ten_fwd | Entries tagged with fatima merali

Hmmm, something seems a little different about the Chief of Security today. His beautifully ridged countenance hasn't been seen for quite some time at the head of one of these little initiations, but now that Dr. Crusher's medical team has cleared a sizable number of new cattle for ship-wide access, and they've been carted around by Chief O'Brien on a tour of the ship, along with some background to the situation they now find themselves in, they've been mooooved right along to Lieutenant Worf in Ten Forward.

He looks at his data PADD, with all of his boring instructions and tedious details meticulously written out, and rolls his eyes. Rules, really? What harm could these people really do?

"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, command centers, blah, blah-blah, blah blah, are all off-limits.

"Before you're assigned a room, there are a few rules you must obey, though I honestly don't know what could be done to stop you. 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, good grief, this list just goes on forever, doesn't it?

"They want you to read the Prime Directive?! Boring. If you care to see that drivel you can look it up on your own personal PADDs, which will be available in every room. Now, how about something more interesting?"

With a flick of his wrist, the PADD disappears. Cracking his knuckles, "Worf" proceeds to snap his fingers and a flurry of snow whooshes through the room. When the proverbial dust settles, Ten Forward has been decked out in an array of holiday cheer. The windows are frosted, the bar is dusted in snow, a model train choo-choos its way around people's ankles out one door and back in the other. There is a traditional Earth tree in one corner with an endless pile of gifts stacked under it, but other worlds, cultures, and religions have not been left out. Everywhere one looks, there's a different kind of festive decoration.

"La, dee dum, dum," Worf hums, snapping his fingers again and causing a spread of food and drinks to appear on each and every table and surface: candies, cakes, mulled wines, chocolates, pheasants, yams, bol'ghba, and an abundance of other unpronounceable delicacies. "There. Now isn't that better? Never say I didn't do anything for you.

"Oh! That's right, the rooms," he recalls, clapping his hands. He pulls the PADD back out of the ether, reading off the list of quarters, their location, and the guests who will be sharing them.

Deck 07, Section 4
Room # 0713 - Kristen Kringle and Kuvira
Room # 0731 - Olan'atar and Sophia Inks
Room # 0737 - Bonnie Barstow and KITT (hologram)
Room # 0746 - Sterling Archer and Kira

Deck 8
Room # 0147 - T'Pol and Katniss Everdeen

Deck 9
Room # 0919 - Henry Mills and Matt Murdock
Room # 0921 - Pete Lattimer and Clara Oswald

"Now, won't that be fun?" Worf concludes, with a large, toothy grin. "Remember, it's only fun until Captain Picard has a heart attack, and then your actions are all on your own heads. Oh! Speaking of heads ... "

With one last snap, the Lieutenant in full dress before them morphs into what appears to be a Caucasian human male. No vestiges of the Klingon remain, and as such the man now lets out a long, grateful sigh. "It's good to be home."

For the foreseeable future, Ten Forward will remain in this state, and the doors to the guest quarters will stay open so each new arrival along with the old faithful can experience the full joy and beauty of the holiday season with each other. The corridors are all covered in frost, a pleasant nip in the air, and over the internal comms a song begins to play. The list of new assignments is also displayed on a PADD in Ten Forward, where people can refer to it if they need to.

[ooc: Happy Holidays, at least for the next few days! This log is both a party post for holiday shenanigans and an open log for new roomies (or old ones!) to build CR and meet their neighbors. We'll have a few special holiday top levels for gifts, but otherwise you can tag directly into the post with your character, their room number, and who they're looking for (or leave it OTA)!

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's a post in the OOC comm for OOC questions and comments! 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. The tour given by Chief O'Brien is not open for tagging; you can assume your character had any basic questions answered. ]

Current Location: Deck 10: Forward

notthatpond

Amy was sure she'd seen the sign before, it was entirely possible she had seen the sign before from being on the road with her mother. That seemed such a long time ago then. Before the hunters caught up with them. Before she'd met Sam. It was different then. She was driving, not confined to the passenger seat. Stuck there with her mother telling her what to do. Then when she didn't? The inevitable argument that ended up with doors slamming and her mother ditching her in some motel room while she went off hunting for the night. Amy had always left that to her mother. Not that the woman hadn't made sure at least once or twice she'd accompanied her so that when the day would come that the older woman either wasn't able to or just no longer around that Amy would know how to keep herself fed. That thankfully didn't mean that Amy had actually been the one responsible for it all. She'd just been shown. Truth was, Amy had only ever tried it once. That was on someone in a funeral home. Maybe her mother was right not to trust her with a living person. Made things easier for Amy anyway. She didn't think her mother was a good person. Took her a lot sometimes to think her mother was a person. Not just some monster lurking in the darkness. Same as herself. A monster. Not quite lurking in the darkness right then, but then she had been.

Pulling the car off the road into the motel car park she looked over at the cooler on the seat next to her, reminding her that she was hungry and just putting things off. It could stay there until she'd checked in. One more day's driving and she'd be in California. Amy reached past the cooler and picked up her bag. Pulling the car keys out she locked up the car before leaning against it. The cool of the night air a welcoming comfort. She looked up to the stars for a few minutes before standing up. Time to check in.

She pushed the door open and instead of seeing the inevitable crappy motel check in she found herself in what appeared to be a bar. Amy turned around looking to get back out the door she'd just stepped in through. It wasn't there. She tried not to panic, but she was now essentially surrounded by people and hungry. The cooler was in the car. Someone was going to find it. Hunters would know where she'd been... They couldn't find her there. First she had to figure out where here was. Maybe a drink first. It might help keep the hunger at bay a little longer until she can figure out what to do about that. Since she doubted that any of the people walking around here were going to be okay with her eating their brain.

merlinastrice

Merlin rubbed a hand over his tired face. The day had been long, his limbs were sore from training, and his only plan for the evening was to fall, face first, into his bed and cram in as many hours of sleep as he could before first light arrived. It always arrived too quickly.

But even in his tired state, he could tell something was wrong. The ground beneath his feet didn't feel hard as the hallways of the castle in Camelot often did. The air felt more dry, more...off; a breeze that wasn't a breeze. And certainly a light that wasn't the familiar torch light that illuminated the way to Gaius' chambers.

He stopped walking and peeked through his fingers before lowering his hand. His eyes widened.

The long counter was reminiscent of a tavern, complete with strange looking stools lining among it and patrons milling about. But everything was...completely off. Where the hell was he? He hadn't suspected magic in the castle earlier. For once, they had a normal, or what passed as normal in Camelot, day.

ltcolonel

[ooc: Feel free to run into either or both of them! John and Bucky both have their memories of their previous visit to the Enterprise.]

John Sheppard
John Sheppard is responsible for setting Atlantis down on a planet of ice and snow at the edge of Pegasus Galaxy. It is a pretty good landing if he does say so himself and they are settling in well. Or they are until Rodney is kidnapped. He’s got a good deal of pent up frustration over the lack of intel, and takes it out on regular patrols to check on the condition of Atlantis in her new setting. The temperatures outside are a little bitter though, and on this inspection of how Atlantis is settling into in, he resembles an Artic explorer. One second he’s rubbing his hands to get some warmth back into them, and next, he’s back inside.

Memories come flooding back, and John pushes his hood back. Woah, how has he managed to forget all of this? “Wow that was a bit if a head rush. I didn’t think I would be seeing this place again.” He moves off confidently heading towards the bar, where someone can fill him in on what’s going on.

Bucky Barnes
The memories he gets are not the ones that he wants. The irony that he can remember another version of his life better than his own, isn’t lost on him. He crouches down against the wall, blue eyes uncertain, as he assimilates them. Voices overlap each other, growing louder. Images - cutting his hair, Steve, Natasha.

Slowly the voices fade and he straightens up. He can’t stay here in the corridor, it is too exposed, and he doesn’t have any intel on what has happened since he’s been away. Slowly, with many pauses to watch the security personnel go past, he moves to find an empty room.

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.

ten_fwd_npcs

Classes for adults and children are now being held every day on Deck 14. The weekly schedule for September's syllabus is posted below. [Classes are OTA unless otherwise specified.]

[example of a youth class]

Itinerary/Subjects
Archery, Deck 11, Holodeck #3
Ballet, Room #0916 *
Catching up to the 24th Century, Classroom #1
Creative Writing, Classroom #3
Earth History and Archaeology, Classroom #4
Earth Languages, Room #0914 *
English & Poetry (Youth), Classroom #3
English & Poetry (Adult), Classroom #3
Federation Primer, Classroom #1
Geology, Classroom #5
Kenpo, Room #0918
Krav Maga, Room #0918 *
Melee Combat Basics, Room #0918
Mixed Martial Arts, Room #0918
Multiverse Primer, Classroom #1
Physical Education (Youth), Room #0918
Physical Education (Adult), Room #0918
Ranged Combat Basics, Room #0918
Scuba Diving, Deck 11, Holodeck #3
Self Defence, Room #0918
Spoken Languages (Klingon & Vulcan), Classroom #6
Surviving the Wilderness, Classroom #7
Warp Theory & Starship Tech, Classroom #10
Working with Chakra, Classroom #7
Xenoanthropology, Classroom #8
Advanced Xenolinguistics, Classroom #6

* [ One-on-one tutoring is available by request in ballet, krav maga, cooking, and a range of Earth languages. For a complete listing, see the OOC Post. You can request tutoring by replying to the comment offering the relevant subject in that post. ]

Class Schedule

( Behind the cut! )

Staff
Bob Fraser (Surviving the Wilderness)
Emma Frost (Physical Education (Youth), Physical Education (Adult), Self-Defence (Substitute))
Fatima Merali (Multiverse Primer)
Geordi La Forge, Lt. Cmdr. (Warp Theory & Starship Tech)
H.G. Wells (Creative Writing, Earth Languages (French), Kenpo)
Hugh Cambridge, Lt. (Catching up to the 24th Century, Spoken Languages (Klingon & Vulcan), Xenoanthropology)
Jonas Quinn (Earth History & Archaeology)
Kale McCallum (Ranged Combat Basics)
Kate Barlow (English & Poetry (Youth), English & Poetry (Adult))
Lorna Dane (Geology)
Mack Gerhardt (Mixed Martial Arts)
Minoru (Working With Chakra)
Sam Bowe (Melee Combat Basics (Substitute), Mixed Martial Arts, Surviving the Wilderness (Substitute))
Steve McGarrett (Scuba Diving, Self-Defence)
Terzen T'Karr, Lt. Cmdr. (Federation Primer, Warp Theory & Starship Tech (Substitute), Advanced Xenolinguistics)
Thea Queen (Archery)
Trever McCallum (Melee Combat Basics)
Ziva David (Ballet, Earth Languages (Italian), Krav Maga)

[ooc: Please note, the School is currently a once-a-month post; all times listed are for IC purposes. Teachers will post in with a comment for their class, and students can then tag in to thread at any stage for classes held at any point in the month.

To sign up to teach, or to add your character as a regular student of a class, see the OOC post here. The next School post will be on October 26th.]

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?

student_lighter

Sickbay: [for Carson so our little whitelighter doesn't die.]

Chris ran toward the playpen. Gideon had vanished, no doubt staying invisible until he could make a move on Wyatt. He had to get the toddler out of here, or else all of his hard work was going to be for nothing. The trauma of Gideon's attempt to pierce his shield and kill him would turn him evil. And then, Chris's future was doomed. Well, it was already pretty much doomed. The world was a mess and his Wyatt wanted to kill Chris since his little brother didn't want to play 'take over the world' with him.

The Whitelighter-Witch ran, but was only able to take a handful of steps before Gideon materialized, his knife sinking in his abdomen. He watched the elder walk over and pick up his big little brother(time travel was so confusing) and orb away.

Chris fell the the attic floor, calling for his father, the older Whitelighter to help heal him, and go after Wyatt.He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them, Chris was still on the floor.

But not the floor of the Halliwell Manor. But the Book was next to him. An old book, quite thick.

He tried to get up. Nope, that wasn't going to happen. Chris tried to orb back to the manor, so his father could get to him. Instead, the Whitelighter-Witch just dematerialized in a flash of blue and white lights, and then materialized again in the same place.

"Anyone have a bandaid?"

[Sickbay: After the funtimez that is emergency surgery, OPEN]

Chris sat up in bed and looked around, for the first time getting a good handle on his surroundings. The Halliwell's Book of Shadow's was beside him. Good. At least no one had tried to walk away with it while he was unconscious.

This was.....not like any hospital he'd ever seen before. And it wasn't the Manor, Magic School or any plane he was familiar with. So...how did he get here? Did Gideon orb him here so he wouldn't be able to help Wyatt? Focusing for a minute, his eyes widened in alarm. Definitely a different plane. He couldn't feel his Mom and his Aunts. Or Leo. He had to hope that Leo would get to Wyatt. Save him. Chris would just have to get back as soon as he could. Well, bright side at least he wouldn't be in the same reality when he was born? Which was any minute now.

"I don't mean to be rude, but I can't be here right now."

general_chang

[Klingons Boarding]

The ship shuddered under the attack, until it didn’t. But that didn’t mean that the assault was over: merely had taken a new form.

Speaking of taking new forms: a whine emerges from… somewhere. Close by, it seems. The source becomes all too clear all too quickly: angry looking Klingons, their ridges making them look even more venomous to those who didn't know of their species before they arrived on board.

They hold up their weapons at whoever they find in their way. At first it's a blaster, but very quickly, if challenged they'll switch to their blades, one a short, ugly dagger, the other a long graceful two handed weapon that could cut off heads.

[Shield Repair]

The only way to keep the Klingons out is to make sure the shields are back up. It was a top priority and volunteers were welcome to try.

[Fighting with Chang]

The Klingons had a destination and that was where Chang was. Chang was waiting for them. He fights hard and with a blade that's much like the two handed weapons the Klingons have, but it's old and tempered. The effect on the other Klingons is marked, however, there's tones of veneration. Not that it calms them in any way, in fact, their attack seems all the more voracious for it.

[ooc: Shield Repair is led by Geordi, so wait until Gabby starts the thread for that before you reply!]

Current Mood: infuriated

the_tailor_spy

He opened his eyes, slowly. Something in his head ached. This was not Cardassia. The first giveaway was the lack of ruined devastation. The second was the absence of misery and suffering. The third fact, and the one looming increasingly large in his mind, was that the architecture around him was wrong.

It was in neutral colours, inoffensive and undaring. Bland, in essence. In short, it was clearly a Federation vessel. He shook his head, sitting up. He felt the strap of a bag slip from his shoulders, and looked downwards, furrowing his brow. Well. At least some of his belongings had apparently made the trip with him. He flipped open the bag briefly.

Well. Useful tools at least. Oh, and I see my basic tailoring equipment, too, because somebody enjoys a good, ironic joke at my expense.

He stood, slowly, pushing his hair back into place, then leaning against the bulkhead for a moment as the dizziness passed.

Well. This was going to be interesting. In what way he did not know, but it would definitely be...interesting.

Slowly, regaining his balance with each step, Elim Garak set out.

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.

redarrowqueen

In the days since being winkled onto the Enterprise Thea was still feeling at loose ends and she could not explain why. Sure she was able to wander around the civilian areas and there was Ten Forward but at the same time a part of her was needing to feel more useful than just camp out in the lounge all day. But at the moment she was back in Ten Forward, half people watching and half gazing out one of the windows as she tried to get her emotions and her brain to actually agree on things. She took a sip of what had to be her 3rd or 4th cup of coffee as she mused,"Just have to find a niche somehow but where do I even start?"

ships_counselor

You'll find the Counseling Offices, with their newly added Counseling Staff, located on Deck 8. A message which has been passed along to the new arrivals 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 in their recent OOC post.

Current Location: Deck 8: Main Counseling Room 3402

real_or_notreal

Entrance Thread
[ ~~For only the first tag-in~~ Taken ]

Peeta is in a pair sleep pants.

They are not even entirely great sleep pants.

They are flecked with still drying paint, as is most of his upper body. If it weren't for the paintbrush in his hand the shade of red dappling him here and there all over he might actually look like he actually was bleeding. Profusely. Deep slashes of brilliant scarlet, and the darker, rusty shades dried in dots and smears on his skin everywhere. The sheet wrinkles from a restless night already fled.

He doesn't have a clue if it's morning now. He had just finished. (He'd had to finish. He's had to finish. He'd had to finish.) Finally been able to breathe and stagger off his pained knee from hours over the canvas. He had been going for a glass of water. But this was not the kitchen. This was not anything like his house.

Leaving him there, torn between the disjointed confusion of whether this was another waking nightmare dream or another trick by the Capital. In only his sleep pants. With a paintbrush. Well. He's had to start with less than that before, right?

Main Threads
[ Everyone after the 1st & Sickbay]

Peeta is no longer in sleep pants.

He's in basic enough pants, shirt and shoes.

Generic. Grey and black. Expected normality for the Capitol.

Which is what this place looks and feels like, even if they keep telling him it's not called that. He doesn't believe them, but belief was never required to begin with. Only abject obedience. He doesn't know what this game is, but at least now he has paint free clothes, shoes which cover his artificial foot, and he's clean, his ash blonde waves curling at the ends from the force of the 'sonic shower.'

Cleaned, clothed, and back in a Quarantine. Familiar as second nature.

He needs to remember how they got him here, and figure out where Katniss is.

Current Location: DECK 10; SECTION 1: TEN FORWARD

tea_earlgrey_hot

The Enterprise arrived at Starbase 4077 not long ago. Not much has been revealed to Picard on the rank or status of his guests other than that they will be beamed aboard within the hour. He still does not like the circumstances, but he is prepared to meet them with dignity.

Which is why he has chosen to wear his dress uniform.

(And before anyone decides to quip with "emphasis on dress!" he'll have you know the latest incarnation has been shortened by several inches and is now worn with standard-issue uniform pants. Players pls.)

While he waits for Transporter Room 1 to call him once his guests are ready to board, he settles in his ready room. His usual cup of earl grey tea is ordered from a replicator with specific instructions on temperature, and once he has gathered the cup in hand he sits and sips it quietly — and then, quickly and with rather less decorum, he spits the tea back out. "What?"

He glares at his cup as though it has betrayed him, and in a way it has. The tea is undrinkable. He fussily orders another, and it too is the same. Bitter, sour, frankly revolting. "What is the matter with this thing?"

It tastes like ... ah, yes. Leola bark tea. Whatever cruel fate would replace his earl grey with this is — no, not fate. Person.

"Kirk," Picard mutters, setting the new cup down and storming out of his ready room. It was not that long ago, fresh from his second stint in the brig, that Kirk had been caught tampering with the replicators in Ten Forward trying to override their programming to provide real alcoholic beverages. A completely childish stunt, when he could have received alcohol from Guinan. But it was the principle of the thing, wasn't it? Buck the rules, cause trouble, a stir, once more challenge his command — well, he will see a stop to this if it is the last thing he does.

Which is how Picard ends up in Ten Forward in his dress uniform, face tight with frustration, gazing about to locate the renegade captain.

"Whomever is responsible for reprogramming the replicators to produce Leola bark tea, I expect you to come forth immediately," he calls into the crowd. "Or anyone who can give me the location of Captain Kirk."

ethnobotany

Arrival

The last week was very literal hell for everyone in Zelien. Between the Eldritch horror, the rain of COMPASS monsters, and the cultists, survival was difficult for seven days. Well, survival in Zelien was always difficult, but it seemed much more so now. The days passed by so quickly and yet so slowly, to the point where each hour bled into the next, each day bled forward and Beverly fully lost all track of time. Nothing was safe and after living even a short time like that, even the most stalwart of people couldn't take it forever. So when the frantic man with white hair came through the mess advertising a serum that would take them through to COMPASS' realm where they could, theoretically, defeat the organization and get everyone to safety, if not home... to say she had jumped at the chance would be an understatement. At least, after she had ascertained that the serum wouldn't do any damage to anyone. While she couldn't be absolutely certain, she was sure enough and it would be better than their current options. With the serum in her system, she had followed the frantic man.

One side of the portal was Zelien. On the other, she found herself being tossed a good few feet and then dropped, landing on her back with a whoosh of air. With the breath knocked out of her, she takes a few seconds to recover and in that time, security is called to Ten Forward. Her phaser rifle sure does stand out. The altercation when she tries to stand is short, her surprise and a touch of fear being the largest reasons she resists so hard at first. Eventually, she relinquishes the weapon, snapping, "Okay, okay! Take it!" They like that better, leaving her to get reacquainted with the middle of Ten Forward and the stares of whoever happened to witness the scene.

Later

Once she's gotten the idea of what's going on, has dealt with something else, and has managed to accept the idea that this might not be a hallucination from the serum or COMPASS using one of her most important memories against her, she heads for the replicator and a cup of Earl Grey tea. She hasn't honestly had anything that wasn't canned pears, coffee, or creamed corn in so long. This might be overdoing it, but at this point, she's given up caring. After a moment's thought, she replicates a croissant to go with it. Both she'll take up to a table in the corner where she can, hopefully, sit in peace and get her head on straight. Looks like she can finally have a cup of coffee and a croissant tomorrow. For the first time in weeks.

For anyone who might want to approach, she doesn't look entirely unapproachable. She is tense, though, extremely so and she's noticeably facing towards the room at large with her back to the wall, watching people with the gaze of someone who has learned not to let her guard down too much. It'll pass and in time she'll be back to herself. Right now, she's just on the edge of a breakdown. Good thing she has that medical training to separate her emotions from a situation, right?

Closed

After getting more food and drink in her than she usually gets in a day in Zelien, she finally takes a deep breath and decides to go ahead with something that needs doing. This... will be difficult, but she needs to do it. For both of their sakes.

"Crusher to Picard." Pause. "Do you have a minute, Jean-Luc?"

She uses his first name in her request to show that she's coming to him not as his Chief Medical Officer, but as his friend, as a friend who needs him. Because she does. If there's anything in this universe that she needs right now, it's as many friendly faces and people as she can gather, people she can be sure of. That and she does have a lot to tell him.

primeverdeen

Prim had been walking around looking for Katniss, as usual. She had tasted some new food and again wanted to share it with her sister, and she wanted to talk to Katniss about Fatima again. She really thought that they could be friends. If Katniss could be friends with Finnick, how could she not see how great Fatima was? How could she say Finnick was safe but Fatima was too dangerous?

She found her sister, heading into their room. She... could have just waited. Sighing, she ran to catch up to her sister just in time to see a white light envelope her. And then... she was gone.

"KATNISS!" she screamed as her sister vanished. She ran to the door, to the spot her sister vanished. She... was gone. No... no.... NO! She couldn't be gone. COULDN'T BE!

"KATNISS!" she screamed, hysterically. "KATNISS!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

fishermansweater

( He hasn't, it's true, had a lot of energy on a lot of the days he's been here. [ cw: depression ] )

So, dressed in an athletic shirt that hugs his upper body and leaves his finely sculpted arms bare and a pair of comfortably loose pants, he heads for the gym and into the martial arts area. He starts at a punching bag, and it begins as simple boxing. His form's good; boxing is taught around Panem, even in those districts that don't train their tributes. But as he warms to the fighting, it becomes less simple, less orthodox, less like a practised art than a survival skill. He's not just punching now; he's kicking, high and low, striking with different blows, and if there's a pattern to the drill, it's not easily recognizable.

What is recognizable, however, is how many of the blows he lands would incapacitate or kill a human opponent, if delivered with the right speed and power.

That becomes even more obvious when he moves on from the kickboxing to collect a staff and start running through moves on one of the mats, moves that sometimes look like he's practicing for a sword, and sometimes for a spear. It's with the staff in his hands that he looks truly dangerous, moving with a natural grace that's deceptively easy to watch.

Finnick learned to fight to kill.

Current Location: Deck 12, Gymnasium

stark_spangled

Steve's been spending a lot of time with Akito since he woke up. He feels responsible for the kid, even if the accident wasn't his fault. Since the knock to his head affected his memories, Steve kinda feels like the only guy on this ship who remembers who he is, and when the topic of a health care guardian came up with Dr. Crusher he seemed like the only real choice. Looking over his medical file a few days ago, he looked up and smiled.

"Hey, you've got the same birthday as my best friend," he had said.

Akito had just blinked at him. "I do?"

There was never much folding green* lying around back when he and Bucky were kids, so birthdays were usually marked by the usual pinch-to-grow-an-inch and a 'Happy Birthday, Punk,' and sometimes -- on good years -- a flat cake (because they were always out of baking soda) decorated with candy corn they'd saved from the last fall. He had frowned, realizing Akito and Bucky may have shared something else in common. Neither of them could remember ever having a birthday party.

So there's a cake in Ten Forward. A real one, with layers and frosting and 'Happy Birthday' scrawled across the top in icing. There are some balloons and music, and the bartender has helped out with punch and drinks and other snacks. Next to the cake there are a few wrapped presents. Hey, Steve got Natasha an alien space dog for her birthday; there's no way he was going to forget Bucky and Akito. Even if, to get them to come, he told Bucky the party was for Akito, and told Akito the party was for Bucky. Hey, it's the truth. Sort of.

It's not a huge party -- Steve wouldn't know the first thing about throwing one like that -- but it's festive and open to the whole room. Steve's friendly to everybody, helpful where he can be, and as long as everyone is on this ship he figures that makes them part of the same team. So come get a slice of cake.

(*slang for extra spending cash
ooc: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BUCKY BARNES AND WANIJIMA AKITO!! As if Steve would forget. So this is set up party post style, where we'll have subheadings for various party activities, but if we forget anything fun or you have ideas to add in, start your own header threads! Then tag around wherever you like, using the subject line to say if you're OTA or locked to certain people like Steve, Akito, or Bucky. Steve would have made the invitation to the party public, so there's no need to worry about crashing. EVERYONE IS INVITED!)

Current Location: Deck 10, Forward: Lounge

ten_fwd_npcs

O-kay, so things have been a little ... odd on the ship. Some people have been acting rather out of character, ducking their duties for romantic escapades or complaining that their good friends aren't quite themselves. Romance may be in the air, but the CMO has other ideas. Like maybe an alien pest who likes to play tricks on people. Her sickbay hasn't gone unaffected, but luckily the strange effects are beginning to wear off and people are returning to work. Still, she's prepared to treat anything. ~~Just please assure her you were safe and responsible if you, uh, made a special friend.~~

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, relatively harmless.

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 (Beverly Crusher, Julian Bashir, Sam Wilson, Mack Gerhardt, and Merlin are definitely on deck, with possible appearances by others). There is a post up in the OOC comm with more details if you have any questions.]

Current Location: Section 23 Baker, Room # 1631: Sickbay

doctorbrucebanner

In one corner of Ten Forward, a man has taken his familiar spot, and sat there for some hours, with a break here or there. He has managed to stake out one table consistently, having figured the atmospheric content, the lighting, the temperature, and more, and deemed it suitable to his needs. There, various small pieces of machinery sat. They were his work, new designs of ideas from his world, technology that in some ways was more advanced than that which existed in this place and time, and reproduced, and mated with the concepts of this era's technology. He has been building these models to show how larger scale devices would work. Or to first make sure they work themselves.

Well, he's been here for two weeks now, and he's managed to make progress. He's managed to design one fully working model and that made him smile. The rest are still in various stages of work. In front of him, his PADD, his old cell-phone, and some pieces of Chitauri tech have been converted into a different kind of PADD, and laid flat on the table. Above it, a holographic screen hung, and there is where Bruce was currently working. He was working on equations to solve the inherent differences in energy source and structure between the two sciences.

His hands moved the hard light words and math around, as if working on a touch screen, and while he doesn't let the thought interrupt him, when he caught a glimpse of his now normal looking clothing, he felt a surge of gratitude for the fact that the Mardi Gras madness seemed to be ended.

Every now and then, he had been glancing around, looking to see if anyone else he knew was here. He had met Peggy, whom he had not known,. save by reputation, and Natasha, with whom he had... not a great relationship. And he had met one other, as well, and that one made him smile. Steve was a good man, honestly good. Bruce didn't agree with everything the man said, but he thought that Steve was one of the best humans he knew.

Despite this, he was unsure about meeting others. He was not really social, and he was not good at social... anything. But he kept his eyes open.

magnetic_magpie

The week of Carnival touches on many memories for Magneto. Not just family history and time spent in Germany before his family had fled, but years in Brazil, too eventful to be called peaceful but at least a time he was happy for periods. And then Lorna had arrived.

At least he'd managed to figure out the replicators enough to get raw materials and in moments alone, both in his quarters and not, he'd managed to make not only a selection of pots and pans, but a small induction cooktop - not much more than a fancy hot plate, but a safe one. And since the replicators kept giving him pantry stables, he'd pulled a metal table (made from seemingly impossibly thin sheeting for the strength) outside his quarter's door into the passageway. And set up his cooktop. And started cooking.

Pancakes on Tuesday. Complete with bowls of butter, jars of syrups and honey, bowls of fruit, some fresh, some he'd cut up and cooked down, a shaker of powdered sugar. It wouldn't be difficult to get him to whip up some heavy cream. Or to get him to make something chocolate instead of normal pancakes.

Berliners on Thursday. Fat, egg-yolk rich balls of dough, fried and filled with a variety of fillings, some glazed, some iced in vanilla or chocolate, some dusted with powdered sugar, some rolled in granulated sugar. There's only half a dozen or so at a time - he's not going to waste the food, but he'll make enough to keep them around. And, as with Tuesday, he'll make something special if asked.

He's antsy and trying to calm down - this helps. More than most would know.

whathemademe

( Well this isn't my room )

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.

Ten Forward Social Lounge

[Ten Forward]: Rooming Assignments + Holiday Open House!

OTA

Wizards in spaaaaace - Ten Forward

Two soldiers walk into a bar...

we're gonna party like it's 1920 in New Orleans ( OPEN )

[School]: Classes Have Now Begun

Wandering lost - OTA

A Stabbing Is Not An Appropriate Birthday Present

Klingons Onboard

Garak Arrives - OTA

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

At Loose Ends (OTA!)

[Counselor's Offices]: Round One Counseling Sessions

Ten Forward - 1st Entrance

[Ten Forward:] This is why we can't have nice things [OTA]

so wake me up when it's all over ( open )

Found and Lost - OTA - Outside Prim's quarters

(no subject)

[OPEN; Party Post!] B-i-r-t-h-d-a-y boys in Ten Forward

[Sickbay]: Round Eight Scans and Vaccines

+1 multi-personality genius, monster, superhero, fugitive, doctor

Two | Open

Prince in the tower? [Open]

It's hard to believe that there's nobody out there... [OPEN]

Ten Forward

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March 2016

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