darkness is a lover when you live undercover (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
assassinat) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-05-10 10:48 pm
assassinat) wrote in thecapitol2014-05-10 10:48 pm
seemed easier than just waiting around to die; (OPEN)
Who| Nat and YOU!
What| Another newcomer and the fronts she puts on
Where| District 8 floor, shopping area, wherever else
When| With the rest of the newbies
Warnings/Notes| #comics (N/A)
Whoever her abductors were, they were good enough to capture the Black Widow without it being a part of her plan and therefore in doing so have earned themselves her temporary cooperation. It isn't that she wants to rebel (because she does), but there were more important matters to tend to other than pointlessly question those who will deny her significant answers. That and she's had decades of experience when it came to asking questions: these goons aren't going to tell her what she needs to know.
The next best thing is to experience it herself. The first chance she gets to peel away from the other tributes and those watching her, Natasha takes it and explores to her heart's content. If there's something or someone out there she needs to find, she'll be sure to do it before entering a death arena.
➊ (DISTRICT 8 FLOOR)
Natasha's time here is minimal. Just enough to memorize faces, to pick apart those who might seem familiar and those who aren't, and to identify who may be trouble later on. There's no hint to what her skill set may be when she's around others, choosing instead to feign ignorance and charm others with a smile that shows her discomfort. The role she plays today is that of a scared woman, who has just been ripped from an everyday life to participate in a bloodbath. A woman who is petrified of death, but attempts to face it with a brave face.
It's a flimsy mask and Natasha already fears something may slip through the cracks. Her thoughts are elsewhere, but she remains focused on her role until she leaves the Training Center building.
➋ (SHOPPING)
It isn't so out of character for a woman to take up retail therapy when something devastating happens to her, so Natasha lingers in this area for a good amount of time. There's a lot to take in, but more importantly the people are vocal with their conversations so there's plenty of information to be found. This is what she thrives on, the good honest speculation is more reliable than any book she can request at the Training Center.
There's also no harm in looking at what's for sale either. What better way to understand the culture than to look over the absurd things they value?
➌ (OPEN)
OOC | Have an idea or already coordinated something with me? Feel free to hit me up with anything.
What| Another newcomer and the fronts she puts on
Where| District 8 floor, shopping area, wherever else
When| With the rest of the newbies
Warnings/Notes| #comics (N/A)
Whoever her abductors were, they were good enough to capture the Black Widow without it being a part of her plan and therefore in doing so have earned themselves her temporary cooperation. It isn't that she wants to rebel (because she does), but there were more important matters to tend to other than pointlessly question those who will deny her significant answers. That and she's had decades of experience when it came to asking questions: these goons aren't going to tell her what she needs to know.
The next best thing is to experience it herself. The first chance she gets to peel away from the other tributes and those watching her, Natasha takes it and explores to her heart's content. If there's something or someone out there she needs to find, she'll be sure to do it before entering a death arena.
➊ (DISTRICT 8 FLOOR)
Natasha's time here is minimal. Just enough to memorize faces, to pick apart those who might seem familiar and those who aren't, and to identify who may be trouble later on. There's no hint to what her skill set may be when she's around others, choosing instead to feign ignorance and charm others with a smile that shows her discomfort. The role she plays today is that of a scared woman, who has just been ripped from an everyday life to participate in a bloodbath. A woman who is petrified of death, but attempts to face it with a brave face.
It's a flimsy mask and Natasha already fears something may slip through the cracks. Her thoughts are elsewhere, but she remains focused on her role until she leaves the Training Center building.
➋ (SHOPPING)
It isn't so out of character for a woman to take up retail therapy when something devastating happens to her, so Natasha lingers in this area for a good amount of time. There's a lot to take in, but more importantly the people are vocal with their conversations so there's plenty of information to be found. This is what she thrives on, the good honest speculation is more reliable than any book she can request at the Training Center.
There's also no harm in looking at what's for sale either. What better way to understand the culture than to look over the absurd things they value?
➌ (OPEN)
OOC | Have an idea or already coordinated something with me? Feel free to hit me up with anything.
no subject
...oh wow, she is. She has no idea what constitutes fancy and designer, around here. This is...going to be interesting.
"I'm sure you'll just love it. After the arena, of course."
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"What about our wardrobes there? Don't tell us they send us into the arena wearing heels and evening gowns."
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She's being deliberately wry, but there had been something very special about Pruna getting the drop on mister Barton. What a good kid— it makes her smile to remember it.
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A nine year old killer? Not so unheard of where she's from, but she's also from a world where a man flies around in a metal suit and gods from other worlds fight.
"Some cupcake." A wry comment on the subject before she moves on with, "There's no way to tell what we will have before the day, is there?"
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"My advice is eat fatty foods and get in the habit of being up at four every morning. You're gonna want those fat reserves later, they don't call them 'The Hunger Games' for nothing," Shepard had been less than a day from death by starvation when Iskierka had put her teeth in Shep's throat, last time, "And I wouldn't try to step off your spot before the countdown is finished. But that's just me."
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Natasha is a simple person. She values her sleep. She values eating. She enjoys looking nice. All three of those things being denied at once?
The bloodbath is the least of her worries.
"So this is really happening."
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"Welcome to the losing side."
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Why would they want to, Natasha asks herself. Why would anyone who engaged in this sort of gladiator sport be able to live with themselves and return to the life they left behind?
no subject
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Yet people still eagerly participated in these games. Why? That's the question on her mind.
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Really, it's the same as anywhere else; they don't want to die. People are hoary-minded, emotional things, full of contradictions. A machine, a logical being, might step off the pillar every time, and make the arenas much shorter than they otherwise would be. People?
It was the hope that did it. That one faint glimmer of hope. Well that, and the silent looming threat of going through the rest of your life as an Avox.
But Shepard didn't say any of that, just tipped her drink at Natasha and watched her reaction.
no subject
Maybe. She doesn't want to think about them right now.
"No one enjoys dying." Is her answer in the end. A solid one, but not the one she was looking for.
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She wasn't satisfied, and that was good. If Natasha wanted more information, however, she was probably going to have to observe. Shepard placed a high value on a good solid line of inquiry, but there was so much that would only be words unless you learned it for yourself.
Like the fact that one of the Avox was wearing a face identical, but for the scars, to Jane's own. The message had been simple; straighten up or you're next.
"But they are going to put you in the Arena no matter what you do," Shepard didn't doubt a determined tribute could kill a few peacekeepers before they got you, but it wasn't exactly a solid plan of escape, "And the only way out is dead, or last man standing. You should probably take some time to review the highlight reels. I know I'll be watching yours."
That's an offer of friendship, if you like— though, maybe it sounds more like a threat.
no subject
This charade of her's is going to end very quickly if so. It was stupid to believe they would remain private since nothing here was private. If they were out for everyone to see, well, she likely made a few enemies.
"So that's how it is. Showing off for people who will sponsor you is one thing, but actually trying to survive out in an arena? How many people can do that?"
no subject
She picked up the tablet and after a few taps and swipes, turned to show Natasha the readout. Ah, there it was, with a very nice mug-shot and all the fun little notations to tease the gambling public.
"Wow," Even Shepard hadn't scored that high, but then she'd never been political about this particular cul-de-sac in her life, just annoyed, "You must've really pissed them off, they only score people that high when they wanna paint a target on you."
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Whatever act she has been throwing at the experienced Tributes the past day was all for naught. Frustration tugs at her mind gently, but she swallows it down. Time to roll with the punches, even the ones that are aimed beyond her gut and hit a little closer to home.
"Guess I made quite the impression." Exhaling deeply as she rubs the back of her neck in a futile gesture, one that reeks of being anxious.
"So what happens to those who have a target on them?"
no subject
There were advantages to making a basic attempt at empathy and avoiding child-murdering, and then there were times like this. It made her wonder if Natasha wasn't likely to take Venus' route and constantly make references to 'that one time I stabbed you'.
"Don't take it too personally."
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Humankind was petty, full of grudge and anger towards those who have wronged them. It doesn't show in her eyes, but she's seen enough of it to know that killing the wrong person could earn a lifetime of regret.
"People hold grudges and I suspect those who have been brought back to life hold them the tightest."
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You forgot who your real enemies were.
"Well, I'm sure you know best," Shepard did not think Natasha knew best, and everything but the actual definitions of the words made that clear, "But I guess we'll just see where you fall on that particular spectrum."
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Most people would take this as a chance to boast, to give up everything they have known and make themselves stand out as a threat. Natasha however already has a target on her back and the person who will be watching that part of her will have his hands full.
If he doesn't end up with the urge to stab her in the back. Who knows what they will do to him here?
"As for knowing best, not particularly. I am new after all."
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Nobody scores that high without being both dangerous and smart. Nobody scores that high without being a threat— to the Tributes in the arena, yes, but more importantly to the Capitol.
And that made Natasha an ally, whatever else was true.
"But I don't know, maybe you're just...so damn emotional," catch that sarcasm? It's pretty thick, "I bet you cry at kid's movies when the dog dies."
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If she was being sarcastic in return, it might be difficult to pick up. Natasha's great at keeping her expression neutral and now is no exception. There's a hefty assumption being made about her intelligence, but she can't deny it.
She is smart enough to figure it out.
It doesn't make any sense to her which means there's an element she's overlooking somewhere. That's problematic more than anything. Lacking information to draw all the connections leaves her feeling vague frustration, but mostly a void that can't be filled anytime soon.
"Are the new Tributes emotional? Should be--it's their first."
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"Alcoholism's a popular route. Just don't get too ambitious about it— have you met an Avox yet? The, uh..." She trailed off for a moment, and her typing petered out, then resumed, "... The mutes?"
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The earlier conversation is dismissed for now. There's no need to regale themselves with sob stories of how people fail to comprehend their actions and how remorse deteriorates what will they have only to leave them an empty shell of their former selves. Too many people fall victim to their guilt, no point in going on about that.
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Shepard stood, the carafé hanging off one hand, and picked up the hot-pad by its base— it was already cool to the touch. A cold glace, a derisive snort, it was all such a lot of bullshit. She pressed the tablet into Natasha's chest as she went by.
"Here, look up some of the old arena footage. You might learn something," An intimidation not meant for the one it aimed at, "Watch your back, twelve."
And then she turned and jogged off toward the tribute center without looking back. Unsaved, but typed out on the screen in Natasha's hands was an account of the Rebellion and District Thirteen, with a remonstration not to save this to disc if she wanted to avoid any further suspicion. Welcome to Panem, indeed.