Laia Martinez (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scoundrelhater) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2016-03-06 07:11 pm
scoundrelhater) wrote in thecapitol2016-03-06 07:11 pm
Entry tags:
Choose to Fight for a World Beyond
Who| Laia Martinez and you
What| There's a new arrival in the detainment center. She's not impressed.
Where| Detainment center cafeteria and training areas
When| After the D10/D11 battles
Warnings/Notes| None, will add if necessary
Cafeteria
Laia does not regret her choice of reaction upon waking up on a steel cot and being escorted somewhere by soldiers. Submitting to the guards, sizing up the location's layout and her captor's capabilities, and then taking the first chance to knock them all out and flee had gotten her a black eye and a pair of plastic wrist cuffs, true. But she had made her decision with the information available to her, and going forward, she wouldn't make the same mistake twice. This wasn't the Gurhal system, these weren't the Illuminus, and her position as president meant nothing. It was all bullshit (and she had loudly declared as much), but it was new bullshit. Different than the mess that she was now, apparently, very far away from.
It still wasn't enough information to properly operate on, though. The truth that comes from the mouths of administrators and the actual truth are worlds apart, in her experience. So she had settled herself in the cafeteria with a mug of tea and a plastic baggie full of ice, intent on flagging someone down and grilling them for on-the-ground details. But there were video screens showing the most hideous things... she has found herself drawn into a Greatest Hits recap of the Hunger Games, and can't quite manage to tear her eyes away. Laia knows death when she sees it, and she is damn sure that these scenes of carnage are not carefully-done special effects. But that would mean.... what would that mean?
Having viewed someone's particularly gruesome end, framed with dramatic music and entirely too flippant narration, she can't stay silent any longer. "Hey!" She calls out to someone at the edge of her vision, but doesn't look their way. "Hey, you, is this..." Up goes a hand, turning vaguely around, as though she might pluck the right words out of the air. "...what the hell is this?"
Training Facilities
If they've brought her here to fight, Laia intends on doing the job properly. And since it seems they're not allowing her any of her actual equipment, she's just going to have to get used to going without. Without a line shield, she'll have to be more alert and agile. Without a nano-transformer, she'll have to content herself to limited weapons and no on-the-fly healing. And something else feels off, too, but she can't quite put her finger on what...
But she puts it out of mind. She puts just about everything out of mind, in all honesty, for she's focusing her frustration and irritation and confusion on the punching bag before her. Fists fly, elbows are thrown, middle and high kicks impact noisily, and on she goes, pushing past any aching or tiredness. Those last few months behind a desk and a microphone had put her off her game, and like hell she was going to stay off her game if what these strangers had in store for her was true.
Later, she's at the weapon rack, considering what to give a try... and looking no small amount confused, too. She pulls a sword free, and is thrown off by the weight and balance of it. "...it's solid? Tch, that's primitive, isn't it?" For all that they'd managed to haul her here, just what kind of rinky-dink low-tech operation were they running?
What| There's a new arrival in the detainment center. She's not impressed.
Where| Detainment center cafeteria and training areas
When| After the D10/D11 battles
Warnings/Notes| None, will add if necessary
Cafeteria
Laia does not regret her choice of reaction upon waking up on a steel cot and being escorted somewhere by soldiers. Submitting to the guards, sizing up the location's layout and her captor's capabilities, and then taking the first chance to knock them all out and flee had gotten her a black eye and a pair of plastic wrist cuffs, true. But she had made her decision with the information available to her, and going forward, she wouldn't make the same mistake twice. This wasn't the Gurhal system, these weren't the Illuminus, and her position as president meant nothing. It was all bullshit (and she had loudly declared as much), but it was new bullshit. Different than the mess that she was now, apparently, very far away from.
It still wasn't enough information to properly operate on, though. The truth that comes from the mouths of administrators and the actual truth are worlds apart, in her experience. So she had settled herself in the cafeteria with a mug of tea and a plastic baggie full of ice, intent on flagging someone down and grilling them for on-the-ground details. But there were video screens showing the most hideous things... she has found herself drawn into a Greatest Hits recap of the Hunger Games, and can't quite manage to tear her eyes away. Laia knows death when she sees it, and she is damn sure that these scenes of carnage are not carefully-done special effects. But that would mean.... what would that mean?
Having viewed someone's particularly gruesome end, framed with dramatic music and entirely too flippant narration, she can't stay silent any longer. "Hey!" She calls out to someone at the edge of her vision, but doesn't look their way. "Hey, you, is this..." Up goes a hand, turning vaguely around, as though she might pluck the right words out of the air. "...what the hell is this?"
Training Facilities
If they've brought her here to fight, Laia intends on doing the job properly. And since it seems they're not allowing her any of her actual equipment, she's just going to have to get used to going without. Without a line shield, she'll have to be more alert and agile. Without a nano-transformer, she'll have to content herself to limited weapons and no on-the-fly healing. And something else feels off, too, but she can't quite put her finger on what...
But she puts it out of mind. She puts just about everything out of mind, in all honesty, for she's focusing her frustration and irritation and confusion on the punching bag before her. Fists fly, elbows are thrown, middle and high kicks impact noisily, and on she goes, pushing past any aching or tiredness. Those last few months behind a desk and a microphone had put her off her game, and like hell she was going to stay off her game if what these strangers had in store for her was true.
Later, she's at the weapon rack, considering what to give a try... and looking no small amount confused, too. She pulls a sword free, and is thrown off by the weight and balance of it. "...it's solid? Tch, that's primitive, isn't it?" For all that they'd managed to haul her here, just what kind of rinky-dink low-tech operation were they running?
no subject
"You're pretty good with those. They teach you that here?" Let's see if she's at all inclined to talk. Maybe... maybe she's not as bad off as she looks. Maybe she's missing something. Maybe Laia won't have to go talk herself down from doing something angry and rash.
no subject
Still she follows suit lowering her sticks to the ground and then backing away from them two steps.
"Another tribute taught me...he's gone now." She considers giving his name but is rewarded by a sharp stinging needle to her frontal lobe which makes her eye twitch unpleasantly. Talking about rebels, especially rebels she used to care about is against the rules apparently.
"You can learn lots of stuff here if you've been here long enough...if you pay attention."
And this girl was paying close attention wasn't she? It made Sandy's skin crawl even if part of her was aware that this was exactly the sort of attention to detail she usually gave newcomers.
no subject
"You sure can. You've been here a while, have you? I'm sure you know a lot." It's a fight, but she is managing to keep her face fixed into something approaching an open smile. This kid doesn't need some older person taking out their anxieties on her. "You think you could give me some pointers, sometime? I'm not used to the kind of weapons they've got here."
She was the kind of kid that was very much pleased to be helpful, and considered wanted and smart and skilled. Maybe she's projecting a little on this one.
no subject
"I can help sure. We just need to find a weapon you're comfortable with. It's not like before, when there were arenas you never knew what kind of weapon you were gonna get. But now you can request stuff."
It was a small comfort really.
"There used to be more stations for like...making traps, first aid, camouflage and stuff but mostly now it's about fighting I guess?" There had been call for those other things in each district but in the end, it was kill or be killed just as it always had been.
no subject
"I'm pretty good with a spear. And claws. What kind of stuff have you had lots of practice with, kid?"
no subject
She shrugs at the possibility that things are different "Part of the problem with arenas was, each one was different and sometimes even training doesn't help. One time we were put on an island where everything was poisonous. Like...everything. Even the stuff that shouldn't have been. "
She's lucky that she'd discovered that early on in the arena or she would have died in a week.
"Knives, clubs, bows, axes, short swords, bats and like...those little throwing stars and knives." She counted off looking to the weapons table to see if she'd forgotten anything she was particularly good with.
"Oh and bombs, I know how to make bombs."
There used to be a time she would be enthusiastic or even proud of everything she'd learned, but she just sounded emotionally tired.
no subject
"Bombs, nice..." And there's an honest kind of awe in her tone, enough to cover up her alarm that this poor kid knows that kind of thing. A quick breath in, and moving right along... "Maybe you should show me some knife throwing? I've always wanted to learn that. It's just hard to find the time, sometimes." Then she's smiling and carefully holding her hand out to the girl. "...I'm Laia, by the way. What's your name?"