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[chicabonita]

WHO| Zed and YOU.
WHAT| Just a psychic conwoman trying to get her bearings after a deathmatch. You know. Like you do.
WHERE| The streets, training center, and commons.
WHEN| Last week of the Arena.
WARNINGS| None yet besides vague mentions of her death and possible theft, but if you want her to steal from you or con you, please go fill out her permissions post here!



The Capitol Streets

The best way to get a feel for a place is to put your fingers on the pulse - and the pulse of any city, no matter where you are, is the streets. Zed weaves carefully in and out of the crowds, keeping her head down as best she can. Being a sort of celebrity makes things both uncomfortable and difficult for someone trying to gather information; her usual tactics of simply bumping into a person and searching pockets is much riskier here, and she knows it for a fact. Besides, it's not money that she's in need of...just bits that might tell her more about what's really happening in this unfamiliar place.

So for now, she's just watching - watching everyone she passes by, trying to look as wide-eyed and unassuming as she can while searching for a good mark. Her smile is disarming, only her non-dominant hand loosely stuffed in her pocket for the moment so any 'accidental' collisions can be carried out smoothly and quickly.

Whether that mark is for theft or for wheedling talk from will just have to depend on the person.


Training Center

Fighting. Zed didn't make a great showing for herself in the first arena, but she doesn't plan to fall so easily a second time. She's dressed in athletic garb, her mass of curls tied back into a tight ponytail while she works the room. Her strengths in hand-to-hand combat generally fall to the reactionary, with her quick thinking driving her movements...and so she is, for the time being, focusing on honing what she knows she can already do.

She runs in laps around the room, climbing things and trying to move as if dodging strikes. She might have gotten taken down the last time, but it's not going to happen again. She will not drown again. She will not be eaten alive again. She will NOT die AGAIN.

Her speed picks up, as if running from the memories of her own death, and a misstep sends her stumbling in a panting heap to the floor.


Central Commons

It's so strange, drawing without that nagging feeling of the artwork being something much bigger and more important than it is. Her powers have been such a part of her for so long that she almost doesn't understand what art for art's sake is without the threat of them driving her pencil...and so it's somewhat aimlessly that she sits in the corner of the commons, pencils and charcoal strewn all over the general area as she labors over the page. The only images that come to her are dark, but dark is fine with her. Dark is familiar for this.

Her eyes are glued to the drawing, and it's very visible to anyone who approaches what it is - a woman plunging through water, reaching for a well-worn hand from some unknown savior.

She can't bring herself to draw the rest of the hand's owner right now.

She also doesn't look up until she's addressed.

Comments

Central Commons

[conifer]

If there's one thing that Emily respects, it's the sort of artistic accomplishment that comes with a combination of talent and dedicated practice. It's always refreshing for her to find here in the Capitol, the centre of convenience and artificiality, someone working with their hands and creating something raw and meaningful. She doesn't mean to get as close as she does - she knows how off putting it is when someone's standing right over her shoulder watching her carve - but she can't help herself.

"That's impressive. You're really good."

[chicabonita]

The pencil stutters only a little over the page at the sudden attention - but it's with good humor that she looks up to her sudden companion, offering a sheepish smile. She doesn't read any malice in the stranger...no need to be cagey, right?

"Thanks. I've...had a lot of practice. Figure why stop now?"

[conifer]

"If anything, it's a good idea not to stop now. Having something to keep you grounded is a useful thing here." She'd learned long ago to take refuge in her carving and her plants, to find just one small space where the Capitol couldn't get to her.

Training Center

[whydoyoushine]

"Looks like your falling down practice is going really well," this Zed calls over lazily from his perch. He'd been sort of idly playing around on a weight machine the way a child might if left unattended in a sporting goods store. He certainly wasn't getting any actual working out done, that much is certain. Now, he's shifted his position to better watch the impromptu entertainment her falling down has provided.

Look, the only reason he's even here is because they've got a sports drink with flecks of glitter floating in it. Training isn't a priority.

[chicabonita]

If sarcasm was, itself, a sport, then Zed has spent the last few months of her life with the man who holds the undisputed gold medal. Maybe that's why his remark is met with a wry smile up from the floor instead of anger - and why she even bothers to respond as she sits up, folding her arms over her knees.

"It is. Could say the same for your loafing around practice."

Hey, no one ever said she couldn't give as soon as she gets.

[whydoyoushine]

"I try to practice a lot with that." If anything, Zed leans back more on that weight machine as he smirks at that response. "It's a lot of hard work to get form this good."