ships_counselor: (Imzadi ♥ Respectful Colleagues)
[personal profile] ships_counselor
The greatest man I never knew, lived just down the hall
And everyday we said hello, but never touched at all
He was in his paper, I was in my room

How was I to know he thought I hung the moon



Part, The First

The day had been long, but neither extremely good or bad, hard or easy. A day, like any other day, slotted away. Her files checked and double checked, both her own and those of her whole counseling team. Her log for the day made and saved. She hadn't yet found her sleep clothes, but she'd sat down, brush in hand, as she turned the comm on and told the computer to call Beverly.

A conversation with Beverly before bed, one that didn't have to be work or checking in, and could be all at once for both of them, too, and whatever else it needed or wanted to be would be nice. A perfect foot note to end it all, and send her to sleep.

Deanna yawned, and started brushing the bottom of her curls, as the comm connected, and a voice said, "There's my Durango."

[ locked to Deanna & Ian Troi ]

Part, The Middle

After the call ended, Deanna sat for there staring at the off screen. First, convincing herself any of it had been real, and then, after that, after trying to stack it up next to everything else bizarre, but still real, that had happened since Q commandeered The Enterprise, tried to commit everything to memory, like it was sand slipping through her fingers already.

His voice. His smile. The way he moved.

She didn't know how long she sat there, or how many times she reached up to wipe a tear from her cheek, or when exactly she'd finally pushed up and left her quarters. Needing to talk to Beverly. Or Will. Whichever she happened to get to first. Someone else. Someone other than her own head.


[ ** Open to All As She Walks ]

Part, The Last

Deanna stopped at Beverly's door, still dazed, still in her work clothes. Her fingers pressed the chime, and she said, as though hearing her voice from so far away, "It's Deanna."


[ locked to BFF Beverly ]
ten_fwd_npcs: (beverly)
[personal profile] ten_fwd_npcs


If this is your first trip to Sickbay, you may be surprised to see that it's a fairly ordinary-looking hospital. There are no terrifying devices or humming machines you might see in a sci-fi thriller. The biobeds along the walls are equipped with biofunction monitors, but look fairly standard. Instead of silver trays filled with metal tools and sawblades, there are an array of small devices that look as harmless as cell phones. As for the staff, they're all well-groomed and friendly — even the more unusual aliens.

If you're new to the ship, no doubt you've been escorted here by the security team. Nothing to worry about, the doctors just want to make sure you aren't carrying any viruses or are vulnerable to terrible space disease. Once you've been checked over — a quick scan from a tricorder and any necessary vaccines — you'll be free to go. Lollipops are optional.

"All right, step on in," one of them calls out as you enter. "Don't be afraid. It's just a scan and a hypospray, nothing to worry about."


[ooc: Sickbay is, as always, OTA and open until the next one goes up for latecomers! For new characters: tagging isn't mandatory but IC going to sickbay is. If you'd prefer to skip threading with one of our doctors, you can handwave that your character got a clean bill of health and a shot and were sent on their merry way. There will be a post up in the OOC comm shortly with more details about Sickbay and which doctors are on deck this month, if you have any questions.]
tea_earlgrey_hot: (surprised)
[personal profile] tea_earlgrey_hot
[ooc: due to a family emergency with Emma Swan's player, this plot has been extended to March 15th & 16th in real time so that those getting involved with the turbolift malfunctions and power outages have plenty of time to post their own logs for the event. The date all of this happens IC remains March 15th, and as always backdating is love. Thanks everyone! If you need more info the plot announcement is right over here!]


There have been unusual readings from the bridge. Small irregularities in the ship's operations, nothing terribly out of the ordinary — and certainly nothing quite so alarming as Q has brought to the ship ever since he has made his stay permanent — but enough to warrant inspection. Mr. La Forge has been running diagnostics all morning, and a dedicated team of engineers has likewise been looking into the fluctuations.

The Captain is on his way to personally receive an update on their progress, leaving the bridge in Commander Riker's very capable hands. He could just as easily be apprised of the situation over the comms, but occasionally he appreciates seeing things for himself.

(And perhaps, too, he gets bored with the command chair every so often.)

Entering a turbolift from Deck 10, he puts in the command to be taken to Main Engineering on Deck 34. There are others in the lift with him — the woman he has come to know as Ms. Swan is treated to a polite smile and nod. Her pregnancy is well along now, and he opens his mouth to make some grasped-for inquiry into the health of the child she is carrying when the turbolift stutters. He barely has time to hold out a bracing hand to ensure she doesn't fall before the lights flicker and the whole cabin grinds to a rocky stop.

Throughout the ship, both simultaneously and with some delay, other turbolifts suffer the same malfunction.
derek_morgan: (wounded over shoulder)
[personal profile] derek_morgan
Forty-eight hours passed since he suddenly changed form. First, he was freaked out by how his goatee suddenly grabbed the PADD he'd been browsing. And if that wasn't bad enough, when he went to a mirror to check what the hell was going on with his facial hair, his entire body turned into water. Derek remained in his room the entire time in an effort to understand what was happening.

Showing up on the Enterprise seemed like a dream at first. It wasn't something agreed to the way Eudio was, and there was no immediate danger. The dream had now turned into a nightmare. Nothing Derek researched gave him any answers. He didn't reach out to his roommate but headed straight to the sick bay in hope of a remedy in addition to an explanation.

He came through the automatic doors with urgency. Derek Morgan didn't easily scare or worry but neither had he suddenly lost control the way this had come upon him. There were few things that he reacted poorly to almost instantly and that was not having control. "What the hell his happening to me?!" her blurted out upon entering the room.
ethnobotany: + jean-luc | well isn't this awkward }{ attached ({ let it fill the space between)
[personal profile] ethnobotany
Cridhe has given Beverly a lot to think about lately. They hadn't touched the topic of Trill, exactly, but they had discussed Time Lords. The concepts were too similar for Beverly to let go of, too close for her comfort. A part of her wants to lock it all away and stop thinking about it, but another part of her desperately wants to know more. Maybe if she gets more perspectives, she might finally be able to put it all behind her and move on.

It's only taken almost a decade.

Most of her time that isn't spent in sickbay lately is spent in Ten Forward, where she more or less camps out at a table with tea and a bowl of fruit. She has a couple of names to look for and is hopeful that the Doctor she met might turn up here sometime. She'd also like to talk with the one who took over sickbay not long ago for several reasons.

Either way, here she is and despite the thoughts on her mind, she's doing much better than she has been lately. She attributes that to a lot of factors, not the least of which was her daring midnight outing with Deanna on Pacifica. She has a feeling that will be making the rumor rounds and she is all right with that. Due to her better frame of mind, she is much more open to random conversation and might even offer a pleasant greeting to anyone passing by.
notquitegeisha: bdm (some of us hover)
[personal profile] notquitegeisha
Inara had initially been uncertain about if she truly wanted a program designed around her home planet but in the end she had decided that it was something she needed. Even if it wasn't real, it would be nice to at least be surrounded by something that appeared familiar.

When she'd first stepped inside, her eyes had widened in wonder as her gaze took in the graceful buildings of her training house. The door had slid shut behind her and she'd turned and found herself gazing out at the majestic mountains that surrounded the Guild's buildings. It was a sight she hadn't thought she'd be able to see again when she'd left with Mal and yet, there she was.

For a moment she had to remind herself that it wasn't real. But soon enough she doesn't rightly care if it's real or not. It's comforting and though she feels the familiar twinge of homesickness, it's exactly what she's needed.

If one were to wonder in they might find Inara in the main temple, kneeling and offering prayers in front of the large white marble Buddha. They might also find her sitting, hands clasped loosely on her lap while she enjoys the view of the surrounding mountains. Either way, she actually looks at peace and even content for perhaps the first time since she's been on the ship.
ships_counselor: (Default)
[personal profile] ships_counselor
At least that's what they say, right?

Who really would brook this order if given the chance?


Certainly not them, and certainly not the very confused officer on duty at the transporters in the middle of the night, when they appear. Bags slung over a shoulder. Clothes entirely civilian, and summery. Even though they could not appear more different, or count themselves as not well known by everyone on the ship, their smile at the officer's confusion at the hour and request makes them twins in their only nearly held in check laughter.

"Two to beam down to the planet."






[ Locked to Beverly ]
startedtheflamewar: (╚ grim)
[personal profile] startedtheflamewar
Cold is devouring its way through his fingers, his arms, his chest. It seems to travel through his scars — all of them fresh — and then grow further, like icicles under his skin. When his sleep isn’t interrupted by visions of dark hands over his face or the sound of a gun being fired at his face, he wakes up freezing in the middle of the night and tries to pour a tiny bit more of his sluggish magic into warming himself. What he has left, he uses to heal others rather than himself. His own bites, scratches and blade marks are simply closed, nothing more. It’s fine, he tells himself. The rest of the group is more important. What other thoughts he has are doused in the bottles of alcohol — moonshine, really — that remain, which is easier than processing them.

And then everything is bright and warm, and Cash Gillingwater, fearing the worst, opens his eyes. He’s sure that he can't trust what meets them. The corridor is clean and quiet, and his group is nowhere to be seen. Is this some trick? Is the ancient creature finally moving on from cold and going into outright hallucinations?

Cash looks as though he’s gone through a blender at some recent time, strong jaw covered in a thick layer of stubble and his dark hair hanging just below his ears. He hasn’t bothered to cut it in quite some time. His grey slacks and white button shirt are in varied states of distress, though intact. The grey vest is just barely intact, some of the bloodstains on it fake and some of them real. His bared hands and forearms are covered in fresh scars, though they don’t look nearly as distressing as the wide slash mark which nearly severed the front of the vest. It’s the newest of any of his wounds, and the mark on his skin — like someone cut him with a blade, though the reality was far worse — is only just barely closed.

Nothing on him is particularly insulating, and he shivers as he tries to decide if he’s going to stand up and move. The warm air has yet to sink in past the layer of cold which has been a constant in his skin. His magic has had to work hard to keep him from hypothermia. The sniper rifle strapped to his back stays there, as does the pistol in his shoulder strap. Is he somewhere new, somewhere controlled by the ancients, or somewhere deep under the frozen hell that the town has become in the past month?

“Well. 'Least there’s no snow here,” he remarks to himself, with a faint Virginian twang, his low voice scratchy from how little it’s been used lately. His words aren’t slurred at all, which is rather impressive considering how much moonshine is still rattling around in his system.

Locked to Luke Skywalker. )
treadswater: (morning salutations to the sea)
[personal profile] treadswater
The wedding is on a beach, one of those lovely Pacifica beaches with white, soft sand and gentle waves. It's the kind of setting begging for bare feet, which is what the guests are encouraged to have (although sandals, if wanted, wouldn't be amiss, either). In the middle of the day, the sand might be harshly light, but it's sliding into sunset and the light is softer, tinted with reds and oranges.

The chairs are arranged to face the nearby sea, and decorated with white and turquoise fabric. White and turquoise fabric is also draped over the canopy where the couple and officiant will stand, and it flutters gently in the breeze.

Around and through the area are small candles – nestled in the sand, hanging from stands around the edges of the temporary stage, and bobbing in the water on tiny boats also decorated with Pacifican sea hibiscus and other flowers.

Off to the side, and just as close to the water, are the tables and chairs and coloured lanterns that will be used for the reception – but for now, attention is on the wedding itself.


OOC: Ceremony itself is OTA if anyone wants to drop by and watch, but reception is closed to invite only. Party is here! And absolutely OTA.
ethnobotany: i won't forget any of you }{ remember me ({ and wondering what's real)
[personal profile] ethnobotany
New Orleans Open
Nothing has really been good for Beverly in months. She's had patches of wonderful, good things, but overall, since the day she left sickbay on the Enterprise-E to the Borg, nothing has gone well. Not overall.

And now, just when she thought she was managing her flashbacks and nightmares again, she woke up one morning to find Fatima gone. So the guilt has set in. And the worry. And everything else. Fatima was like a daughter to her and Beverly misses her with every fiber of her being. A part of her is so angry with Q, beyond angry, Beyond something simple. She has never liked him. Not even once.

But right now? Beverly Cheryl Howard Crusher is 1000% done with Q. If he leaves them alone today, it would still be too late.

So, here she is in the holodeck today. Most people will come across her sitting by a trashcan of fire in the middle of a back alley. She's instructed the holodeck to make the fire big, so it's pretty much a bonfire. A contained bonfire, but a bonfire nonetheless.

Fire is calming to her. She loves the flickering lights, the way it smells.

Fire helps her cope.

Fire is real. Even when it isn't.


Orient Express Open
If New Orleans isn't the destination of choice, a visitor might open the holodeck doors to find themselves on a train. Right now, it's empty, but that might change. Beverly herself is on the train, with her back facing the front of it.

That may or may not be intentionally symbolic.

Whatever the case, she's curled up on one of the seats, her legs tucked up and her head resting against the window as she watches the world go by. On the seat between her and the wall is a PADD, the one she's been trying to use since Deanna made her suggestion. For now, it's enough to watch and think. Maybe she'll turn the actual story on sometime.

Five more minutes.

Five more minutes to mourn, to watch the back of the train, her life.

Five more minutes to feel guilt that she isn't there with Fatima, that she knows what Fatima will go back to but she isn't there to help.

Five more minutes to wonder about the version of Beverly Crusher who should be in this timeline and to feel guilt about that, too.

Five more minutes to feel numb.
ten_fwd_npcs: (beverly)
[personal profile] ten_fwd_npcs


If this is your first trip to Sickbay, you may be surprised to see that it's a fairly ordinary-looking hospital. There are no terrifying devices or humming machines you might see in a sci-fi thriller. The biobeds along the walls are equipped with biofunction monitors, but look fairly standard. Instead of silver trays filled with metal tools and sawblades, there are an array of small devices that look as harmless as cell phones. As for the staff, they're all well-groomed and friendly — even the more unusual aliens.

If you're new to the ship, no doubt you've been escorted here by the security team. Nothing to worry about, the doctors just want to make sure you aren't carrying any viruses or are vulnerable to terrible space disease. Once you've been checked over — a quick scan from a tricorder and any necessary vaccines — you'll be free to go. Lollipops are optional.

"All right, step on in," one of them calls out as you enter. "Don't be afraid. It's just a scan and a hypospray, nothing to worry about."


[ooc: Sickbay is, as always, OTA and open until the next one goes up for latecomers! For new characters: tagging isn't mandatory but IC going to sickbay is. If you'd prefer to skip threading with one of our doctors, you can handwave that your character got a clean bill of health and a shot and were sent on their merry way. There will be a post up in the OOC comm shortly with more details about Sickbay and which doctors are on deck this month, if you have any questions.]
kaylinneya: (Default)
[personal profile] kaylinneya
Kaylin had been training, a lot. And training meant going full out. Ferals, dead Barrani, Dragons, Shadows... none of them pulled their punches. It was why she hated punching bags. Real criminals and monsters hit back. So when she could, she worked with other people. With weapons.

this last spar, she had been able to hide the slice in her arm well enough while the fought, the shirt soaking up the blood. So she was able to leave without her opponent knowing she was bad off. But by the time she got into the turbo lift, the blood was dripping down her hand and she was a bit pale. Adreline gone, it was starting to hurt. She just wanted to get back to her room to wrap a bandage around it. Unfortunately it was the upper arm. It was going to be hard without help. But there was no one here she trusted. No one here who knew about her marks. And if she had her way, no one here would find out. She just had to make it to her quarters without running into anyone.

So there she was, in the 'lift, swearing a blue streak in 4 languages, her familiar around her shoulders, chittirng at her.
ro_laren: (Spy time)
[personal profile] ro_laren
Ro has been constantly poking her head into Sickbay in hopes of good news. She wanted her adult body back, she wanted to be an adult again. And the only one here who might have a chance to have the solution already? Beverly? Everyone keeps telling Ro she's on leave, and don't bother her.

Doctor Crusher was allowed to do her job. Why wouldn't she do her job if she was allowed to do it? Ro would have given anything to be allowed to do her job. What was the point of just sitting around. She hated being 12 the first time, and it was no better now.

In her usual foul mood, Ro stalked into Sickbay, hoping for a better answer.

(no subject)

2015-Dec-27, Sunday 08:58 pm
pronounsarehard: (Default)
[personal profile] pronounsarehard
Ezri sipped a mug of hot chocolate, spiced enough to satisfy Jadzia and Curzon without completely killing her own taste buds. Balance. She was working on it--and considering she had stopped counseling until she felt she was more in balance, that was probably a good thing. How could she help people when she couldn't help herself? She was more screwed up than most of them. Those weren't exactly wonderful qualifications in a counselor.

In order to figure out who she was, Ezri needed to re-evaulate her life, and make sure the choices she had made are still choices she would make now, as Ezri Dax. Easier said than done.

"What am I doing? Talking to myself obviously, great sign of sanity."
ten_fwd_npcs: (beverly)
[personal profile] ten_fwd_npcs


If this is your first trip to Sickbay, you may be surprised to see that it's a fairly ordinary-looking hospital. There are no terrifying devices or humming machines you might see in a sci-fi thriller. The biobeds along the walls are equipped with biofunction monitors, but look fairly standard. Instead of silver trays filled with metal tools and sawblades, there are an array of small devices that look as harmless as cell phones. As for the staff, they're all well-groomed and friendly — even the more unusual aliens.

If you're new to the ship, no doubt you've been escorted here by the security team. Nothing to worry about, the doctors just want to make sure you aren't carrying any viruses or are vulnerable to terrible space disease. Once you've been checked over — a quick scan from a tricorder and any necessary vaccines — you'll be free to go. Lollipops are optional.

"All right, step on in," one of them calls out as you enter. "Don't be afraid. It's just a scan and a hypospray, nothing to worry about."


[ooc: Sickbay is, as always, OTA and open until the next one goes up for latecomers! For new characters: tagging isn't mandatory but IC going to sickbay is. If you'd prefer to skip threading with one of our doctors, you can handwave that your character got a clean bill of health and a shot and were sent on their merry way. There will be a post up in the OOC comm shortly with more details about Sickbay and which doctors are on deck this month, if you have any questions.]
ten_fwd_npcs: (beverly)
[personal profile] ten_fwd_npcs


If this is your first trip to Sickbay, you may be surprised to see that it's a fairly ordinary-looking hospital. There are no terrifying devices or humming machines you might see in a sci-fi thriller. The biobeds along the walls are equipped with biofunction monitors, but look fairly standard. Instead of silver trays filled with metal tools and sawblades, there are an array of small devices that look as harmless as cell phones. As for the staff, they're all well-groomed and friendly — even the more unusual aliens.

If you're new to the ship, no doubt you've been escorted here by the security team. Nothing to worry about, the doctors just want to make sure you aren't carrying any viruses or are vulnerable to terrible space disease. Once you've been checked over — a quick scan from a tricorder and any necessary vaccines — you'll be free to go. Lollipops are optional.

"All right, step on in," one of them calls out as you enter. "Don't be afraid. It's just a scan and a hypospray, nothing to worry about."


[ooc: Sickbay is, as always, OTA and open until the next one goes up for latecomers! For new characters: tagging isn't mandatory but IC going to sickbay is. If you'd prefer to skip threading with one of our doctors, you can handwave that your character got a clean bill of health and a shot and were sent on their merry way. There is a post up in the OOC comm with more details about Sickbay and which doctors are on deck this month, if you have any questions.]
toomanynitrogens: (down in the dumps)
[personal profile] toomanynitrogens
At home, he only cared about what he was missing when he had to do a lot with his right hand despite a few years of adapting to do as much with his dominant left hand as possible. Even easier rock climbing stretches and hikes where he needed an ice axe were managable with the right amount of time and patience to figure out how to work around the problem.

Here, though, he dealt with the uncomfortable paradox of never having it better and never having it worse. Doors opened themselves, anything he needed to use could be adapted as long as he could imagine how to adapt it while at the same time the Enterprise was a place where disability didn't seem to exist, and not in that "we're ignoring it so it's not there" way he's used to, and if he wanted to go ahead with getting proper upper body strength, having five fingers on each hand would be mandatory or nearly so.

From what he'd read, prosthetics were a far cry from their state in 2025. And sickbay was always open for people with questions. So he took a few slow breaths on the way there and hoped the doctor in charge was in. She was actually from this universe and would know the answers to his questions best.

"Uhh, hello?" he asked as the door slid open for him.
ethnobotany: }{ first contact ({ i'm broken inside)
[personal profile] ethnobotany
(( OOC: potential content warnings all over this for mentions of horror game content, telepathic violation, telepathic control of another, sexual harassment, death, etc. Basically, the doctor is not having a good month. ))


The only good thing to have come of Zelien was the ability to deal with horrific and traumatizing events as they happened. Afterwards is another story. Beverly had thought that being able to deal with the events themselves meant that she could deal with everything Q conjured up for them because it was over. She thought she would be fine.

She was wrong. She was so wrong.

The thing Zelien had yet to teach her was how to deal with the aftereffects of trauma. The nightmares flare again, worse than what Q had offered them recently, and even shadows make her twitchy. Memories, fears, anything traumatic that her mind could conjure up, it did. People might not want to be around her this month. She startles at the slightest movement and sometimes her instinct is self-defense, protection, because her mind remembers Zelien and the cultists, the soldiers who jeered, leered, called, and harassed.

The nightmares have her wrestling with the sheets, memories of Jev the Ullian -- was that his name? Have they been here yet? Does she need to prepare for that? -- or Ronin, different contexts, but both violations of her mental self. Of course, both lead to other nightmares of her husband's dead body or some Victorian man about 35 years old not only forcing her into his bed, but forcing her to enjoy it. Sometimes Wesley dies in place of Jack and she wakes up sobbing. Sometimes Jean-Luc's lifeless body haunts her, the Borg come in to take over the ship yet again, or the entire crew is systematically murdered to torment her. The last to die is always Jean-Luc because her subconscious mind knows that his death will haunt her the most. These and others cause her to bolt out of her quarters in the dead of night out of sheer, blind panic, heading for somewhere she can feel safe.

Most of the time, she can be found in a corner of the Arboretum. Here, she is either asleep, though it's a fitful sleep that she wakes easily from and often in a state of terror; sitting with her hands over her ears and eyes squeezed shut against that feeling of panic; or sitting with her knees tucked up to her chin and a dead look to her eyes while she stares straight ahead. When she isn't there, she might be in the holodeck, using a program of an open meadow. No walls or buildings will be in sight, not even that new cabin that she would so love normally. She remembers so clearly those buildings on that campus, remembers the sights and sounds and smells of the acid. Stomach acid. Like the buildings were alive and trying to eat them all. At least the meadow means nothing will be eating her alive. When she isn't in either of those places, she's likely in the gym, practicing Mok'bara to meditate and calm her nerves. Intruders might want to make their presence known before they startle her. Beverly is back to being twitchy and that means nothing good will come of it. What she needs are distractions, as many as possible, and people who are willing to work with her trauma.

She'll get better over the course of the month, but in the beginning and middle, she is not doing well at all.
youwillbe: (It's not easy being green)
[personal profile] youwillbe
It would be easy to miss Yoda's presence. He is, after all, only 0.6 meters tall. People have to look down to spot him.

Of course, to anyone who does look down, he's rather unique looking. Small. Green. Wrinkly. And, for some reason, dressed in the sort of sailor suit a toddler might have worn in the 1920s. Zelien had been hard on clothing, and for someone his size, replacements were... ecclectic.

This wasn't the swamp. After the business in Zelien, Yoda was expecting to finally be back in the swamp and spending a few years contemplating everything.

It seemed the Force had other ideas though. Except... something is wrong here. He stumbles slightly as he steps forward. "Quiet here, the Force is."

And without that connection to the Force, he really remembers that he is 881 years old. And that's hard on any body.

Wishing and Hoping

2015-Oct-17, Saturday 08:36 pm
savedbylove: (Default)
[personal profile] savedbylove
[Open- Corridors, Ten-Forward, Holodeck]

Emma could most often be found preparing for classes. She really did want to do well and make Killian proud of her. She was a strong confident woman, she wasn't exactly sure why she wanted him to proud of her so badly only that it was important that he was.

She could also be found in ten forward nursing a cup of tea and some plain toast, which made her pause. She wouldn't mind some company though, so feel free to bug her. She mostly came in her to stare out into space.

When she was feeling homesick, she could be found sitting on the dock in Storybrooke, just watching as the waves crashed against the shore. It was one of her favorite places back home.

[Closed to Beverly and Killian- Sickbay]

Emma had been feeling ill for months,and after her conversation with Liz, she began to suspect. She still wasn't sure, and after a month of feeling queasy and dizzy she thought she better get it confirmed.

She had been in some form of denial for awhile, but she couldn't ignore things anymore. She didn't want to hope for things that might not happen. She glanced, nervously at Killian as they walked into sickbay.
ethnobotany: + jean-luc | well isn't this awkward }{ attached ({ let it fill the space between)
[personal profile] ethnobotany
The holodeck party had been designed as a funeral-type gathering, originally for Fatima and Beverly to let go of some of the trauma they had incurred at the hands of COMPASS. It had evolved since then, turning into a larger party without losing its original purpose. Spread mostly by word of mouth, the party ended up being larger than Beverly had expected, but likely just what Fatima had wanted. All were welcome, as long as they didn't cause trouble.

The setting was the streets of New Orleans in the 1920's. In the middle of one large street was where the party would be held. There were tables with all manner of replicated food. Annie had offered to find out what would be good to set up and they had used her information to find something that nearly everyone would like. Drinks were the same. Plenty of Earth varieties and plenty of others. Surely everyone could find something to enjoy.

There were plenty of holographic people around as well, dressed to the '20's fashions, or as close as this far in the future could get. Some of them introduced the music and the dance floor. It was more of a dance street than anything, but it counted. Everyone was welcome to join them and the party turned into a bit of celebration amidst everything else. The music itself kept changing, rotating through what the Enterprise systems had on file. One minute it might be classical. The next it was something entirely different. Everything imaginable would probably have played by the night's end.

Or whenever the party actually ended.

A little bit away from the main drag, the holodeck had been programmed to create an alley between two brick-walled buildings. Unrealistically, the alley was clean and dry. Illuminating it were three trash cans along one of the walls, filled with kindling and crackling with golden flames. Holographic flames, of course, as much as Fatima had wanted to use the real thing. By the cans was a small table, with slips of stiff parchment and pens in every possible color there was.

It had taken some doing, but Fatima had programmed the holodeck to include a chalk drawing on the wall over the cans. It was a swirling pink and purple and blue rendering of the Milky Way galaxy. In yellow stars, a simple message was written out:

Write the names of those you left behind…
Cast them into the fire to say goodbye…


The party had been originally been conceived as a funeral, after all. A way to let go of the past and face the future, no matter how uncertain. There wouldn’t be any bodies, but there was still a place to say goodbye.

Holodeck - OTA

2015-Oct-02, Friday 10:03 am
treadswater: (drawings in the sand)
[personal profile] treadswater
Each victor is expected to have a talent, something that they now have the freedom to do - and something to talk to the journalists. Annie had picked glass-making. Nothing to do with anything in her previous life, and something it'd take time to learn. Time being something she had all too much of.

She'd wound up actually being good at it. She'd wound up loving it. She'd make things, sell them to the Capitol and to the merchants in District Four. There are better glassmakers in District One, but madness does lend itself to artistic allure, it seems.

She misses it. The running her own tiny business, yes, but mostly the making things. The execution of a craft she's earned burns from. The ability to create.

Finally, she's missed it enough to go to the holodeck and try and create a studio. Not hers, that'd confuse her too much and anyway, this is a chance to have the kind of kilns she never could. But a studio. Fully equipped, nicely lit, manuals for the kilns and furnaces. Space. Space to move. No teacher.

She's not quite up to actually trying to make a cup again, but if anyone walks in, they'll find her either arguing with the computer over technology-levels, working out how this particular equipment works, or inspecting the supplies.

Or, possibly, twirling the poles to get used to the movement again.
ten_fwd_npcs: (beverly)
[personal profile] ten_fwd_npcs


If this is your first trip to Sickbay, you may be surprised to see that it's a fairly ordinary-looking hospital. There are no terrifying devices or humming machines you might see in a sci-fi thriller. The biobeds along the walls are equipped with biofunction monitors, but look fairly standard. Instead of silver trays filled with metal tools and sawblades, there are an array of small devices that look as harmless as cell phones. As for the staff, they're all well-groomed and friendly — even the more unusual aliens.

If you're new to the ship, no doubt you've been escorted here by the security team. Nothing to worry about, the doctors just want to make sure you aren't carrying any viruses or are vulnerable to terrible space disease. Once you've been checked over — a quick scan from a tricorder and any necessary vaccines — you'll be free to go. Lollipops are optional.

"All right, step on in," one of them calls out as you enter. "Don't be afraid. It's just a scan and a hypospray, nothing to worry about."


[ooc: Sickbay is, as always, OTA and open until the next one goes up for latecomers! For new characters: tagging isn't mandatory but IC going to sickbay is. If you'd prefer to skip threading with one of our doctors, you can handwave that your character got a clean bill of health and a shot and were sent on their merry way. There is a post up in the OOC comm with more details about Sickbay and which doctors are on deck this month, if you have any questions.]

Wandering lost - OTA

2015-Sep-17, Thursday 04:39 pm
primeverdeen: (So Sad)
[personal profile] primeverdeen
Prim promised her friends she'd make the effort, and she was trying. Trying to have reasons other than feeding her animals to live, to keep moving. But it was hard, so hard. Her limbs felt leaden and her head ached and all she wanted to do was sleep. But she promised. So she was trying to find Killian and Fatima. Show them she was alive, so she could go back to her quarters again. With the ghost roommate who couldn't tell her if the lack of Katniss' ghost was a good thing or a bad one.

The lack of Katniss. Tears welled in hollow eyes. Would this feeling of being scraped out and empty ever go away? No Katniss. No Mom. No district who needed her. No Panem who saw her as the sister of the Girl on Fire. Without Katniss, without her mom, in a place where they don't need medical help from a kid like her... Who was she? What was the point of her?
anotherdeadhero: (48)
[personal profile] anotherdeadhero
At this point in his life and career, Jacob isn't bothered by too much. Alright so seeing Reach fall like it had and wondering where certain people were on the planet (and not worrying, she can take care of herself) had shaken him slightly but then the mission had become a priority. The Cole Protocol really, had become a priority and it had landed him in a system with some odd ring in it with a lone Spartan, probably the most advanced AI in the fleet, and a ship that was nearly (at least) half his age with the expectation of getting back to Earth at some point or at least saving humanity from a group of aliens hellbent on their destruction.

All in all it means he's used to the random, the unusual and just plain weird happening to him. His life hasn't been exactly dull but some things do just bother a man when he's uncertain about his chances of seeing home again in general, let alone being somewhere unexpected with the prospect of not seeing home or his daughter going from very, very slim to no chance at all.

Which really explains the rather sureness of his steps as he goes down the hall, he's just arrived yes but he knows ships, he'll find someone who can give him answers even if he has to go into places he probably shouldn't in order to get them, occasionally muttering things to himself as he goes that sound very similar to: "Where's the Covenant? If this is even remotely connected to that ring then they should be here too. For that matter where's Cortana?" Along with the words autumn, reach and spartan thrown into the odd sentence or two in his mutterings.

If you happen to be wearing an uniform, then expect to possibly be headed towards because clearly that means you're a better target then some civilian with the unfortunate luck of getting in his way.

[OOC: Jacob's just prowling the halls right now, likely to get into a little trouble mostly as he's looking for answers and probably heading towards places he shouldn't be. He's not going to physically harm anyone, that's not his style, he's more likely to try and intimidate them with his height and stern looks and then apologize. I'm playing him as having not been here before just to be easier on me and because of my fail last time.]
ships_counselor: (Default)
[personal profile] ships_counselor



You'll find the Counseling Offices, and it's Counseling Staff run by Counselor Troi, located on Deck 8. A message which has been passed along to the new arrivals and those who've been here for longer several times. From their first appointments in sickbay after arrival up to the newest happenstances since then, which continue to lead to a greater need.

For those entering for the first time, you find these offices are of subdued, calming green walls with equally unobtrusive light purple furniture, and gentle ambient light. Each of the rooms has an assortment of chairs, tables, and even a snaking reclining couch, which may be used for sitting or laying down on as you feel called.

Nothing to worry about and no pressure from the moment you walk in.

They're here to help as best they can.





[ooc: Counseling Sessions are, as will be always, OTA and open for backtagging! Like the Sickbay posts, you can expect one of these every month, so no stressing if you can't make one, we'll be back next month.

For new characters/players: tagging and counseling is NOT mandatory. Deanna Troi is acting as head of the Counseling Staff, but all staff are available to you. If you have prearranged to be meeting with a specific counselor, tag in specifying which counselor are requesting in the subject line, otherwise one will leap at you as they are available. All your information and questions about the Counseling Staff can be found here.
treadswater: ([F] no one sails alone)
[personal profile] treadswater
Content Warnings )

In which a nightmare about the 75th Hunger Games finally gets Finnick and Annie to talk about the games, the loss of Mags, and what hope there is for the future.

In which Steve comes looking for Finnick, worried after not seeing his roommate for a couple days: Annie is less than helpful.

In which Annie asks Erik | Magneto to watch over Finnick while she goes to investigate getting Finnick some help*

In which Annie goes to Beverly for help, and Beverly takes her to talk to Deanna.




*thread still in progress
ten_fwd_npcs: (beverly)
[personal profile] ten_fwd_npcs


If this is your first trip to Sickbay, you may be surprised to see that it's a fairly ordinary-looking hospital. There are no terrifying devices or humming machines you might see in a sci-fi thriller. The biobeds along the walls are equipped with biofunction monitors, but look fairly standard. Instead of silver trays filled with metal tools and sawblades, there are an array of small devices that look as harmless as cell phones. As for the staff, they're all well-groomed and friendly — even the more unusual aliens.

If you're new to the ship, no doubt you've been escorted here by the security team. Nothing to worry about, the doctors just want to make sure you aren't carrying any viruses or are vulnerable to terrible space disease. Once you've been checked over — a quick scan from a tricorder and any necessary vaccines — you'll be free to go. Lollipops are optional.

"All right, step on in," one of them calls out as you enter. "Don't be afraid. It's just a scan and a hypospray, nothing to worry about."


[ooc: Sickbay is, as always, OTA and open until the next one goes up for latecomers! For new characters: tagging isn't mandatory but IC going to sickbay is. If you'd prefer to skip threading with one of our doctors, you can handwave that your character got a clean bill of health and a shot and were sent on their merry way. There is a post up in the OOC comm with more details about Sickbay and which doctors are on deck this month, if you have any questions.]
dust_of_life: (Default)
[personal profile] dust_of_life
((OOC: Figure she's going through this routine every night this month. Feel free to forward-date or back-date tag-ins.))

Growing up among the Cainites of the Order, Fatima had picked up on mechanisms for coping with stress from all across the world and across time. But not a single one of them was making it easier for her to deal with the emptiness of the space next to her in her bed. She'd been stuck on this flying Hilton for months now. But sleep still didn't come easily. After knowing what it was like to hear someone breathing beside her on the pillow, Fatima was having more than a little difficulty letting go.

Fortunately, growing up among the Cainites of the Order had also provided Fatima with a few extra outlets she could use.

It was usually after midnight when she would slip into the leotard Beverly had given her. The halls were quieter at night. Fewer people. Fewer judgmental crew members staring after her like the invader that she was. And the training facility was usually empty.

First, she'd start with a few yoga stretches. Some aggressive chin-ups. Knuckle push-ups. And then the real work would begin.

Somehow, her iPod had managed to survive her ordeal in Zelien. Fatima had doubted very much that she'd ever be able to coax any music out of it, but it was working now. All of her songs were there. Well, they weren't exactly her songs. The classical music was from Liam. The rock-and-roll was from Denise. And the oldies were from Auntie Diana. Didn't matter though. She always listened to the same song anyway. Survivor's Eye of the Tiger on repeat, the earbuds shoved deep into her ears, like she wanted to block out the rest of the world.

The punches she threw against the punching bag were precise and powerful. Fatima had fused the martial arts styles she'd studied with street boxing. And despite the work-out clothes, she always trained in her high-heeled boots. As she used to argue to Arty, you never knew what you were going to be wearing when someone attacked you. Better to be prepared for anything.

If only her loneliness could be punched in the bag.

Ten Forward

 
Welcome to Ten Forward, a pan-galactic, pan-fandom social lounge for the weary intergalactic traveler. Set on the Enterprise (NCC-1701-D), any character from any established or original canon may appear at random. The fun is what happens next.

(This is a role playing community. Please visit the profile for more information.)
 

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