thecapitol | 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.

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The couch is empty because Gary recently vacated it to get snacks. He returns soon after Milla takes his place, peering curiously out of the kitchen; one arm cradles a large bowl of chips, the other a lukewarm dish of nacho cheese and some ambiguously-spicy salsa, with an entire carton of milk tucked in the crook of his elbow. The sounds of heels have grabbed his attention from the oncoming feast because, as Milla predicted, Gary recognizes what this means.

Perhaps, if he could see her face from here and how tired she is, Gary might react with some discretion. But that's never a guarantee--and he can't, anyways, so it's a moot point. Gary breaks into a grin.

"Milla!" And then he's trotting over and dropping his haul on the table in front of the couch, oblivious as per usual. "You're back! I made some chips! You want some?"

Really, Milla should have expected someone to be by the TV. Her hands drop from her face at his trotting approach. "Ah, Gary- sweet heart." She manages a smile, though it lacks the usual energy.

She gently waves away the offer. "No, no- I'm fine, dear. I didn't mean to disturb you."

Unfortunately, it doesn't seem that Milla will be left to rest for long; China enters the room from the elevator just a moment later. She flips through the pages of her small notebook as she steps into the common area, looking up only when she realizes there's someone else in the room.

As if she were given an invitation, she seats herself in one of the chairs nearby the couch Milla has claimed.

"Hello. Would you be Milla, then?"

Milla for her part knows how to smooth out her tiredness, offering China a friendly enough smile when the woman settles down nearby. Milla isn't quite comfortable with the idea of letting her tiredness show so clearly to someone she doesn't know.

She had gotten used to their last escort being so hands off having one appear is certainly something new."Yes, I am. Ah, and you would be our new escort, dear?"

"You catch on quickly." She likes that; it saves her time.

"I apologize that I haven't met with you before; you were still in the Arena when I first arrived." She smiles, as if there's no terribly bloody connotation attached to that word. "You did very well, if I may say so. How are you now?"

"It's perfectly fine, dear. Things always get busy around this time." Milla answers in turn, more than willing to make things simple. It would be better for the both of them in the long run. Most escorts meant well, even if they supported this system- Milla knew they couldn't exactly go against it or see beyond it all that easily.

"Thank you. I'm well, a bit tired, but nothing awful." A bit of truth never hurt, especially when downplayed properly.

"That they do."

As if sympathetic, she nods her head slowly. "Tired, yes, I'd imagine. Is there anything you need right now? I would like to get to know you, but I can certainly put that on hold, if you need it."

It's only at this point that Gary realizes that Milla sounds a little less quietly enthusiastic than usual. She probably just woke up, he thinks; still tired, she'll wake up in a bit! Everything's fine. Some company should help speed things up.

"No problem--my fat ass doesn't take up that much of the couch," Gary chuckles brightly and, as if to illustrate just how true this is, he flops down next to her and sprawls over the remaining space. He leans forward and plays with the top of the milk carton clamped between his knees. "I bet I'll have some cheese left over. You can have that without any chips, if that makes you feel better!"

Milla's smile edges on brittled, her facade of fine-ness already wearing. Not that she'll say as much. "I'll be fine, dear. I'm not really feeling all that hungry right now."

Watching him struggle does make her sigh softly, "Do you need help with that, dear?"

Edited 2015-03-18 08:41 (UTC)

Milla shakes her head at the question, her smile thankfully staying intact. It's easier to stay solid when it's someone she doesn't know. It's easier to fall into her secret agent persona. Milla doesn't like to disassociate herself, even on undercover missions- but it couldn't hurt here.

"No, no- I'm alright." She tucks some hair behind her ear as she continues. "I'm up for a some talking, after that I might go lay down for a short while."

Edited 2015-03-18 08:43 (UTC)

"Wonderful. I only have a few questions, just to acquaint me with you, really. It's just so much easier to help when I really know you."

Not that she thought she'd get there with any of the Tributes, but she could try to ferret out some things.

"First on my list... Are you a reader, by any chance?"

Is it relevant to the Arenas? Not at all. She figures she should start off with an emotionally easier question.

That certainly wasn't a question Milla was expecting, but it's- a start. Something neutral for both of them. The psychic settles her hands more comfortably in her lap, leaning back into the couch.

"I used to be when I was much younger, I haven't really done as much reading as I should be doing." It's honesty, its easy to be honest on something this simple.

"Perfect. Give me one moment, please."

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."

That sounds a bit more dire. No return teasing? Milla must be really drained, Gary thinks--or something worse. His smile twitches and falters somewhat with his indecision.

"You sure?" He wordlessly accepts Milla's help in opening the milk carton by passing it over. "Are you sick?"

"I'm fine, dear. Just a bit tired." She sounds more like a broken record the more she talks, Milla manages to withold a wince. No take backs on that. "Things can be a bit draining at times." She adds, hoping that helps.

She faintly reaches over to ruffle his hair. Trying to at least find some footing to ease Gary somewhat. "I don't want to disturb your fun, sweetie. I should leave."

The gift is a surprise. Milla certainly wasn't expecting it, that much shows in her expression as she accepts the proffered book. Her gloved fingers brush across the cover curiously.

"Thank you, dear. The sentiment is certainly appreciated." Milla answers as she looks up from the book back at the other woman.

"You have no idea how delighted I am to hear that. I know it's only a small thing, but I truly want to do my best to make your time here satisfactory." She'd say 'enjoyable', but she's pretty sure no Tribute would buy that.

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.

Gary's starting to unconsciously catch on, now, even if outwardly he still refuses to accept that anything is wrong. Should he let her go? Is he just making it worse? What a mess, Gary is hideously confused now. Even hair ruffles aren't helping--they just make his flickering smile more uncertain.

"You can stay!" he insists, weakly, like he knows this isn't going to work. "We could watch a movie or something! I don't mind if you sleep through it."

Needless to say, we are here to burn and wither

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