I've never had to treat my own wounds before.

Any tips?

When I was in the games, it seemed like death was always on my doorstep. Whether I lived or died was up to me. Right now, it still kind of is, just in a different way.

I got that ticket, thanks Junpei.

I've been around main street twice. The asphalt is real. There's a train, but it doesn't move very fast. I still rode on it back and forth to town a few times. It's real, too. The jungle is real, and the beach is real. They said I was fake, but I'm not. They really should look into changing their story to make it more convincing, because I know I'm real. I know the things around me are real. I know what happened is real.




I keep asking myself. I'll get it down, eventually.

New Moore- real, or not real?

WHAT: Action log to drag Peeta out of the mess he's in.
WHO: Whoever wants in!
WHEN/WHERE: The Dark Hour, inside a seemingly endless passenger train.

The train was fancy at one point, but now it's just unsettling, the wood-paneled walls covered in bloody designs that range from scribbles to detailed paintings. There are a multitude of compartments, some of them significantly more dangerous and... occupied than others.

Every car shows signs of damage, from overturned tables and splintered chairs to shredded sheets and down pillows. It's a mess, and doesn't make for easy going.

If one were to keep going, however, they would eventually come to a dining car that shows less damage than the previous ones. Not for lack of effort, though. The yellow-eyed version of the boys has started on the mirrors already, chatting gleefully to his counterpart across the car. Peeta is curled up on one of the seats, his back facing the Shadow, focusing on whatever is moving past the train windows.

"They did forget, didn't they? Well, it's not as though that wasn't expected. It won't be long now, anyway." The cuts that were originally confined to his fingers have now spread all over the Shadow's body, staining his clothes in his search for more 'ink'. Oddly enough, this doesn't seem to have effected his health any, besides the obvious surface damage.

Peeta looks to be handling it worse; though the blood on his knuckles is long dry, he seems to be lying down more out of exhaustion than irritation. This only amuses the Shadow further.

"But that's just what we wanted, isn't it?" He grins, displaying a split lip. For some reason, it doesn't look quite like the other cuts.

The voice that responds is hoarse, but still firm. "You have no idea what I want."

"Of course I do. I'm the only one that really knows. Although..." he turns to face the rescue team, agitation mixing with his amusement. "It seems that certain others haven't caught on. Come to tell me who I am again? Or... do you have something more in mind?"

[Here it goes again. Whether you had it on or not, your TV will start showing you a fairly uninteresting program, consisting of a young man walking down the length of a train. The train itself is particularly high-end, having lavish carpeting and dark wood paneling. Eventually he comes to a stop in a dining car, pausing to examine a table laden with enough food for twenty people.]

[He picks up a mug and sniffs it, before sipping with an unpleasant smile.]

Chocolate. Of course.

[He turns and looks over his shoulder, as though finally noticing the camera. Yellow eyes can't be normal.]

Delicious, wasn't it? The first thing like it we'd ever tasted. This train had a lot of firsts.

[Abruptly he flings the mug against the wall, where it shatters in an explosion of ceramic and liquid.]

Not a knife, but satisfying enough. Maybe not as satisfying as this--

[He upends the table, lifting it with far more ease than would be expected. Shards of dishware fly everywhere, the floor a mess of rich food ruining the expensive carpets.]

First time I talked to her. First time I looked forward to dying. First time I knew my family wouldn't miss me. I always suspected, of course, but it's different to know.

First time I was actually needed for anything. Stopping nightmares. Pathetic, isn't it? I was happy with just that. I think I always would have been. But I'm not even good for that anymore, am I? Instead I keep her from dying, even when she wants to. And I know she wants to. I'm just too selfish to let her. She thinks it was just the pill, but... she doesn't remember who pulled her out of the flames.

I suppose it comes full circle. After all, she didn't want me to live because she cared about me. She just didn't want to deal with being my killer. Not even when they had me.

[He turns to face the camera fully, grinning crookedly.]

They still have me. They might always have me. Can't trust Peeta, no. The Capitol's toy. Wasn't allowed to die, either time. Have to live, even after losing myself.

[He stoops to pick up a shard of glass from the floor, and calmly slices the tip of his finger. Walking over to a clean section of the wall, he deftly begins finger-painting a design into the wood.]

Not this time.

The more that happens here, the more this place feels like just another arena. A strange one, with a lot less death. Or drawn out death, I suppose.

I don't really know if that would be better or worse than the alternative. I guess at this point it hardly matters.

I guess it's officially gone.

Not to sound crazy, but I'm pretty sure that was a ghost ship.

I think I'm losing track of time again, staying inside all day and making a mess.

So, outside. Anyone interested in a picnic? Apparently that's something you're supposed to do on beaches, though I wouldn't really know, never having been near one before. I'm pretty good with picnics, however.

I got the day off work because they turned our power off today!

I really would have thought it'd be more difficult to get married when one of the parties is, for all intents and purposes, dead.

Peeta?


( private, easily hacked )

What a night. It was good to relive that frivolity.

Amy, I'm sorry if I talked your ear off. Thank you for being so kind — normally, I'm better at handling myself. And Rory, of course, thank you for letting me tag along for the night. You two make a beautiful couple.



Ah, someone mysteriously died while we were all having fun. I've never heard of that happening before.

Does anyone have any tips on removing paint from... well. Anything?

Oil paint, if that matters.

I get the feeling something really important happens in the future, but it's really annoying nobody will say what! I already explained if I'm here and not in District seven then my part in it won't even happen right!

I mean, I'm having fun swimming and all, but if I'm never going home again I thinks it's pretty important I know what I'm missing.

Where am I? How did I get here? I can't remembe


Has anyone seen two children? A girl with dark hair and a boy with light, the girl's older.

I just don't understand how this could have happened.

Okay, I've been trying to figure this out for hours now and... I've got a few questions, for whoever is listening.

1) Where the fuck is New Moore? Apparently it's an island and apparently it's here but how did I get here?!
2) Why am I looking for a part time job, and why do I only have night jobs circled??? I know I like black but it's not like I'm some demon of the night.

and the most important--

3) WHY ARE THERE BAGS OF BLOOD IN THE FRIDGE

I'm kind of freaking out. Apparently I have a roommate but... What if those bags are his?!

I've barricaded myself in my room just in case. Help. I'm living with a mass murderer.

Maybe if I go back to sleep now, I'll wake up and find out this was just some strange, drug-induced dream.

I've got a few questions!

Have you all seen this place?

Why are the beaches here empty?

And who wants to go swimming?

Uhh... Johanna... I think something might be wrong with our oven. You might want to stay out until I can at least get rid of some of the smell.

Tip to the wise: When baking anything, make certain that you check it often.

I think I have the rosemary lemon shortbread figured out.

Is there always so much food here?