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[It's been almost exactly a month since she's arrived in this place that they call Wonderland. The only thing she's managed to do, really, is to convince herself that she is not in the land of mutant genocides. That, along with Erik's presence here, was more than enough to convince her that another video post was necessary. The other mutants who'd belonged to the Brotherhood were dead, and she knew there were mutants here like Ned. Maybe they were hiding and maybe they weren't, but she felt it was only fair to reach out to them.

When she flicks on the video feed, she's at some sort of ornately carved desk with her hands folded awkwardly in front of her. She is her usual tried-and-true blue, wearing a red tank top. She'd actually had time to dress herself for the occasion instead of having to be nude for reasons of sudden disguise.]

...I think it's been long enough with me here that this announcement is overdue, but I didn't exactly want to paint a neon target on myself while things were happening with what people call "Mirrors", here.

My name is Raven Darkholme, but I'd like it if you called me Mystique. Like some of the other people here, I have powers that had me labelled a 'freak' when I was at home, even as a child who knew no better.

I've been hunted, injured, and nearly killed by people who think that I'm dangerous for some of the things I could do, not the things I've done. I've been hunted because I refuse to hide myself in plain view because other people think that I should, because the way I look makes them uncomfortable.

Because the fact I can do this,

[She lets the scales ripple across her body, briefly displaying to the audience watching he usual blonde persona before flowing back to her natural state,]

makes me different. I know we should all be working together here in Wonderland, but I wanted to give any other mutants out there who might be looking for a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen a chance to be heard.

I'll be that person, Wonderland, if you need me.

-- uh, I guess that's all.

[Dang, and she was doing so well with being eloquent up until the end of that sentence. She flicks the phone off, ending her broadcast.]

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[She thinks about Angel, Azazel, and Banshee. She thinks about her brother, crippled in a wheelchair and taking medications so that he can walk again, even if it means giving up his powers.

She thinks about Erik.]

I know.

[Her voice is quiet and even, anger that's simmered to resentment in her tone.]

But the consequences of staying still were worse. Like suffocating in your own skin.

[Like standing there during the Reaping, listening to her sister's name be drawn. There hadn't even been much time to think, if any. She had volunteered as tribute because what else had there been to do? It had been like suffocating in her own skin, hearing Prim's name from Effie's lips.

She knows what that's like all too well.

And still, in the end, she hadn't saved Prim. She watched her sister die instead. Either way, it seemed as if she was doomed to lose her.

Katniss gives a small shrug, similarly quiet in tone.] There's no right choice, is there?

Edited 2014-11-05 03:28 (UTC)

Maybe not. I'd rather think I can make my own choices, though, than stand by and let people make them for me.

[She shrugs herself, glancing off-screen.]

All we can do is what we think is best.

[She knows without a doubt that she's more than capable of making her own choices. She's done so time and time again, regardless of any of the consequences. Her decision to volunteer in Prim's name. The stunt with the berries. Every act of rebellion and uprising she had done since, regardless of the consequences.

It doesn't mean she doesn't listen. Sometimes. Once in a long while.

Not that that makes any difference.]

Even if it isn't.

Right. We don't always have the luxury of someone from the future telling us we shouldn't be doing something.

[She mentioned that to Katniss, the first time they met.]

Maybe we should be using this place to take risks and make mistakes.

[She raises a doubtful eyebrow. Despite their conversation, she still doesn't believe that could be true. Or if it's really a good idea. Maybe she's just telling herself that because Finnick's gone now and she'll never have another opportunity to warn him. She feels guilty. So very, very guilty. Would it have made any difference? If she told him that he was going to die in the sewers, would he have believed her? Would he have done something to change his fate? Could he have?

Too many questions. Ones she doesn't want answers to.]

There are already enough dangers here.

Maybe. But whatever dangers are here, and however horrific the risk when we die ... maybe it's still better than being a coward when we have a chance to do better.

[She shrugs, uncomfortable.] But you're right. I'm just feeling reckless today, I guess.

[She's had those days herself. The days she's been stupidly reckless, acting without thinking, without any regard to consequence. And look at where it's gotten her.

Trapped in another game. Sisterless. Friendless. Alone.

She ultimately shrugs in response, not really comfortable replying aloud. Because the girl's right. Taking risks, trying to do better? It's better than being a coward. But it costs so, so much.]