Venus Dee Milo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thearena2014-10-03 03:37 am
celebrityskinned) wrote in thearena2014-10-03 03:37 am
Entry tags:
There's Plenty of Ways to Know You're Not Dying [Closed]
WHO| Shepard and Venus
WHAT| Districtmates have a rough confrontation.
WHERE| Some space store in the mall.
WHEN| Week Six, before Venus gets crushed by the gate.
WARNINGS| Shep's driving Venus to suicide, so it's going to be ugly.
Venus' head is spinning. Somewhere between dehydration and sleep deprivation, she's lost her sense of balance, and as such she's holed up in the bookstore, arms wrapped around herself as she weathers another round of chills from her withdrawal.
She's alone in this Arena now. She tries to read a book and yet her eyes seem incapable of sorting letters into words. She paces around the bookstore on her mangled feet until she's bled through several layers of band-aids. She cries and she stares at the ceiling and she waits for someone to come and kill her as she lies, unwilling to defend herself, on the floor.
Everyone she loves is dead.
No one comes to spare her this existence. After two days she woozily gets to her feet and wanders towards the cafeteria, gets lost and winds up in some sort of space-themed store. She pulls her jacket tighter over herself, looking, with her brand and unkempt hair and unchanged clothes, less like District Five's diva and more like the street person she was as a teenager. She takes a seat behind a row of models and chews her nails. Pieces of polish still fleck them, but not smooth and pretty, not maintained.
She stands up and looks beyond the rack of models when she hears someone entering.
"Shepard."
WHAT| Districtmates have a rough confrontation.
WHERE| Some space store in the mall.
WHEN| Week Six, before Venus gets crushed by the gate.
WARNINGS| Shep's driving Venus to suicide, so it's going to be ugly.
Venus' head is spinning. Somewhere between dehydration and sleep deprivation, she's lost her sense of balance, and as such she's holed up in the bookstore, arms wrapped around herself as she weathers another round of chills from her withdrawal.
She's alone in this Arena now. She tries to read a book and yet her eyes seem incapable of sorting letters into words. She paces around the bookstore on her mangled feet until she's bled through several layers of band-aids. She cries and she stares at the ceiling and she waits for someone to come and kill her as she lies, unwilling to defend herself, on the floor.
Everyone she loves is dead.
No one comes to spare her this existence. After two days she woozily gets to her feet and wanders towards the cafeteria, gets lost and winds up in some sort of space-themed store. She pulls her jacket tighter over herself, looking, with her brand and unkempt hair and unchanged clothes, less like District Five's diva and more like the street person she was as a teenager. She takes a seat behind a row of models and chews her nails. Pieces of polish still fleck them, but not smooth and pretty, not maintained.
She stands up and looks beyond the rack of models when she hears someone entering.
"Shepard."