ten_fwd_ooc | Test Drive #7 - Ten Forward and Captain's Yacht

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test drives

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!]

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The officer holds up her hands and keeps talking. Annie can barely keep track: she knows boats inside and out, and can do basic repairs on motors, but this is...

This is far, far beyond what a fishergirl from District Four would be able to follow.

Lieutenant Follet explains more: a person called Q, so many people brought here from different times and places. Different universes, until Annie is feeling dizzy with all the things she cannot quite understand. It's enough to make her step close to Finnick, brush his elbow to get his attention, raise her eyebrows and pointedly move her eyes to a free table.

Maybe...they should regroup. Talk. Maybe ask someone else to confirm - if only to confirm if this is a game or not.

"I am called Merlin, milady, and aye, I am. Earth was ever my home, and my place of defense. Its people were the ones I guarded all my long years. But now my watch is ended, it appears." Merlin sighed, his eyes feeling tired, all of him feeling tired.

"In this universe, I am merely a wizard without my way."

Her cheeks, which had so quickly turned red, turn white even faster. She knows the beat of stories, that she should accept 'killing people' and gasp at lost time. But this isn't the Capitol, this man is not a Victor playing a part. Maybe he is. Maybe he is playing a part.

But she doesn't know. She can't be sure.

"I," she says, getting to her feet quickly, "if, if you miss ships, I've overheard some, some of the engineering crew like to talk. Boast. Sailors, you know, and their ships. But I, I need to...it was nice talking to you," she finishes, her giggle high and nervous.

It isn't smooth, she's never been smooth in conversations. But if there is one thing she's learnt how to do, it's vanish into a crowd, which is exactly what she does.

Alex gaped up at her, then winced, and sighed. "Ah, sure, okay. Sorry. ma'am." His shoulders slumped and he looked away, and didn't try to bother her or pursue her. He's had enough brush offs to know one when he saw one. And remembering everything... well, now he really felt the need to have a drink.

And so he just reached for his PADD and ordered one from the bar, and tried not to stare after her when she inevitably moved away. And his mind's eye was full of explosions, and of imaginary screams, and his face, eventually, full of tears.

She had to try and be strong for her mother, who was there. They were curled up together, watching the Quarter Quell, watching her sister being brought up into the arena. Again. She was clinging to Lady and Buttercup, her mother clinging to her.

In the room with her were all the others who had come to watch together, to offer support, or to take it. Gale and his family, Peeta's parents, Madge. And she had to be strong enough for all of them. She couldn't cry now, couldn't, she wanted to though.

She clung tighter to the goat, her fingers closing in the fur of the cat, eyes locked on the screen... that was suddenly showing stars moving past, as though the night sky were turned on its side and sped past. What was this? What was the Capitol doing now? It made no sense, but then... nothing in the games made sense. Not since her sister came home...

To anyone who saw her appear, she was faced away from the room, sitting and facing the windows in 10foward. With her was a goat, also facing away, the cat hidden from sight by her body. what was visible was the back of a young girl in a skirt and blouse, the tail of her shirt sticking out from the back of the waist band of her skirt, like a duck tail.

Finnick is good at judging the age of kids, looking at them and assessing their potential experiences and abilities, their build, their strength, what you might be able to learn from appearances alone. It's a skill that comes to Hunger Games mentors, not only as they try to determine what their own tributes may be capable of, but, equally important and far less easy to determine, from their competition.

The girl would be twelve, maybe thirteen, but not older. Old enough to be reaped and too young to stand a chance, and the thought darken's Finnick's bright eyes for a moment before he steps forward towards her.

Maybe she, like so many others here, is from a world with no Hunger Games.

But when he gets close enough to see her face, he recognizes her. A sweet, pretty face, blonde hair, little similarity to her elder sister, but still unmistakeable as the girl who'd been splashed across the television screens of Panem.

Primrose Everdeen.

Katniss' baby sister.

"It's Prim, right?"

He himself needs no introduction. His face, his hair, above all his characteristic light sea-green eyes say who he is.

She turns to see who had spoken to her, the name was unfamiliar. At first there was a momentary blankness in her eyes, confusion. He wasn't from District 12, he wasn't....

and then it CLICKED. Suddenly she knew who he was. He was one of the other tributes, Fin or Gil, or something else watery or something...

But he was one of the other tributes. He was one of the people trying to kill Katniss.

And now somehow he was here! She had not fully registered yet that they weren't in their new house in the Village. She clung harder to the goat and cat, making them protest, but those sounds were nothing compared to her own. She took one look at his eyes, now that she knew who he was...

...and SCREAMED.

"Whoa, whoa."

Finnick takes a step forward, both hands outstretched in that universal gesture of I mean you no harm.

Of course, she can't know that, any more than she can know his mission in the arena is not to kill her sister, but to keep her safe. Finnick's famous around Panem, a living legend, and while it's mostly for things that are no reflection on who he really is, he's also famous for the skill and strategy he'd shown in the arena when he was barely older than Prim.

"Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you."

This isn't the arena, she isn't one of his tribute's competitors. He doesn't have to wish her harm and hate himself for doing it, because of the cycle of killing and crowning and killing again that is the Games.

If anything, he has to keep her safe, too. For Katniss. For the revolution.

She wanted to get away, but she was twisted in her seat to look at him, and as pinned by the animals as they were by her. But she kept her death grip on both. "WHERE IS KATNISS?! WHAT DID YOU DO TO KATNISS?!" she shrieked, her tear stained face red from screaming. "How did you get here?" she asked, starting to sob now, still not fully registering that she was no longer in District 12.

"You're - supposed to be?"

Peter frowns, but he doesn't move an inch. Not even a fraction of one. Hands are still held out and up, glasses still in need of a readjustment, expression still as unassuming as it usually is, but especially more so.

"Whoa, what does that - I mean, you're not serious, are you?"

If the way the guy carries himself is any indication, maybe there's some truth of it. Then again, Hell could be a number of things and interpreted in a number of ways, so who knows?

Peter will just ... you know, wait. Until the other guy stops feeling threatened enough to stop the whole attack-dog mode.

When his hand closes around the man's wrist, it does at least seem to get some reaction, even if it's just to pull back away from Finnick. The man is icy cold to the touch, and Finnick knows better than to manhandle him, so he lets him pull back.

It would be easy to lie to the man, to tell him that whoever she is is safe, just for the sake of calming him down, and Finnick's more than capable of it, but it wouldn't do any good, because he'd expect to be able to see her.

"Whoever she is, she's not here. You're not where you were."

The man's disoriented, clearly worried, but they can't focus on that worry. They can't do anything about whoever he left back home, but this man needs help, or he'll die.

"You're not well," he says. "We need to get you warm."

And a doctor. Assuming there are some in this place.

"I haven't seen her. As far as I know, Katniss is in the arena."

Where he should be, protecting her. That was the plan. Not winding up here.

Finnick takes a step back from the panicky girl, doing his best to look non-threatening. In another place, in another situation, that would be easier than it is here, where her thoughts are clearly on the arena.

"I didn't get anywhere. You're not in District 12 anymore. Just like I'm not in the arena."

He pauses, for a moment, before he holds up his arm, the golden flame-entwined bracelet still there.

"You know who gave me this? Haymitch. I'm going to ally with your sister."

She swallowed hard. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that Katniss wasn't going to be alone, that someone was going to help her... but... "They won't let two people win," she whispered, "not again."

She knew alliances in the arena, she grew up watching the games like any other kid in Panem. And this...he... he wasn't Rue, either he would fail to protect Katniss or one of them would wind up stabbed in the back. Figuratively, if not literally.

Tears ran down her face, as she tried to focus on the only thing she could without screaming mindlessly.

"If I'm not... if... where are we? Why are we here? My mother needs me!" she cried out, now finally looking around desperately and.... nothing she saw made sense....

"Are we...." she whispered, gasping for breath a bit, "is this the capitol?" Katniss and Peeta had remarked on how strange everything was there... Her eyes landed on some of the people, how strange everyone was there...

No.

No, they won't. But if all goes according to plan, if Plutarch and Haymitch, Finnick and Johanna, and Beetee and Wiress all manage to do their jobs, they won't have to. The Capitol won't be letting anyone win, because the tributes, as many of them who are in on the plot as possible, will be rescued.

Above all, the aim in all of this is to save Prim's sister. The rebellion needs Katniss, far more than it needs Finnick. If it comes down to that final awful moment when allies turn on each other?

It'll be Katniss who walks away from it, not Finnick.

But Prim can't know any of that.

He's saved from having to calculate a lie to assure her, though, because she's distracted from the topic of what Finnick may or may not have done to her sister by the news that she's not in District 12.

"I don't know," he tells her, quietly, eyeing the goat at her side, which seems remarkably unperturbed by all of this. Maybe goats aren't all that smart; he doesn't have much experience with them.

"It doesn't look like the Capitol, and I ... have spent a lot of time there." He manages to keep the bitterness out of voice, at least. "And these people don't look like Capitol people."

But he doesn't trust the Capitol to not be playing one of their tricks, and that much shows in his eyes, though he can't say it out loud. Not if the Capitol may be listening.

Edited 2015-01-08 05:12 (UTC)

"Then where are we?" She wanted to ask why he was there instead of in with her sister, but since she wasn't sure that she believed him about an alliance, it was better not to ask, right? "How did we get here?" she asked in a broken whisper. And how freaked out was her mother right now? She let go of the goat to hold buttercup tight to her chest with both arms.

Katniss Everdeen doesn't even like him. That's why he's got the bracelet. She didn't want him as an ally, didn't like him, but wanted Mags. Yet here's Katniss, running across a room to him, hugging him like nobody but Annie has hugged him in a long time, all fierce strength and desperation, holding onto him like a lifeline.

The hug lasts long enough to be uncomfortable, not because of how tight she's holding, or because he doesn't like her or want to watch out for her -- that's all he's trying to do in the arena -- but because the contact is so intense, so sudden, because he barely knows her, because he has so little control over who can touch him and when.

(There'd been a time when Finnick was as free with hugs and touches as anyone, but that was many years ago.)

"Katniss?"

When she pulls back, it's of her own accord, and Finnick has managed not to tense up again only through so many years of schooling himself in pretending to want things and people he loathes.

At least he doesn't loathe Katniss or begrudge her touch, resent her though he might for claiming with Peeta the relationship he's forbidden with Annie all for the sake of strategy in the Games.

What strikes him most, though, is the look on her face, a look of sorrow and loss and uncertainty.

"Sorry for what?" he asks, genuine for a moment before a smile flashes over his features, a smile he doesn't really feel. "Turning down the sugar?"

It's a stupid joke, but it's light, deflecting, something to give him time to think, to assess, because this could get him killed.

There's something deeply, deeply wrong here, not just in seeing Katniss not wearing her tribute's costume, but in how she's acting. He's watched a lot of footage of Katniss Everdeen, and she doesn't hug near-strangers and apologize to them. He was expecting a struggle to even get her to ally with him.

There are stories. Things that people have told him since he'd found himself here, and he trusts them as much as he trusts the glamor of the victors. The Capitol can lie, manipulate, and scheme, can fill the world with images and stories and sounds that are no truer than Finnick's smiles to the media.

He doesn't trust what he's been told any more than he does the Capitol, because as far as he knows, they could be one and the same. The Capitol's snares are difficult for anyone to escape, near-impossible for a victor.

Finnick hasn't stopped assessing the situation since he arrived, his attention flicking around the room, into the corners, wherever there might be a threat. Nobody's offered him one yet.

What he has to do here is clear: not just because Prim is just a kid and needs protecting, but because of Katniss. He has to look after Primrose Everdeen.

"They say we're in space, that some sort of being brought us here. For the sake of entertainment."

There's no mistaking the bitterness in the last word, because he, above anyone but the other victors, knows exactly what that implies.

He's belonged to the entertainment of the Capitol for far too long already.

She shook her head, unable to formulate a more eloquent response. That... made no sense. In so many ways. She couldn't even fathom it. She just stared at him, confused and afraid and wishing things made sense again... no... wishing Katniss and she were home and safe again. Then it would not matter if it made sense, because at least her sister would be home and safe. She sniffled, trying not to break down crying. Again.

Trying and failing.

"Prim," he says, taking a couple more steps forward before he crouches down in front of her, "it's okay. I'll look out for you."

For once, looking out for a kid he's not about to send into the arena? I'll be a nice change.

He doesn't know if what he's been told is true, if this is a scheme of the Capitol or something far bigger, as if that were even possible, but he does know this much: he's got to look out for her. Political calculations aside, Katniss and winning her over to the rebellion aside, she's just a kid, and she needs help, and there have been so many kids over the past ten years he couldn't help.

If she looks at him and into those piercingly green eyes, she'll see nothing bt sincerity there.

She did look, and she swallowed hard.

"But...Katniss..." either he was telling the truth about wanting to help her, in which case he should be WITH her to protect her, and if he was lying, then she shouldn't trust him.

"My mom..." she added, realizing that she needed looking after even more than she did herself. Her sister, her mom, they needed the help. Prim... Prim had to be like Katniss now, to take care of the people she loved. But... she couldn't do that, so far away from them. She sniffled loudly.

There's nobody in Panem who can openly stand up to President Snow, and oh so many who want to. The parents of the tributes. The victors, tormented and broken and exploited by the Games and by the fame they bring. The downtrodden, starving masses in the districts. The conspirators working with District Thirteen: Finnick, Haymitch, Johanna, Wiress, Beetee, Heavensbee.

Mags, sadness in her eyes as she volunteered to protect the one person she could protect. Annie, Finnick himself; he's spent ten years being coerced, manipulated, used by Snow, the fame he'd sought as a cocky kid catching him in the Capitol's webs.

Finnick can feel his face shutting down at the President's question. He's never outright admitted his relationship with Annie to Snow, but Snow knows. No matter how careful they'd been, how hard they'd worked to escape notice, Snow knows.

Snow thinks Finnick is his to buy and sell, his and his alone, with no free will of his own. Finnick would have kept Annie out of this if he could, but when he's so vulnerable, so compromised in so many ways, nobody close to him can escape the risk.

He has to fight not to hear Annie's screams again, even as panic starts in his chest at the consideration of why Snow might be asking. Finnick's been punished before, punished with the pain or deaths of those close to him. There's tension at the corners of his jaw as he forces himself to nod, to give himself a moment longer before he has to make himself speak.

"What did you do to her? She's no threat to you."

Nobody in all of Panem save Annie and Mags and a precious few of the conspiring victors he'd consider friends has any compelling reason to trust him. Trustworthiness falls aside, along with fidelity, honesty, integrity, when he slips into the mask he wears for the Capitol. Nobody should trust a victor who leverages his popularity and prettiness for fame, for the gifts and the pleasures and the luxuries the Capitol offer.

"I know," he says.

Mags. Katniss. Johanna. Annie. Annie.

He has to get back to them, back to the arena, though he doesn't want to go back there.

"I don't know how we'll get there, but if I can, I'll get you back to your mother, and I'll look out for your sister as long as I can."

A tribute's word in an alliance is worth very little, but it's all he has for Primrose, who is still on the edge of tears.

"If we're here, away from that, wherever we are, couldn't we just bring them here, instead of going back to them there?" she asked in a small broken voice.

Not if they want to save Panem.

Not if they want to end the Hunger Games, and take down Snow like he so richly deserves. Not if they want to make a difference.

Of course, he can't tell Prim that. Can't let her know that half the victors in that arena are going to have protecting Katniss Everdeen as their top priority, above and beyond themselves. There's never been a Hunger Games like it.

"If we can work out how," he says.

She sniffed once more, then showed some of the spine that we see in her as the stories go on. "Then... we need to find out how we got here, and how to bring everyone who matters here."

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Page 21 of 53

Test Drive #7 - Ten Forward and Captain's Yacht

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Primrose Everdeen - Hunger Games - Option 1

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ugh I tagged this yesterday and my computer ate it so mad

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/changes canon points for the lulz

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