Wishing you were somehow here again... [OPEN]

[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.

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[dust_of_life]

As it happened, Fatima was more comfortable talking about Beverly too. The fact of the matter was that Beverly was her anchor to sanity in this place. Living proof that she hadn't imagined the horrors she'd been through. And, more importantly, living proof that somehow, the human race managed to get its act together in some kind of future where love and compassion still managed to exist.

The prospect seemed outrageous, coming from a place like Fatima's world.

"Have you ever seen her dance?"

[treadswater]

Annie has a darker view of the Federation. The ease of their technology reminds her of the Capitol, and elements of the Prime Directive remind her of the Games - we will only pay attention to you once you've survived. She knows it's not the directive's intent, and she hasn't said a word about it, but she thinks it. And yet...

So many people here are decent. Not afraid. Trying to help strangers, rather just their own. If Beverly was the first one she really trusts the goodness of, it's also because of what Beverly said about Zelion. The woman's been tested and still remains kind. Compassionate. Annie can't say that for anyone else. She doesn't know, and so she can't quite trust.

But she feels a bit better around Fatima now. A little bit better, because she's shy and nervous and for good reason, but there are reasons why she prefers the company of victors. People a bit like herself.

So the smile she gives Fatima is a surer thing than it otherwise would have been, although still small. But it's smallness lends a touch of impishness to her face.

"No. Is this a...she's very good, or very bad?"

[dust_of_life]

Fatima pressed a hand to her mouth for a second, to keep herself in control. "She's very good," she said, between her fingers. "And I hear from some gossip around the sickbay that she used to dance competitively. Won some awards. Gained some notoriety as 'The Dancing Doctor.'"

Of course, Fatima hadn't garnered up the courage to call Beverly that to her face, but the idea amused her. Maybe because it was so incongruous to every context in which she'd known Beverly.

On the other hand, the idea of being able to dance in the face of such adversity wasn't funny at all. It felt necessary.

[treadswater]

The impishness fades, and Annie narrows her eyes. Not in disapproval, as such, but as if she's trying to keep Fatima in focus. Which metaphorically she is: nothing wrong with her vision, Annie is just confused. A little cautious.

"I, um. I think I'm missin' the cultural reference there."

It doesn't seem like a funny nickname to her, which would normally just leave her feeling bemused. But gossip and notoriety aren't good words as far as Annie Cresta is concerned.

(Crazy Annie, Crazy Cresta, Mad Victor-)

"Is dancing not, uh. Good thing, here?"

[dust_of_life]

"Oh! Of course it's a good thing!" Fatima said quickly. "I love dancing! Especially in these ridiculous heels."

It was true.

She frowned a little, trying to regroup and explain her amusement without sounding insulting or disrespectful. She respected Beverly.

She loved Beverly.

Clearing her throat, she started again. "There's a specific kind of dancing called 'tap dancing.' It takes a lot of skill, a lot of talent. But it also looks a little bit silly. It's about tapping out certain rhythms on the floor with your feet." She demonstrated with a quick shuffle and tap. Nobody could live in the same household as Auntie Diana without picking up a few performance-related tricks. "Like that, only faster and more elaborate."

[treadswater]

"Oh," Annie says. Not a cultural reference, then, or maybe not as such. Maybe more something about a doctor being too important, too serious to dance, so if Beverly likes dancing, she's clearly not a doctor worthy of respect.

Maybe.

None of which is helping her wish to defend Beverly at all.

Easier to concentrate on the dancing, before she gets upset.

(crazy, crazy Cresta...)

"That...looks fun," Annie offers. "Some of it a bit like the footwork of our dances, back home."

[dust_of_life]

Fatima hardly meant to question Beverly's medical skills. Or anything else about Beverly. But it was hard to explain why tap dancing was so funny to someone with such a different cultural background.

She'd work on it.

"Do you like to dance?" she asked instead.

[treadswater]

Different cultural background, and a very, very large sensitivity to people being mocked. Which someone not from Panem wouldn't have the slightest idea about, not having seen what the media did to Annie's reputation.

On the other hand, it's that very anonymity that's allowed Annie to be as comfortable as she has been in talking to people.

Pros and cons, as it were.

"I, I do, yes. Haven't had the chance for a while, though."

[dust_of_life]

"Me too," Fatima said. The last time she'd danced had been during a drunken rage in Zelien. She'd downed as much bathwater gin as she could get her hands on and she'd danced around wildly, falling over Cas and Jefferson as she said things she regretted terrifically.

In a way, it hadn't been real dancing. Fatima thought of dancing as freeing her spirit somehow. That night had only burdened it.

"Beverly and I were talking about throwing a party," she said. And she wondered, in that moment, what kind of dancing she would end up doing. "You should come."

[treadswater]

Annie looks a little startled at that, green eyes widening.

"I...should?"

She's honestly not used to being invited to things any more. Not as herself, as just Annie. Annie Cresta the Victor, yes, but only official things and then most of the time the invitation is issued with the understanding that it's all a formality, that she'll turn it down.

But, Beverly.

"What, um. What kind of party?"

[dust_of_life]

Fatima grimaced a little. She already knew this conversation was going to get way awkward. But if she was anything--in the multiverse, at least--it was honest.

"Well...actually, there's this tradition from earth. It's called a New Orleans funeral. It's...a wild party. Sort of. Dancing. Laughing. Lots of music. In New Orleans, they like to send the dead off in style and..."

She paused, scowling. "Okay, I know this is going to sound really weird but...Beverly and I...we kinda went through something. Something really, really terrible. And we thought it would be a good idea to sort of...get over it by metaphorically burying it. Having a funeral to say it was over, you know?"

[treadswater]

She's silent for a moment, her eyes on Fatima but her focus only partially here. Behind her eyes, she's thinking. She's thinking of the 75th Hunger Games, thinking of the revolt in District Four, thinking of the Careers and family (hers, and Finnick's).

She thinks of Mags.

She thinks of watching, helpless, for days, as two of the people she loves most were tortured by the Capitol's gamemakers.

But not too deeply. Too deeply, and she'll start to cry. Just...just enough.

"I like that," Annie says, softly. "It's. It's a good idea. Um, is. Can I bring my fiancé, too?"

[dust_of_life]

Fatima smiled gently, a strange mixture of jealousy, curiosity, and tenderness churning around inside of her. Annie had people here. She was lucky for that. And Fatima couldn't help but think of Sam and how much she yearned to have him with her now.

Well, there was nothing to be done about that.

"Of course," she said, nodding. "Bring anyone you want. A party needs loved ones."

If only she had more of her own.

[treadswater]

Finnick's all she has, now. Her family is either dead, or she pushed them away in a probably futile attempt to keep them safe. She knows it'd do nothing: but it's all she could do, and so she did it. The other victors aren't here, not her victors. Naia. Windlass. Ran, and it's so strange how much she misses the girl hovering.

All she has in the world is Finnick, and he's lost more than her in many ways. In ways that a funeral party might ease things, even if a little.

And, Annie thinks to herself with a trace of amusement, it's not as if they've ever really gone to parties as themselves. One or two here, but not explicit invitation. Not together.

"If...If you need any help in setting things up, too, I'd be happy to help."

[dust_of_life]

The girl was a Malkavian. The realization struck Fatima with a burst of hilarity that almost made her laugh. Back home, some half-cocked Malk would have scooped her up already. Embraced her and made her a princess. She had so much of Artemis in her pauses, in her glances. The difference being that Artemis was more Hamlet.

Still. No wonder Fatima was drawn to her.

That was what happened when you were raised by Malkavians.

"Yeah," she said with a smile. "I'm sure Beverly and I will need some help. Neither of us has exactly done anything like this before."

[treadswater]

"Checklists," Annie says promptly, looking damn near cheerful with the chance of being useful. "Um. Not that I've really planned parties, but I've helped run numbers and organisational help for other things."

She's good with numbers, and numbers keep her busy. They, the other victors, found that out after her games, and then repeated it after her tour. Tossed her to Naia to keep her busy with the accounts and paperwork that came with running the Academy.

It helped her mind start to help from the fractures the games, and then herself, had put in it.

"It...helps to write things down. So you can check them off, and then, um. Remind yourself what you're missin'. And. You might be surprised how many folks turn up, if you have an open invite."

[dust_of_life]

She wanted so very much to be useful. Fatima's heart immediately went out to her. She could relate. Hanging out on a floating Hilton, being out of time and out of place...it would make anyone feel completely useless.

So she'd help.

"I got something we could use help with," Fatima said. "I mean, since it's gonna be open to all the people stuck here from other worlds, Beverly and I want to make people feel welcome. Feel comfortable. It would help a lot to have a list of the different kinds of foods people expect at a party. So everyone will have something familiar. We'll replicate it and all, but it would help if we know what to replicate."

[treadswater]

Fatima's right: she wants to be useful. She's too much a district-girl, too much a Career, to not want to crave, need, to be useful. To be helping, doing something that aids others. There's precious little of that here.

"And how much," Annie adds, quietly but hopefully. She could do this. Help.

"I could. Um. Ask around, a little. Get you a list."

Read, mostly. But she'll ask. It'll be good practice.

[dust_of_life]

Fatima smiled gently, giving Annie what she hoped was an encouraging nod. "That'll be tons of help," she said. And she didn't have to fake sincerity about it. She was well aware that she and Beverly were probably in over their heads about this whole party thing.

She just didn't care.

It was her natural state of being, really. Over her head. She couldn't imagine living any other way.

[treadswater]

[ooc: and maybe fade them there? seems a good wrapping place, and I'm struggling to think of other things. We can always have another thread at the party or whatnot later, if you'd like?]

[dust_of_life]

[ooc: sounds good!]