Freakout Time [Maybe 2 hours into the new liminal]

[mytearsaremine]

[Not long after liminal changes over, but with time enough for the psychic network to start quietly bubbling again, a voice is broadcast into the fray: and that voice is loud.

For once, it isn't Jules. Instead, it's a teenage girl's voice, and while emotions and tone don't translate over the network without a little more experience than she's had, it's still pretty obviously as much of a scream as one can make when one is brand new:]

GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!

Comments

[mytearsaremine]

I don't know. I just got here. But maybe we could learn to resist it, whatever it is they do. Just doing nothing isn't really something I can... you know. Do.

[ofinspiration]

Hah. I'm not terribly good at that either.

[ And switching to private so people don't start yelling at her. ]

You could always try and make sure they don't get whatever they want out of a jaunt. Hard to say how much they care, but it's occasionally satisfying to see they don't always get their way...

[mytearsaremine]

[And though she doesn't know it, Jolie even has psychic protection, so they're super safe.]

What do they want out of a Jaunt, then? I mean, is it usually pretty obvious?

[ofinspiration]

It's mostly guesswork. There's usually something significant going on we're clearly meant to be involved in, but exactly what they want us to do about it... that's much less clear.

[mytearsaremine]

What kinds of things have you had to do, before? I mean, how long have you been doing this stuff? A few weeks...?

[She's... guessing a lot more, but hey, lowballing is a thing, right?]

[ofinspiration]

Oh, that optimism is cute. Try a year or so — it's difficult to keep track of time here. Others have been here much longer.

[mytearsaremine]

Oh geez. Longer than a year? I'm gonna be so old by the time I get back home... I mean, if I can even go back, now.

[ofinspiration]

I'm afraid I can't say much that would be reassuring on that point. I'm certainly not going back, even if the Trumps do get bored of us.

[mytearsaremine]

Why not? Did somebody turn you into something else not-human, too?

[ofinspiration]

...no. Someone murdered me.

[mytearsaremine]

Oh. That's kind of awful. I'm sorry. So you were, uh, you were dead when the god-things brought you here?

[ofinspiration]

Pfft. They are not gods.

But yes, I was dead. Or am, depending on how you choose to look at it.

[mytearsaremine]

You don't seem very dead right now, so I'm gonna go with was, if that's okay with you. Dead people don't talk, in other people's heads or otherwise. They just lie there, being dead.