Tavia Kincaid (![]() ![]() @ 2012-04-23 18:09:00 |
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Ice was still at a loss as to what to do with herself. She was a Peacekeeper, one who’d been trained as a tribute. She kept the peace, she meted out punishments, and lately, she fought against the rebels. But none of that pertained to her current situation, and the honest truth of the matter was … she didn’t know what else to do. Her “hobbies” had been training, or things that improved upon training. Her interests involved playing with new weapons. She had gone to the back car a time or two, and once she’d turned it into a training room. She’d gone through some exercises, but it was weird when she couldn’t see a point to it. Maybe just to keep herself in shape so when she went home she hadn’t lost anything, but otherwise … The word had spread that the jabberjays and the jackers were gone, and she was inclined to believe it; she hadn’t seen any sign of either, for the past day or so. According to what she’d overheard, this was somewhat unusual, and people were speculating about what came next. Ice didn’t care. Whatever did come next probably wasn’t going to impact her. In borrowed attire (snug black jeans and the most muted top she’d been able to find -- a pastel tie-dye), Ice made her way to one of the parlor cars. She rooted around behind the bar and found a bottle of alcohol. She’d never been much for drinking -- it interfered with training first, and then her job -- but she thought this was as good a time as any to start. Pouring a couple of different kinds into a glass -- just for fun -- she took a sip of her concoction and grimaced. Well, this was bound to be an adventure. |