Intro log - [OPEN]

[iorhael]

Date & Time: 11/8, Evening
Location: INITIATIVE HOLD
Characters: Frodo Baggins & you!
Summary: Frodo sits down, has what Bilbo would call a Good Think, and finds it doesn't help any at all this time
Warnings: None



Cloak tugged about him, Frodo finally sat upon a pair of steps. In his hands lay the strange parchment, the one the woman had called a tablet.

It was certainly a lot to take in, and Frodo was certain that he hadn't actually gotten it all in fact. United Earth, the Initiative, weapons that might think or speak. It was hard to believe any of it. It was harder to believe this wasn't a dream. It seemed he had only just settled down with the others in the Golden Wood. Aragorn had gone to sleep earlier, with that skill and ease it seemed only Rangers and Elves had, and the rest of them sorely needed. It had taken a good deal longer, but he must have dozed off sometime after the others. This seemed, Frodo thought uncomfortably, much too real for any sort of dream. How did one walk right into their company, and carry him off in the first place? How had he not awoken at all during it?

Frodo smoothed out the tablet. The surface felt even and sleek, like glass, and was too thick to be parchment, and too thin and flexible for a book. The surface rippled under his fingers. Frodo removed his hand from it quickly.

Gandalf. Gandalf would know what to do if he-

Frodo's mind turned hastily to Gollum, for the grief was too fresh and the hurt too deep. Anything else. It was unlikely that Gollum would come into the heart of Lothlorien. And if the woman was telling the truth, Frodo was now very far from Middle-Earth. Much further than any hobbit or Man or Elf could imagine. He needn't worry about him for the moment, yet Frodo found himself wondering what he was up to all the same. A thin, white shape, ghostly and fast. Prowling around the borders, hoping to catch them on the way out? Was he dipping his hands into the once clean streams? It was hard not to think of him as such a loathsome creature; Frodo had spent a good many nights listening to Bilbo's stories, and what his description didn't manage, the hobbit's imagination had been more than up to the task. He seemed foul, repulsive, monstrous... pitiful. But determined. After all, he had followed them from within Moria itself, and before that, from Mordor, coming at last to the Golden Wood; orcs and the Shadow and Flame would not deter him from what he hunted for. If Frodo managed to find his way back, there was no doubt that something must be done about the creature. He wished he knew what. Above all, he wished Gandalf were here.

Comments

[shelkethetransparent]

Shelke had gone back to the hold with the intention of talking to the Initiative people there about finding a substitute for her Mako, a plan that had fallen apart due to a mixture of distrust and uncertainty, where she hadn't made it much further than the weapon area, absently making a point of looking around and not speaking to anyone before she'd decided to leave. She'd think on the problem a bit more (and hope another solution came along) before she'd divulge the particulars of her condition to them.

So she was actually back on her way out when she spotted Frodo. She hadn't been here long, but it wasn't difficult to pick out someone who had just arrived. Especially when they were treating their tablet as if it were going to bite them. Not that it was any of her concern, really, but there was something about him that pulled her attention. Even sitting down, she was pretty sure he couldn't be any taller than her, despite the fact that he looked older. At least in the face and eyes.

When you were eternally trapped in the body of a nine year old, you learned to spot those sorts of things.

Still, she might have just kept on going past, but after a few moments of careful indecision she slowed and stopped in front of him, her faintly glowing blue eyes considering him carefully.

"Are you alright?" While her words implied some interest, her tone was distant and almost empty.

[iorhael]

Sometimes, Bilbo had been fond of saying, all one needed was to stop and have a Good Think (he thought that hobbits these days had a habit of stopping often, but not taking the time to think). All one needed was some peace, some quiet, and one's problems could find themselves a solution if one was given the space to think it over and properly. Frodo doubted he meant it quite for something like this. Or the business with the Ring. This had long gone from anything for a hobbit, and certainly beyond something that a good sit down would solve.

The sound of feet coming towards him reached his ears. Frodo looked up, to find someone standing before him.The hobbit's eyebrows rose. A child? One of the Big Folk, but already she had come of the height that had her easily towering over most hobbits. But what could the Initiative want with a child? Did they expect children to fight for them?

The very idea was a terrible one! Frodo had only a moment to wonder at it, for he had looked at her more closely. There was something odd about her eyes, as if a queer, pale light seemed to dance behind them. For a moment, he said nothing, intent on her eyes for a moment. Surely it was a trick of the light. But the glow never left her eyes, and she seemed to consider him with a stillness that wasn't found in many young ones.

Frodo got to his feet. He had quite enough to worry about and so did she, whether she was from this land or taken as he was. He would like to avoid adding his own troubles to her own.

"Things could be much worse," said Frodo lightly. "But I am quite all right, thank you. Are you from around here?"

[shelkethetransparent]

When he stood, her head tilted slightly to the side as she found herself still looking down at him. It was not something she was used to in any respect...there were no children in Deepground (not even her, frankly) and everyone there had been so altered by mako that anyone tiny who didn't serve some other purpose the way she had would long since have been eliminated. Hmm.

"No," she gave a faint shake of her head as she answered, her hands folding behind her back. "I was only brought here recently. I assume the same way you were." She glanced back into the building as if indicating that she had arrived through the Initiative methods, though it was probably obvious for anyone who was not a member of the organization itself.

"I was here to speak with them, but..." She trailed off and shrugged, not particularly feeling a need to explain her own indecisiveness. "I saw the way you were with your tablet. Have you never used something like that before?"

[iorhael]

Frodo found it less disconcerting to have someone younger than him by far towering over him so, than it was to have her look at him more closely with those eyes of hers. There was almost a critical look to her eyes as she did so, the quiet sort of contemplation one might find from those with triple the years on her.

"They have brought children to fight for them?" Frodo had to ask, aghast at the very thought. He had hoped it only an idle thought, a grasp in the dark. It would have been better if she had been one of the inhabitants of the place. And what had kept her from speaking with them?

He glanced down towards the tablet almost now crumbled in his hands. Hastily it straightened it out. "No, never. It isn't magic, is it?"

[shelkethetransparent]

"I am not a child." She stated pointedly, a faint edge in her voice she couldn't quite suppress. "It is...it does not matter." How would she explain to someone who thought a touch screen was magic? Did she even want to?

Instead she drew out her own tablet, unfolding it carefully and smoothing the surface. "No, it's not magic. It's just a very complicated phone." She paused, considering. His clothes, his manner. "You probably don't know what a phone is either."

How to explain this to someone like that. Her glowing eyes seemed distant for a moment, thoughful, considering, staring at him without really seeing him. "What type of technology do you have on your world?" She asked suddenly as her gaze snapped back into focus, watching him again.

Axel's short person senses are tingling

[got_it_memorized]

Axel still wasn't really sure what was going on or why he couldn't RTC. He was getting a little irritated about it, honestly; Saïx was going to have his head when he finally figured out how to get home. He wasn't always punctual returning from missions, it was true, but he'd never been days late before. Ugh, at this rate he was going to wind up on bathroom duty or something equally as horrible as punishment.

Well, at least he'd have some interesting recon to bring back. It wasn't much, but it might have been enough to convince Saïx not to embed his claymore in his skull.

After a long day of poking his nose where it didn't belong, though, it was nice to come home. Or, well, 'home'. He wasn't sure he was ready to call this place that without the quotes (the lodgings were far too small, and the view was terrible), but for the time being he was at least glad to have a bed. And one that was actually slightly more comfortable than the one in The Castle That Never Was, at that! As he rounded the corner to head back to the apartment, however, he spotted something curious: it seemed there was someone seated on the steps, looking rather pensive. Normally Axel wouldn't have paid this person much mind, but it looked like a child... sort of. The figure was very small, at least, and Axel had found he had a bit of a hard time leaving very small people to their own devices when they seemed in some manner of distress.

He blamed Roxas.

Supposing he wasn't really on a schedule and could therefore devote five minutes of time to determining this small person's level of distress versus their usefulness as an ally, Axel shoved his hands into his pockets and approached him. Leaning forward and craning his neck a bit to try and peer at him, Axel lifted his eyebrows inquiringly.

"Your shoulders look way too small for all that stuff that is obviously sitting on them, half-pint," he said mildly. It was fairly open-ended, but if this kid didn't want to talk he wasn't about to pry into other peoples' problems unless he stood to gain from it.

Re: Axel's short person senses are tingling

[iorhael]

Frodo found himself lingering in the area, as if moving from the very spot he had been dropped off would bring him much further from the only way out, perhaps permanently if the way was lost. It was a fear, he thought, and a silly one at that. This was not a matter of simply retracing his steps, after all! Moving off would be better than sitting here, for he could hardly find much else without some exploration. Knowledge was not found by sitting idly, and for the most part, a way out of a difficult spot would not come to those waiting for it. And what was he, Bracegirdle or a Baggins? He would have to find a way himself, and there was nothing else to it.

He had left everything he knew behind already. This should not be difficult at all now.

Preparing to move on, the hobbit looked left then right, taking stock of the folk that passed by. All that Frodo had seen so far were Men, with sign of neither elf nor dwarf. It seemed that there were no other hobbits so far out; there certainly hadn't been before, other than those three that came with him, so far beyond Bree and so, Frodo had hardly expected to find any in Exsilium. Some part of him hoped for it anyway, or a familiar face.

It was then that there was a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye. Frodo turned, to see ene of the Big Folk approaching him. He was an odd sort, with a mass - more of a mane, even - of hair that was a glaring red, the sort that belonged in a fountain pen and not on person. Frodo's eyes lingered on it, and the strange way his hair seemed to explode from his temple like one of Gandalf's fireworks. There was a sharp look to the Man as well, aided in part by the strange markings on his face And he seemed rather thin, much more so than Strider or any elf he had seen. It left the hobbit with the distinct impression of a particularly flexible scarecrow bending over him.

Frodo frowned. "I beg your pardon." And this was said in no uncertain tone; Frodo had heard it quite well in fact! "I am not a pint, half or otherwise, and I imagine I have just as much on my shoulders as any other at the moment."

oh my god that was the best reply ever. SASSY HOBBIT I LOVE IT.

[got_it_memorized]

As the small person seated on the steps spoke, Axel became aware of two things. The first thing Axel realized was that this was no child; the voice was not terribly deep, but it was certainly that of an adult. The second thing he realized was... oh! It seemed there had been a bit of a misunderstanding, and now this small not-child was quite indignant! He couldn't quite help himself--Axel just laughed. He planted his hands on his hips and laughed, though there really wasn't any malice in the sound. He was honestly amused! It was rare that anybody got sassy with Axel; he'd found his rather commanding presence was usually enough to keep people from giving him a hard time, which was honestly a bit of a shame. If there was one thing Axel could appreciate, after all, it was a little sass, and it seemed this person had plenty of it, stature notwithstanding.

Waving one hand placatingly, Axel shook his head.

"Didn't mean any offense," he said, still chuckling. "It seems we've got a bit of vernacular dissonance going on here. I didn't mean you literally had anything on your shoulders--I meant you looked like you had a lot on your mind." And then he chortled again, hiding his mirth behind one hand. "And half-pint is a colloquialism for, ah..." He held his hand out to indicate height. "Diminutive folks," he said finally, searching for a word that wouldn't offend the small person further. Axel rarely accidentally offended people. It was always deliberate when it happened--this was rather novel.

He didn't apologize (he wasn't sorry, really), but he shook his head and shifted his weight a bit, putting his hands on his hips again and sort of grinning at the not-child on the steps. This had turned out to be more interesting than expected already!

"Let me try that again," he said, taking a moment to consider his words. "You look pretty pensive; bad day?"

;D Thank you

[iorhael]

The last thing he expected was for the Man to all but roar with laughter, and Frodo could only look at him with wide eyes. For lack of a better word, the Man guffawed, actually leaning back with the force of his laugh. It left Frodo feeling both stunned, a little lost and then puzzled, and he had to wonder if he was laughing at him or not, or worse, he thought, laughing at him as if he was a child that had said something particularly amusing. Big Folk seemed to do that from time to time, sometimes treated hobbits as if they were children, which most hobbits of course were anything but! The frown on Frodo's face grew. His cheeks heated. He did not see what was so funny.

Frodo cut in quickly. "Hobbits, if you must." If the Man must call him something, he preferred it that way, over "Little Folk" (though this was true) or worse, halfling. Hobbits were not half of anything.

"I did understand you quite well the first time," the hobbit went on, his voice just the tiniest bit cool, for he was still stung from being laughed at, even if it seemed good-natured. "What I was saying is that I am in as much the same situation as the next person, and am no more or less worse off, all things considered."

This was not quite true. Frodo thought that his shoulders were more burdened than most, but the Ring was his business alone now, and it was best to keep it quiet. And he would not wish it on anyone else back home.

It was delayed, but Frodo did remember his manners. The Man had seemed concerned in his own fashion, if he took his time out to ask him at all.

"But yes, I suppose it is a bad day. I was wondering where to go from here." He had had worse, of course, and he would have taken this than Weathertop. "Thank you for asking."

[got_it_memorized]

"Hobbit?"

That was a new term. He wondered if these hobbits were at all like the Dwarves he'd heard lived in a world cloaked in woodlands. He'd never been there personally, but he'd read a few things about little men who lived in cottages. Axel didn't really want to ask, though; he feared he had already offended this hobbit fellow unintentionally and didn't want to add further insult to accidental injury. He supposed perhaps he had already done so, as the continued explanation was made with a grain of distance. Well, he wasn't going to bother explaining that he'd been laughing at the unexpectedly indignant response far more than the hobbit himself--easier to just move forward rather than backpedal to make repairs.

"Ahh," Axel said then, waving one hand, "pardon the unnecessary explanation, then. I wasn't trying to be"--he stopped himself from saying 'belittling', even if that would have been quite the pun--"condescending. But I suppose you're right: we're all kind of here in the same boat, regardless of the size of our shoulders or what preexisting conditions rest upon them."

He paused a moment, then moved to one side of the hobbit and hesitated, as if silently asking permission, before taking a seat about an arm's length away. ... Well, his own arm's length, that was.

"Go?" He shook his head. "They didn't give you a key?" Well that just seemed rude.

Leaning back on his hands he cast the hobbit a sidelong glance and ventured a mild grin at the gratitude.

"You reminded me a bit of a pal I have back home," he admitted by way of explanation. "He tends to look very serious when he's stumped or been thinking too hard. Supposed that if you're actually anything like him, bein' asked about what's on your mind might help get those thoughts in some semblance of order."

Roxas was an odd duck, but Axel liked him well enough. His attention to detail and insatiable need for answers was a bit endearing, and there was something in him that actually kind of enjoyed playing the mentor role; it kept things interesting and made the missions go by more quickly. He wondered for a moment how Roxas was faring back home without him...

Well, no sense wondering about things he couldn't change.

Meeting the hobbit's eye, he lifted his eyebrows inquiringly. "Got a name?" he asked casually. "I'm Axel." He almost added his usual 'got it memorized' to the end of the introduction, but didn't want to add to the idea that he was making fun. He had a feeling that hobbits--he had used the term in plural, so Axel had to presume he wasn't the only one--were likely treated as if they were children by more closed-minded individuals. Just because someone was short didn't make them less experienced or knowledgeable, any more than being tall made Axel any smarter than anybody else.

[inafadingcrown]

Chance had brought her there, more than anything else. Like most people in Exsilium, she had her regular dealings with the Initiative, however much she may dislike it. But the sight of this particular figure stopped her in her tracks. The implications of Frodo's presence do not escape her and she wonders... But for now, she'll concentrate on Frodo himself, offering a slight nod in greeting.

"Master Baggins."

[iorhael]

Everything was in as much order as it could be. Sting was at his side, belt secured. The cold of mithril pressed against his chest, light and airy, supple nearly as the finest cloth in the Shire. He had what supplies he had come with, which, he had to admit to himself, were not nearly enough to last very long. He had not expected to travel when they bed down that night, and was not nearly so prepared as he ought to be; maybe a day or two's worth of food at best, and that was if he followed Aragorn's ways. He doubted Merry and Pippin would have either, but suspected that had Aragorn and Sam been caught the same way, would have gotten off better. Rangers, it seemed, slept in what they could travel and survive with at all times. He could not remember a time when he had seen the Man relax in this regard, save for Rivendell. And Sam himself was a Gamgee; in other words, utterly practical and often prepared.

Frodo's hand nearly drifted up to touch at his neck, but stopped. He could feel the weight that lay hidden under his clothes anyway. The Ring was still there. It had been, of course; he had checked the moment he had arrived and no one to observe him, but chain or no chain, he reasoned, there was no harm in checking. Just to be certain. The thing had a way of slipping off if given the chance. Satisfied for now, Frodo turned, having finally shaken off the momentary unwillingness to leave the spot.

The voice that called his name drew him short. One of the Fair Folk stood by, having just arrived, the fairest one he had seen before and ever would see, save Lady Arwen. The surprise that took the hobbit was immediate and strong, the relief that took him (he was not alone) was small and guilty; how could anyone bring her here? But there was no imitating the voice or the look in her eyes, how old and vast she seemed, like a pool whose depths were fathomless. Nor would he ever forget how she had seemed to look through him. What she had asked of him silently, the thing that he would not share with the others, not even Merry. She was one of the last people he would have expected to encounter in this place.

The hobbit took a step forward towards her, then belatedly bowed low, feeling extraordinarily clumsy in her presence.

"Lady Galadriel."

[inafadingcrown]

She watched him carefully, keen eyes taking in those little details- his hand moving toward the chain, his obvious surprise at her appearance. And for a time, her eyes are much as they were when first Frodo met her in Lórien- piercing, distant and yet all too close for comfort. But at his bow, they softened and she smiled faintly.

"I had not thought we would meet again, before the end."

[iorhael]

He rose from the bow. It was one thing to be proper amongst those back home, but such manners seemed hardly enough for such great folk like Elves, and particularly the Golden Lady. Frodo held her gaze as long as he could, but found even then there was something too deep and so old lurking there, something as beautiful but lonely like starlight. He dropped his eyes after some time.

"Neither had I," Frodo said, though secretly he had been wondering whether they would even meet at all. They all went towards doom, but he wondered, and not for the last time, if there would be any return from it. "How have you come to be here? It seems I only saw you hours ago."

[inafadingcrown]

"And for me, it has been weeks. They told you of their manipulation of time, did they not?" Her smile turned a little apologetic; it was not so long ago she was as confused and frustrated as he- in all honesty, she was still frustrated. "I arrived in much the same manner as you, I imagine.]

[minded]

For the time being, keeping his distance from M'gann seemed like a good idea. Things had started off rocky and didn't seem like they were getting any better by the looks of things. Conner also figured that it was probably for the best to take to the training center to help take his mind off of everything involving the martian. That was exactly where he was headed, Wolf and Sphere trailing and walking alongside him. Anyone new to Exsilium would arrive nearby at the Initiative Hold. Lately it had begun to show much activity, much displaced activity.

As Conner approached the building it was Wolf who first picked up on the figure seated at the steps. "Hey," Conner immediately spoke to the beast, watching as the large wolf began to make his way to where Frodo was, "where do you think you're going?"

Sphere gave a series of curious chirps and beeps, rolling around Conner and pointing her viewing sensors in Wolf's direction as Wolf stopped to look back at Conner and then over to Frodo again. Conner's brow lifted in mute question but looking past him to Frodo, he then picked up on why Wolf had wanted to make a pit stop by the small being. "All right all right." A hand was waved and Wolf turned back to Frodo, sniffing the air as he approached.

"Something the matter?" the kryptonian asked, gravel crunching under his boots as he came closer in Wolf's steps. Conner held up his hands to show he was a friend and meant no harm, just as Wolf and Sphere kept their distance as well.

Hopefully I got this right

[iorhael]

Things were bad enough as it was for the hobbit, in a general sort of way that these things (Adventures, that is) often do without a large dog suddenly coming at him on top of it.

Frodo had by now made his peace with Farmer Maggot, even if he had never forgotten the lesson the old hobbit had made sure to teach him as a lad. No matter the fact that dogs hadn't seemed so bad the last time, or that they had, he suspected after the fact, not been set on actually hurting him years ago. One does not simply forget such an experience, however, no matter how much time has passed or whether the dogs were really all bark and no bite. It still sent a shiver up his spine. This one looked larger than Grip, Fang and Wolf combined even. Frodo in the meantime, had gone absolutely stiff as a board, and still as a deer rooted in place.

The dog - why must people keep wolfs as pets and insist that they were dogs? wondered Frodo tersely, seemed to hover some distance away. It did not help any. And neither did the snuffling.

And behind it came something he had never seen before, an orb that chirped like a bird and rolled itself as if living. The Man, young, but nearly an adult, if not so already, was almost lost to the hobbit amid the distractions.

"Oh yes, maybe," Frodo's voice was distracted and mild but the sort of strained politeness that was struggling at best to keep itself. His eyes, despite himself, kept going back to the dog. "The dog is yours, I take it."

c:

[minded]

"Is he bothering you...?" Conner looked between both the wolf and the smaller being. It was just a little more than obvious that something was distressing the hobbit. Wolf, too, could sense the hobbit's apprehension and made sure to continue maintaining his distance.

"He won't bite. Wolf's fairly harmless."

And to prove it the beast sat where he stood, his dark gold eyes watching Frodo, waiting.

[iorhael]

Frodo's fingers had clenched into a fists, though the hobbit forced himself to clasp his hands together after a moment. The dog remained where it was, rather than come bounding up to him further that some dogs did, too fast and too big, and for this, Frodo was exceedingly grateful for. Some dogs were fine, small, but this one was almost as large as a warg(or so Frodo thought, at least - he had never seen one before).

It certainly didn't comfort him any to hear the Man call the dog the very thing he was worried that it was so close to or to hear "fairly" and not "completely" in front of "harmless". Frodo warily eyed the dog. It had the most piercing eyes that he had seen from any animal. "He is fine where he is for the moment."

To try and get his mind off it, he looked towards the ball that had come in after. "And that, is that harmless as well?"

[feyted]

For Mia, this has been an interesting, exhausting instruction in how much people share without realizing they're sharing at all. Learning to use her tablet had led to reading backward, looking through entries by tags and absorbing what she could behind what people said. Video, audio, text, everything recorded for posterity's sake.

The more she's read, the less she wants to say over these tablets. The record is fully there, in parts she suspects filtered and protected, but overall, a seemingly unalterable copy of what people have said, thought, or agreed to before moving into the personal, face to face realms.

It tells her more than she expected to hear about people from her own world. The young prosecutor who'd been so insulting (and effective at his job, although wrong in his judgement and choice of witness) was the forefront of an effort to take legal understanding of their situation. It's admirable, if an ultimately flawed proposition, considering the number of Transports when compared to the native population and greater pull of the world.

Yet what he tries to do is something she can understand, more sensible and consistent than her concerns with Diego, with Maya, even with Phoenix. There are things she's missed in those intervening years between them, events she has a feeling she'll need to know about. There's been no talk about knowledge carried back from Exsilium to the realities they called home.

Whatever damage was caused, would it be reversible?

Her first sight of Frodo threw her off, thinking she's seeing a younger child in the general Hold area. That the Initiative had pulled in children isn't news. She knew of one child under the age of ten, and has heard of similar cases before.

"Hey," she calls out, smiling in the softer way she did with her younger sister. "Best not to be caught out here when the rain starts falling again. Did you just get here?"

[iorhael]

Frodo looked up at just the mention of rain, eying the sky warily. Even the clouds and air had a different smell and look to them. He could have had a better idea at which way the weather may take a turn had this been in the Shire. Even the road to Rivendell had some familiarity; no matter how strange the way was, much less how unfriendly the the Wild was, the sky and stars and moon remained the one familiar set of faces. Looking up above them now, he could not recognize any. They seemed close in some ways, but something then lay off, as if some had winked out or some were too far apart.

"Do you think it will rain?" asked the hobbit. A light rain never hurt anyone, of course, but rain - the heavier sort- was best enjoyed in the comfort of one's own home, with a good blanket and a better fire going in the hearth, and one's favorite book.

He looked up at the woman who had come near. She was dark haired and dark-eyed, and in this regard, she reminded him momentarily of the Breelanders. That was where the similarity ended. There was a more kindly look to her than the Big Folk he had met in Bree, less of a suspicious and closed off air that had tinged most of them. Frodo took a step forward. So here must be another who was taken. "I am afraid so. My name is Frodo; at your service and your family's," and here, Frodo bowed a little to her.

[feyted]

She'd thought he was a child. The mistake made sense given size, but both his manner of speech and movements, and his actual proportions (nothing childlike once she sees his face, young, yes, but not a child's face). She makes herself look skyward, squinting at the roiling mess of cloud cover. "It has a tendency to rain," she said. "More often than I prefer, at any rate."

Whether that had to do with being in what was once London, England, or if it were more man-made shifts in the weather, Mia reserved her judgement.

With Frodo's bow, Mia had to decide on her reciprocation. A handshake would be far more natural for her, but that small movement from him earns a small bow in return. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Frodo. I'm Mia Fey."

Defense attorney and woman at loose ends. It didn't make much of a tagline.

She smiled as she straightened up, mind racing. "The housing the Initiative provides us is close-by. It's not everyone's first choice, but it is warm, and dry, and free."

[iorhael]

"Likewise, of course." She had a wonderful name, Frodo thought. Unusual, in that it was not related to flowers or gems, but it went well with her and rolled off the tongue in a way. It was also quite short and to the point, pretty but no extra nonsense too.

Frodo frowned at the cloud cover, at how heavy and bloated they seemed. They rarely had clouds that looked so back in the Shire, even during the worst rains, nor did those very clouds have the sense of menace that seemed to come from these. With this, there seemed to come over the hobbit a decisiveness. Frodo straightened. He would have to move from this place and settle down, for the time being. Better warm and dry for a good sit down, rather than wet, miserable and unable to concentrate. "Then this is the sort of rain best spent inside this Initiative's housing, for now. I think I shall head over, if you are, and if you do not mind the company."

[accidentalrebellion]

It doesn't do for Katniss to stay in one place for too long.

She's never done well with the feeling of being confined. Trapped. That's how her father died; deep in the mines, so far from the surface, accompanied by a shrieking canary rather than a curious mockingjay. That's being thrown into an arena, not just once, but twice, helpless to do anything but cling to her last shreds of purpose that her enemy is fighting so hard to obliterate. That's District 13, with its endless, suffocating underground mazes of metal and concrete, where an entire population is herded around like a bunch of cattle.

That's being stuck in this place, the one that brought her here and expected her to fight its war. (Only this time, she's not so sure she'll agree.)

Today has been restless just like every other during her short time here thus far. Bow and quiver slung over her shoulder, she's taken to wandering. Around and around the Hold, out into the city, but what she's found is the same as it's always been. The same wasteland, one that couldn't be a far cry from reminiscent of the smoldering ruins of 13 they always used to show on television, or the ashes that now comprise what's left of 12. There's nothing to hunt to help her occupy her mind, but that'd be too much to ask. Really, there's barely a sign of life at all.

By the time she wanders back into this particular area of the Hold, she's more than preoccupied with the ever-present jumble in her mind. So much so that her normally-good senses don't pick up on the presence of someone else, at least for the moment. Who knows what (or who) she might be walking into.

hope this is correct, if not, I'll change

[iorhael]

Frodo had heard someone coming down the hall, long before he saw anyone. This normally would have been enough in the way of warning, for the Big Folk were generally louder than most hobbits, and heard with plenty of advance notice. It with his unfamiliarity with the surroundings and the number of halls, the sound bouncing around, and the unusually soft tread of this particular Big Folk that made it more difficult to pin down. So it was that Frodo was not prepared to round a corner and nearly smack face first into the lass coming around the other side!

It was at this very last moment that Frodo reacted. Had he been any older (or less well-preserved, some hobbits said), things would have gone worse for them both. A hobbit hardly likes being bowled over, under any circumstance, and they do not, I'm afraid, make very good cushions for anyone to land on.

Frodo just barely had time to see what was coming. He had equally less time to scramble to the side with a gasp of surprise.