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ten_fwd_ooc2014-12-27 03:39 pm
ten_fwd_mods) wrote in ten_fwd_ooc2014-12-27 03:39 pm
Entry tags:
Test Drive #7 - Ten Forward and Captain's Yacht
Option 01. Ten Forward: The first thing you see is a bar. A large, lively bar filled with many different faces and many different smells, sights and sounds. This is Ten Forward, the Enterprise's off-duty lounge; feel free to get acquainted with your fellow travelers and try to find somebody who's in charge: this is your new home now, after all...
Option 02. The Captain's Yacht: Oooh, you sneaky stowaway! You've found yourself in a very exclusive part of the ship: Captain Picard's personal craft, used for short jaunts when a shuttle just won't do. (One must retain some decorum, after all.) It may not be as large as the Enterprise itself, but there are sure to be some surprises aboard once people start snooping.
[OOC: The Captain's Yacht is located at the very base of the Enterprise's saucer portion, so if you put someone in there you can also play them trying to get back to somewhere they know!]
Katniss Everdeen, The Hunger Games, option 1 please!
Kill whomever's necessary for your own survival.
She's done it once and she won't hesitate to do it again. Because she's not where she's supposed to be. She's not in Panem, not in District 12. Home in a place slowly rebuilding itself, in a place that seems as alien to her as familiar sometimes. But there's the outdoors there. Greasy Sae and her little granddaughter who still come by to check on her. There doesn't seem to be any of that, here.
Katniss stays in the corner that she's claimed as her own since wandering into this room. It's safer with her back to the wall. No one can sneak up and surprise her. Quietly, she watches everyone that comes and goes. It's clear she doesn't want to be here. Or that she won't hesitate to shoot if someone gets too close.
Re: Katniss Everdeen, The Hunger Games, option 1 please!
And if this stands, she's going to cause trouble... and Sam is pretty sure a trip to the brig after a meeting with the Klingon's security won't do anyone any good.
Sam keeps 'his' distance, settling in at a table within talking distance, about as non-aggressive as possible, with 'his' feet up on the table, no weapons in evidence.
"You're a long way from home." It's a guess, but an educated one, based on experiences so far.
no subject
It's not quite the same instinct now. Those have dulled a little since the end of the war, for that brief period that seemed to last forever. That period when dying had become far more important than surviving. She's not exactly that girl anymore. She's come some way from that. There's a reason to live again, even if she forgets it some days. Still, it's enough to remember how to pay attention again.
She watches him as he takes a seat at a nearby table with hooded, alert eyes. Her grip tightens a little on her bow, but she doesn't pull an arrow from her quiver yet. He doesn't have any noticeable weapons, but she knows how little that actually counts. She continues to eye him warily and when he starts to talk, she raises an eyebrow in doubt.
Why would anyone want to talk to her?
Still, she answers his statement with a nod. It's obvious, isn't it?
no subject
"A lot of us are. You want something to eat?"
no subject
But she has yet to find anything familiar, anything that might set her more at ease. She can't even consider this a dream because how could she dream anything so outlandish? So... calm.
Whatever's going on, she doesn't like it. And she still doesn't trust anyone, even if the mention of food makes her stomach growl a little. But she shakes her head regardless. She has no reason to trust this man.
And in any arena, any game, one thing's clear: everyone is out for themselves.
no subject
"I can hear your stomach, you know."
Damned replicated food anyway. Just unnatural - on top of just the fact that people who don't know where their food comes from tend to not appreciate it.
Options though... steak, no. Potato. No. Fake, non-alcoholic--beer, no.
Loaf of bread... Sam holds it up, breaks it in half, obviously doing nothing to either half, and tosses one half to land on her table, within reach, at least, and takes a bite of the other half as a good faith gesture.
"I'm sitting over here, because you got no reason to think anything good of me. But starving yourself only hurts you."
no subject
Until now.
At least the reasons are different. This time, she’s not trying to hurt herself. It’s an act of defiance. A way to assert her independence in this game, keep herself from becoming indebted to any of the other prisoners aboard this vessel. She can’t owe them. She can’t owe anyone. That would be a mistake. Unsafe.
She eyes the bread suspiciously and shakes her head again, this time glowering a little at the man. If she wants food, she can find it herself. She doesn’t need to accept handouts, no matter how hungry she may be.
no subject
That's about all the patience for charity Sam has. 'He' returns to his own meal of the damned replicated food, and lets the girl alone.
no subject
She doesn't consider that even her own face might be too much to deal with. She's used to humans being awkward around her for her obvious Cardassian heritage, but they were used to the concept of people who didn't look like them.
She stops in front of the girl with the bow, some distance away, with two cups. Herb tea. Her own is Bajoran, but she'd asked a few friendly Starfleet faces for a preferred Human one and had come up with chamomile. She intends it to be a peace offering.
She's seen enough people in the mines, jumpy and afraid of everyone, to know that she can't just immediately invade the girl's personal space.
"Hello," she starts, with a smile.
no subject
But there's little of the Capitol that she does approve of, even with the changes that President Paylor's introduced. A lingering resentment of a world that she'll never be a part of.
So the woman's greeted with a scowl, one she's unable to keep off her face. Partially for her resemblance to some of the stranger residents of the Capitol, partly due to the fact that she dares to go anywhere near Katniss. The tea cups are noticed, that the woman carries two rather than one. It's a familiar tactic, one that's been used on her before to try to get her to talk.
But that doesn't mean she's going to fall for it.
no subject
"I'm Tora Ziyal--Ziyal's my first name, I know it's not common on Earth to have your family name first." She smiles, shifts her skirts with one hand. "Do you mind if I keep you company for a while? Maybe I could answer some questions for you."
no subject
She just wants to go back to Panem. To get out of this place, wherever it is.
Katniss answers the question with a shrug. It doesn't matter to her. So long as she stays within this bar-like area, she doesn't have much say on who sits nearby.
no subject
A woman's low, soft voice, from somewhere off to Katniss's side; the woman it belongs to is tall, slim, with white skin and long white hair, wearing a dress just as pale and a cowl over her hair. Stahma pauses a few feet from the girl, her hand resting on the back of a nearby chair; the gesture reads like hesitation, and well it might be. She's not unaware that Katniss is armed.
"I am sorry if I startled you. You're new here, are you not?"
Her speech may sound a little formal, and touched with a slight hint of an unusual accent that's hard to place. She watches Katniss with a curious look, perhaps slightly uncertain, but there's nothing in her manner that suggests threat.
no subject
But that moment quickly passes as she reminds herself she's not in Panem right now. Not in District 12 or anywhere else. This place is a mystery and a danger, this woman as well.
It's clear, though, how out of place Katniss is here. There's nothing she can do to mask or disguise this fact. Even if she tried, she'd make a mess of it. So, she nods. She's new. She's very new.
15 years late with starbucks
But what he feels now, what he's been feeling for the past few hours he's been here, is unexplainable. There's no definition that he knows to explain it.
Safe is as close as it gets, but even then, it's not quite accurate because he can't bring himself to trust it, not enough to fill the meaning of the word. There's a looseness in his shoulders that's never been there before either, and though it makes him feel uncomfortable, it also makes him feel ... lighter.
It's all very complicated and full of contradictions.
He had been wandering the hallways outside of the lounge, knife still on his person but currently out of sight, and when he re-enters Ten Forward, he's looking for Haymitch or Finnick because he knows they're here.
It doesn't take him long to notice Katniss, because the corners are some of the first places he checks, and when he does, his blue eyes widen to saucers and then he's heading towards her with such a sense of determination that you'd be unlucky to be in his way.
as long as you bring starbucks!
She sees him a second later. Those familiar blue eyes looking back at her. It's him. The boy with the bread. Peeta.
Peeta's here. Trapped on this vessel with the rest of them, lost in some game she has yet to understand. But there's no mistaking him. How can she?
"Peeta," she whispers, breath caught in her throat. "Peeta."
And then she's up on her feet, bow and quiver abandoned as she runs towards him with equal determination.
Peeta.
skinny non-fat soy milk latte at your service
The only thing gentle about it is the kiss he presses against her skin after that, and the exhale as the tension in his body, the worry he'd had over her absence leaves him to be replaced with relief. And it's an incredible relief, too, the kind that leaves your head light, almost dizzy.
"Katniss, thank god," he mumbles into her hair before he loosens his hold on her enough to look at her instead. "You're here. I was checking the ship, hoping I'd find you -"
om nom nom
Her hands clench into fists against his back, fingers digging in to the material of his shirt for extra security. He's here. Peeta's here, hugging her and even kissing her and she feels breathless. He's here.
"You're here, too," she mumbles, getting the words out as she steals a glance up at him. "You're here and I should've looked for you. I should've. You've never left me alone in a game."
But she hadn't and she knows it. First and foremost came her own survival. Figuring out this place and how it worked. Like always, she's that selfish person that cares little about anything else but her own longevity.
The thoughts sting. But for now, she ignores them as she closes her eyes shut and rests her cheek against his chest. "You're here."
no subject
He isn't all that much taller than her, certainly not like Gale Hawthorne, but that hardly seems to matter as his arms form a protective barrier around her like he wouldn't let anyone or anything get to her so long as he's around.
There's a moment when neither of them speaks and it's just Peeta listening to the distant chatter around them, feeling the pulse of Katniss' heart beating a little frantic, then steady ... steady. His echoes hers, like he always echoes her, because he would follow her wherever she went.
She's his lifeline, his anchor, too.
(Because without Katniss, who does he have? What does he have?)
"Are you okay? Nothing happened, right? What do you remember?"