burn_with_us: (woods; winter)
[personal profile] burn_with_us
Katniss hasn't been here very long but she's been here long enough to know the places to go to get something to eat, to distract herself and, most importantly, the places to avoid. She has learned that the Holodeck has a lot of really nice simulations loaded into it, places she can hunt, and she's been spending a lot of time there when she just needs to get away from the constant crush of people on board.

She's headed there today, in fact. She knows the weapons aren't real and she can never take them out but it makes her feel like she's home for a little while and eases the ache in her chest. Today, she tries to pull up her usual hunting scenario in 12's woods and gets something else. It's someone she hasn't seen in ages, someone long dead.

"Dad?" she croaks out, scared to move in case it isn't real. He's sitting at the edge of the woods in 12, still wearing his dusty clothes from the mine, and he's whistling softly beneath his breath. He's got coal permanently settled in the creases of his skin and it makes his eyes seem that much brighter, his teeth that much whiter. He laughs and motions her close and Katniss feels like her feet are wooden and she can't find the strength to move.

"Katniss, come on. You're growing like a weed," he says, warm and soft, and Katniss feels tears pricking at her eyes. He doesn't know. He thinks she's still eleven and too young to put her name in the Reaping, too young to know that sometimes men go to the mine and they never come back.

"Come sing with me, Katniss." She finds her strength and moves close, singing a haunting descant to his low melody and twining the notes in together like so many vines. All the mockingjays in the woods pick up the song and start singing it, echoing refrains from one end of 12 to the other.

She stays with him for as long as she can and when the simulation shuts down, Katniss sinks down and hugs her knees to her chest. She stays that way for a while before going back outside the room, looking back wistfully.

"It's not real," she says, angry with herself for getting wrapped up into it. It's no different than the Capitol, than the illusions in the Arena. It's just there to hurt her.

fire is catching

2016-Mar-19, Saturday 11:15 pm
burn_with_us: (looking back)
[personal profile] burn_with_us
Katniss isn't the face of a revolution. She just gets people killed.

So now she's been in 13 for what feels like an eternity, blithely getting a schedule printed on her arm every morning and ignoring it just so she can go sit in a closet and hide for hours and hours until someone notices she's missing. It's not the best system, but it's one that works for her, and she hopes that someday she'll be able to get the sound of Peeta's voice and the smell of his skin out of her head. She thinks about being in the hotel, too, and wonders if that's just something she dreamed up when she was pumped full of drugs after being rescued.

She hopes not.

They want her to be the face of this thing, the symbol that inspires everyone to fight. Katniss thinks that Finnick would be better at it, or Beetee, or anyone but her. Everything she touches dies, more or less, except those goddamned roses of Snow's. She doesn't want to be responsible for the rebellion dying too and she thinks they need someone less damaged than she is to lead them. Much less damaged. She's not a Victor anymore. She's just a survivor.

So instead of facing her fears and doing what's asked of her, Katniss flees to the closet again. She'll nestle up next to boxes of graphite pencils and cleaning supplies and try to ignore the screaming in her head for a little while in hopes that one day it'll actually all go quiet.

She sits with her back toward the wall and closes her eyes and gains her bearing again. In and out. In and out. Eventually, she feels like she might be able to stand on two legs and gets to her feet, shaky but only a little worse for the wear. She tugs open the door and when she sees a room full of people she doesn't recognize, she wonders what happened and, more importantly, how she can get the hell out of there.

She tries to speak but her voice is gone, stolen from fear.

[[Katniss has just been winked aboard - she is either in Ten Forward or just outside, feel free to find her both places.]]
mockingjayed: (Default)
[personal profile] mockingjayed
The smell of smoke is thick in Katniss’ nose, and it feels like the whole of Panem is burning around her. ’If we burn, you burn with us.’ Her very words are coming back to haunt her. People’s screams ring in her ear. Fire, isn’t a good way to die. It’s slow, painful, and she can hear them all begging her to end their misery. Kato, Rue, Prim, she can’t get to any of them, she can’t even see him in the fog.

The only clear thing she can see in the distance, is the Presidential Palace, lit up in all it’s awful glory. It mocks her. For all that she has done, she’s done nothing but bring misery and pain to those around her, to innocent people. Peeta’s screams cut through to her left, and she whizzes looking for him. What she finds is a mutt with his face. Blood dripping from his jaws. Her blood she realises is she brings her hand up towards her face.

She wakes from her dream, pressing a hand to her mouth to silence the scream. Her wide eyes stare unseeingly for a second. Her chest rises rapidly and falls. Her mantra, to keep her sane is repeated over and over, until the horrors slide from her vision.

She is alive. Finnick is dead. She killed him before he could suffer. It should have brought her comfort but it didn’t. She is numb, unable to process his death. She is already responsible for so many pointless deaths. All she can think about is Snow, and ending this, once and for all, before she loses anymore people.

Finally, her vision clears, and she expects to see a mountain of furs surrounding her. What she sees is a metal corridor. The hairs on the back of her neck stand up and Katniss springs to her feet. They’ve been found. Betrayed to the Capitol.

She reaches behind and finds she still has her bow and arrows. An arrow is notched in seconds, and Katniss looks around her like a caged animal. Does Snow mean to make a mockery of her death, in some last mini arena? Is Peeta already dead? A wordless cry escapes her lists. It can’t end like this.

But it should, a voice whispers in her head. This is how you were meant to die, alone, friendless, in the first Arena.


“Snow, where are you?” Her eyes dart around, looking for a camera, or a screen.
dust_of_life: (Lost)
[personal profile] dust_of_life
It wasn't the first time Fatima had been on a spaceship. It was, however, the first time she'd been on a spaceship with carpeting. She wondered what sort of fresh hell this was. It wasn't like COMPASS to repeat the same experiment twice and she figured, after what had happened on the Ishimura, COMPASS wouldn't send them to space again.

The second she arrived, Fatima knew the drill. She ducked into a corner, looking for cover, drawing her hunting knife out of her bag. It was her customary habit to pull out her communications device and listen to the chatter, to get a better sense of what lay ahead. Oftentimes, people ran into trouble right away. Only there was no chatter this time. She set the device down on the carpet in front of her, watching the little screen intently, almost willing it to spring to life. Any second now, she was sure, Cas or Morgana or Jefferson or Emma would appear, looking for her. Or Sam. Of course Sam would be worried about her.

But there was nothing. Not a single familiar face or voice. Not even unfamiliar ones. Only emptiness.

There were, she noticed, other people around. Not on the radio, but living flesh and blood people. And some of them were wearing the same funny space pajamas as Beverly. At first, Fatima figured they were just other prisoners of COMPASS, refugees from Beverly's world. Only, the more she watched, the more she realized that they didn't have The Look. There was a certain vacancy in the faces of the people of Zelien, one that made it clear that they would never be wide-eyed again.

These people seemed...at ease. Happy, even. Some of them were laughing. And there definitely hadn't been laughing on the Ishimura.

Gradually, the tension in Fatima's muscles eased a little bit. She slipped her knife into the inner pocket of her jacket, standing up and moving along the halls. She kept her communications device open. But there were still no voices. Only what seemed like casual conversation and the ebb and flow of a normal, everyday, functioning hallway. In space.

She followed it. And as she walked into what looked like some kind of cocktail lounge, she started to suspect that she really wasn't in Kansas any more.


2015-Feb-08, Sunday 03:15 pm
stillplaying: ([neutral] thinking)
[personal profile] stillplaying
She wants to hate it here. She wants to hate it here more than she's wanted to hate any place in a long time. But she can't bring herself to hate it completely. Not when Prim's here. Not when she's gotten to see Finnick and Annie reunite without the fear of the Capitol or the Hunger Games or the uprising hanging over their heads. Not when Prim's here, alive and well and without an inkling of what's to come. Nor can she even think of leaving when Peeta's still here. And Haymitch. People who need her, people she couldn't turn her back on even if she tried.

But that doesn't mean that Katniss likes it here. There's too many people. There's no place to hunt. Their seems to be no standard rules for this game, nothing to let her know whether or not she's making the right choices in protecting the people that matter. It's far, far from any arena she's used to. Or any residence, for that matter.

True, some days are better than others. Some days, all she can bring herself to do (once she establishes that everyone is still here, still alive) is find a place to hide. Now that she has access to most of the ship, she has her share of choices. But the Jefferies tubes nearest to the residential quarters are still her preferred place. They're small and narrow and maybe a bit claustrophobic, but they remind her of some of her hiding places in District 13.

Things had been different there than here. But hard habits are difficult to break. And in this new, strange place, running on little sleep and a lot of paranoia, it's easy to slip back into those habits. To find herself in one of the tubes, clutching knees to her chest and reminding herself that she's alive. That she can survive this, too. For the most part she mumbles, but when she finally lets herself drift off to the sleep she doesn't get at night (someone has to guard the rooms, make certain no one changes the rules of these games while their sleeping), she awakes screaming and thrashing. The sounds echo through the tubes until she has a chance to catch her breath and remind herself, again, that it was just a dream.
ten_fwd_npcs: (worf)
[personal profile] ten_fwd_npcs
As if the indignity he'd already suffered during Q's round of supposedly amusing wardrobe changes weren't enough, Lt. Worf had found himself transplanted from his proper place in the timeline last month. He is, however, now returned to his rightful position, and once again, he is the one in charge of making sure their new guests are settled in an orderly manner.

Now that a number of new passengers have been cleared by Dr. Crusher's medical team for ship-wide access, it falls upon Worf's shoulders to assign them quarters and instruct them on the correct behavior and protocols needed for life aboard the Enterprise. The new arrivals have been shepherded together, and are awaiting their instructions.

He has gathered everyone in Ten Forward to instruct them on how to proceed. As he has done this before, he has a speech prepared, one which is by now familiar to him:

"The computer will instruct you on where all cleared-for-access decks are. You only have to ask where the area you are trying to get to is located, and it will give you clear directions. Do not visit any restricted areas. The bridge, engine rooms, transporter rooms, and all command centers are off-limits.

"With that in mind, there are a few rules you must obey before I give you your new assignments. One, do not discharge any weapon while on the Enterprise. Two, do not assault any other passenger aboard in any way; that includes injury, death, or violating their personal rights. Three, do not tamper with the operational procedures of the ship. Four, do not steal items or technology from the ship. Five, do not interrupt any official areas of the ship without proper authorization, and do not invade the privacy of other guest or crew quarters.

"Copies of the Prime Directive will be made available to all of you, and placed in each room. As you are not Starfleet officers, you are not obligated to abide by this rule; however, it is important you understand why we do.

"Now, the rooms," he rumbles, reading off the list of quarters, their location, and the guests who will be sharing them.

Deck 07, Section 4
Room # 0729 - Theiorn and Aiylisha
Room # 0766 - Katniss Everdeen and Prim Everdeen
Room # 0767 - Finnick Odair and Haymitch Abernathy
Room # 0768 - Peeta Mellark and Annie Cresta
Room # 0769 - Magneto and Winnowill
Room # 0771 - Emma Swan and Merlin
Room # 0772 - Kimberly Hart and Inari Raith
Room # 0773 - Firion and Weyoun
Room # 0774 - Tasha Yar and Agatha Heterodyne
Room # 0776 - Samus Aran and Alec Lightwood
Room # 0777 - Alex Rogan and Sean Slater
Room # 0778 - Harry Dresden

"I will remain here to answer questions," Worf concludes. "And my team will be standing by to escort you where you need to be."

The list is also displayed on a PADD, where people can refer to it if they need to.

[ooc: Open log for building CR with new roommates and meeting neighbors, "party post" style! Rooms are aligned the way they would be in a typical hotel: odd numbers on the left, even numbers on the right (so 0711 and 0713 will be next door neighbors, while 0712 is directly across the hall). There is a post in the OOC comm where players can connect with questions and find more details about the rooms themselves, so check in over there. If you need to ask security questions, or need them to swing by another thread, just put "Security officer, please!" in the subject line of your tag, and the mods will send someone to you ASAP. ]
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. As a matter of fact, all personnel look harmless. Well, perhaps excluding the sun avatar, but Trance Gemini is as skilled as the Starfleet officers.

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! 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. For those who are tagging: if you have a preference which doctor sees your character, please specify in the subject line of your tag who you would like (Simon Tam is not available this time). There is a post up in the OOC comm with more details if you have any questions.]
fishermansweater: (The most defenceless)
[personal profile] fishermansweater
[ cw: depression, violent death ]

He's been trying. He really has. )

He doesn't remember coming into the lounge, doesn't remember taking the seat with its back to the wall in the habit of a victor. He doesn't know how long he's been here or even if there was a reason he left his room and wandered here.

It's as unreal as a nightmare, a nightmare he's had over and over since he came here, but that no longer clears when he opens his eyes, leaves him drifting in the unreal world between sleep and waking.

Physically, Finnick is back to his usual self, the marks of the burns and the cut on his leg flawlessly healed by Doctor Bashir. He's still stunningly beautiful, his face cast into profile as his gaze drifts towards the starry window, but the beauty has an ice chill to it, like it's frozen in a statue.

The green eyes that are so startlingly light and clear in his deeply tanned face are distant, looking not at the stars, nor the window, nor anything immediately apparent.

They're focused on District 4.

The hands that rest on the table in front of him are fidgeting, endlessly, over and over, running through the same repetitive motions. Someone watching closely might see a pattern in the way his fingers weave among each other. But they'd need to know Finnick, or to have seen the things he can do with a vine in the arena, to recognize what those skilled fingers are doing: tying knots in a rope that isn't there.

They'd need to be from the fisheries of District 4 to read the movements, to see he's tying and untying the same knot in thin air over and over and over again.

It's a good luck knot.

[ OOC note: Those of you familiar with canon will recognize Finnick as he appeared early in Mockingjay. Those of you not familiar with canon: feel free to approach him, but don't expect him to be a good conversationalist. ]
she_listens: (behind the bar)
[personal profile] she_listens
There are more people on the Enterprise tonight.

How and when Q chooses to bring them aboard still remains something of a mystery. Sometimes there is only one new face out in the crowd, and sometimes there are dozens. Guinan takes note of them all, from behind the bar, waiting tables, offering words of comfort and explanation.

And, most importantly, she listens.

They all have their own stories, their own fears, discomforts, and needs. In a strange new place, sometimes the best form of solace is a friendly listening ear and something warm to drink.

[ooc: feel free to walk up to Guinan at the bar or handwave that she passes by your table! For new folks, Guinan is the head bartender here, and happy to answer questions if you've got 'em. ^__^]


2015-Jan-17, Saturday 05:12 pm
stillplaying: ([surprise] please let it be a joke)
[personal profile] stillplaying
Back in Panem... )

...and she stops.

Gone is the fresh air. Gone is the slight breeze and the sickly sweet smell of corpses yet to be fully buried. Mockingjays no longer make noise in the distance. There's a different sort of chatter now. A different smell in the air.

Her heart skips a beat in her chest. There are people here. People in a place that looks like a bar but... but can't be a bar. Because there's no bar that looks like this in District 12. There's no time for the people of 12 to just sit around, doing absolutely nothing. Not with all the cleanup and the rebuilding and this can't be possible.

She takes a breath and forces herself to move. Her eyes dart around, aware and alert, already assessing the people in the room and the room itself. Looking for weaknesses, for entrances and exits, for anything she can use for defense in addition to her bow. She doesn't understand it. She doesn't know how she got here, why she's here, or even where here is. But she refuses to be caught off guard. She refuses to have survived this long only to die in... in some new game?

Did they change their mind? Decide that she was too dangerous to be kept in District 12 after all? Bring her back... someplace, alongside all the other unwanted and dangers from the old Capitol? She looks around and tries to spot someone familiar. When that fails, she forces herself to speak loudly, in as firm and threatening a tone as possible.

"I want to talk to President Paylor. Now."

It's only later, after matters are explained, that she's found herself sitting at one of the tables in the corner nursing a cup of tea, that she might be a little more approachable. But there's still a suspicious and angry look on her face and a steel glint in her eye. Her bow and quiver and bag are on the floor next to her but she keeps the skinning knife beside her hand.

Just in case.

The odds have never been in her favor.

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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