Ava Anatalya Orlova (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
krasnaya_vdova) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
riverviewlogs2018-01-23 01:01 am
krasnaya_vdova) wrote in riverviewlogs2018-01-23 01:01 am
You understand, I got a plan for us [open]
who: Ava Orlova & Company
what: January Catch-all; TDM prompts
when: Late January
where: Around
warnings: Monster fighting?
I. Lunch Dates [Open to anyone! Feel free to handwave having met her / made arrangements]
[It's actually sort of nice, even if it's weird. Knowing people. People that aren't Sana, and yet who seem to actually want to be around her. She finds it strange more often than not.
But while her social calendar is never the most bustling, she does find herself of not-infrequent meetings for coffee and pastries, or a light lunch. Conversation, sometimes she brings her sketchpad, sometimes she lets her company pull her out onto the town. Usually either settling into a bar for a few drinks, or walking the streets window shopping. She knows the streets of the city blind-folded, but the stores she frequents have little to do with fashion.
She's always there early. Usually sipping at an iced coffee in a too-big military jacket, watching the flow of the crowds and the people as she waits.]
II. I Have a Bad Feeling
[Ava knows this is a bad idea from the get-go, but here she is, in one of these robots, doing her absolute best to not short out the controls. She's working the weapons, which is probably the better option, and at first things actually seem to be going smoothly. She actually manages to work together with her partner, even if she's never really what someone would call a team-player.
But the further into the fight they get, the harder it is for her to keep control. Her adrenaline spikes and then something's sparking and she's cursing as half the panel goes dark which does not help her regain her calm.]
Just uh- I can fix it. [Something else sparks, and her eyes glow blue by the dim light as she tries to get the cover off. The metal looks hot to the touch, but she hardly seems to notice. Things are probably going to go downhill from here.] Just give me a minute.
[Good thing they weren't in the middle of stampeding ginormous insects or anything, right?]
III. Put Down the Bug Rebellion
[Really: fuck the robots.
And honestly, this is easier. She's just on the ground, on her feet, with twin blades of bright blue energy. There's a stampede of giant bugs, and she's five five of energy and blue eyes. She's a storm made flesh; red hair, copper and fury. When she stops choking her powers down, it feels like the pulse of the world slows to something she can breathe.
This is where things make sense. The ground under her feet -- or sometimes, the hard carapaces of the insects she's working on pushing back -- and the race of adrenaline in her veins. Her focus is laser, aware of the situation, but zeroed in on the closest threat or putting herself so that the right target is the nearest threat. Pierce already knows, and she's not going to sit on the sidelines. She tried the option that didn't make a spectacle and that was a fucking mess, so here she is instead.
Whatever warnings people might have given her about not heading too far ahead completely forgotten. These things are pretty durable, but her very skin crackles with energy that fluxes in waves.]
Don't get too close--
[An easy call to whoever happens to push near her as they work against the bugs. And there's a darkness to the words, no matter how lightly they carry on the air. She is Not Safe. Do Not Touch. Energy Hazard, Can Cause Injury.]
IV. Pavane for a Dead Princess
[She likes dancing, she's realized. There's a struggle to it for her, mostly with certain songs, with a code written into her memory she never feels like she can entirely escape. She doesn't let that stop her, though. There's a place in town with a studio room she borrows as many days a week as she can manage it. It's a simple space: mirrors and wood floors, dim lights, a piano in the corner, but she just hooks her iPod into the speaker system. Classical music, but generally not ballet pieces.
Her pointe shoes are bright red, but mostly she wears white, with a light grey sweater. She's graceful, elegant, agile and quick on her feet, almost fluid as she moves. She jumps and the short gauze of her skirt flutters and she almost seems to float for a moment too long before she lands. The red of her ponytail like a contrail of her motions.
The door is left ajar, so curious passers-by, might hear the notes of the music that she's dancing to. This isn't scripted, just movement, space and music, what she can choreograph in her head as she moves. Finding a balance somewhere between her body and her thoughts, what she can intuit, what it feels like. Something that you can't hold onto, and only experience.]
V. Wildcard!
[ Leave me whatever, or hit me up at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
natalia_vdova! ]
what: January Catch-all; TDM prompts
when: Late January
where: Around
warnings: Monster fighting?
I. Lunch Dates [Open to anyone! Feel free to handwave having met her / made arrangements]
[It's actually sort of nice, even if it's weird. Knowing people. People that aren't Sana, and yet who seem to actually want to be around her. She finds it strange more often than not.
But while her social calendar is never the most bustling, she does find herself of not-infrequent meetings for coffee and pastries, or a light lunch. Conversation, sometimes she brings her sketchpad, sometimes she lets her company pull her out onto the town. Usually either settling into a bar for a few drinks, or walking the streets window shopping. She knows the streets of the city blind-folded, but the stores she frequents have little to do with fashion.
She's always there early. Usually sipping at an iced coffee in a too-big military jacket, watching the flow of the crowds and the people as she waits.]
II. I Have a Bad Feeling
[Ava knows this is a bad idea from the get-go, but here she is, in one of these robots, doing her absolute best to not short out the controls. She's working the weapons, which is probably the better option, and at first things actually seem to be going smoothly. She actually manages to work together with her partner, even if she's never really what someone would call a team-player.
But the further into the fight they get, the harder it is for her to keep control. Her adrenaline spikes and then something's sparking and she's cursing as half the panel goes dark which does not help her regain her calm.]
Just uh- I can fix it. [Something else sparks, and her eyes glow blue by the dim light as she tries to get the cover off. The metal looks hot to the touch, but she hardly seems to notice. Things are probably going to go downhill from here.] Just give me a minute.
[Good thing they weren't in the middle of stampeding ginormous insects or anything, right?]
III. Put Down the Bug Rebellion
[Really: fuck the robots.
And honestly, this is easier. She's just on the ground, on her feet, with twin blades of bright blue energy. There's a stampede of giant bugs, and she's five five of energy and blue eyes. She's a storm made flesh; red hair, copper and fury. When she stops choking her powers down, it feels like the pulse of the world slows to something she can breathe.
This is where things make sense. The ground under her feet -- or sometimes, the hard carapaces of the insects she's working on pushing back -- and the race of adrenaline in her veins. Her focus is laser, aware of the situation, but zeroed in on the closest threat or putting herself so that the right target is the nearest threat. Pierce already knows, and she's not going to sit on the sidelines. She tried the option that didn't make a spectacle and that was a fucking mess, so here she is instead.
Whatever warnings people might have given her about not heading too far ahead completely forgotten. These things are pretty durable, but her very skin crackles with energy that fluxes in waves.]
Don't get too close--
[An easy call to whoever happens to push near her as they work against the bugs. And there's a darkness to the words, no matter how lightly they carry on the air. She is Not Safe. Do Not Touch. Energy Hazard, Can Cause Injury.]
IV. Pavane for a Dead Princess
[She likes dancing, she's realized. There's a struggle to it for her, mostly with certain songs, with a code written into her memory she never feels like she can entirely escape. She doesn't let that stop her, though. There's a place in town with a studio room she borrows as many days a week as she can manage it. It's a simple space: mirrors and wood floors, dim lights, a piano in the corner, but she just hooks her iPod into the speaker system. Classical music, but generally not ballet pieces.
Her pointe shoes are bright red, but mostly she wears white, with a light grey sweater. She's graceful, elegant, agile and quick on her feet, almost fluid as she moves. She jumps and the short gauze of her skirt flutters and she almost seems to float for a moment too long before she lands. The red of her ponytail like a contrail of her motions.
The door is left ajar, so curious passers-by, might hear the notes of the music that she's dancing to. This isn't scripted, just movement, space and music, what she can choreograph in her head as she moves. Finding a balance somewhere between her body and her thoughts, what she can intuit, what it feels like. Something that you can't hold onto, and only experience.]
V. Wildcard!
[ Leave me whatever, or hit me up at
no subject
It is only petty jealousy. I can understand Thor being a . . . better option than myself.
But I can help with that.
no subject
[There's something murky and almost desperate in the edge to her voice. But she tries to not let it linger. She smiles at him, a tilt of her head to the side, a little strained, but-]
And he's not better, if I'm being honest.
no subject
You have my aid.
no subject
[She doesn't quite expect him to accept it, he never really does, but she means it.
There's a slight exhale there, something almost like relief. He gestures and she heads toward the door, fingers tucking red hair back behind her ear in a not-quite nervous gesture.]
no subject
There is something on your mind though. Does it have to do with that man?
no subject
You met Pierce?
[There's a smile at that, but no humor.]
no subject
That conniving old man? He did his best to manipulate information from me so I ran him in circles with egomania.