Commander Jane Shepard (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
earthborn) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-03-05 09:57 pm
earthborn) wrote in thecapitol2014-03-05 09:57 pm
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.
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Truer words have never been said, but when Shepard set the bottle between them it was an invitation rather than a challenge. That pleasant, fuzzy numbness was a lie, but it was a damned nice one. And like everything else, it came with its own punishment, so she counted the price worth paying.
If someone else didn't, then what did she care? Fuck 'em, more for me.
no subject
The sour line his mouth made as he swallowed pretty much said it all. Don wasn't at all a heavyweight at drinking. He was barely even a minimumweight at it; he very obviously didn't drink, and it showed.
"...Nnmmph." Nevertheless, he managed to get what he had taken down. "Yeah."