darkness is a lover when you live undercover (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thecapitol2014-06-06 07:05 pm
assassinat) wrote in thecapitol2014-06-06 07:05 pm
Entry tags:
I couldn't lie, couldn't lie, couldn't lie; (OPEN)
Who| Nat and YOU!
What| A killer spends about five seconds feeling sorry for herself before she gets busy.
Where| District 8 floor and around the Capitol.
When| After she's been killed off in the tenth Arena and the week(s) after.
Warnings/Notes| Talk of death, flirting???
Having been on the verge of death one too many times, Natasha understands the difference between a close call and the real thing. When her eyes open in the vague familiarity of her assigned bedroom, there's no containing the loud gasp of air that comes with the initial shock. It's instinct--she couldn't breathe all that well when dying and now she can do it just fine? Has she been out long enough to recover? Natasha rolls out of bed and struggles a bit to free her legs of the confinement of her bedsheets before she gives up on that futile gesture. Dragging half the sheets wrapped around a leg into the bathroom, it takes her a few minutes to get the lights on and the clothes off.
No new scars. No sickness. Mild grogginess, likely from sleeping too much. Aches in her back and shoulders, also a reasonable effect of too much bed rest.
Natasha doesn't bother with putting on pants, but manages wrangling the shirt back on over her chest in frustration. How long has she been out and more importantly, how are her allies doing? The Arena can't be over just because she died, right? There were names that lit up the sky during the first week that she didn't bother to recall until now; Pyunma and Shion of District 4, Ian Gallagher of District 6, Armin Arlert and Rebecca Holiday of District 8, and Pruna of District 12. When she steps out into the common room in a tank top and underwear, she should see at least two other people there.
Or she would if it wasn't at a ridiculous time at night. At least there's a fridge she can raid for a late night snack. She just came back from the dead, there better be a tub of celebratory ice cream.
➊ (DISTRICT 8 FLOOR)
Having always been peculiar about sleep, Natasha somehow manages to spend the rest of her first night in bed. It's early afternoon by time she decides she's had enough with feeling sorry for herself. There will always be an immeasurable amount of guilt on her shoulders, so what's a little extra lick or two of weight? Now is the time for answers, not for worrying about Matt and the rest of her peers.
The Avengers are made of tough stuff, tougher than her if she's the only one who has managed to make it back. Time to see what she can do for them now that she's jumped out of the frying pan into the fire.
✪ (CLOSED: Très Jolie)
On her first day, Natasha had managed to avoid her own Stylist, but ran into another by the name of Victory. The Stylist of District 1 must hold a lot of weight, but the comment made by her remains present in her mind. What harm can come of spending a little time with a possible gossip? Natasha seeks him out, having paid Très little attention since her arrival with the intent of making it up.
Upon finding him though? 〈"My God."〉 Natasha manages to exhale under her breath in her native tongue. She's seen a number of things in her life, but this? This is the sort of thing she strays from and for good reason.
➋ (THE CAPITOL)
Now that she's gotten all dolled up (thanks to Très Jolie), Natasha is on the hunt for any respectable individuals who may or may not have a lot of money or power. If she's a celebrity, tonight she will play up the role accordingly. Watch out single men (and maybe some who aren't), she's ready to sink her fangs into something fresh.
What| A killer spends about five seconds feeling sorry for herself before she gets busy.
Where| District 8 floor and around the Capitol.
When| After she's been killed off in the tenth Arena and the week(s) after.
Warnings/Notes| Talk of death, flirting???
Having been on the verge of death one too many times, Natasha understands the difference between a close call and the real thing. When her eyes open in the vague familiarity of her assigned bedroom, there's no containing the loud gasp of air that comes with the initial shock. It's instinct--she couldn't breathe all that well when dying and now she can do it just fine? Has she been out long enough to recover? Natasha rolls out of bed and struggles a bit to free her legs of the confinement of her bedsheets before she gives up on that futile gesture. Dragging half the sheets wrapped around a leg into the bathroom, it takes her a few minutes to get the lights on and the clothes off.
No new scars. No sickness. Mild grogginess, likely from sleeping too much. Aches in her back and shoulders, also a reasonable effect of too much bed rest.
Natasha doesn't bother with putting on pants, but manages wrangling the shirt back on over her chest in frustration. How long has she been out and more importantly, how are her allies doing? The Arena can't be over just because she died, right? There were names that lit up the sky during the first week that she didn't bother to recall until now; Pyunma and Shion of District 4, Ian Gallagher of District 6, Armin Arlert and Rebecca Holiday of District 8, and Pruna of District 12. When she steps out into the common room in a tank top and underwear, she should see at least two other people there.
Or she would if it wasn't at a ridiculous time at night. At least there's a fridge she can raid for a late night snack. She just came back from the dead, there better be a tub of celebratory ice cream.
➊ (DISTRICT 8 FLOOR)
Having always been peculiar about sleep, Natasha somehow manages to spend the rest of her first night in bed. It's early afternoon by time she decides she's had enough with feeling sorry for herself. There will always be an immeasurable amount of guilt on her shoulders, so what's a little extra lick or two of weight? Now is the time for answers, not for worrying about Matt and the rest of her peers.
The Avengers are made of tough stuff, tougher than her if she's the only one who has managed to make it back. Time to see what she can do for them now that she's jumped out of the frying pan into the fire.
✪ (CLOSED: Très Jolie)
On her first day, Natasha had managed to avoid her own Stylist, but ran into another by the name of Victory. The Stylist of District 1 must hold a lot of weight, but the comment made by her remains present in her mind. What harm can come of spending a little time with a possible gossip? Natasha seeks him out, having paid Très little attention since her arrival with the intent of making it up.
Upon finding him though? 〈"My God."〉 Natasha manages to exhale under her breath in her native tongue. She's seen a number of things in her life, but this? This is the sort of thing she strays from and for good reason.
➋ (THE CAPITOL)
Now that she's gotten all dolled up (thanks to Très Jolie), Natasha is on the hunt for any respectable individuals who may or may not have a lot of money or power. If she's a celebrity, tonight she will play up the role accordingly. Watch out single men (and maybe some who aren't), she's ready to sink her fangs into something fresh.
✪ TRIBUTE TOWER ➢ STEPHEN REAGAN
It doesn't take the Stylist of District 8 long enough to chat her ears off about various individuals, but one name catches on above the rest. Stephen Reagan, a man who seems to strike out more when it comes to love, but he's young. Youthful men make mistakes and enjoy the sound of their own voice. Rarely were they wise enough to keep their mouths shut, especially when there was a pretty lady to impress.
Natasha only hopes her age has remained a secret. Her looks won't betray her, but knowledge can if it falls into the wrong hands. While telling Tony Stark her age went amusingly well for her, it might not translate as smoothly to boys looking for love. With a face in mind, she walks through his floor dressed to kill (though not blatantly femme fatale) and stops only when she finds her target.
no subject
She's not one of his, he can tell that much. Stephen's taken great care to get to know each of his Tributes, helping them with their Capitol personas and netting them sponsors. However, Stephen has gone through the roster of new Tributes several times and has watched all of Flickerman's interviews. Although Stephen hasn't seen her much in action, she had stood out to him. Memory turns up a matching card: Natasha.
Oh, man. Oh, wow. What on earth was she doing here?
He stands, quickly, powering off the tablet. "Excuse me," Stephen says, taking a step or two towards her with a friendly expression. "I'm sorry -- you didn't take a wrong turn, did you?" If she had, he was more than willing to help point her in the right direction.
no subject
Now was the time to play a whole other game, one with less death and more deceit.
No one must have warned him of her moniker The Black Widow, Natasha muses by how quickly he approaches her. Had he known who she was, who she really was, would he have been so willing?
"What if I told you I came here looking for you?"
no subject
"Me?" Stephen could hardly believe his ears -- or his luck. However, it was completely possible, he reminded himself, that her interest was not personal. He was an Escort, after all, and helping Tributes was his job. It was also possible, he remembered, that she sought him out because of a grievance. It was a sobering thought, and the excited surprise dropped from his face, replaced with crisp professionalism. "Well -- if that's the case, I'd be happy to help you with whatever you need. What can I do for you?"
no subject
Straightening up after, she tries her best to appear as though she's a fragile girl. Her gaze averts his own mostly, but she does look up every few seconds only to duck back down.
"I had a rough time in the arena and thought maybe I could relax a little tonight? My stylist suggested I try to find a date and you were the first one to come to my mind. You know all of the best spots, don't you?"
no subject
None of this discourages him, of course. Far from it. It just makes him fully aware that she's putting on an act. She wants something, he imagines, but can only really think of one thing he wouldn't give her willingly. Money, yes. Extravagant gifts, yes. A one-night stand, absolutely yes. But there is no reason to think that she suspects that he knows compromising information about the Capitol, and even if there were, he feels certain he wouldn't tell someone he just met.
"Well, yes," Stephen says. "I've been playing this game for longer than I'd like to admit," he admitted, wryly. The Capitol's culture is obsessed with youth -- how could it not be, when its idols were between 12 and 18 -- and being twenty-seven isn't something he admits all that easily. "If it's really what you want, I'm sure I can show you a good time. But, really..." Stephen hesitates a moment, choosing his words. "You don't have to play coy. Actually, I'd prefer it if you didn't." His tone is light; he's not calling her out to feel superior, or like he's caught the Black Widow. It's not even that he's asking for complete honesty.
Really, it's just that Stephen prefers his partners with more bite. Especially if he knows they're capable of it, and are hiding it. Badasses are what make Stephen go weak at the knees, and it's that cool, collected toughness that caught his attention in the first place.
no subject
"I wasn't aware you were the kind of man that enjoyed being dominated." Blunt, perhaps a shade too much, but she doesn't let up. "If that's what you want, that is."
no subject
"No, no, it's not that," he says,
although it's not entirely untrue. "I just don't want you to feel like you have to play yourself down. Bold women don't scare me." If he was going out on the town with Natasha, he'd rather go out on the town with Natasha.no subject
Maybe she wouldn’t have to think on it for long. If it’s known by him, then it’s something she ought to be able to look up for herself. Tucking it away for now, she can only recover with a bold detail that’s sure to become public soon enough.
“If you’re going to be proper about these things, it’s Natalia.”
Only one person in the Capitol calls her by her true name and now one more has been given the opportunity. Whether he takes the bait of making matters more personal or not--well, that will tell her all she needs to know about him.
no subject
"All right, Natalia," he says with a smile, accepting the offer and offering his arm in return. "What kind of night out did you have in mind? Dinner? Drinks? The Hunger Games isn't the only show in town, but if a club's more your speed..." Stephen gives an easy shrug and an inviting smile. "Or we could start with dinner and see where the night takes us."