nill (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
reassures) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-10-04 11:32 pm
reassures) wrote in thecapitol2014-10-04 11:32 pm
tell me how you got so far
Who| Nill and YOU
What| Nill just got dropped off. She has somewhat questionable ways of dealing with this.
Where| District 9 suites, training room.
When| Throughout the day.
Warnings/Notes| Vomit and mentions of character death in the D9 one. Also crying.
(a) - District 9 suites, morning
It's just barely past nine in the morning when Nill wakes up on the hard metal cot, shivering and disoriented, and all of it's in her head because Nill can't figure out how to cope yet. The guards - whatever they are. Nill could hear one of them trying to tell her they were peacekeepers, on more than one occasion, but it goes in one ear and right out the other. The guards try to get her to her feet, get her moving, but every time she tries to so much as stand all the strength saps out of her limbs and she slumps. One of the guards must either be frustrated with her or sympathetic, because every time it happens she feels a hand against her shoulder shove her back towards the cot so she doesn't end up flat on her face on the floor.
It feels like hours before she can move right, but one of the peacekeepers mutters about her being one of the longer ones, confirming it's only been about 30 minutes, and it's the last really independent thing that either of them say for awhile. Nill wraps her arms around herself as she's lead through the facility and to the elevators, trying to piece together the situation in her head.
The last thing she could remember was dying. Her breath shudders out of her in something that might have been a whimper if she had the vocal chords to pull that off, and one of the guards curses, tells her she'd better not collapse again. Nill simply leans back against the elevator wall without sparing him so much as a glance, no matter how sick the memory makes her feel.
The last thing she had done was get she loved killed, and then she had died. Horribly. And suddenly she was waking up here, and though the setting was less alien to her than it should have been she wasn't capable of making the right connections, because there was nothing to connect. Nill had no idea where she was or what she should be doing, but she doesn't get to linger on it long, because the memory of the death is the first thing that makes her realize she doesn't own the clothes she's currently wearing. Panic spikes in her chest when she realizes that not only does she not own the clothes, but whoever picked them gave her a top low-cut in the back so as not to restrict her wings. Whatever had revived her had been able to look at her long enough to make that realization, get her clothes, and dress her.
With panic comes adrenaline, and with adrenaline some of the disorientation seeps out of her, her mind going more and more on high alert with every pump of blood rushing through her. It's only then that she notices the guards are talking, and she feels more and more violated with almost every word they say.
"--not gonna do well, not like this..."
But they notice that she seems more aware of them now, and one of them actually grins at her. Tells her how pleased they are to have her for the games. They can't wait to see how she'll do, they're sure she'll be great. At Nill's utterly confused expression, another tells her, it's the hunger games, the hunger games, they're fantastic, just you wait. They're sure she'll make it past day one, she obviously has some hidden talent that will make her the best killer, and Nill doesn't even notice the patronizing tone because her mind is stuck on the part where she needs to kill everyone else playing.
They stop in front of a door and grin as they open it, gently nudging Nill out of the elevator and into the suite. This is where her district stays, one tells her. She should remember it. District 9. The other says he'll be rooting for her. The patronizing one's grin widens.
"May the odds be ever in your favor," he says, before the elevator doors slide shut.
Nill stands there, staring at the doors. It takes about ten seconds for the trembling to reach from her hands to her shoulders, and then to her wings, easily visible to anyone that might look her way. Then all of a sudden she slaps a hand to her mouth, and turns around, eyes darting. A second later she's made it to a stylish looking potted plant near the entrance of the common room, where she falls to her knees to vomit into the pot.
Enjoy your new suitemate, District 9.
(b)
It's a few hours before Nill gathers up the strength to actually leave the suite - and believe me, it's entirely will power that lets her manage as much - but when she does she immediately heads for the training center. She hadn't heard as much of what the peacekeepers had told her that morning, but it's not difficult to manage. After all, it's just an elevator trip. The people running this place really, really want their tributes to have easy access to facilities like this so they can get better at killing each other apparently.
She spares the whole place a cursory glance as she steps inside, focusing more on the people than the actual weapons stations. She spends a good minute or so looking at everyone, assessing, before she quietly steps over to a station that seems to be for learning how to tie knots.
That's where Nill stays for most of the rest of the day, tying knots, and trying but failing to be subtle about looking at every single person that comes in and out of the training center. If not for how pale she still seems to be, it might look like she was trying to figure out who the strong people were, with the way her eyes linger on everyone.
((ooc; Previous cr permissions!))
What| Nill just got dropped off. She has somewhat questionable ways of dealing with this.
Where| District 9 suites, training room.
When| Throughout the day.
Warnings/Notes| Vomit and mentions of character death in the D9 one. Also crying.
(a) - District 9 suites, morning
It's just barely past nine in the morning when Nill wakes up on the hard metal cot, shivering and disoriented, and all of it's in her head because Nill can't figure out how to cope yet. The guards - whatever they are. Nill could hear one of them trying to tell her they were peacekeepers, on more than one occasion, but it goes in one ear and right out the other. The guards try to get her to her feet, get her moving, but every time she tries to so much as stand all the strength saps out of her limbs and she slumps. One of the guards must either be frustrated with her or sympathetic, because every time it happens she feels a hand against her shoulder shove her back towards the cot so she doesn't end up flat on her face on the floor.
It feels like hours before she can move right, but one of the peacekeepers mutters about her being one of the longer ones, confirming it's only been about 30 minutes, and it's the last really independent thing that either of them say for awhile. Nill wraps her arms around herself as she's lead through the facility and to the elevators, trying to piece together the situation in her head.
The last thing she could remember was dying. Her breath shudders out of her in something that might have been a whimper if she had the vocal chords to pull that off, and one of the guards curses, tells her she'd better not collapse again. Nill simply leans back against the elevator wall without sparing him so much as a glance, no matter how sick the memory makes her feel.
The last thing she had done was get she loved killed, and then she had died. Horribly. And suddenly she was waking up here, and though the setting was less alien to her than it should have been she wasn't capable of making the right connections, because there was nothing to connect. Nill had no idea where she was or what she should be doing, but she doesn't get to linger on it long, because the memory of the death is the first thing that makes her realize she doesn't own the clothes she's currently wearing. Panic spikes in her chest when she realizes that not only does she not own the clothes, but whoever picked them gave her a top low-cut in the back so as not to restrict her wings. Whatever had revived her had been able to look at her long enough to make that realization, get her clothes, and dress her.
With panic comes adrenaline, and with adrenaline some of the disorientation seeps out of her, her mind going more and more on high alert with every pump of blood rushing through her. It's only then that she notices the guards are talking, and she feels more and more violated with almost every word they say.
"--not gonna do well, not like this..."
But they notice that she seems more aware of them now, and one of them actually grins at her. Tells her how pleased they are to have her for the games. They can't wait to see how she'll do, they're sure she'll be great. At Nill's utterly confused expression, another tells her, it's the hunger games, the hunger games, they're fantastic, just you wait. They're sure she'll make it past day one, she obviously has some hidden talent that will make her the best killer, and Nill doesn't even notice the patronizing tone because her mind is stuck on the part where she needs to kill everyone else playing.
They stop in front of a door and grin as they open it, gently nudging Nill out of the elevator and into the suite. This is where her district stays, one tells her. She should remember it. District 9. The other says he'll be rooting for her. The patronizing one's grin widens.
"May the odds be ever in your favor," he says, before the elevator doors slide shut.
Nill stands there, staring at the doors. It takes about ten seconds for the trembling to reach from her hands to her shoulders, and then to her wings, easily visible to anyone that might look her way. Then all of a sudden she slaps a hand to her mouth, and turns around, eyes darting. A second later she's made it to a stylish looking potted plant near the entrance of the common room, where she falls to her knees to vomit into the pot.
Enjoy your new suitemate, District 9.
(b)
It's a few hours before Nill gathers up the strength to actually leave the suite - and believe me, it's entirely will power that lets her manage as much - but when she does she immediately heads for the training center. She hadn't heard as much of what the peacekeepers had told her that morning, but it's not difficult to manage. After all, it's just an elevator trip. The people running this place really, really want their tributes to have easy access to facilities like this so they can get better at killing each other apparently.
She spares the whole place a cursory glance as she steps inside, focusing more on the people than the actual weapons stations. She spends a good minute or so looking at everyone, assessing, before she quietly steps over to a station that seems to be for learning how to tie knots.
That's where Nill stays for most of the rest of the day, tying knots, and trying but failing to be subtle about looking at every single person that comes in and out of the training center. If not for how pale she still seems to be, it might look like she was trying to figure out who the strong people were, with the way her eyes linger on everyone.
((ooc; Previous cr permissions!))
no subject
It feels like a lifting weight.
He smiles, real and genuine. He takes a step back, just so his horns don't get so much in the way. Then, he does a smooth low bow, one hand folding at his middle. Some things ain't need signs proper to be expressed.
Thank you, as well.
no subject
When he stands up again her smile is even brighter. She carefully signs out N A M E again, and then points to herself, before signing N I L L.
no subject
He thinks he gets it. He hopes so.
"It's good as to motherfucking meet you, sister Nill."
we can leave it here if you want!
You too.