Venus Dee Milo (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
celebrityskinned) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2014-12-14 09:55 pm
celebrityskinned) wrote in thearena2014-12-14 09:55 pm
Entry tags:
I'm Just Trying to Take This New Skin for a Spin [Open]
WHO| Venus Dee Milo and open!
WHAT| Various Arena encounters.
WHEN| First week of the Arena.
WHERE| Anywhere you want!
WARNINGS| None yet.
She has a map now.
Over the last few days, making about one 'jump' an hour or so, Venus has cased out the ground floor of the space port and gathered supplies for herself, Jet and Albert. Some of it's food, some of it's water, some are just sharp pieces of metal or strange vials that she's certain could make for a decent weapon. A strip of spacesuit cloth, tied over the edges of the upturned helmet, has transformed it into a handy messenger bag, and she's sure that the design will be all the rage in the Capitol soon. She's filled it each time with whatever scraps might help them last the weeks and track down the people who most definitely won't be winning.
She can tell by the way her skin seems to hum when she's done teleporting that she's been pushing it lately, and because she's with people willing to call her out on it, she rests. She sleeps while Albert keeps watch, keeping the injured Jet company while he takes his turns. She eats from the little dehydrated packets and she doesn't do more than two 'jumps' in an hour if she can help it. She makes sure to clean the makeshift bandage on the stab wound in the side of her chest on the regular. After they figure out the pattern to the gravity failures, she makes sure that they're all strapped in to the ground for the twice-hourly jolt.
When she teleports, it's nearly painful to see, a trick of the eye as reality arranges itself in perverse ways to squeeze her out of the dimension and back into it. She seems shrouded in the afterglow of lights that clutter up an eye after a flash, and then disappears into a blind spot that vision should not have allowed. She emerges in the same way, silently but preceded with the colorful blots of the optic nerve going haywire. And when she's crawled out of the pocket dimension she travels through, she only sometimes remembers to apologize for startling anyone she comes upon.
She may just teleport right next to you.
WHAT| Various Arena encounters.
WHEN| First week of the Arena.
WHERE| Anywhere you want!
WARNINGS| None yet.
She has a map now.
Over the last few days, making about one 'jump' an hour or so, Venus has cased out the ground floor of the space port and gathered supplies for herself, Jet and Albert. Some of it's food, some of it's water, some are just sharp pieces of metal or strange vials that she's certain could make for a decent weapon. A strip of spacesuit cloth, tied over the edges of the upturned helmet, has transformed it into a handy messenger bag, and she's sure that the design will be all the rage in the Capitol soon. She's filled it each time with whatever scraps might help them last the weeks and track down the people who most definitely won't be winning.
She can tell by the way her skin seems to hum when she's done teleporting that she's been pushing it lately, and because she's with people willing to call her out on it, she rests. She sleeps while Albert keeps watch, keeping the injured Jet company while he takes his turns. She eats from the little dehydrated packets and she doesn't do more than two 'jumps' in an hour if she can help it. She makes sure to clean the makeshift bandage on the stab wound in the side of her chest on the regular. After they figure out the pattern to the gravity failures, she makes sure that they're all strapped in to the ground for the twice-hourly jolt.
When she teleports, it's nearly painful to see, a trick of the eye as reality arranges itself in perverse ways to squeeze her out of the dimension and back into it. She seems shrouded in the afterglow of lights that clutter up an eye after a flash, and then disappears into a blind spot that vision should not have allowed. She emerges in the same way, silently but preceded with the colorful blots of the optic nerve going haywire. And when she's crawled out of the pocket dimension she travels through, she only sometimes remembers to apologize for startling anyone she comes upon.
She may just teleport right next to you.
no subject
"And if I've learned anything it's that life is unpredictable so why not be a little forward now and again?" It might be a little protective and defensive in equal measure, but the performance there is for the cameras. Sort of. The defensiveness anyway. If he'd though Delilah would be offended he wouldn't have said anything. The protectiveness though, that's all real and sincere. The last thing he's going to do is let someone he cares dearly for get hurt again, no matter the reasoning on the previous relationship's failure.
no subject
"If I get any more forward, I'll get a reputation. Or you will if you keep prying into what happens in booze-soaked pillowforts." She winks and pulls her knees up to her chest, resting her arms over them. "He's good people. I wouldn't- I don't know if I'm ready to date again, but I can entertain an idea, right?"