Skye ( M̶a̶r̶y̶ S̶u̶e̶ P̶o̶o̶t̶s̶ ) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
risewithit) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-07-31 12:24 pm
risewithit) wrote in thecapitol2014-07-31 12:24 pm
open
Who | Skye + you!
What | Skye arrives and is upset with this entire situation, to absolutely no one's surprise.
Where | Training Center, various locations therein
When | Now
Warnings/Notes | Mild language warnings.
[ District 6 Suite ]
At first when Skye wakes up she thinks Hydra must have her, and it's only the nausea and disorientation sweeping over her that prevents her from trying to physically assault one of the peacekeepers when they come to lead her away.
(Portals are such a bitch. Thanks for nothing, stupid Nordic alien gods.)
It's once they get her to the Training Center and give her the vague welcome spiel that she realizes how wrong she was. This isn't Hydra. This is, if it's even possible, much worse.
She drags herself into the bathroom and stares at her reflection in the mirror, feeling numb and cold as she tries to process what she's been told. A battle to the death. Things were just starting to seem like they'd be able to make a go for the better, and now she's here, trapped in some foreign world for a celebrity deathmatch. Are you kidding me? Are you freaking kidding me? And then: there it is, anger, bubbling up hot and fast. She wrestles it down.
First things first: she needs more information, and she needs to see if she can find her team. Skye pushes her hair back and steps out of the bedroom to meet her suitemates.
[ The Commons ]
She's fiddled with her network device by now, and already figured out the vast breadth of digital information is locked to her--for now. The Tributes list and network had no records of her team, but that doesn't mean anything. They could be here off the record, under lock and key. She knows nothing about how these people operate.
On the other hand, she did see several other familiar names and faces, and her stomach flipped nervously when she saw them. Really? They're pitting a Level 1 agent up against the Avengers? Talk about unfair play.
So in the meantime, she's stuck to good, old-fashioned info hunting. Which is to say, she'd changed into a brightly-colored dress upstairs and is now approaching strangers downstairs with a stunning, confident smile, one hand held out to shake. "Hi! I don't think we've met yet. I'm Skye."
What | Skye arrives and is upset with this entire situation, to absolutely no one's surprise.
Where | Training Center, various locations therein
When | Now
Warnings/Notes | Mild language warnings.
[ District 6 Suite ]
At first when Skye wakes up she thinks Hydra must have her, and it's only the nausea and disorientation sweeping over her that prevents her from trying to physically assault one of the peacekeepers when they come to lead her away.
(Portals are such a bitch. Thanks for nothing, stupid Nordic alien gods.)
It's once they get her to the Training Center and give her the vague welcome spiel that she realizes how wrong she was. This isn't Hydra. This is, if it's even possible, much worse.
She drags herself into the bathroom and stares at her reflection in the mirror, feeling numb and cold as she tries to process what she's been told. A battle to the death. Things were just starting to seem like they'd be able to make a go for the better, and now she's here, trapped in some foreign world for a celebrity deathmatch. Are you kidding me? Are you freaking kidding me? And then: there it is, anger, bubbling up hot and fast. She wrestles it down.
First things first: she needs more information, and she needs to see if she can find her team. Skye pushes her hair back and steps out of the bedroom to meet her suitemates.
[ The Commons ]
She's fiddled with her network device by now, and already figured out the vast breadth of digital information is locked to her--for now. The Tributes list and network had no records of her team, but that doesn't mean anything. They could be here off the record, under lock and key. She knows nothing about how these people operate.
On the other hand, she did see several other familiar names and faces, and her stomach flipped nervously when she saw them. Really? They're pitting a Level 1 agent up against the Avengers? Talk about unfair play.
So in the meantime, she's stuck to good, old-fashioned info hunting. Which is to say, she'd changed into a brightly-colored dress upstairs and is now approaching strangers downstairs with a stunning, confident smile, one hand held out to shake. "Hi! I don't think we've met yet. I'm Skye."
no subject
She's not Hydra. She never will be. And as far as she can see, there's not a whole lot of difference between this Panem Capitol and the many tentacled neo-Nazi supreme high command.
"Beautiful wife, four bedroom house with a white picket fence, two-point-oh kids and a golden retriever, the American--sorry," she apologizes by rote, not really feeling sorry at all. "Reference from home. Is that the Panem dream?"
no subject
"I don't know what the Panem dream is, really," he replies, not really minding the mention of her homeland. It's interesting to hear about far away places. They're a break in the monotony. "But if I were to venture a guess, I'd bet it would have less of the life you and I are thinking of, and more luxuriant parties with too much food, loud music, and faithless sex. My family's a little bit atypical. We aren't a society that puts much stock in anything you just mentioned, but I admit, it sounds pretty nice to me."
no subject
It's par for the course for any kind of organization that builds its power on hurting people: having true believers isn't enough; they have to make good people do bad things too.
"I guess that's kind of the American dream too," she remarks, thinking of a different face of America. The Bieber face, if Bieber were actually American. "Who doesn't love some good old debauchery?"