thecapitol | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Who| Diana and OPEN
What| Diana is basically just trying to figure out the situation.
Where| Anywhere in the city, really, just make sure it's clear!
When| Between Arena's 5 and 6
Warnings/Notes| Nothing at the moment.

Diana was...unhappy, if the understatement could be forgiven. Taken from her bed, stripped of her powers, tossed into this world where she was meant to fight and kill for the entertainment of the ruling class...

Well, she was familiar with concept, obviously, but that didn't mean she liked it. And she liked even less what little she'd understood of the situation, of the history, before she'd been ushered to her quarters. As soon as she was left alone she was off, exploring the building, the city, anywhere she was allowed to go in search of answers. Of a crack in the prison walls.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Soldier?" R peered at her as the elevator went back up again. Lights flashed as they ascended, flickering over Diana's face.

This is probably the part where, if he was M and a lady's man, he'd tell her she was the prettiest soldier he ever saw and go from there. Lucky for Diana, he's only got eyes for Julie.

"Not technically, no. I'm...a warrior," she said, because 'superhero' just came across as arrogant without the reputation behind it. "Protector. It's what I do, or try to do. What about you? Your occupation, I mean." It was probably rude to assume he didn't have one, zombie or not.

R wasn't sure he saw the difference between a soldier and a warrior. Protector, though. He liked the sound of it. It sounded like something from the past, before....before things like him. Protector struck him as noble, somehow.

"Don't...have one," R mumbled. Compared to "protector", he thought "unemployed corpse" sounded even worse than usual. He hurried to add more. "Like to collect. Stuff?"

"A collector?" said Diana, glad to be discussing something other than whether or not they would be killing each other in a week's time. "Of what?"

R nodded. "Records. Music. Things I..." R wished he could say it was all stuff he probably liked when he was alive, but he wasn't even one hundred percent sure. "They're...cool. You'd like."

He was very proud of his collection, okay. R was dying for an excuse to show it off to anyone, everyone.

"I'm sure I would. I love music." Diana had many questions crowding her head at this point (where did he get the records? did he buy them? where would he get money?) but couldn't think of a tactful way to ask any of them. "I rarely have the time to just sit back and listen to a record."

"Too bad," R wheezed. He meant it too. "Can't...make time?"

That was the thing about being dead - he had a whole lot more free time on his hands than someone alive, like Diana. He tried to imagine what someone like her could be doing to be so busy that she couldn't kick back. Busy doing protector stuff, he guessed. It was probably a full-time job.

"I could probably try harder," Diana admitted. "I've got...many different responsibilities that take up my time, but I shouldn't let that become an easy excuse. Have you found out how they record music here?" It may not have been a priority, what with the forced death match and all, but people (and zombies, probably) could acclimate to a new situation very quickly.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only