Venus Dee Milo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thearena2014-01-31 07:52 pm
celebrityskinned) wrote in thearena2014-01-31 07:52 pm
Entry tags:
Her Eyes Are Like Champagne [Open]
WHO| Venus and Joly, Venus and Kankri and Julian, Venus and open
WHAT| Venus is starting to unravel in the Arena
WHEN| Last day of Week 2
WHERE| Fourth floor
WARNINGS| Mentions of injuries and psychiatric illness.
Her fingertips are going numb. She sits in the pantry on the fourth floor, rubbing her hands together and rocking herself on the tile floor. With Kankri gone, she can be a little less put-together, but there are still cameras to consider. She hasn't let her pretenses down for anything but sleep in the last three days.
And even that sleep isn't much. Venus' mind is on fire. It's not an inferno, but it's the crackle of embers that leaves her wild-eyed and pacing, even though she isn't supposed to put weight on her injured leg. She stays put for only a few hours at a time, and doesn't feel rested when she wakes, only like she's lost time.
Kankri can tell something's wrong. He tries to fuss at her to eat more, and she forces a meager amount down just to keep him happy even though it makes her feel ill. She's snippy and restless and unfocused, and keeps insisting on doing the supply runs, on patrolling the perimeter, on checking on Enjolras' friends, on doing anything to keep from being cooped up in this pantry. She argues that someone will find her here, because it's a place where people will look for food, even though days ago she decided it was an ideal hiding spot.
She stops trying to be quiet when she patrols. It would be impossible anyway, with her leg as injured as it is and her breath heavy through her mouth by necessity. She practically drags it; the injury is puffy and leaks pus that she tries to hide from Kankri, and her leg is red and swollen down past her knee. The gash dividing her nose and cheeks is no more pretty, though uninfected.
And rather than keeping her knife in her pocket, she holds it in her fist.
She goes to check on the Amis. It's painfully dark for midday, thanks in no small part to the stormclouds visible outside the windows. With the fanfare of thunder, they suddenly split open, bulleting the windows with harsh rain and illuminating the fossils on the fourth floor in brilliant lightning strobes.
WHAT| Venus is starting to unravel in the Arena
WHEN| Last day of Week 2
WHERE| Fourth floor
WARNINGS| Mentions of injuries and psychiatric illness.
Her fingertips are going numb. She sits in the pantry on the fourth floor, rubbing her hands together and rocking herself on the tile floor. With Kankri gone, she can be a little less put-together, but there are still cameras to consider. She hasn't let her pretenses down for anything but sleep in the last three days.
And even that sleep isn't much. Venus' mind is on fire. It's not an inferno, but it's the crackle of embers that leaves her wild-eyed and pacing, even though she isn't supposed to put weight on her injured leg. She stays put for only a few hours at a time, and doesn't feel rested when she wakes, only like she's lost time.
Kankri can tell something's wrong. He tries to fuss at her to eat more, and she forces a meager amount down just to keep him happy even though it makes her feel ill. She's snippy and restless and unfocused, and keeps insisting on doing the supply runs, on patrolling the perimeter, on checking on Enjolras' friends, on doing anything to keep from being cooped up in this pantry. She argues that someone will find her here, because it's a place where people will look for food, even though days ago she decided it was an ideal hiding spot.
She stops trying to be quiet when she patrols. It would be impossible anyway, with her leg as injured as it is and her breath heavy through her mouth by necessity. She practically drags it; the injury is puffy and leaks pus that she tries to hide from Kankri, and her leg is red and swollen down past her knee. The gash dividing her nose and cheeks is no more pretty, though uninfected.
And rather than keeping her knife in her pocket, she holds it in her fist.
She goes to check on the Amis. It's painfully dark for midday, thanks in no small part to the stormclouds visible outside the windows. With the fanfare of thunder, they suddenly split open, bulleting the windows with harsh rain and illuminating the fossils on the fourth floor in brilliant lightning strobes.
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