I preferred the old books better. [This thing is being folded every which way, because they just had to make this thing harder to use.] At least you knew where you stood with them. The old books never changed; they might never have been easy to use, but they you knew what you were supposed to do with them.

[Is he talking about the book, still? Maybe, maybe not.] With all this talk of the Initiative and the United Earth issues, there's been something that's come up several times. Something I would be worried about, and so should others.

Traitors. Those who turned away from the goal right when their colleagues needed them most. Or the ones who never came to help in the first place, though they said they would. Traitors also includes liars. Yes. Liars. The ones who never tell the truth, especially when the truth could be the information you needed the most.

[He's getting exasperated with this new book.] I wonder, how did everyone else treat liars back home? In Ferelden, we had several ways of punishing those that had committed crimes against the crown, or those who'd lied and were caught. Some of them seemed rather harsh, but if someone who steals loses a finger, why not have the liar lose something as well? Something they value, something close to them, so that they can be hurt as much as they have hurt those around them.

So, how should we treat those liars, here? If we find traitors, what do we do with them? A mock execution, whipping, leaving them bound and gagged in a small room? Killing them would just be too merciful for what they've done, wouldn't it? [He pauses.]

Andraste's foul breath, this new book is more difficult then the other! [Okay, he's done with this book thing. With a yell, he throws it across the room.]

Say what you will about mortality, the moment after the fear of death passes is truly a beautiful thing. I'm even feeling good about getting to move back into that tiny apartment and seeing these endless gray skies. Even the smell of smoke is almost pleasant after the smell of unwashed humanity cowering in catacombs.

[Private to Alistair]

I believe you once offered to trade training in telecommunications technology in exchange for training in the use of archaic weapons. Are you still interested in that?

[ The feed turns on. Leliana looks closely at the notebook and waves her hand in front of the video feed. It mirrors her movements. There are other people in other windows and they are all watching her! She wonders if this is what the other side of the mirror feels like. ]

This… communication device is so interesting! Is it some sort of, um, ancient magic? I don’t know much about those, I am afraid, but it is certainly useful, no?

This place is really grand. I don’t think I have ever been anywhere like here. Not in Ferelden. Not in Orlais. Not in Orzammar. I am sure these walls and windows have a lot of stories to tell, and these grand spaces have a lot of adventure to uncover. [She giggles.] I am going to find out, soon enough.

I still can’t believe I’m here! I can’t tell if I’m dead or if I’m dreaming. I hope nobody pinches me awake soon, at least.

Oh. But I have certainly babbled enough, I think. I am Leliana! It’s a pleasure to meet all of you!

[ ooc: psst, mods, it's Leliana not Lelania in the tags. :D ]

[Snow is sitting on what looks to be a fridge somewhere, idly kicking her feet back and forth. One hand is toying with her mirrored necklace - observant people might notice the similarities with the mirror present in Prince Arthur's latest post]

Just to make things simpler here, how many people in this place are going to have some sort of issue with magic? If you could all give me your name and some sort of idea of how far you're willing to go in order to stamp out this fiendish menace, that would be extraordinarily helpful. Save time on everyone's part, really.

[The mirror she's toying with flashes, before she drops her hand and straightens. A bright smile crosses her lips, and her tone changes slightly, teasing] More importantly, though, it seems that I've acquired a number of heavy objects here that I simply can't move on my own. [She taps a hand on her fridge-chair] I don't suppose there are any strapping young men who would be willing to come and help me move them? [She's totally just helping some old lady NPC move house but no one needs to know that right now]

( When the feed comes on, there’s an awkward sort of sways before it finds a solid place to sit and allow the camera a chance focus on its user. Madoka does not fully focuses on addressing the device at first, instead nervously thumbs at the folded piece of paper she holds in her hands. )

Hello! My name is Madoka Kaname, I haven’t had the chance to meet a lot of you but I hope that can change as time goes on. Today, um, I’m here about starting something that I think might be nice for some of us to do together! Especially now in the times between the missions and when… well, before something else strange might happen.

So, what I had thought of was starting, ( She trails off, fumbling to open the folded piece of paper. ) A cooking club!

( Holding the piece of paper to the camera, all can now see that it is a drawing of a girl (her, perhaps? the pink hair is something of a giveaway) in a rather elaborate pink and white dress holding a cake. The words ‘PLEASE CONSIDER THE COOKING CLUB’ written in large, neat letters underneath. )

There seems to be enough people that enjoy cooking or baking here, so I thought it would be fun to learn from one another. We represent a large number of worlds and cultures, so it’ll be nice to learn about each other while enjoying the foods that make us happy.

Thank you for listening and I hope you consider joining!

( AND ACTION for around the apartment building – maybe you’ve been stopped by this tiny, pink girl to offer you a flier, maybe you notice her taping it to the community bulletin board (… if there is one of those) or see her hustling around with her small stack of papers. )

[The rope some of you might have seen Katniss toying with in the past is now almost completely unravelled, knotting at one end to keep the strands together as she fiddles with the other end. Tying and untying, over and over]

So the sinister organisation that kidnapped us from our home worlds tries to use our memories to make us fight, but I'm paranoid?

It's not paranoia if you're right. If you really think that they care what we want, you're delusional. And I know delusional.

[Speaking of. Katniss hands tremble for a moment before she ties a particularly savage knot. She switches topics with little concern for how jarring that is] Does anyone know what Peeta saw? Some of his memories are...wrong.

[She closes her eyes] I might need some... [help] People might need to keep him away from me for the next little while. I'm going to find somewhere high to wait it out. [because he can't climb things with his metal leg :'D]

I guess it would be rude not to introduce myself, huh?

[Hi everyone, it's a somewhat ditzy-looking blond guy. He makes a show of dusting off, of fixing his big green scarf.]

My name's Nash Clovis; I'm from somewhere you've never heard of. I know we've been brought here to be soldiers, but I have such a problem doing what I'm told. The missus hates that, but I tell her: "I can only be who I am."

Who I am was never good at the rank-and-file stuff. If they wanted me fighting fit they should've knocked a few years earlier! But I'd be happy to contribute to the war effort in a subtler, more secretarial, tea-brewing capacity.

[The keen-eyed might notice that despite Nash's overblown protestations, he does have the bearing of a practiced fighter.]

[If you're used to seeing Finnick around the city, then you'll have noticed he hasn't been around for the past couple of days. In the background, there's definitely some nature going on, complete with a lake. He runs his fingers through his wet hair, looking... ruffled, irritated.]

I'm going to be staying out here for a few more days. [A beat.] Just curious, though. Is there anything else any of you would like to tell me, or do I have all the facts from the future now? [He's talking to Katniss and Johanna mainly, but feel free to be confused by that.]

Now if you'll excuse me, I have dinner to catch. [A grin slides across his face as he picks up his trident.]

[There is the tell-tale sound of heaving in the background. The communicator is on its side, camera facing a cup of some clear alcohol on ice that's swirling in a tumbler. Where did this mysterious alcohol come from when Haymitch appears to be newly-arrived, you ask? We may never know.

His cheek is still stinging from where Katniss had gouged him, but it was a dull thrum that didn't seem so bad when he couldn't see straight. Eventually, he manages to get the camera upright and gives it a winning grin – or it would be winning, if there wasn't the telltale glisten of vomit on his lower lip. Some might not notice that.]

So, we're in for another Game. Different rules, sure, and a real 'battle', but – [and he waves his hand toward the camera,] – still. I should introduce myself, if that's the case.

[He makes a mostly-unsuccessful attempt to straighten himself up a little, leaning heavily on the outside wall of the nearest building before forcing himself to his feet and dipping himself in a sloppy bow.]

Haymitch Abernathy, victor of the second Quarter Quell. I come from District 12, home of coal and very little else.. This place is at least less of a violent assault on the senses than the Capitol – nobody's hair has made me shield my eyes yet. That's something.

[He produces a flask from his jacket pocket and places it to his lips, tipping it completely upside-down to suck the last few drops from it.]

Tell me, fellow captives -- how do you feel about the likelihood we'll be forced to kill people we know nearly nothing about in the name of this place's 'freedom'?

What the fuck is going on?

[ honestly, dude, it was just christmas a second a go. how the fuck did she go from being at the community centre to "exsilium"? ] This all sounds like the biggest load of bullshit. I'm not a transport, I'm a person. And I didn't get a weapon to fight in any bullshit war you've got going on.

So, how about you just take me back home before my mate kicks your balls in? [ 'sup, kelly. ] If you're some freak with powers, go get a life, yeah? We're not interested in your shit.

[ it's not like any of those superpowered freaks have taken them from their home and moved them into another universe, but simon kind of talks about that shit happening in his sci-fi things. it's a possibility, knowing how crazy some of these idiots are. ]

[ there's silence, then a sigh. alisha's rolling her eyes, not that anyone can see it. ] I'm so sick of this fucking shit happening to me.

 You know, I've been here a few weeks, and in that time I think I've finally figured out a pattern to the madness. I've noticed a lot of people, like me, are pretty confused as to why we've been chosen out of everyone from our home...uh, time-slash-planet-slash-continuum.

Well. I think I have the answer.

The reason why we've all been chosen specifically to fight the Evil Empire and generally bring truth and justice and time paradoxes to the universe.




We're all criminally hot.

No, seriously! I've talked to a few people around here- not one uggo around. Even the scaley aliens I'm sure are the hottest scaley aliens you can find! It's a conspiracy, I say.

Don't worry, you can thank me later.

[ SCIENCE ]

[Long time no speak, Exsilium.

Johanna's clicking on the voice feed to ask an important question. For those of you who have spoken to her before, you can tell her tone is lacking its usual bite, colored by exhaustion.]

We got any useful people with powers out there? Ones that aren't all talk and whine.

[There's a scratching sound and an lengthy yawn.]

This rain has gone on long enough.

[The video is focussed on a pretty ample chest right now. Snow hasn’t figured out that there’s a video function yet. From what can be seen in the background, she’s apparently walking outside] Well. This isn’t the sort of afterlife I was expecting, I have to say. Much less hell fire and eternal torment, more…bureaucracy.

[She stops walking] Never mind. I think I understand, now. [A sigh that’s meant to sound melodramatic, but is a little too shaky to be completely fake]

[Her face comes into view as she sits down. Her eyes aren’t focussed on the camera, but she has an idea that people might be able to see her if the way she tries for a smile is any indication. Much like the sigh, it’s shaky around the edges.] I was told we could use these things to communicate with others. What I wasn’t told was how, so I’m simply going to choose to believe that it’s responded to my glorious presence and is making sure you can all see my face. [She glances down, and her lips quirk up a little, amused] Amongst other things, apparently.

[A hand runs back through her hair, highlighting the odd silver strand] I suppose I should introduce myself and judge by the size of the mob that comes after me how many people are here from my world. My name is Snow White, and I’m almost entirely certain that I’m no longer possessed by a demon. If I start moaning about how much I hate the world, please; I encourage you to put me out of my misery.

[Katniss is in a tree. It's not clear where, but she's found a tree, and is now sitting in it. Both her bow and quiver are visible. She looks a little more focussed than she did when she first arrived, but also more drawn]

What will they do to us if we don't fight for them?

They used fire, in the Games. Or mutts. Traps to make you move, so that you'd do what they wanted you to do. So what is it here? Or is it going to be a surprise? Lull us into a false sense of security, spring the punishment on us for maximum effectiveness.

If we all just stop, what will they do to us?

[The video feed clicks on, showing a pretty young lady wearing blue and silver armor. One might notice dark circles under her eyes, making her look as though she hasn't had a good night's sleep in weeks. She doesn't acknowledge the netbook right away, instead staring down at the staff in her lap, eyebrows knitted together in thought.

After a moment, she finally looks up, addressing the camera, and rolls her eyes irritably.]

No one ever wants a mage around, I've noticed, unless they think we can be useful for something. And it's always something. First darkspawn, and now I'm fighting a blighted war for some strangers.

I think I'd rather the war, though, so I'll play along. Speaking of which - there are other Grey Wardens here. Or perhaps I still have to deal with darkspawn, but I'm trying to stay optimistic. So, if I may ask who's out there... Stroud? Anyone else from Vigil's Keep?

[She moves to reach for the 'off' button, but freezes. It wouldn't hurt to introduce herself to everyone else here, instead of being such an angry jerk all the time, she realizes. SIGH, her life is so hard. B(]

Ah, and - my name is Bethany Hawke. If I didn't just make it completely obvious, I'm one of your newest "transports." [She bows her head politely.] A pleasure, I'm sure.

[At first it's just a huge puff of black hair in the screen, rustling about, but then the screen adjusts itself and a pale skinny teenage girl is sitting in front of the camera with an impish grin. She coughs loudly into her hand.]

Testing, testing, one, two, one, two, blah blah blah! All right geeks, listen up. Lash speaking, reporting in, whatever!
I don't know what is even going on around here, but can I just say one eensy weensy little thing?

[She reaches off screen, wrestling with something that sounds really heavy. After a few moments, she comes back with a very sci-fi looking gun in hand. It's a little oversized, but she holds it comfortably like a rifle.]

Check out my shiny new baby, the DEATH RAY! Teeheehee!

I mean, all right, I'll admit this place was totally weird and that lady was even a bigger weirdo when I was JUST abducted or whatever, but how can I stay mad when they just give me free cool stuff like this?! Huh? HUH?? I can't! I feel like I'm 10 all over again! Teeheehee!

Anyway, who're all you losers out there? Anyone get some spiffy swag like I did?

[ For the moment, the video function remains off. Which is a shame, because dem ginger curls. But he's testing the waters, so for now it's only the Scottish brogue that filters over the network. ]

It figures. The one time I dial 999 and nobody bloody answers.

[ It's probably a good thing no one answered; Ashley isn't even sure what he would have said. This was all too surreal already. ]

That's just typical; years of loyal service and putting up with government standards and this is the thanks I get.

So who am I talking to? To whom do I owe the great honour of experiencing this mental clusterfuck, and when do I get to wake up? More importantly, where can I find a pack of cigarettes. Mine's almost out.

[ All things considered, Ashley sounds pretty calm. His tone is light, if a bit annoyed, though the sarcasm that laces his every word runs deep. ]

[There’s a girl staring down at the netbook in blank incomprehension. Observant people might notice the burn scars on her hands, crawling up her neck. Slowly, her gaze drags upwards to see the light that indicates the camera’s on, and recognition flickers in her eyes. She sets the netbook down and sits on a bed nearby, curling her feet under her. One hand is clenched around a bow, and the quiver is on her back already] You can see me, can’t you. [It’s not a question, and she doesn’t even appear to be addressing the camera.] Of course you can. They’re always watching.

It was supposed to be over. All of this. The fighting, the killing. It was supposed to be over. And don’t tell me there might not be killing. You don’t hand a victor a weapon and expect them not to use it.

[She stands, swiftly, drawing an arrow from the quiver and setting it on the string in one smooth movement. It’s aimed at the netbook. The expression on the girl’s face is almost too intense. A smile touches her lips, but there’s nothing positive in the expression] If you want me to fight for you, I’m going to need you to bring me Peeta.

[Her arms jerk up, aiming elsewhere, and the arrow is released. There’s a crash that indicates she hit something, and judging by the look of hard satisfaction in her eyes, it’s what she wanted to hit.] I could use Haymitch, too.

[ When the feed clicks on, you're met with the confused but guarded face of Dean Winchester. He's seen these kinds of tricks before, but the setting has changed. ]

Okay, what the hell is going on? If this is some shitty trick then I ain't laughing. [ He's used to all sorts of crap but this is pushing it. ] Honestly, this bullshit about being in the future and fighting some battle? I know you're the creative type but come on.

So, answers. Give 'em to me before things turn ugly. I ain't sittin' around quiet and pretty this time.

[ Cue arms crossed. He's waiting. ]

[ There's a woman, tattooed from head to toe, and wearing barely anything but a few creatively strapped white bandages for a shirt, and she seems to be meandering aimlessly about the Initiative Hold complex, looking up and around rather than at the screen. ]

Normally when I show up in a new place and people start trying to throw weapons at me I'm fucking thrilled. But I've got a group of delinquents-to-be I need to go back to teaching how to blow shit up and kick Reaper ass. [ She pauses to chew at the inside of a cheek thoughtfully before turning her full attention to the screen. ]

So if you don't mind, and if it's all the same to you guys and the representative from the Stepford galaxy over here [ a thumb jerked to the woman in purple and black robes and stiffly designed hair that picked her up from the glowy platform ], I'm just gonna take my fancy head-splitter [ a shotgun is waved haphazardly in the view of the camera ] and fuck right off.

[ A silent moment passes before she deadpans with an edge of lazy threat: ]

And by that I do, in fact, mean: point me to the exit before I start cracking skulls.

Thanks.

Now, hmm, how does this work...?

[There's sound before there's video: the random pressing of keys and buttons, accompanied by a chipper, breezy sort of voice with an accent those from Earth might recognize as something resembling Australian, though the girl speaking is from a world without an Australia.]

This is like those gadgets they had on Cocoon.

[The video feed blips on, the focus swinging wildly between a pair of fawn-colored boots, a flash of leg, the bright orange fabric of a skirt, the ceiling, a wall, a wrist covered in bracelets and bangles -- about enough to give anyone watching motion sickness.

The shaking stops soon enough, having failed to yield the result Vanille is looking for, and the image shifts to a very close view of half an impatiently frowning face, and a ginger pigtail.]

She said I could use this to talk to people, but how?

[And then the shaking resumes.]

Hello? Are you on? Can anybody hear me?

[For a brief moment, there is a flicker of the video feed. There's not much to see, except for Finnick's face. He looks wan, dark circles under his eyes and a half-mad look in those sea green eyes of his. It lasts only a few seconds.

And then the image is gone as he switches his post to voice. He doesn't want people to see him like this. Bad enough all of District 13 saw his breakdown.

His voice is shaky, though. Life in Exsilium is definitely not sitting well with him.]

Maybe the Initiative is trying to drive us mad. First the brainwashing, then a subtle form of torture. Promising pain relief if we want it. Next thing you know, they'll try to find a way to kill off our loved ones. [He makes a noise that sounds something like a laugh. Maybe. If you squint.] I wonder if this is what it feels like to be addicted to morphling. Hey, Johanna, maybe you can share with the class.

[There's a long pause.] I just want it to stop.

[The feed turns on and you'll be greeted by a gothic blonde-haired woman.]

This Exsilium is quite the curious place, isn't it? From what I've been told, we've been brought here to fight in some kind of war we had nothing to do with, expected to work with people we've never encountered before, deal with enemies we know little about, and they are very obviously hiding information from us.

[She rolls her eyes. The sheer stupidity of all this. But hey, at least she's alive.]

However, I suppose I am in no real position to complain...considering I was dead before I came here. Quite the surreal feeling, waking up as if your death was just a mere dream.

[A beat.]

At any rate, my name is Margaret. Pleasure to meet you all. If anyone knows more about the situation we're in, I would appreciate the information. Thank you.

[And the feed ends.]

[One of the disadvantages of not coming from a rich district means no fancy technology, and it takes some serious key smashing before the video function comes up, something this lady with uneven, brown hair is not immediately aware of as she pounds on the keys. Eventually she catches a glimpse of herself on the screen and stops. The words 'piece of Capitol crap' are muttered, and audible if you're paying attention.]

Seeing the escorts here are about as useless as they are back home isn't a big surprise, but knowing that their fashion sense is about as awful is a nice constant. [Johanna gives a big smile at that, one with a threatening, subtle anger behind it.] And hey, they give you actual weapons before starting the blood bath.

So, anyone out there in Exsilium-[She taps a fingernail against the screen twice, her amusement fading into a haughty stare.]-have an explanation for what's going on, or is this a delusion I'm going to have to remember to pass on to a shrink later? The faster you start talking, the less likely it is that I'll start collecting scalps.

[The video feed clicks on to show a very handsome young man on the screen, his lips pulled up into a grin. It looks easy going, but there's a tightness to the corners of his mouth, and it doesn't quite reach his eyes.]

I have to say, this is a big improvement over the sewers. You don't even want to know how that place smelled. [He gives a short, soft laugh, running his fingers through bronze hair.] I might never get that smell out.

But I don't think anyone really wants to hear about that, do they? [A pause, and the smile drops somewhat.] I... was with some people before. [And he doesn't exactly want to give too much away at the moment, so.] Is anyone from Panem here?