(no subject)

[notjustapiece]

( cut for spoilers from the hunger games )

When he comes to, it’s in a sterile, white room that doesn’t look entirely unlike the launch rooms beneath the arena. It neither confirms or denies the presence of the Gamesmakers or Capitol personnel but, for now, it’s quiet. It also doesn’t look like District 12. There’s a sting in his neck from something, maybe an injection, but otherwise he feels mostly all right and mostly altogether.

When he sees another woman in the room with him, it's a start on figuring out where he is.

(no subject)

[the_iceman]

Mycroft Holmes, in the few weeks he had spent on this space ship, had come to learn a few things about himself that he had previously never considered.

First and foremost, that he was not accustomed to novelty. Working for the British Government (and yes, occasionally the CIA) every day had been different to the one that came before. For years his life had been predictably diverse. There were a few set points; coffee at seven, morning briefing at half past, tea at four and dinner at eight. The rest could seldom be foretold too long in advance. He missed that.

Here he found himself in a predictable drone. A monotonous day to day. And contrary to anything he might have believed about himself, he did not enjoy it. He, who could sit at the Diogenes club for a whole day, not speaking, but reading only, or simply gazing at the fireplace, he, who could sit and do nothing but think for hours – was wishing for something to do.

A third point – though hardly a revelation to him – was that he missed his work. He'd been called a workaholic by colleagues before, and the term seem ludicrous at the time, but he was starting to see its relevance. As a drinker might pine for a single malt, he wished for work, for the intricate puzzles he had faced every day. Though he would never say it aloud; he was starting to understand what his brother meant when he loudly announced that he was bored.

He wandered around the ship, and found himself walking into the auditorium. For no reason at all he walked down the dusty passage to the front. Lectures had been given here, concerts and theatre performances. The acoustics would have been mesmerizing. He walked down and concentrated on the sound of his own footsteps, recalling a lifetime of work he was no longer part of.