thearena | (no subject)

Who| Milla Vodello & You
What| Catch all log for Milla's first week in the arena, followed by her death.
Where| Around the arena.
When| Week 1 until her death
Warnings/Notes| Psychic shenanigans, anything else will be added.

[OPEN] General Wanderings

The quiet of the station wasn't quite as foreboding as it could have been really. The trickle of loud thoughts from those within her telepathy's range and the creaking of the space station itself was enough to help Milla adjust to her powers being back. The comfort of levitation and telepathy steadied her as she quietly floated along through the dilapidated halls of the station.

She slowly comes to a stop when she sees someone ahead of her. The real struggle is whether to back off or approach. The secret agent opts to approach cautiously but keeps some distance initially as she speaks up. Her voice is still quiet and measured to avoid having it echo. "Are you alright, darling?"

OPEN- After her fight with Venus

The Brazilian woman can only grimace openly as she clutches at her side. Everything aches in a way it hasn't in quite awhile. That fight had been an awful idea in the long run and Milla knows it. She'll beat herself up about it later.

Any curses she wants to spout are stilled as she finds a quiet corner to just sit down in. Her injuries aren't going to heal themselves, but she's been walking for awhile now. It certainly would be best to just rest for a short time. Whilst she's not the brightest of the colored jumpsuits the tributes were crammed in, a living person amongst all the wreckage of the station is a hard thing to miss. Even if Milla is doing her best to just remain quiet and still.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Brock snorts a little, gesturing vaguely around them to indicate the space port as a whole. "Sure. But I bet it makes it real easy to tell who's about to kill you, right?" he says, though maybe it doesn't work that way. Some people are probably good at keeping their thoughts empty when they creep around the murder orgy, especially if they've been at it for awhile.

"If they have low enough mental defenses, certainly." Milla answers with roll of her shoulders, for a death match Milla is decently relaxed. She's very much the same person she was on their other meetings. "Now, what were you up to, baby-? If you don't mind me asking."

It's good to see that, anyway. A lot of people got wiggy in life-or-death situations, but the implications here of a personality shift were even worse: that the time spent in the Capitol meant nothing and that it was all a front, the ruthlessness coming out in the Arena. So he's glad to see that Milla is who she appears to be, as far as he can tell.

Brock wonders what exactly constitutes a low mental defense, but he doesn't comment. He figures if he has something like that, she'll let him know.

At her question, he laughs a little, gesturing around with a sweep of his arm. "Me? Trying not to get killed, mostly."

"It's certainly a good plan, darling." Milla easily rests a hand on Brock's arm in a friendly gesture to equal parts further cement, yes, yes she isn't about to flip a switch to ruthlessness and remind herself Brock hopefully wasn't about to do the same. Far as she could tell his thoughts weren't saying as much.

"How about you and I try that together for awhile? Company is something we'll both need to figure out this place."

Brock smiles a little broader when she touches his arm, and he turns a little to gently place his hand at the small of her back, steering her back toward the door he was trying to open before he... well, before he threw scissors at her. Embarrassingly.

"I think you're my kind of company, too," he says, grinning, then jerks his head toward the door. "You been in any of the labs yet? They're all puzzles."

The fact Milla doesn't jerk away or protest to the touch is enough to say she trusts the man. She's willing to follow Brock's lead for now. She did interrupt him after all. "I've yet to see the labs actually." She had mostly focused on rooting around for food and useable supplies with minor results. The thought of a puzzle was a good distraction at least.

"Lets see if we can solve it, baby. Two heads are better than one." She taps the side of her head with her index finger as she talks, winking playfully back. "If all else fails, we can brute force our way through. I'm sure we have enough muscle between us."

Brock had been looking in the labs for food and supplies, finding the other rooms distinctly lacking in that department. Of course, he didn't seem to be faring any better in the labs, either. The whole foraging aspect was kind of a bust so far, to be honest.

He shoots her a wider grin at that, but doesn't comment. Milla is obviously smart and capable, but he's not sure if muscle is actually in her repertoire. He still thinks she's some kind of teacher, after all.

Then again, she is a telekinetic. So maybe he ought to adjust his preconceptions.

"Here -- the door's stuck, I think. I heard the lock click, but I can't get the thing open."

"Ah, let me see if I can do anything about it." It's a bit brute force for her tastes, but she has at least some idea of what she can do. With these automatic sliding space station doors, you need to play a little harder than usual.

Milla raises a hand resting her index finger and middle finger against her forehead, focusing on the door for a moment. It doesn't take long for a pair of glowing oversized hands to appear overhead. The giant hands glow a surprisingly bright pink color and take a sharp swing at the door. With the force behind it, the door is likely to give way. With very little sound oddly enough.

Brock boggles a little bit at the... magic, glowing hands, because... well. That's not exactly what he expected.

Still, it's effective enough -- and quiet! Which is helpful -- that, once the door is down, he just kind of stands there, eyebrows raised. "Well... that works."

What else can you say?

Jerking his head toward the now-open door, indicating that Milla ought to follow, Brock goes inside. The interior of the room is very large, filled with glass walls and waist-high barricades in a maze-like pattern. He only has about a second to take all this in, though, before he's suddenly being fired at by lasers.

Swearing, Brock dives behind the closest barricade, then scrambles to turn around and see if Milla made it.

Milla saves any comment that comes to mind for later- neither are quite sure lays beyond the door after all. Even if her entry was decently quiet, its better to play things cautiously.

Which is proven right by the sudden onslaught of lasers. It's been awhile since she's seen lasers. Brock can likely see the realization on her face as she reacts. The psychic drops down to avoid them, rolling with praticed easy behind a barrier herself. Though the lasers do singe the ends of some of her hair.

Milla doesn't remark on it, giving the man a nod to signal she's okay.

Edited 2015-03-11 05:47 (UTC)