Joan Watson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
formersurgeon) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2013-06-27 04:56 pm
formersurgeon) wrote in thearena2013-06-27 04:56 pm
Entry tags:
Desert Arena: The city girl is screwed
Who| Joan Watson and open
What| Joan arrives in the arena
Where| Desert arena
When| Middle of week one
Warnings/Notes| I have no idea! I'll update depending on what transpires :) (And oh my god, did this get wall-o'-texty...)
She doesn't think Sherlock had this in mind when he said that when you eliminate the impossible, whatever is left, however improbable, is the truth.
Because this is impossible. Waking up in this weird place, no memory of how she got here, and being told she has to fight to the death in some sort of Thunderdome "there can be only one" crap?
And then there's the outfit.
If Joan were familiar with Game of Thrones, she might be amused by the irony of a short attractive Asian woman dressed up like the excessively tall, unattractive, blonde Brienne of Tarth. But all she can figure is that she's dressed like Joan of Arc, which is more like a bad joke. Especially considering the "armor" is just copper colored felt woven through with shiny faux metallic strands, and won't protect her a damn. They haven't even given her a sword to go with the costume.
Clearly she's dreaming, or has been slipped some sort of hallucinogen, right? But even those theories are rapidly fading into impossibilities as all this is proving to be much too real. Apparently what she thought was impossible is in actuality just very, very improbable.
She's quiet as they prepare her, alert to any possibility of escape. They're careful, though, guarding her, clearly ready to put an end to any escape attempt. She sees no point in fighting back as they inject her with the tracker, as they bring her to the pedestal. They're more likely to injure her than she's likely to escape, and if she's hurt she'll probably have less of a chance of surviving whatever they have in store for her.
She doesn't know what to expect. And in many ways, what she's confronted with upon her release is one of the worst possible scenarios. Joan has lived in the city her whole life, and has no experience whatsoever with wilderness survival. She can't even light a fire in a fireplace. Not to mention it's hot. And sunny. Joan immediately begins to broil inside her glinting, heavy felt "armor." If she doesn't get into some shade, and soon,, she's not going to survive long enough to be killed by one of the other "tributes."
She surveys the area, and heads toward the mountains, hoping for an outcropping, a large boulder, anything to get her out of the sun. On the way she picks up a rock, small enough to carry in one hand, large enough to smash someone's skull in if she has to, and gets the opportunity.
What| Joan arrives in the arena
Where| Desert arena
When| Middle of week one
Warnings/Notes| I have no idea! I'll update depending on what transpires :) (And oh my god, did this get wall-o'-texty...)
She doesn't think Sherlock had this in mind when he said that when you eliminate the impossible, whatever is left, however improbable, is the truth.
Because this is impossible. Waking up in this weird place, no memory of how she got here, and being told she has to fight to the death in some sort of Thunderdome "there can be only one" crap?
And then there's the outfit.
If Joan were familiar with Game of Thrones, she might be amused by the irony of a short attractive Asian woman dressed up like the excessively tall, unattractive, blonde Brienne of Tarth. But all she can figure is that she's dressed like Joan of Arc, which is more like a bad joke. Especially considering the "armor" is just copper colored felt woven through with shiny faux metallic strands, and won't protect her a damn. They haven't even given her a sword to go with the costume.
Clearly she's dreaming, or has been slipped some sort of hallucinogen, right? But even those theories are rapidly fading into impossibilities as all this is proving to be much too real. Apparently what she thought was impossible is in actuality just very, very improbable.
She's quiet as they prepare her, alert to any possibility of escape. They're careful, though, guarding her, clearly ready to put an end to any escape attempt. She sees no point in fighting back as they inject her with the tracker, as they bring her to the pedestal. They're more likely to injure her than she's likely to escape, and if she's hurt she'll probably have less of a chance of surviving whatever they have in store for her.
She doesn't know what to expect. And in many ways, what she's confronted with upon her release is one of the worst possible scenarios. Joan has lived in the city her whole life, and has no experience whatsoever with wilderness survival. She can't even light a fire in a fireplace. Not to mention it's hot. And sunny. Joan immediately begins to broil inside her glinting, heavy felt "armor." If she doesn't get into some shade, and soon,, she's not going to survive long enough to be killed by one of the other "tributes."
She surveys the area, and heads toward the mountains, hoping for an outcropping, a large boulder, anything to get her out of the sun. On the way she picks up a rock, small enough to carry in one hand, large enough to smash someone's skull in if she has to, and gets the opportunity.
no subject
She was out of range by the time he came to, several seconds later. Back through the narrow passage. And by the time he would get to the other end, she'd likely be gone. He wasn't angry at her. More annoyed at himself.
Scowling, Don silently made his way out. If they met up again, make no mistake. He would kill her.