Milla Vodello (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
belongsontv) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-03-09 11:54 pm
belongsontv) wrote in thecapitol2015-03-09 11:54 pm
Entry tags:
Needless to say, we are here to burn and wither
Who| Milla Vodello & you!
What| Milla's return to the capitol and struggle to cope with losing control of her emotions/self. Shopping for comfort food ingredients.
Where| District 11 suites and beyond.
When| After her death in the arena on week 5 and a week after.
Warnings/Notes| Talk of death, TBA.
[A]
She knew there were camera's in the main suite, it wasn't hard to realize it from the photos that showed up in magazines and online, yet. She still found herself relaxing as she stepped into the suite.
This was her home for now. Her home base. She had to comfort herself with that. Even with eyes always on her, Milla needed a place to allow some of herself to ooze out. The tight seal she had on her own thoughts and feelings felt heavier than they ever did.
Milla couldn't muster the urge to call out for anyone, even if she wasn't psychically tired- she was mentally. There wasn't much she could do about it either. She let her mind wander as she walked towards the main livingroom area. The click of her usual high heeled boots likely telegraphing her approach. Her suite mates likely knew the sound by now.
She could rationalize something attacking her, allude it to her normal work. A monster attacking? Simple, easy. A force she could fight was easy to deal with, even with her own death resulting from it. Her own problem then had been adjusting to waking up after a death blow.
Losing control of herself... was something she wasn't quite sure how to deal with. Milla rubbed her temple with her fingers, sighing. Being a Psychonaut meant control, varying levels of it. The ability to keep your mind precise, orderly and protected. Losing herself completely to anger- then jagged crying fits weren't something Milla was used to. This was the one time she was relieved her powers weren't active. The destructive force could have been- awful.
The thought earns a flash of a grimace before she waves it away to come to a stop at the living room's doorway. The TV was left on, droning on about some tribute news, the shutters are at half mast and light is only vaguely creeping in.
Milla walks further inside, peeking at the couch. She's more than a little relieved to see the couch empty. The psychic settles down on the overly fancy couch, just moving to slide her gloves off and rub her face.
[B]
The city was abuzz with activity, like any other day in the Capitol. Milla is more than a little relieved she doesn't blip heavily on citizens radars as she balances a shopping basket on her arm. The games still happening leave most of them glued various TV's over paying attention to their surroundings.
She doesn't need very much, the urge to make comfort food has come once again and she just needs a few spices and smaller ingredients. The psychic is humming quietly to herself as she moves through the aisle. She plucks a small plastic bottle from the shelf. She drops another in the basket hanging off of her arm.
When she turns she spots another tribute, someone else brought back from the arena. Milla offers them a friendly wave. She doesn't hesitate to approach, "Having a good day so far, dear?" Whether she knows them well or- not very well at all, Milla is naturally friendly.
What| Milla's return to the capitol and struggle to cope with losing control of her emotions/self. Shopping for comfort food ingredients.
Where| District 11 suites and beyond.
When| After her death in the arena on week 5 and a week after.
Warnings/Notes| Talk of death, TBA.
[A]
She knew there were camera's in the main suite, it wasn't hard to realize it from the photos that showed up in magazines and online, yet. She still found herself relaxing as she stepped into the suite.
This was her home for now. Her home base. She had to comfort herself with that. Even with eyes always on her, Milla needed a place to allow some of herself to ooze out. The tight seal she had on her own thoughts and feelings felt heavier than they ever did.
Milla couldn't muster the urge to call out for anyone, even if she wasn't psychically tired- she was mentally. There wasn't much she could do about it either. She let her mind wander as she walked towards the main livingroom area. The click of her usual high heeled boots likely telegraphing her approach. Her suite mates likely knew the sound by now.
She could rationalize something attacking her, allude it to her normal work. A monster attacking? Simple, easy. A force she could fight was easy to deal with, even with her own death resulting from it. Her own problem then had been adjusting to waking up after a death blow.
Losing control of herself... was something she wasn't quite sure how to deal with. Milla rubbed her temple with her fingers, sighing. Being a Psychonaut meant control, varying levels of it. The ability to keep your mind precise, orderly and protected. Losing herself completely to anger- then jagged crying fits weren't something Milla was used to. This was the one time she was relieved her powers weren't active. The destructive force could have been- awful.
The thought earns a flash of a grimace before she waves it away to come to a stop at the living room's doorway. The TV was left on, droning on about some tribute news, the shutters are at half mast and light is only vaguely creeping in.
Milla walks further inside, peeking at the couch. She's more than a little relieved to see the couch empty. The psychic settles down on the overly fancy couch, just moving to slide her gloves off and rub her face.
[B]
The city was abuzz with activity, like any other day in the Capitol. Milla is more than a little relieved she doesn't blip heavily on citizens radars as she balances a shopping basket on her arm. The games still happening leave most of them glued various TV's over paying attention to their surroundings.
She doesn't need very much, the urge to make comfort food has come once again and she just needs a few spices and smaller ingredients. The psychic is humming quietly to herself as she moves through the aisle. She plucks a small plastic bottle from the shelf. She drops another in the basket hanging off of her arm.
When she turns she spots another tribute, someone else brought back from the arena. Milla offers them a friendly wave. She doesn't hesitate to approach, "Having a good day so far, dear?" Whether she knows them well or- not very well at all, Milla is naturally friendly.
no subject
She rises from her seat and glides off to her room. When she emerges, she has a slim book in her hand. Like many Capitol things, the cover is rather gaudy: gold leaf twines around the leather in a pattern that aims to maximize the shine. The title indicates that it's a storybook.
She seats herself again and holds the book out. "I wanted to give you all something for our first meeting. I hope you enjoy it."
no subject
"Thank you, dear. The sentiment is certainly appreciated." Milla answers as she looks up from the book back at the other woman.
no subject
she places her hand on her heart for just a moment before letting it drop back to the arm of her chair. "Please, if there's anything I can help you with, just say so."
She keeps her shoulders and back straight, her posture open as she waits for any response.