Commander Jane Shepard (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
earthborn) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2013-09-26 12:31 am
earthborn) wrote in thecapitol2013-09-26 12:31 am
Entry tags:
Call It What It Is [Open]
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.
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.
no subject
"That ain't how I remember it." She had died first. They'd gone off together and left him alone in the sand... and the next thing he'd known had been the blast of the cannons and Max coming back alone. "...But I was dyin', so I 'spose I could be wrong."
She wanted to call it convenience, what difference did it make to him.
no subject
When she was sure he understood, she relented half a step, rotating the shoulder that had habitually pained her for as long as she'd known Miranda. Alright, so that wasn't exactly fair. Wyatt hadn't done anything more than offer a momentary annoyance.
"Listen, Mister Earp. Where you from?"
no subject
He'd said his piece, she'd said hers. He would have been happy to drop it there and leave her and Max to their friendship, but he wasn't sure how to extract himself before the speech he could feel coming when he'd been asked a direct question.
"United States, iffen that means anything to ya. 1878."
no subject
"Yeah, actually, it does. I'm actually from Minnesota myself— at least, I grew up there. 2186 for me, though." So far away, yes, and so long ago. But still the same planet, after all, the same world, and a shared history, "I don't want to be your enemy, Wyatt. I just get the feeling that most people here don't actually share my goals. For me, that means that we're eventually going to come to cross-purposes, which has traditionally been an unsafe position to inhabit."
It was dangerous talk, particularly here, where it would be so easily picked up, overheard, and recorded. She heaved a sigh, and let go the stare, looked across at the so-called peacekeepers, nervous in their reduced numbers.
"I don't want there be any surprises. I want to know on which side people are going to stand, when it comes down to sides."
Not if, when. She's a woman of conviction, and carries no doubt in her tone.
no subject
"First, it was jus' a thank you, not a marriage proposal. I'd have said the same to anybody decent enough not to stab me in the throat first shot they got. Ain't any reason to get all worked up about it. As for the other--"
Mustache twitching, he followed her gaze over to the peacekeepers, then back again.
"It is true I don't know ya well. But I know ya get on with Max, an' that's enough to tell me our goals can't be all that different."
The hand at his side shifted, palm turning out slightly, cuff flashing at her.
His shackles out in the open.
no subject
She knew then that she'd probably end up doing something stupid for this man, in the Arena. He was showing trust here, poorly founded, but its blatancy made her eventual choice inevitable. God, Shepard hated it when she could see the mistakes coming, knowing she'd make them anyways, when the time came. It was the suspense that killed her, the waiting.
"Good talk. Anything else?"
no subject
"No, that's really all I had any need to say." His eyebrow lifted. "Yerself?"
no subject
no subject
"Yes, Ma'am."
And he turned away, happy to leave her to it.