thearena | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Thanks." She sits down next to him, folding one leg over the other and upturning the helmet. Another flashlight, some scrap metal, and probably best of all - duct tape. "Sorry about the visual."

There's something comforting about coming back to a 'crew', to her family - and she has started to consider them such. It's a heavy sort of sweetness, one which makes her simultaneously grateful they're here and guilty for such selfishness. She knows her comfort comes at the cost of their freedom, her solidarity at their safety.

As all things.

She picks up the duct tape and hands it over to Albert. "I found a bunch of...eggs or something on the lower floor. I'm thinking they're probably not gift baskets. How's it been here?"

Another way to look at it is their comfort comes with an added side of safety. Numbers do wonders in the early days of an Arena. As a group, single Tributes are less likely to approach for fear of being overwhelmed, and their sharing resources means they stay alive just that much longer. If Delilah said anything to the effect of her thoughts, Albert would shoot her down immediately. This was his plan in the first place, to find their allies and stick together as long as possible.

"I take it you don't mean the kind for omelettes." He takes the duct tape with a raise of his eyebrows, clearly approving at the haul. "We'll avoid them, though I suspect the Gamemakers can likely hatch whatever's in there at will. Maybe we should try and seal the area off."

Not that there would be much of a point, but he's gone too long doing operations for rescue, for protecting others, that it's hard not to view the Gamemakers as the main enemy and try to thwart their plans, even if it would extend their time here. "The tape is a good find. It works as a bandage and stitches in a pinch and we can make weapons with it and the metal and pipes." They'd ripped a couple of those from an adjacent corridor, thinking to rig up some makeshift weapons. A jagged, duct taped spear is better than nothing.

"It's been fine here, if boring." If boring means stressful. He's supposed to be resting while the more restless go hunt for supplies and allies but he can't manage to sit still with his adopted sister and his husband off potentially getting into trouble. "Did you run into anyone?"

"And risk sealing someone inside there? It's too big, and I can only make so many jumps before I'm toast." She shakes her head. The Gamemaker surprise won't be thwarted, she knows that. If they have to pick their battles she's going to just up and abandon this one.

"I'm fine just using a cudgel. Honestly, a weapon's going to slow me down more than anything." She prefers her fists. She prefers the pain of split knuckles and broken fingers. It makes her feel like she's fighting even matches. "It's been pretty quiet. This Arena is huge."

She takes a seat and stretches her legs, twisting her ankles against the floor and listening to the satisfying pop. Her neck and knuckles follow in short succession, then her shoulders.

"Is Jet doing okay? I haven't- I'm not a mechanic. I'm not even a real medic. I just put things together that seem ripped apart on like, some gut level."

"The quiet won't last long." He shrugs, but it does give him an idea. All the killing is well and good for the Capitol, but it's juicy gossip that holds the audience's attention just as well.

"Jet's doing alright. You did a good job on his organics, it's just the cybernetics that have been a problem, but he sent me a message that he found Bruce and Sam and is getting patched up as we speak." Albert taps the side of his head to indicate the brainwave transmitter, then pauses theatrically and leans in a bit, one eyebrow raised. "Speaking of Sam..."

He trails of conspiratorially, as if he's trying to make her blush. Maybe he is. He doubts it'll work but it's amusing just the same.

"Good. That's good to hear. Tell him to tell Sam I say hi."

And blush she does, although it's partly performance - but only partly. There is a part of her that feels conflicted in all the ways that can push blood up through her face, pleased that she can attract such a beautiful man, guilty that she did so so soon after her ex failed to revive from the Arenas, excited by the way Sam makes her heart race a little bit.

"You guys weren't the only ones to take care of me when I was drunk in recent memory." She can't help but have the corners of her mouth twitch into a smile, uncontained. "He was a total gentleman, for what it's worth. We played party games and ate carrots."

He tilts his head for half a second, sending the message mentally, then grins a bit at Delilah. "He's a good man, from what I can tell."

A pause hangs between them for a long moment, something calculated on Albert's part. He does have timing. "Are you planning on maybe doing more than kissing?"

The blush deepens. She toes that line between playing coy for the cameras and saying something she might regret; when matters of the heart are on the line, one foolish word can send a bridge up in flame. "Wow, that's kind of forward to ask, isn't it?"

She doesn't know what she's planning. She doesn't even know if she's allowed to have this, this momentary happiness when her ex is dead, if that makes her fickle and shallow. She doesn't know if getting close to Sam will paint a target on his back in her perfume and her lipstick. She doesn't know if the flame will gutter as soon as Sam realizes how meek and hopeless she is in bed; she doesn't even know if there's a flame at all.

But she does know how to play for a camera. "I think I've made my intentions to him pretty clear. Ball's in his court now. Why, you want to vet him before he gets a shot at your best girl?"

"Something like that. We've already spoken, but there was no mention of necking with my adopted sister." Yes, he just said necking. What an old fogey.

"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.

The corners of her mouth disappear into her cheeks in a deeper smile when he says 'adopted sister'. She hasn't used the term for Albert yet, or for Jet, but she doesn't fight it. She expects her acceptance of the position speaks volumes enough.

"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?"

I'm Just Trying to Take This New Skin for a Spin [Open]

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