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.

Holodeck - OTA

2016-Jan-03, Sunday 09:28 am
fallaces_sunt: (she knew what my books did not)
[personal profile] fallaces_sunt
Natasha had only been a little flip when she'd told Stark she was treating being here as a vacation. Relaxing, or rather, burying herself in linguistic study, has been...

Nice.

Fun.

She wouldn't go so far as to say good for her, but buried underneath the intelligence officer is a thwarted academic who is still bitter the NKVD never let her finish her post-graduate linguistic studies.

And yet, the agent is what she is, and she needs to keep her edge - both for her work, and for her own peace and mind and paranoia.

So today, Natasha is in the holodeck, firing guns. She'd started with targets in a mock indoor firing range, and then moved to an 'outside' one. Handguns, then rifles. And if anyone walks in, that's where they'll find her: lying on her stomach on the dirt, shooting quick moving targets.

She's wearing ear-protection, so if anyone wants to talk to her, maybe wait until she's finished her round.
ten_fwd_npcs: (Default)
[personal profile] 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.]
lost_singularity: (Alarmed)
[personal profile] lost_singularity
[ooc: This post is plot-locked between Natasha Romanov, DJ, and possibly some security NPC's. I'll need a doctor character volunteer though for when DJ is brought to sickbay! Respond HERE if interested!]

Read more... )
original_fine: (serious: command)
[personal profile] original_fine
Jim )


Tony )



[ooc: Feel free to encounter either in Ten Forward or any of the quarantine areas. Just leave who you want and where in the subject heading. Once room assignments are given, I'll update with that info as well so as not to be all over the place. I'm pretending I haven't played here before, or at least, they won't remember being here as it was so brief.]

OTA

2015-Jul-17, Friday 07:39 pm
sizeofyourbaggage: (you know you wanna laugh)
[personal profile] sizeofyourbaggage
Despite all the craziness around the ship, there's at least one thing that Sam's more than content with. Honestly, there was a part of him that'd always wanted his wings back, despite the fact that he gave them up - there's a reason that he'd kept an eye on the wings, kept all his files and knew exactly where they were - but he hadn't figured on having free reign with them.

Now that he does - and especially now that he's back to being the right size to use them again - he's maybe been practicing with them a hell of a lot more than he can reasonably justify as just training. He's having fun, all right, there was a time that it was a rare enough occasion that now he doesn't see a problem with clinging to it.

But flying solo only goes so far. He misses the company, and even if he doesn't want to admit that - most of the reason he's gonna be using the wings is for other people, pick ups and carries and drop offs, and he does need that training, too.

So he's angling for a volunteer, right about now.

His wingpack is securely on his back as he roams around the ship, looking for anyone he recognizes or anyone who seems like they don't have anything to do at the moment.

ota

2015-Jul-10, Friday 10:47 pm
chaotica: (18)
[personal profile] chaotica
Cambridge really hates it here.

He supposes, on some level, this is mostly petty spite. Starfleet ships aren't that different, really; while one might have a more informal atmosphere, and another goes purely on ceremony, and another contains families and the other just a scattering of scientists, they all have certain commonalities, in atmosphere and content. For example, most ships are more like each other than they are like Starfleet Medical, where Cambridge spent twelve years before being assigned to Voyager.

But, he hates it anyway. There's something missing in the atmosphere, and while the gel packs on Voyager don't have a smell of sorts, he imagines that there's a scent of ozone that's not there that should be. The uniforms look all wrong, and Cambridge resents it every moment, from bustling, bright ensigns to non-coms repairing open conduits.

Eventually, he settles on working on unsolved archaeological mysteries from the last few centuries. Alien, not human. It's at least something to do, and it's well within his area of expertise. Part of the time, he works in Ten-Forward, at a table with a handful of PADDs, frowning fiercely, cross-referencing. "No," is what he says to anyone who approaches him. Without looking up from the PADD.

The rest of the time, he works in his quarters, which he has to himself. And when he works like this, so intently, he doesn't care much for the organization of his room. Things end up on tables, on the floor. At one point he kicks a pair of pants aside, towards the doorway. Unfortunately, the next time the door opens and closes, the cloth gets in the way. So the ankle of the pants sticks out into the hallway, like a flag.

PL: Finnick & Natasha

2015-Jun-21, Sunday 04:25 pm
fallaces_sunt: (while the irony's still hot)
[personal profile] fallaces_sunt
backdated to February

A spy, a victor, and an escaped unicorn-puppy who looks like a mutt.
What could possibly go wrong?


or

Finnick and Natasha discuss mutts, countries, combat triggers, and the paranoia of surviving mass-murdering totalitarian regimes (even if not all of it is explicitly discussed out loud).
littleredspider: (fear)
[personal profile] littleredspider
Room 0718 - Genesis

Natasha doesn't often get sick, but she knows what to do when she does: go the hell to bed and try and sleep it off. She'd had dinner with her roommate (it's not as if treating the woman like a stranger is going to work, and why not) and then done exactly that.

What wakes her is Velikan jumping on her, the puppy bored and hungry. Natasha yelps, but manages not to hit him. Then she freezes.

Very, very carefully, she runs her hands over her body, taking stock. Very, very carefully, she sits up, slides out of bed, walks out of her bedroom across the living area to Genesis' door, and knocks.

If Natasha has to go to medical, the least she can do is ask Genesis to mind the dog.

She's not flipping out. At least.

Not yet.





Ten Forward Lounge - OTA

Not that a sudden influx of children are new to the lounge, but they've gained another one. A girl with dark red curly hair, dressed in otherwise unremarkable dark pants and a pale blue sweater, who is very carefully nursing a cup of tea.

And scowling.

There is definitely a degree of scowling going on.

(no subject)

2015-Jun-05, Friday 08:04 pm
tridens: (Kid: Sad)
[personal profile] tridens
In room 0767 [open to Annie and Steve]

Annie had been unsettled yesterday afternoon, in one of those moods she gets, sometimes, when even Finnick's company is too much for her, when she can barely breathe and she looks like she wants to crawl out of her own skin at any moment. He'd long ago learned that the best thing to do on those days is to leave her to her thoughts, as much as it hurts him to do that while she's upset. He hates the thought of leaving her to be consumed by her darkness, but his presence only makes things worse.

So he'd told her he'd check in on her later, and he'd gone to the arboretum to write. Somehow, though, nothing would come. He'd found himself zoning out, his head drooping, concentration wandering. It wasn't just the mind fog he's familiar with, though, he was tired, not just in mind, but in body. It was difficult even to stand up from where he'd been sitting on the rocks by the pond, and doing so had exhausted him.

It was still early in the evening, too early to check in on Annie, but he'd had to go to bed. So he'd left a folded note shoved under Annie and Erik's door with her name on it, telling her he's unwell and going to bed, and promising to see her in the morning.

He doesn't wake up early, though: he's so tired he sleeps for hours and only gets up many hours later.

It takes only a few moments to realize something is very seriously wrong, and he hurries to the bathroom to stare into the mirror.

The reflection is that of a child.


In the arboretum [open to all]

Later, there's what looks like a twelve year old boy sitting by the pond in the arboretum, still muscular, but not tall like he had been. The startling green eyes and tousled bronze hair are still the same, as are the not-quite-district and not-quite-Capitol clothes.

He's curled up, knees to his chest and arms wrapped around them, but even the fish aren't cheering him up.
thepowerofthor: (thinky)
[personal profile] thepowerofthor
(In the few hours after this)

Today has been a day of odd occurrences, and just enough of them to make Thor thoughtful. The arrival of the new strangers, and the conversation had with one of said strangers, had made Thor remember Orange County, a lot, and the feeling one would get there, right before something very odd had happened. Like an alien invasion, or half of Anaheim becoming Wonderland, or evil twins showing up, or even sex-swaps happening. That feeling would not leave Thor, now, like an itch at the back of his mind, and a prickling of his the hair on the back of his neck. Something odd was up.

For Thor, it had been a truth that if he got this feeling, if a day like today happened, then it meant that something odd this way came. And usually, something not very nice, really. His hand had been on Mjolnir more than not, not really because he wanted to use it, but because he had a feeling he might need it. Maybe. He sighed. Maybe he was just getting old. Having been in a coma as long as he had, and having the memories and physiology that he did, he would not doubt that.

It didn't help his feeling of something odd that he was feeling a bit run down. He normally didn't get tired. At all.

And now he was a little. Odd. This perhaps made his thinking a wee bit muddled. And so he was wandering, thinking, and passing through the ship almost on autopilot.




(ooc: Okay, dokay! Here, have an infected Thor, but not yet Kiddified, wandering the ship. Feel free to have yours encounter him in any of the open areas, from turbolifts to the shops. remember that skin contact is necessary to pass the infection, so that will need to happen if you want your pup to catch it from Thor. Slowtimed tags and backtags are more than welcome, and placeholders are fine, as well, if you don't have time for a thread right now.)
ten_fwd_npcs: (worf)
[personal profile] ten_fwd_npcs
Now that the medical team under the temporary command of Dr. Bashir has cleared a sizable number of new passengers for ship-wide access, it falls on 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 gathered together in Ten Forward, and are awaiting further instructions on how to proceed.

As he has done this before, Worf has a speech prepared:

"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 7, Section 4

Room # 0718 - Natasha Romanoff and Genesis Rhapsodos
Room # 0721 - Lady Marian and Peggy Carter
Room # 0723 - Steve Rogers and Wanijima Akito
Room # 0731 - Jonas Quinn and Billy Cranston
Room # 0733 - Mack Gerhardt and George Kirk
Room # 0739 - Peter Quill and The Doctor (Ten)
Room # 0756 - Danny Valdessecchi
Room # 0758 - Trance Gemini and Karrin Murphy
Room # 0766 - Prim Everdeen and Sergeant Robert Fraser, RCMP (Deceased)
Room # 0767 - Finnick Odair and Steve McGarrett
Room # 0776 - Samus Aran and Kitty Norville
Room # 0777 - Kevin Ford
Room # 0773 - Weyoun and Trever McCallum

Deck 8

Room # 2133 - Beverly Crusher

Deck 9, Section 4

Room # 0927 - Ahim de Famille and Sean Slater
Room # 0914 - Ezri Dax and Zinda Blake
Room # 0913 - Ashida Noriko and Doc Brown
Room # 0921 - Alex Rogan and Philip


"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. ]

DECK 12; THE GYMNASIUM

2015-May-16, Saturday 04:25 pm
do_your_duty: (Sitting)
[personal profile] do_your_duty
She's not very social.
It's not that she hasn't ever been.

She had good compatriots in her regiments on the Command Carriers. It wasn't the same on Moya. It was a small ship, but there were spaces she could not ignore nor avoid. Not remove the knowledge it was populated with only a handful of escaped criminals. (That she's just as much one of them now.)

The Enterprise is different than both. Larger than Moya, but much smaller than a Command Carrier. More than the small crew of prisoners, but crawling with civilians. On a mission of 'peace,' yet laden with weapons. But it does have some things in common with Moya.

The first. They each have a good training room.
The second. Aeryn Sun spends a lot of time there.
The third. There is only so much time you can do that.

Even if "time" is a weeken or a quarter cycle. Half a cycle. Which is why she's sitting on the floor now, looking at the empty room, every still, waiting apparatus. (The hum of the ship, beneath her, under it all, is different, too. She can tell, because the sound she's looking for, that something in her is feeling for, isn't there.)

(She knows that makes her more different than those three now, too.)

(Open) The Stranger

2015-May-02, Saturday 06:37 pm
tasha_yar: (Default)
[personal profile] tasha_yar
Tasha hadn't want to scare anyone - or worse - have their pity. She'd been here on some nights before, but always in disguise and making it a point to watch, but not interact, with anyone. Also, she didn't like to admit it, but she loved make-up. Not the kind that Deanna or Beverly wore to bring out their features. That kind of make-up wasn't for her. It didn't feel right on. She didn't like extra attention regarding her appearance; a holdover from Turkana IV, she supposed.

But make-up to disguise? To conceal who and what you were and be able to become someone else? She had an incredible love of that. She justified her enjoyment by its usefulness as a skill, but it was more than that. It was a chance to be someone without the burden of duty or a past. Someone more normal - unless the part called for something else.

The risk of discovery also played a big part in both the thrill of the challenge and the growing irritation at her self-imposed isolation. Tasha justified it easily. She might disappear at any moment - or maybe even drop dead - because "dead" was still her official status, though Picard had assured her the wheels of bureaucracy were getting a firm push regarding all that. Starfleet's reluctance was understandable with all the strange happenings onboard the ship, but it gnawed at her patience. She didn't want to upend anyone's life, but she missed them! It would also mean opening herself up to stacks of unfinished business, too, but she was tired of avoiding her friends - even is she still thought keeping her distance might remain the best course of action.

At least her insistence on isolation had gotten her caught up on as much security information and protocols a civilian had access to. Well, a civilian and a cadet. It turned out the Academy hadn't cancelled her alumni access. There wasn't much dangerous in that, but "not much" wasn't "nothing" by a longshot. She'd have to talk to them about that.

Tasha's tired of keeping to herself and making Aggie feel like she's rooming with a crazy hermit. Tonight, she's keeping her "disguise" to a hooded sweatshirt. It's time to go Ten Forward, to stop being someone else, face what, if anything, comes of it.
windpunk: (Default)
[personal profile] windpunk
Shotaro knew exactly what he was going to do. Honestly, why hadn’t he done this earlier? He was sick of sitting around and playing nice. It was time to shake things up.

And by shake things up, he meant a paint can. He was pretty sure a ship like this had ways of cleaning it, but that didn’t mean his work wouldn’t be seen. The classic rattle of a few spray cans echoed down the corridor as he hastily left his mark on the walls around decks 7, 9, and 10. Sometimes they were just tags which was the kanji for Hidari written in a way it would kind of resemble an L and followed with -efty. Thus, 左efty.

In other places, he was leaving such insightful things as “WhQ are YQu?”, “still air is stale air”, and “Less Directives more Directions Home”, all signed with a smaller version of his tag. Down long stretches of corridor he’d make long parallel lines the culminated in a curl. It was supposed to be the blowing wind. He chose neon colors, mostly green and yellow. His technique was crude and amateurish. He wasn’t all that good at this.

But he was putting good effort into one piece. It was the mascot character of Fuuto Fuuto-kun dressed as a hard-boiled detective, with a smoking revolver in one hand, pointed toward the viewer. The crucial element, a fedora, was lovingly poised between a couple of the pinwheel blades at a jaunty angle. The necktie was green and had the red F on it, and the suit itself was black. Shame he wasn’t quite good enough to work in some pinstripes. He told the turbolift that lead to the bridge to stop long enough for him to complete it. This was also signed.

As for his clothing, he wore loose, sagging, straight leg jeans with leather stripes running down the legs. On top he had a shiny nylon jacket with a black torso, purple arms, and on the back was embroidered Fuuto-kun styled after a Hoyle Joker with “Trump Card” written above and below it in purple. The t-shirt underneath was white with a fleur de lis made from small metal studs. His hair was bleached to a honey blonde and his fringe was pulled back, twisted, and held in place with a metal clip.

((This is Shotaro without the influence of Sokichi Narumi to straighten him out. Still idealistic but his methods.... Also looking for him to pick a fight with someone in authority or a member of Starfleet and end up in the brig by the end of this plot. Taking anyone!))
treadswater: (jewels of the sea)
[personal profile] treadswater
Annie Cresta had been - somewhat unusually - in Ten Forward without Finnick somewhere in her immediate vicinity. Away from the tatters of her reputation (and the need for it), the woman is hesitantly trying to interact with people. People she doesn't know. People who aren't the other Four Victors. Her plan today had been to go to Ten Forward, grab some iced tea, and sit at a table. She had a PADD with her, so she could look like she was reading, and if anyone decided to talk to her, she was going to try.

(It's...nice, here, the way no one double-takes at her hair, no one points and stares, no one shakes their head almost sadly at her.)

That, at least, had been the plan. She takes her iced tea from the barkeeper and, before she can turn around, her clothes change. The last time she wore a skirt even remotely this short, it'd been for the Tributes' Interviews in the Capitol. Although that skirt had been shorter. And more slinky than...puffy. And she hadn't had those thigh-high stockings. Or her hair pinned up on top of her head in two fluffy buns. Certainly no hat. Her face feels different, and she pulls off one of her gloves to trace - lightly - over make-up. Although she can't see it, her face is now pure white with patterns drawn over her eyes and lips in red and black, with a pair of red and black hearts on her cheeks.

"Oh," Annie says, more then a little wide-eyed. "Um?"




In another part of the lounge, Gaila betIlley lets out a delighted laugh. First Wonder Woman back at Halloween and now... well, she's not sure what this costume is. But she likes the purple dress, and the way these heels make her legs look.

(She can't see her make-up, and mostly Q has left her green skin and golden lips as they are. But she has the traditional black harlequin fake tears, edged in gold and purple, and she's certainly not going to object whenever she gets to view her face in a mirror.)

She also likes the amount of beads Q has given her. She's sure it's all for fun - after all, so many other people have appeared with them, too.

But she blows a kiss to the air anyway.




Well.

At least she's been given a mask.

Not that Natasha Romanoff objects to costumes or dressing up (and she can even admit that this costume isn't bad, as far as they go). Quite on the contrary - her best friend has, one more than one occasion, remarked that the room she keeps all her clothes, wigs and make-up looks nothing less than the costume trailer for a very large circus. And she uses it all. Not just on missions, but for fun. Because she wants to. The operating phrase there being because she wants to.

Natasha sighs, puts down the mask, and then slips off her platform shoes. She'll ruin the tights this way, but she can't run in those. They are a little too ridiculous, even for her.

(Hopefully Rogers is in a ridiculous outfit. It'd make this entirely worthwhile.)

[OOC: One player, three pups, comment for which one you are tagging! Due to tag load, this post may get closed, but we've discussed plot, you can still tag in :-) But until then, OTA!]

Ten Forward Lounge - OTA

2015-Feb-05, Thursday 09:07 am
fallaces_sunt: (drink of the gods)
[personal profile] fallaces_sunt
Natasha is sitting by herself at a table in Ten Forward. Nearer to the window than not - the view's nice - nursing a cup of coffee and a PADD. The 'by herself' is important, because someone with keen eyes might notice a few long, golden pieces of fur clinging to the bottom of her jeans, as if there is now a small dog in her life.

Which there is.

(He's in her room. There should be enough squeaky toys to keep him occupied, right? Right.)

(...last time she was anywhere long enough to be the primary owner of a dog, it was the 30s and her parents had been around and her memory isn't that good anyway.

She's probably missing something.)

Of course, just because she looks like she's off in dream-land doesn't mean she actually is, and anyone who walks close gets discreetly watched.
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. ]

[open]

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.

Locked

2015-Jan-16, Friday 07:26 am
fallaces_sunt: (that doesn't happen often)
[personal profile] fallaces_sunt
Natasha's car?

Is fine.

Logically, it's fine. This is the Enterprise; they are used to strange cargo in the holds.

And yet...

Well, there's a redhead in a brown leather jacket checking up on where the crew put her car, anyway. It's an expensive car. It's hers. And it beats the hell out of trying to deal with emotions.

(Re-)Entrance Post

2015-Jan-13, Tuesday 08:37 am
fallaces_sunt: black Corvette Stingray (zero to sixty in three point eight)
[personal profile] fallaces_sunt
After this:


There is a flash of light in Ten Forward and a black car appears.

A black Corvette Stingray C7, to be precise.

Which is moving.

There is another flash, as if the Powers That Be decided that the idea wasn't as funny in execution as in the planning, and the car vanishes again.

A third flash, and the corridor outside Ten Forward suddenly has the car driving down it. The driver - a redhead who hasn't been seen on this ship in quite a few months - has slammed on the breaks, but, well, she hadn't exactly been driving in a parking lot.

She stops before she hits a wall. That's the main thing. And she'll apologize to any and everyone who had to dive out of the way. But for now, she puts the handbrake on and firmly turns her car off before palming the keys, and turns to stare at her companion.

"Well, Steve," Natasha says with a tight smile. "Guess you don't have to worry about getting back to the Enterprise."



[ooc: post is open to all until we say otherwise and even then, feel free to react to car. Tag both, tag one - but if tagging one, you'll probably get occasional comments from the other.

Have fun!]
stark_spangled: ([Natasha] Chasing ghosts)
[personal profile] stark_spangled
[ During Christmas on the Enterprise, Steve convinced Q to let him go home and find Natasha.


He agreed, and Steve found himself back in D.C.

-

To say Natasha was relieved to see him would be an understatement.



OOC: Steve and Natasha have been bumped up to their canon point in The Winter Soldier just following meeting Sam Wilson, and just prior to their canon rescue mission. They'll be back on the ship shortly! ]
kelpface: (Default)
[personal profile] kelpface
Blue is a fantastic colour, Percy associates it with all of his favourite memories. One time his friend Rachel hit the Lord of the Titans square in the eyes with a plastic blue hairbrush. He grins every time he sees someone wielding a hairbrush.

So in honour of the memory and his mum’s determination that blue food exists, Percy replicates blue chocolate chip cookies and blue scrambled eggs and settles down to eat them. He mutters something in Latin, which is a little rusty, and instead of making an offering to the gods, he tells them to ‘eat my pants’.

Not one of his finest moments. He looks around, just to double check there aren’t any latin whizz kids around.

(no subject)

2014-Jun-09, Monday 07:31 pm
empathic_pathfinder: (shit)
[personal profile] empathic_pathfinder
Walking into Ten Forward is a man who looks as though he belongs there, wearing Operations Gold, looking down at a Tricorder and a PADD, not really paying attention...

...Until he grunts, bringing the hand with the Tricorder up to his head, stumbling slightly into the bar, grabbing it to brace himself.

That was a sudden emotional onslaught. Going from a crew of 30-odd to over a thousand? That would cause any empath a headache, at the very least. Terzen? He's screwing his eyes up, concentrating, trying to drown out the feelings, the emotions pouring into him. A lot of it was confusion, a little bit of anger, fear... But he was forcing it back and down, before reaching to tap his combadge.

"T'Karr to Bri..." And he opens his eyes, looking around. "...dge?"

This looked familiar. A lounge of a Galaxy-class Starship? A second ago, he was leaving Engineering on the USS Pathfinder, a Miranda-class, after recalibrating the subspace array...

What the hell is going on?
ten_fwd_npcs: (worf)
[personal profile] ten_fwd_npcs
Lieutenant Worf has gathered all of the new "guests" together in Ten Forward to instruct them on correct behavior and protocols now that they have been released from quarantine. He looks as happy and approachable as you might expect, which is to say he doesn't. It is his duty, and the captain's instructions, and so he will handle this riffraff the honorable way.

"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."

This is chased by a stern look to all the gathered guests.

"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."

He takes a deep breath. Unless they show themselves to be undisciplined or unruly, it is the most he can do.

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

Room # 0711 - Pyrrha and Trance Gemini
Room # 0712 - Caspian and Katherine Barlow
Room # 0713 - John Crichton and Eleanor Lamb
Room # 0714 - Butch Cassidy and Jack Twist
Room # 0715 - TWO SECURITY PERSONNEL
Room # 0716 - Shotaro and Amelia Pond
Room # 0717 - Loki and Sigyn
Room # 0718 - Zinda Blake and Natasha Romanoff
Room # 0719 - Stephanie Grace Rogers and Mireille
Room # 0720 - TWO SECURITY PERSONNEL
Room # 0721 - Lady Marian and Darcy Lewis
Room # 0722 - Ian Chesterton and Billy Cranston
Room # 0723 - Andros and Steve Rogers
Room # 0724 - Aeryn Sun and Booker DeWitt
Room # 0725 - TWO SECURITY PERSONNEL
Room # 0726 - Philip and Clint Barton
Room # 0727 - Sinthia Schmidt
Room # 0728 - Pavel Andreievich Chekov and Kate Newton
Room # 0729 - Leonard Horatio McCoy and Adam Park
Room # 0730 - TWO SECURITY PERSONNEL


"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: This post is open for everyone to tag in and meet their new roommates and neighbors, "party post" style! Everyone should participate if and when they can, so they can get acquainted with who they will be rooming with for at least the next several months. 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 an OOC post in the OOC comm where players can connect with questions and where we'll post 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.]
fallaces_sunt: (she knew what my books did not)
[personal profile] fallaces_sunt
This is not the smartest idea she's ever had. The library is open; she could be reading, reading just about anything she'd like. She could be in the gym working the edge off her tension. Hell, she could turn this holodeck into a gym that she's familiar with. Test out her ability to actually handle the fake reality with something safe and mundane.

That would be sensible.

Instead, Natasha is sitting on a low pier on the west bank of the Volga River, her slacks rolled up to her knees as she dangles her toes in the water and very carefully monitors her unease.

It's late spring, a vague point in the 1930s. The only people are those working on the occasional cargo ship as they travel up and down the broad expanse of the river, but there are plenty of birds. Location, just south enough from Volgograd that she can't see it.

This might not be the smartest idea she's ever had, but she knows better than to actually go to her hometown. And at least she's got a copy of the complete Sherlock Holmes stories to keep her company.

[OOC: As per normal Trek holodeck set-ups, anyone can walk in as long as they don't mind entering in mid-program.

Open until I say otherwise! :-) ]

First Entrance!

2014-May-30, Friday 09:48 pm
and_she_waited: (and she feels the hand on her shoulder)
[personal profile] and_she_waited
When I was a little girl, I had an imaginary friend. And when I grew up, he came back. He's called the Doctor, he comes from somewhere else; he's got a box called the TARDIS that's bigger on the inside and can travel anywhere in time and space. I ran away with him, and this is the story of how he changed my life...


You know that lovely sound a TARDIS makes? It's sort of a whoosh, or a hum, or a whoom-WHEEEM, rwhooom-REEEM? Some would say it's the loveliest sound in the universe, because it means something wonderful is coming.

Only this time, there is no sound. Just a step, and a little stumble, and a brand new room.

Amy blinks, freezing in the middle of Ten Forward.

"Doctor?" she calls, glancing about. "Rory? Doctor! Rory!"

Oh, what has he done now? If this is a joke, she's not going to laugh. Frankly, his sense of humour is abysmal. "Where am I?"
ten_fwd_npcs: (beverly)
[personal profile] ten_fwd_npcs
[ Captain's Log: a Meeting with the Senior Staff. Wherein Picard discusses what to do with their new, er. "Guests." ]







As you enter sickbay tonight, escorted there by Lieutenant Worf and his security detail, you may notice it isn't all that unusual. There are no terrifying devices or humming machines you could 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 Chief Medical Officer Crusher herself, she's well-groomed and kindly, wearing her teal uniform and a blue coat. No masks, no rubber gloves. The most dangerous thing about her is that maternal look in her eyes; the one that scolds you for not doing your homework, or leaving your dirty dishes in your room.

The crew makes no promises for Dr. McCoy, on the other hand. He isn't one of ours. You should probably watch your neck.

"All right, don't be shy," Dr. Crusher calls out as you enter. "Come in and sit down. It's just a scan and maybe a hypospray, nothing to worry about."

Probably.


[ooc: This is an open log for everybody. Tagging isn't mandatory, but going to sickbay is. So 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, we have Bones McCoy and Beverly Crusher (NPC) on deck, so if you'd prefer one over the other just specify it in your tag. If you would like more details about sickbay, here's the wiki page. If you haven't made your OP yet, you can assume the doctors will want to see your character shortly after they arrive.]

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.)
 

Tags

March 2016

S M T W T F S
   1 2 3 4 5
6 78 9101112
1314 15 16 1718 19
20 21 22 23 24 25 26
27 28 29 3031