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.

Comments

[ethnobotany]

Usually, Beverly wasn't around much in the nights -- or, well, at all some days. Overall, she is doing better now than she was. Full recovery is still a long way off and may never actually come at all, but she is trying. She's working at it. Sometimes the nightmares are too much and drive her to the Arboretum or somewhere else. She knows it likely worries Wesley, but how can she even begin to tell him what's wrong?

No, her temporal displacement and her time in Zelien are topics better left alone.

For some reason, her feet take her to the gym tonight, even though she isn't dressed for it. She's still wearing her uniform, having never actually taken off the dark jacket, pants, and green undershirt combo. It's different from the uniform most people wear on this ship and it often makes her feel as though she sticks out more than she already does. At this point, though, she is aware that she can never fit seamlessly back into this crew so she might as well embrace her differences.

One of those differences happens to be using the gym when she arrives. Were it just about anyone else in there, Beverly would happily leave and find somewhere else to be. But Fatima gets a level of closeness no one else has from her yet. Deanna and Jean-Luc have been wonderful and even though Beverly can feel their friendships returning, she knows as well as they do that something will always stand between them. A small something, but it's there. With Annie and Finnick, Beverly is playing the maternal role and very strongly at that, but even then she has a lot to learn about them and a hell of a lot of ground to cover.

With Fatima, they've already done that. The connection is there, the friendship, the maternal role. It's all part of their relationship. So when she pauses in her routine, Beverly walks slowly forward, a gentle smile on her face. "Couldn't sleep?" she asks, as though she knows the feeling. That's why she's up. It's probably safe to say that's why Fatima is awake, too.

[treadswater]

Normally, Annie wouldn't be up this late at night. Or rather, she wouldn't be out of her quarters. She's had issues with insomnia for years, even before her games, but back home, there are either things to do or she knows the area. She could go down to the victors' private beach and look at the stars, and be perfectly safe. Here? It's predictable until it's not, and she doesn't like that.

Except that tonight, she can't sleep. She needs to move, to do things, to be distracted, to distract her mind before it turns on her and rips her to shreds. Normally, she'd go and see if Finnick's awake, but he's in one of his own moods. The kind of mood where, back home, they'd skulk back to their own mansions, which isn't really an option here.

So Annie's taking a chance, and wandered down to the gym. Not to pick up a staff again and whirl it, that just seems to attract people wanting to spar with her, but to look at the treadmills.

She misses running. Doesn't trust the holodecks, not when it feels like there are ants crawling on the inside of her skull, but she misses just running. And quiet, after midnight, seems as good a time as any to try those machines. She's not dressed as she would be for running back home, but her clothes are loose, sensible, and her long red hair is braided.

But she catches sight of Fatima, and stops to watch. She'd seen the woman around, and of course it's always useful to watch how people fight. Not so much tips - she can't fight, and she knows it - but techniques, experience, things to report back to Finnick as their pool what they've found out about the others on this ship.

Mostly, though, she's watching the other woman's legs and wondering how in the world she's keeping her balance in those shoes.

[reincarnshaman]

While most people use the door to enter rooms, Trever drops in from a Jefferies tube. He's pink stained, carrying a squirt gun and has a very unhappy cat with him. Standing up he spins with the guns held ready to shoot, but not seeing his brother he relaxes a little. He then stared up at the ceiling as if waiting for something.

He's obviously not noticed Fatima yet.

Or at least it seems like it.