasting worse. >

< I can stand the taste, it's the texture that's soul crushing. It's like someone put old tires and used gym socks in a blender and decided to serve it for lunch. >

< I think I'm just glad you get to be the one that actually has to chew it. Yeerks are useful for something after all. >

< You know I could give you control, I'd even give the appearance of being charitable. >

< Give the appearance of being charitable, in reality being sadistic. I bet Dani would be proud. >

Iniss huffed, taking a bite of the food and forcing himself to swallow it without tasting it. His host couldn't help but rub that in, could he? Useless brat.

 Alex generally didn't spend much time in the cafeteria, but Alice needed to eat normally even if Alex didn't. This time though, he had the Doctor with him as well. He lead them the whole way there, feeling a little reminiscent of his first day on the ship. Even though the two acted very different, there was something about them that felt the same. 

After instructing Stacy that he only wanted Alice's food, he turned back to the Doctor with a grimace. "I-it's p-probably not the best you've t-tasted, but it's m-made as a p-perfectly balanced diet, s-so at least I know Alice is e-eating healthy." Not that Alice could possibly eat the amount of food offered by the ship. Most of it ended up in his pockets and kept feeding her for a few more days. 

Alice, who had happily ridden on the Doctor's shoulder, took the first opportunity to jump over to Alex and climb down onto the tray. She didn't like the food here nearly as much as she did in the sensoriums, but it still was food, and she was hungry. She grabbed  onto the edge of the bowl the slop was served in and began gnawing at it enthusiastically.

There are few things in the 'verse Kaylee can't stand. One of them, obviously, is that wonderful little group made up of people like Early and Niska. Another is insults to her ship. Possibly the biggest thing on the list, though, is seeing sad and lonely people, mostly because she knows there isn't much she can do to help outside of offering a friendly smile and shoulder to lean on.

Or, in this case, offering free hugs.

Once again, Kaylee has settled herself down at one of the tables in the Mess Hall with her 'Free Hugs!' sign. Even if hugs aren't wanted, the mechanic is also perfectly willing to lend an ear for a nice chat or just some company for a little while. Anything to boost morale.

In a truly feline move, Arhu wandered into the cafeteria as nonchalantly as if he hadn't been missing for who-knows-how-long. His tail waved through the air above him, and he approached Stacy's sensor and seated himself neatly, tail wrapped around his feet.

"I'd like something to eat, please," he requested, as polite as he could manage when his stomach was rumbling loudly enough that he was surprised no one else could hear it. When he received the standard bowl of whatever-it-was, he stared down at it, and tried to summon some sort of enthusiasm. He hadn't been enamored of this the first time he'd had it, and he wasn't thrilled now.

“Look, these ehhif might let you push them around, but I’m not going to. I’d like something better to eat than this.” After a moment, courtesy-lessons chimed in again. “Please.”

When nothing further manifested itself, he put his ears back, and stomped one paw hard on the urge to create a wizardry that would reduce the scanner – and that who part of Stacy – to slop of a similar consistency. Though…that made him think.

Hey, what all is in this? He stared down at his slop, and listened to the Whisperer as She gave him the components. Everything he technically needed, but in a form that was worse than the dry food the parking garage’s ehhif left out for him. Still, Arhu was not limited to just accepting this situation.

“Fine. You’re not going to give me real food, then I’ll make this real food.” Laying out a transport circle, he popped himself and the bowl over to a table out of the way.

“’Scuse me,” he muttered to the occupants that were at the other end of the table, mostly ignoring them as he started pacing a circle around the bowl. A few quick consultations with the Whisperer, and he started reading the spell to take the basic components in the glop and re-form it into a much more meat-like substance. At least the texture would be right then, and he’d certainly eaten worse-tasting things.

Vanyel was unaccustomed to sitting still for long - and unaccustomed to feeling so alone in his own head. The solution to both, he had decided, was simply to not sit still long enough for either feeling to sink in.

Puzzling out the communication device he'd been given kept him busy for a little while. It was unlike anything he was familiar with from his own world, but not incredibly difficult to grasp, once he'd figured out the basic workings of it. After that, though, he found himself at a bit of a loss, and ended up sitting at a table in the mess hall for some time, staring blankly at the screen of his omnicom, before he managed finally to drag himself out of his thoughts with a shake of his head and a sigh.

I've gotten too used to Yfandes kicking me when I start to brood, he thought with a faint smile. It's a lot harder to avoid when I have to drag myself out of it... And he knew very well that left to his own devices, he tended to relapse to a sulky teenager all too easily. Not a state of affairs even he was particularly fond of. Right. I could do worse than to learn how to find my way around this labyrinth. If nothing else, I should be able to navigate by the ley-lines here...

So anyone wandering the ship that day might have run into a Herald as he explored, tracing a path through the ship seemingly random but blazingly obvious to anyone with the Mage Gift. That "running into" was... probably not literal, though from time to time Vanyel was considerably more focused on his magical surroundings than the physical - staring into thin air, from a non-mage's perspective - so a collision might not have been entirely out of the question.

[[OOC: Feel free to run into Vanyel in the mess hall, or anywhere in the ship he might reasonably be - he'll probably end up somewhere in the City, eventually, but he's going to be wandering for a while before then.]]