Commander Jane Shepard (
earthborn) wrote in
thecapitol2014-03-05 09:57 pm
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When in doubt, act petty and childish [Open]
Who| Shepard, and probably Pruna, Sandy, Duck, and Pillow Fort, and OPEN
What| Pillow Fort!
Where| PILLOW FORT IN THE TRIBUTE CENTER LOBBY
When| Last week or so of the Arena
Warnings/Notes| Pillow Fort, harsh language, possible description of drug use and/or arena doings, Pillow Fort
It took an enterprising mind to understand the subtleties of this art-form. There had to be balance, and tension, or your structure would collapse. Even the most durable of available materials was squishy at best, and you always ended up wanting another inch of length on the roof, another few grams before supports collapsed, or bent. And nothing, nothing would just stand there and hold itself up.
In the end, they’d resorted to thumbtacks, hammered with a shoe or pressed in, to hold up the bedsheets against the walls. Even so, it was better not to lean too close to the stolen couch cushions on the opposite side, or the whole left wing might come down with a series of pops and pings. Well, it was probably fine, it wasn’t as if this were some kind of permanent arrangement, after all.
What? What is she doing? No, not doing, it’s all done.
Shepard has built, with a little help, a pillow fort.
Well, it’s more than just a fort, it’s a castle, an edifice! It took up nearly the whole of the Tribute Center Lobby with a riot of bedsheets, pillowcases, safety pins and couch cushions. Calling it a mere hidey-hole would not do justice to the thing. It’s art. It’s filled with pillows and snacks and safe dark places closed in away from prying eyes. Oh, and Shepard too. She’s an adult, after all, and this is what grown-ups do.
It’s got a door big enough for anyone to crawl right in, and a boldly written sign that reads “Abandon Hope All Who Enter Here” with “bring snacks” scribbled along a corner.
What| Pillow Fort!
Where| PILLOW FORT IN THE TRIBUTE CENTER LOBBY
When| Last week or so of the Arena
Warnings/Notes| Pillow Fort, harsh language, possible description of drug use and/or arena doings, Pillow Fort
It took an enterprising mind to understand the subtleties of this art-form. There had to be balance, and tension, or your structure would collapse. Even the most durable of available materials was squishy at best, and you always ended up wanting another inch of length on the roof, another few grams before supports collapsed, or bent. And nothing, nothing would just stand there and hold itself up.
In the end, they’d resorted to thumbtacks, hammered with a shoe or pressed in, to hold up the bedsheets against the walls. Even so, it was better not to lean too close to the stolen couch cushions on the opposite side, or the whole left wing might come down with a series of pops and pings. Well, it was probably fine, it wasn’t as if this were some kind of permanent arrangement, after all.
What? What is she doing? No, not doing, it’s all done.
Shepard has built, with a little help, a pillow fort.
Well, it’s more than just a fort, it’s a castle, an edifice! It took up nearly the whole of the Tribute Center Lobby with a riot of bedsheets, pillowcases, safety pins and couch cushions. Calling it a mere hidey-hole would not do justice to the thing. It’s art. It’s filled with pillows and snacks and safe dark places closed in away from prying eyes. Oh, and Shepard too. She’s an adult, after all, and this is what grown-ups do.
It’s got a door big enough for anyone to crawl right in, and a boldly written sign that reads “Abandon Hope All Who Enter Here” with “bring snacks” scribbled along a corner.
no subject
The air was heavy, there were things they needed to talk about. They needed to figure them out, but somewhere that wasn't in the lobby. There were chances that people would still approach.
Thane was very good at running away from the problem. Or just killing it (he was very good at that.)
"I've never been in something like this," Thane said. "I am always glad to see you, Siha."
no subject
Still, he was looking at her in the dimness with those liquid eyes of his, wide and contemplative, always faintly accusatory, like a kicked puppy. Thane had subtle smiles, she knew, but even if she stared, she couldn't see any of it in his face. The poker face on this man, and yet...
I am always glad to see you, Siha.
Sometimes, it's the little things that let you draw breath, "Seemed like a good idea at the time?"
no subject
He watched her. Every moment that she moved, when she spoke, he watched her face. Her eyes, lips, and scars. Even in the low light, her face was a solid memory in his mind. He didn't need to see it to know.
"There are no cameras in here," he observed. That was the greatest advantage of them all, and it truly made it the best of all ideas. He was stuck on what to say to her.
He saw her die, and the possibly that she couldn't come back hit him hard. Still, he didn't want to talk about that. Not here. Maybe it would be best if they were just together in the quiet. "We will talk," he said. Not now, necessarily. He would leave it to her. After all, this was her...fort. Her rules. As it typically was.
no subject
"Not sure what I could say," she whispered. The ghost of a smile blew in, caught briefly on the corner of her mouth, then was gone, "It's pretty rough. I've been here about a year... You— you were here. But then you didn't come back."
She stopped, looked down at her hands for a moment. She imagined that Drell memories were like vids, indelible, stable, able to be looked back upon at will, as the fancy took you. Maybe human memories weren't so finely crafted, and they were liable to fade away, but when she looked up again, she felt her heart contract around the scars left by his passing with a pain that made them feel physical.
"I've watched you die three times. Four, now. It's not exactly my favorite past-time. But it's life, unless one of wins this thing," That's the truth of it, bare and bloodied, "Do we...really have to talk about this?"
no subject
For now, he was trapped in a circle of life and death. It was against everything he believed.
"We do not have to talk about this now," he answered. Although he knew, at some point, this would need to be discussed, even if he didn't necessarily want to talk about it.
They didn't have to talk at all, for all that he cared. His fingers rested along her jawline. It was only for them.
no subject
Drell were strange. His hands and wrists were patterns in scales, beautifully tiny and delicate. They looked homogenus until you saw them close up, the way each one folded itself into the underlying skin, the way the coloration subtly shifted, more lemon along the leading edge, a darker green in the center. If she opened her eyes she wouldn't see it, it was far too dark to catch the fine details, but she could feel the texture when his palm brushed her cheek.
She put her own hand out in the mirror to his, and the soft, motile textures along his jaw was warmer than she remembered. She'd have to ask about that later, about his illness, about the time they might have, but for now...
Jane pushed herself up and leaned in to kiss him.
no subject
His illness almost seemed like a distant problem now. This place was the immediate issue that needed to be resolved. Thane remembered how he had felt when he had died, and then when he came back. His illness was never meant to be a burden, and he'd never let it become one here.
He leaned into her touch for only a moment. He shifted his fingers to her chin, taking it in his palm, and he leaned in to return the kiss.