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thearena2015-06-07 12:38 am
celebrityskinned) wrote in thearena2015-06-07 12:38 am
Entry tags:
Pretending There's Nothing That You Aren't Prepared For [Open]
WHO| Venus Dee Milo and open!
WHAT| Venus teleports around the Arena setting off danger and distributing supplies.
WHEN| Week One
WHERE| Everywhere in the Arena
WARNINGS| Death, explosions. Venus having some suicidal thoughts.
Venus has been dying for far longer than the two days she's been in the Arena. Ever since she got herself banged up on that mission against the Capitol, she's been biding time with increasing difficulty, trying to make it to the Arena so she can cover up for the internal bleeding that's killing her from the inside out. It's gotten more difficult, but thankfully she's had Porrim on her side, who's been able to taper off the amount of in-person interviews Venus has had to do and cut semi-nude shoots down to zero.
To finally be able to die instead of fighting it is a strange form of release. Venus thinks to herself as she crawls through the wormholes she rips into the fabric of space and time that it probably says something about her that death always feels like a relief, like relaxing after a long day's labor, rather than as something to fear. Having to stay alive has always been such an inconvenience for her, and she became a superhero because it was a clear-cut path towards dramatic, beautiful, and permanent ruin. It's eased in the last two years, this dogged pursuit towards a final end, and yet it's always there with her.
And so she's strangely sort of happy as she teleports around the Arena, looking for worthy allies to disperse her Cornucopia supplies to. The Gamemakers are coming for her, with rats and fires and claps of lightning. She emerges from nowhere, literally pulling herself from places out of eyesight or earshot, like a migraine in quick-motion to anyone watching where she blips back into reality, with a wild, jagged, beautiful smile on her face and a bag over her shoulder.
"Hey! You!" she'll call.
WHAT| Venus teleports around the Arena setting off danger and distributing supplies.
WHEN| Week One
WHERE| Everywhere in the Arena
WARNINGS| Death, explosions. Venus having some suicidal thoughts.
Venus has been dying for far longer than the two days she's been in the Arena. Ever since she got herself banged up on that mission against the Capitol, she's been biding time with increasing difficulty, trying to make it to the Arena so she can cover up for the internal bleeding that's killing her from the inside out. It's gotten more difficult, but thankfully she's had Porrim on her side, who's been able to taper off the amount of in-person interviews Venus has had to do and cut semi-nude shoots down to zero.
To finally be able to die instead of fighting it is a strange form of release. Venus thinks to herself as she crawls through the wormholes she rips into the fabric of space and time that it probably says something about her that death always feels like a relief, like relaxing after a long day's labor, rather than as something to fear. Having to stay alive has always been such an inconvenience for her, and she became a superhero because it was a clear-cut path towards dramatic, beautiful, and permanent ruin. It's eased in the last two years, this dogged pursuit towards a final end, and yet it's always there with her.
And so she's strangely sort of happy as she teleports around the Arena, looking for worthy allies to disperse her Cornucopia supplies to. The Gamemakers are coming for her, with rats and fires and claps of lightning. She emerges from nowhere, literally pulling herself from places out of eyesight or earshot, like a migraine in quick-motion to anyone watching where she blips back into reality, with a wild, jagged, beautiful smile on her face and a bag over her shoulder.
"Hey! You!" she'll call.
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"V-Vee? Holy crap I didn't hear you come in!" he swallowed down the yelp of surprise as the makeshift first aid unraveled slightly. The smile she sports is stunning on her but there are edges to it, dangerous now more than ever, as she carries the beacon on her head. This was Venus Dee Milo the superhero it seemed.
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She walk-stumbles out of the portal and towards Phillip, taking him in her arms and leaning on him somewhat. By now she's plenty beat up, but it's that internal bleeding that's killing, that's been poisoning her for weeks now. Still, even dying, even exhausted and off-kilter, she carries herself with a brazen confidence that most people never achieve in their lives.
"I'm so glad I found you. I have presents for you."
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Confidence radiating from her or not, Phil tends to his friends first before bantering or his attempts at flirting. Over the last few months, he's become much more aware of Venus' reckless drive, to burn herself out. "Or are you headed out to the Arena again?" Like hell he's going back into that carnage.
oh no this is going to be the last time he sees her
"Give me a few minutes here to catch my breath, then I'll bounce back out again. I'm just glad I found you. You were like, in my top five of people to run across." She taps his shoulder, gesturing that they both should sit down.
well this is going to hurt, i'll just lie here
"You're dying," the way he says those two words, he's more scared for her than she is. He set her down against the nearest wall, carrying her and keeping track of her injuries. Flashes of Jeremy go through his mind again, but at least now he got to see his friend before she went off to give herself the hero's death. "If y-you got more people to visit, I-I won't stop you but..." Phillip wants to tell her how he feels about her, that she makes him happy and makes the nightmares go away. That every time she smiled, he felt less like a clusterfuck of mistakes and more like a normal person. "Give 'em hell, okay?"
He wasn't rambling like before, every second counted this time around.
first kiss y/y
YYYY
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Emphasis on show, because the sight of this woman popping into reality feels weird against her brain in ways she doesn't want to think about.
The woman may wear a smile and a bag of who knows what, but Rose doesn't waste time lifting the pair of knitting needles she got from Merlyn into a ready position. (But even then, she's still a 13-year-old in a ridiculous wizard robe.)
"What do you want?" she calls over. No one yet has done her active harm, but she hasn't forgotten where she is.
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Which is good, because she's a trained mercenary superhero and could probably snap most thirteen year-olds over her knee in one quick gesture.
"Look, look, kid." She puts up a hand and swings the pack off her shoulder. "I'm dying. Wanna be my heir?"
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Peace, she says, and that she's dying. Rose looks skeptical still, though this woman doesn't show aggression, and she at least looks tired out. But her heir? It's an odd turn of phrase to use, and some ridiculous part of her wants to protest that she's the Seer. But this, of course, isn't the Incipisphere.
She lowers her needles partway without slackening her grip.
"Heir of what?" she asks, short and simple. She may say more if she finds reason to relax.
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"You're the heir of earplugs." She pulls out a packet and holds them up, dangling them like a cat toy. "I wish I could give you something better, but I guess if they're handing them out they'll come in handy later."
She takes a deep breath, still holding the earplugs out. "Mind if I take a seat? Internal hemorrhaging is a bitch."
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Earplugs, though. Her eyebrows perk. The packet looks fine, because she wouldn't want to take anything that had already been stuffed in someone's ears.
"Mm, maybe so," she says, then motions down to... well, wherever. It's not like there's seats here. "Go ahead. Can I ask what happened?"
If she really is suffering from internal hemorrhaging, she probably has nothing to fear. And if she isn't - if this is all a (admittedly rather convincing) act - she's bound to die in this game anyway, right? It's an awful grim thought, but it's a little less daunting after where she came, and when she's been assured she'll come back from it. This is no staring down a bomb and being certain; it's a weak maybe.
She takes the earplugs, then she sits.
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"V! There you are, been worried about you."
He hiked his own bag up onto his shoulder and came closer to her. He'd touched base with just about everyone except her so far and he'd begun to worry something had happened and he hadn't had a chance to help her at all. They both had a pretty bad track record at finding danger.
"Are you okay?"
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"Depends on your definition of okay." She has a nasty burn on her forearm and leg from a Gamemaker fire, but that isn't what makes her look like a mess. She's finally allowing the internal wound that's been killing her for nearly a month now to show on her face, and it's made her go pale and shaky. But she smiles to see him, honestly and fully.
"Here. Got something for you." She digs a hand into her pack of supplies and pulls out earplugs for him, raising them and shaking the little baggie between her fingers against the sunlight.
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He took the offering with some confusion, but who knew when or if they'd be useful, so he quickly stashed them away into his bag before returning his worry to her.
"Vee, you look awful. Have you been zapping around all day? Doesn't that hurt you after a while? Come on, rest for a bit. A few minutes at least."
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It's the first Arena she's been part of in over a year that hasn't been a clusterfuck of failure and shame, probably because she won't live long enough to mess it up. She just gets to go from friend to friend giving them a little something to help them survive, healing instead of hurting, supporting instead of murdering.
"Look, Jet. I'm not going to make it long." She can't say it's because of the injury she received weeks ago, with Initiate's attack on Peacekeeper facilities, but the serious look she fixes on Jet's eyes hopefully communicates that she isn't dodging the reason because he doesn't deserve it. He does. The audience doesn't. "So I'm making the most of it now."
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He moved close again and pulled her into another gentle hug, his fingers brushing through her hair. "Okay. Is there anything I can do?"
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When she calls out to him, he tenses more, unsure what she wants or her intentions, it's not that he doesn't recognize her once he focuses his eyes, but it's that he barely knows her. He remembers her voice, dancing with her briefly, sharing some light banter, but then it was over. That was that. And even as he looks at her, something looking off about her, he couldn't say what was wrong or if he was even right about it. In the end, he just doesn't know this woman.
Still, seeing her use her powers, come out looking pretty pleased with herself sets off a warning bell in his mind. He's seen what powers do in this arena so far, he's seen people get themselves hurt, seen people get other's hurt. The Cornucopia had been a mess.
"You should be careful, using abilities" there's concern for her safety in his voice, but also wary of becoming a casualty of her using her abilities.
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Her face, made hard with wildness, softens a bit when she seems him - and sees the state of him.
"I come in peace!" she yells, taking a few steps forward as if she's approaching a horse she knows well, with only cursory care given to caution. She raises the bag of supplies off from her shoulder. "I come bearing gifts!"
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When she moves to approach him, he leans back a little, tentative of her intentions, but he doesn't take a step back, holding his ground for the moment. He stays on his guard though, his ill seeing eyes never leaving her.
"Gifts? Not exactly how I pictured you to look, Santa," he sounds unsure at first, but quickly covers it up with a dumb joke.
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She gets close enough to him to make contact and holds the packet out - it's full of little rubber earplugs. Up close it's somewhat more obvious that she's injured, that something about her pallor is off and her eyes are lightly unfocused, despite the brazen grin and the swagger in her walk.
"Got a bunch of these at the Cornucopia. Figure they'll come in handy eventually, right?"
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But when she moves closer, he takes half a step back, more in caution than actual retreat, just not having expected her to close the distance more than it already had been. But her calling him a good guy, knowing who he is, it gives him some courage, as does how he can now see she's hurt. The realization quickly shifts his concern for his own self to her well being. He takes a step closer now, careful to accept the offered packet with a "Thank you."
He pauses before continuing, "You're not looking so hot, maybe you should sit," the concern is clear, but he knows they barely know each other, she might not want his help, but he can't not offer it. "I can- Let me help you?"
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But she had had days to get used to the firm, steady heartbeat of Panem's version of Earth again. There was something to be said for living down at the bottom of a big, stable gravity well like this.
For one, it made even subtle local changes obvious; case in point, the puckering of space-time around a singularity as it bent the fabric of space-time to form a wormhole. It was invisible, but as Shepard felt it start to form almost immediately; she darted into cover. You didn't need to see something for it to kill you, and she didn't intend to give it any advantage.
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She still meets her new location with a grin, even though it's a woozy, tired one. For the first time in the Arena, she feels a sense of purpose, no matter how pointless it is. Maybe it's the ephemeral pointlessness that so appeals to her, the candy sugar rush of doing something useful for people on a sinking ship. Delivering supplies to people who may as well already be dead.
"Who's there?"
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"It's me," She stood slowly, hands empty. Shepard never was all that smart, "What do you want."
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She takes a seat, too tired to even stand up.
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"Uh... No I haven't," Earplugs? Something just happens to Venus in the Arena. She goes from simply being a bitch straight into bizarre moon-logic. Shepard decides it's better not to question it, "Thank... You?"
There is a pause.
"You look like shit."
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