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
"Settle, you little psychopath," She grit out and threw her weight into it for good measure, pinning him more bodily to the ground.
It was an odd little wrestling match, but she was on top and he could wriggle, but he sure as hell wasn't winning free. It put her face down by his ear, which was convenient to Shepard's needs because this was getting old.
"You want to know my title, Makara? I'm Commander Shepard. I'm the Butcher of Torfan, the Hero of the Citadel, Champion to the Krogan people, so let me make myself clear," she punctuated it with a little jerk on his horn, as if to assure an attention that couldn't have possibly been anywhere else, "You can get behind me or be ground under my heel, but you will respect me, and no one stands in my way."
It wasn't graceful, the retreat, but it was fast. A heave, two steps, and out the ring, dusting off her hands with a glance for the nervous peacekeepers. You see? No trouble here. None at all.
"We're done here."
hope this is okay :x
He's just about to wrench free-- let his hand break, let his whole goddamn arm break, so the fuck what? He can kill her-- when she steps off him.
He's up in a second and then his leg is shooting out to trip her down. Fuck the ring, fuck the peacekeepers.
"Fuck you!" He shouts as the peacekeepers startle. "I STAND BEHIND NO ONE! And least of all will I stand at behind hypocritical, ignorant, contumelious, over-fucking-familiar, godless fuckers like you! I AIN'T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT WHO ALL YOU ARE, SHEPARD, BUT IF YOU WANT AT TO USE MY NAME, IT'S YOU WHAT NEEDS AT TO EARN MY DAMN RESPECT! Now we're motherfucking done."
He glares down, waiting for her to rise, and all but spits.