Call It What It Is [Open]

[earthborn]

Who| Shepard and Anyone who crosses her path
What| Various things in and around the Capitol
Where| See the following options
When| Both before the reveal re: the "Gas Leak" and before the actual event portion of the event gets underway
Warnings/Notes| Probably cussing, violence, and reference to violence

♦ The Training Center:

Shepard has made a terrible habit of confrontation throughout her life, and it's earned her more than one broken bone. As it stands, she does tend to lie around insulting people a lot, and while ordinarily she exhibited that hobby by lounging at the edge of the sparring ring and mocking her fellow tributes, she wasn't feeling that playful today. No, today finds her with the punching bag, sweating and thinking, remembering another time, older days, with a friend now far beyond her.

…Also this is the second bag, she's already destroyed the first. Look, there it is, bust seams and leaking sand, just to the side. You feelin' lucky, punk?

♦ Out And About:

The nicest thing about being a bloodthirsty bitch was that when they paid you afterward, they paid you well. And that meant that when you wanted to sit on a public park bench and pull directly from the bottle, no one could stop you. No one.

But it was a nice evening, and a pleasant vintage, and anyways if these Capitol idiots had a problem, they could cross the street to avoid it, like good little patricians. She didn't have time for it. Besides, thanks to Cerberus, it'd take more than this to put her over the limit, however loose her personal standards for such a limit might be.

♦ The Gas Leak:

If anything had prepared her for the utter two-facedness of every living creature in the galaxy, known or unknown, it had been her work as a Spectre. And here, she was both pleased and chagrined to discover, was no different. But of course it was no surprise that the kind of people who achieved prominence in a society that felt blood sport was an acceptable substitute for war-debt reparations were less than honest to those over whom they held power. It was just so damn tiring, after all this time.

"Just once, I'd like to have someone screw up, and then just fix their own damn problem," she muttered, watching the grainy security footage for the third time. It was the same as the rest; a loose formation of peacekeepers, a black shadow, and then it was over almost before it had begun, and all that was left was blood and corpses. Given the circumstances, they should probably consider themselves lucky the damn things hadn't taken them alive, not that she would call that 'luck'.

If anyone wants to approach her about this, she is the picture of an open-door policy, spread out in one corner of the tribute center's main commons room.

Comments

Training center

[burnedbrighter]

Azula had been watching her for some time. One of her tributes. And yet they hadn't spoken directly.

She was strong, fierce, a solid contender in most fields.

So how was Azula supposed to help her?

With eyes like a predator she let her sight roam over the woman studying her form, her strikes. Seeking out weaknesses.

[earthborn]

Shepard missed her biotics. Time was, each of these strikes would be enough to stagger a thousand or more pounds of Brute. Now it was all she could do to stretch the seams on a punching bag. It was a pattern, old days in N2 training, older ones in basic, shadow-boxing that turned into memory, that...

Someone was watching her. She felt it as much as anything, but didn't let it show, didn't falter, only finished the imaginary match with an equally imaginary turian and stepped back, pulling up her shirt to wipe at her face.

"Take a picture," she suggested, without looking, "It'll last longer."

[burnedbrighter]

She smirked at the remark, sassy as well.

"A static image could never measure up to the real thing." She shot back moving closer. She was dressed casually in a sweater with dark colors and glittering cold, long sleeves that hid her hands.

[earthborn]

Jane couldn't help the sigh. More people who looked at her with that predatory, proprietary air, as if she hadn't had enough of that. God she missed biotics!

"Alright, what do you want?" the attitude earned Azula a look, tired, if not weary. Everybody's looking for something from her, all the time.

[burnedbrighter]

An interesting question. Only a few answers would be allowed.

"Respect. Glory. To see you rise to victory." She answered calmly pacing towards her slowly.

"What do you want?" She echoed back.

Training Center

[carnagecarnival]

The sandbag doesn't scare him. It doesn't impress him. He doesn't feel any particular need for luck. When the Initiate enters the Training Center and finds her, he feels a bright flare of agitation. As creatures do, his eyes narrow and to the source of that flare he goes.

"THOUGHT AT A SISTER ALL UP AND SAID WE AIN'T HAVE TIME THIS HOOFBEASTSHIT," He says. "Seems at she has time a plenty now."

He gives the torn sandbag a tap with the side of his foot as if it were a corpse that might not be all dead yet.

[earthborn]

God save her from pissant children. Hell, at this rate, she might just give up trying to find a moment to find her balance, to center herself for the fight ahead. Shepard isn't sure why she bothers, given the results.

She should be the adult here. She should keep calm, step down, let it go. Save it for the Xenomorphs. Let it go. Let it go. Let it...

Seems at she has time a plenty now.

Screw it, rage is better than balance, some days. She just needs someone to hit.

"Are you trying to start something?" And this shit here is right in her crosshairs, "Or do you always deliberately harass people when they're busy, Kurloz Makara."

[carnagecarnival]

Lucky. He's always wanting for someone to hit. The feelings are mutual. Rage is better than balance.

His eyes narrow and he throws his hands up.

"PERHAPS HE JUST THOUGHT TO CALL AGAIN ON HOOFBEAST SHIT, Spilled forth from her unfortunate maw in wasted words. A GIRL INSISTS AT GETTING AT A MOTHERFUCKING STRIFE IS ALL TO BE A WASTE OF FUCKING TIME AND YET HERE SHE IS. Wasting. PERHAPS SHE CAN DO SOMETHING ALL OF USE. Tell at him; DO YOU GOT INTENT TO BE UP IN MY GODDAMN QUADRANTS? Because if you motherfucking don't, you need at to stop using that name RIGHT THE FUCK NOW."

What hath science wrought

[earthborn]

Well now, that's just asking for it.

"I don't see how I answer to your authority, Kurloz. I prepare for a fight however the hell I please, and call people by whatever name I please."

It was, upon reflection, likely to her benefit to have made a habit of enticing people to fights as a matter of course. The Peacekeepers had seen her go too far once before, but...

Well, this wasn't exactly out of character, now was it?

She didn't know the reference, the only quad-anything she could place was a Krogan quad, and he would be far from the first to try that brand of macho posing. Shepard wasn't above petty insults to gain reaction and she stepped back past the painted line onto the padded sparring ring with hands spread wide in a sarcastic mockery of helplessness.

"So if you don't like it, why don't you stand the hell up and make me?"

Out and About

[gunshiptotheface]

The Training Center had been interesting, new faces and more than enough diversity wandering he halls that it made him curious as to what was outside of the building's walls. The city was interesting, it's inhabitants even more strange than he had thought. He wasn't too sure what to make of their fashion statements, but he tried to avoid the too brightly coloured ones.

But once he found the park, the surprise waiting for him on one of the park benches, bottle in hand, he didn't believe he was actually seeing. Shepard, entirely whole, looking as she usually didn't care what the world thought of her. THe bottle was a surprise but after being trust into such a strange place anything that was even vaguely familiar as home was welcomed.

Striding over he stopped a couple of feet from her and watched her a moment before sitting beside her.

"You know, back home we kept that level of drinking in the bar. Or at least the Crew Lounge, Shepard."

[earthborn]

She watched him in return, a steady stare under the veneer of intoxication. So, here we are, Shepard and Vakarian. The old team, back together again. Made her wonder, had the Capitol just been reading her mind along with whatever else they were spying on? Christ, she wasn't that much of a suicide risk yet.

The things she doesn't get Garrus into; might as well speak up, get it over with.

"Back home it was my crew lounge and I could drink wherever I wanted," But then he sits, and she decides that they aren't going to talk about any of that. No, it was a time for their usual brand of avoiding the issues, "Unless I'm finally drunk enough to be hallucinating you. That's nice, for a change of pace."

[gunshiptotheface]

"You're not hallucinating, if you were then I must be too because it's a fairly convincing illusion," He chuckles and turns to watch her and that bottle. It's amazing to see her alive again, alive and well, but he knew that their circumstances certainly weren't the best. Especially not if Shepard was mostly through a bottle of wine while sitting on a park bench.

"You should slow down, just a bit." He'll reach out and gently take the bottle from her hand. Not the smartest thing to do, but he'll take his chances after the day he's had.

[earthborn]

"Wh— hey!" she made a grab for the retreating bottle, but he was damned tall, even seated, and it only threatened to unbalance her. Alright, so what if she was drunk? "Who made you guardian of...of —public decency?"

Shepard has no friends left. No, not even Garrus, their friendship sacrificed on this, the tragic day when he stole her only true friend; booze. Now watch her fold her arms, the very picture of a petulant toddler, for all the Capitol to see her.

Wait.

Wait, one second, now, this was taking it a bit far. There was no amount of vivid imagination or wishful thinking that had Garrus playing out a fantasy in which he stole her damn drink.

"Garrus?" God. He was real, "The hell are you doing here?"

Out and About

[celebrityskinned]

There are two choices, Venus figures: either she can play aloof and mysterious, casting herself as the surprise dark horse femme fatale, or she can be the socialite party girl. Given that she's nowhere near done exploring the Capitol, she decides on the latter, and as such the blisters on her feet speak to the fact that she's been all around town lately, trying new foods and rubbing shoulders with the upper crust.

She's taking a moment to herself, a stroll through one of the gardens, when she sees a familiar face. It takes her a moment to place it, and when she does, it's a bloodied, smashed face with a shank in its forehead. The thought doesn't bother her.

"Out of drink?" She places a hand to the back of the bench Shepard's at and leans over it. "I can at least afford to buy you one, you know, to make sure there's no hard feelings."

[earthborn]

"Hold you to that offer," she replied, caught somewhere between bored and pissed off, just on the right side of lassitude to come off as conversational, "But if this is the part where you gloat or something, let me just preemptively tell you to go fuck yourself."

She can be bland about it because for her, death was relatively quick. She'd never really expected to go like that, but did anyone? If anything, she expected it slow. Torturous. With plenty of lead-up in which to panic, and struggle, and break.

Hell, maybe there had been. Not what she'd call it, but that probably wasn't the perspective of the intended age-range of that particular exercise.

[celebrityskinned]

"Boo, gloating's for whores," Venus says, rolling her eyes. She loops one leg over the back of the bench, then both, sliding onto her butt on the seat in a manner that manages to be both graceful and childish. She crosses her legs in a way that would be ladylike if she weren't doing so to show off the slit in her short skirt. "We both get a round two, so who's keeping score?"

Venus is, of course, but not in personal terms. She's just figuring out which strengths to play to, which people to watch out for.

"I mean, I feel a little bad, eensy bit bad, about mowing my way through the Arena, but everyone I killed came back so it's not that bad." She makes a 'small bit' gesture with her hands. "Come on, there's a bar that way. You can pick your poison."

[earthborn]

Shepard snorts at that, and allows the invasion of personal space. Having known a few whores in her time, she's unlikely to defend their dubious honor against claims of ego. They were long beyond caring, now.

Fine, then; we'll play a game.

"You're full of shit, and you're not sorry," It's almost a compliment, drawled like that, lazy and drunk. There's no booze on this planet that can take her down; no batarian liquor, or radioactive Krogan ryncol, "Does that make this an apology?"

Out and About

[gluteus]

He'd left Ferox in his rooms that evening before heading out. He frequented the Park often - one of the only places he seemed able to get some relative peace away from the intense futurism and hedonism of the Capitol.

He was expecting a long walk to himself. He wasn't expecting to find Shepard in the middle of it, a bottle in hand.

He raised an eyebrow as he walked over to her.

"Preferred this to the Speakeasy?" He asked as he came up.

[earthborn]

"You got it," came the easy reply, head tilted back and eyes slitted. What was really remarkable about the Capitol wasn't the glitz or the glam, the lights, the food, or the fashion. It was little things, like the way that, within the Park, you could see the stars.

She wasn't sure how they were doing it, exactly, but it was a startling touch for someone who knew anything about light pollution. It shouldn't be possible to pick out the four stars in Aquarius' jar— and yet, there he stood, implacable as always. She closed her eyes against the sight, head leaned back, and sighed.

"Why, what's your excuse?"

[gluteus]

"Prefer this to the entire Capitol," He rumbled easily as he came to a stop a couple feet away. He knew Shepard well enough, by now, that he was confident if she did not want company she would tell him so.

He glanced upwards, following where her gaze had been. They were slightly different, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He had never really been an astronomer. Had he been, perhaps he would have realised that they turned on a slightly different axis than he remembered.

"Only place in this entire City that might even begin to resemble home." He brought his gaze down to the trees. "... Though it's not an illusion that lasts long."

[earthborn]

"Mmmh. Reminds me of uh...Citadel. The Presidium looks a lot like this, all green and white and shining. Lots of money up there, too. The law enforcement is sharper, though."

She doesn't consider that a compliment. But then, C-Sec had never wanted a complimentary audience, just a law-abiding one. Popularity was the realm of politicians.

"That's not home, though," She takes a pull from the bottle, considers it, then offers it to Maximus with steady hands, "I can see home from here, if you want to know."

Training Center

[the_marshal]

The stretch between arenas was wearing thin. Wyatt could see it on the horizon, feel it pressing down - a weight on his shoulders, a sharp point between his ribs.

With The Speakeasy all but closed to him now, he spent more and more of his time in the Training Center. Not so much preparing, as distracting himself: building one cheery campfire after another, tying endless chains of knots, memorizing edible plants and poisonous wildlife from places he'd never even heard of - it all gave him something to do with his hands, with his mind, when he couldn't stand the sight of his own quarters. When the bits of scrap wood he'd collected ran low.

Today, he was throwing knives with startling accuracy - the steady gun eye, retrained for a new purpose, practice making him strong and true.

He normally kept to himself, while at such activities, but when he happened to pause, working the blades free of the target, and looked up to catch a flash of red across the room, he decided a word was something he wanted.

Though the busted bag he reached first did give him pause.

He didn't remember a whole lot about her, the memories fuzzy and difficult to trust, but he knew her to be a fierce sort (a shoe-in for victor, his escort liked to say), and maybe interrupting wasn't the best of ideas.

He waited a beat, for a break in her rhythm, and then cleared his throat to catch her attention.

"Mind if I trouble ya for a minute of yer time?"

wow, how did I not tag you back sooner?

[earthborn]

A flash of red, in the darkness. Muzzle-flash, maybe, or blood. The roar of engines made silent by intervening vacuum. The Normandy splitting apart like the Titanic of old, sending chairs and consoles into the black like bodies, twitching randomly under the shearing twins of momentum and spin. She hit the bag, harder, and felt long-dead bones crunch. It was only a memory.

Didn't mean a thing. But it brought pause, and someone spoke into it; she turned.

Wyatt Earp. Oh yes, she knew who he was, that one.

"If you've got something to say, go ahead."

[the_marshal]

Directness.

Well some folks might have shirked under such a forward statement, Wyatt was actually relieved. It was all strange enough as it was without adding to it.

Thumb hooked into his belt, he leaned back on his heels, meeting her odd stare squarely from under the dark brim of his hat.

"I was jus' wanted to say thanks. It ain't every arena ya come across someone willin' to keep their word, so I try to make it a point to tell 'em it's appreciated when I happen to meet one."

He'd lain there, dying and useless, and she'd stepped in - the partner he couldn't be. (Could never really be.) She'd kept the Roman's trust, and earned his.

[earthborn]

"Don't." Shepard cut him off with a sharp gesture, before this embarrassment could continue, "I'm not in the business of upholding anyone's heroic ideals. The only reason I didn't turn around and kill the both of you was because you happened to die before I got a clear shot."

The timing had been...inconvenient, to say the least.

"So, just— don't read so much into it."