Tim Drake (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_hit_list) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2013-05-07 07:10 pm
the_hit_list) wrote in thecapitol2013-05-07 07:10 pm
Entry tags:
[Closed] I stay focused on details...
Who | Tim Drake and Stephanie Brown
What | Steph's alive! Huzzah! (We're still in deep shit).
Where | Stephanie's room at the training facility.
When | Week 8 (approximately 3 days after her death at the end of week 7).
Warnings/Notes | Do mentions of death count? This should be fairly safe.
Three days. She's been dead for three days. Tim has no clue what was taking so long, but he had no frame of reference. It hadn't seemed like any time had passed between dying and waking up, but how would he know?
Since the morning after the party, Tim's been scarce in the Capitol. He'd found the room that was assigned to Stephanie and pretty much staked it out. He was worried that he'd missed her somehow, when he was off arguing with his escort without actually being rude or argumentative about what things were and weren't necessary. Getting to Stephanie as quickly as possible was short-term priority one. Before she had a chance to sound off on the excellent political system of Panem.
He hadn't won every argument though, and he'd gone to meals - Tim knew that he was going into the next Arena, unless they found a way to stop it. He couldn't afford to drop weight. In fact, he was hoping to gain five pounds. For the interims, he'd taken to booby-trapping the door of the room in a different way each time. Feathers dropped just inside the door that would blow around around if the door was opened at a normal speed. A hair draped over the doorknob as he left the room. "Accidentally" shutting the door on his fingers and leaving a small piece of paper trapped between door and jamb. Rudimentary, but effective. Either someone knew what he was doing, or no one had touched the door besides him.
But it was getting to be noon, and there was nothing to distract him. He couldn't glean any knowledge from the hologram device - it was the equivalent of a printer, really. Strictly an I/O device. He needed access to a computer. After Steph turned up, that was next on short-term priorities. The view screen wall was on, showing a live feed of the arena, but he'd turned the sound off. Tim had still been watching it, leaning against the headboard with his knees up, when burning the candle at both ends finally caught up with him. He drifted off for an unintended nap.
What | Steph's alive! Huzzah! (We're still in deep shit).
Where | Stephanie's room at the training facility.
When | Week 8 (approximately 3 days after her death at the end of week 7).
Warnings/Notes | Do mentions of death count? This should be fairly safe.
Three days. She's been dead for three days. Tim has no clue what was taking so long, but he had no frame of reference. It hadn't seemed like any time had passed between dying and waking up, but how would he know?
Since the morning after the party, Tim's been scarce in the Capitol. He'd found the room that was assigned to Stephanie and pretty much staked it out. He was worried that he'd missed her somehow, when he was off arguing with his escort without actually being rude or argumentative about what things were and weren't necessary. Getting to Stephanie as quickly as possible was short-term priority one. Before she had a chance to sound off on the excellent political system of Panem.
He hadn't won every argument though, and he'd gone to meals - Tim knew that he was going into the next Arena, unless they found a way to stop it. He couldn't afford to drop weight. In fact, he was hoping to gain five pounds. For the interims, he'd taken to booby-trapping the door of the room in a different way each time. Feathers dropped just inside the door that would blow around around if the door was opened at a normal speed. A hair draped over the doorknob as he left the room. "Accidentally" shutting the door on his fingers and leaving a small piece of paper trapped between door and jamb. Rudimentary, but effective. Either someone knew what he was doing, or no one had touched the door besides him.
But it was getting to be noon, and there was nothing to distract him. He couldn't glean any knowledge from the hologram device - it was the equivalent of a printer, really. Strictly an I/O device. He needed access to a computer. After Steph turned up, that was next on short-term priorities. The view screen wall was on, showing a live feed of the arena, but he'd turned the sound off. Tim had still been watching it, leaning against the headboard with his knees up, when burning the candle at both ends finally caught up with him. He drifted off for an unintended nap.