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)
riverviewlogs2017-07-20 10:54 pm
krasnaya_vdova) wrote in riverviewlogs2017-07-20 10:54 pm
Fighting with the pace [Open]
who: Ava Orlova and YOU
what: Just a girl trying to settle in. Pick a prompt! Or request one and I'll give you something.
when: End of July
where: Around town, out in the acid rain, etc
warnings: Some violence of the sparring/monster fighting variety. Vague mentions of dead people and shitty things done to little girls.
i. i am flesh & i am bone
[Ava's always enjoyed physical exertion, whether it was the fencing classes that Sana had initially dragged her to back at the YMCA in Brooklyn, or the fact that she was always one of the first and last in the gym at the SHIELD Academy. So it's not really much of a surprise that she spends a not-insignificant amount of time pushing herself. She doesn't have an official job-- not yet at least-- and so it's a pretty decent way to spend her time for the moment. Not to mention that it helps with the control, with keeping her powers in check when she has that focus so it's good from every facet. Sometimes it's at one of the gyms, other times it's a quiet place out beyond the fence, driving her motorcycle until she finds someplace with enough space, or sometimes good target practice.
She's five foot nothing, slender enough that most people could probably lift her one-handed, and yet any doubt about her strength is side-lined with how she hits the punching bag, how fast and agile, how she throws her body through the air, or watching how she climbs-- just her arm strength, hitting the top and then kicking off, landing light on her toes and then settling onto her feet. She makes it look effortless. She'll work with weapons when she has enough space for it. Various sized blades being her favorites. Armed or unarmed, if you watch her too long, or if she recognizes you, she'll probably ask if you want to go a round or two, a smile and a lift of her eyebrow, bright red hair that falls around her face.
Sometimes, when she's alone, early morning, before the sun, sometimes she dances. A silhouette of something that looks almost like ballet in nothing but the grey light. She moves like a shadow, like a dying swan, even without silk shoes.]
ii. draw you like one of my french girls
[She always has her sketchpad with her, pencils and sometimes some black charcoals. Sometimes she'll trade a drawing for an ice cream or something else small, trinkets and conversation where she smiles and nods and gets more than she gives about herself. She misses Brooklyn, misses the city and sketching buildings and attractive women with coffee in hand too busy to see the people beneath them. But she doesn't really miss home -- not in the idea of someplace on the other side of the portal, where she didn't really belong. Just a girl on the run, running without really knowing what's after her, but knowing that something is. Maybe always would be.
This is something she's good at. Something that's hers and doesn't come from that link to Natasha. Which in Ava's life are things that come few and far between. So much of her is not her at all. She has more memories of Natasha's life, more of her feelings that always seem so much bigger than her own. She likes drawing, likes catching people, the lines of their face, an expression, the way the light falls soft just before sunset. And sometimes it's just nice to catch a familiar face, and have that moment to look back on later.
Some people she actually goes up to with a smile, asking if they mind, if they'll sit under the light from that tree and wait just a few minutes... but usually she prefers the covert approach. Something less conscious about it that she likes. But, sometimes, when she's covertly drawing people they don't always wait for her to finish. So move too quickly and you might have a slightly awkward redhead calling out to you as she looks up from her sketchpad with a slightly awkward smile curving her lips as she gestures --]
Do you mind waiting just a second? I'm almost finished. It'll just be a minute longer, I promise.
iii. fight song
[It almost goes without saying that she volunteers when there are people going out to try and put an end to the acid rain that's been plaguing the city. She's not on the perimeter guard or anything like that, but well. She has a certain skillset and if she can help stop this? She's going to. It was what she'd always wanted, when she was a kid sitting in a SHIELD safehouse that no one seemed to know existed. The Red Widow. Like Natasha, except better. There for people. Not a disappointment the way that the Black Widow had disappointed her. She'd rescue people, save people that needed it. And the truth is that she hasn't really felt like she'd gotten to do much- if any- saving. Not with the body count she's seen over the past year.
She has her outfit from SHIELD under the garish yellow hazmat suit, not that the white bodysuit with the double-hourglass is particularly visible. She's managed to arrange her belt on the outside of her gear so that she can get to her blades or her gun when trouble starts. It goes pretty much without saying that it's going to. She thinks she could maybe use her powers to find someway to create some kind of barrier, but given the likely interactions with electricity and water and how her control is fuzzy on good days, she's opting not to risk it for the moment.
After the first encounter, she's slipping around the rest of the team, checking both for injuries and possible tears in suits that could lead to things being worse the next time around. She fared pretty well herself, though her eyes are glowing bright blue with her swords tucked back into her belt, the energy still lingering.]
You alright?
iv. i'm caught up in a dream
[The nightmares haven't stopped just because she's in space however many of thousands miles and worlds away from home due to some kind of magic portal. It just makes her more self-conscious, more worried about them. She knows how badly it could go, she just doesn't know what to do about it. There doesn't quite seem to be a choice alternative to the cement room she'd had in the Academy. Little that was flammable aside from her cot. So far it hasn't been that bad, she usually startles awake before its anything more than singed bedsheets, but it's still a threat. That looming cloud of knowing that she's dangerous.
So she's something of a not-uncommon face on nights like that, somewhere between midnight and dawn, she usually ends up leaning against a counter in the kitchen holding a cup of coffee that she isn't drinking. It's never her floor-- she just needs somewhere to linger, catch her breath, someplace that feels a little less toxic, less like she might accidentally pull down the walls. It's very faint, but there's a vague scent of fire and lightning strikes around her, but she certainly doesn't bring it up. A little out of place, but she doesn't seem to mind. Maybe she's waiting for someone, maybe she's just enjoying the scent of the cup of stolen coffee she holds in between her hands.
The extra-perceptive might catch onto the tension in her shoulders, the way her body's spring-wound, coiled as she tries to focus on even breaths. Sometimes the nightmares are her own, and sometimes they're not. It's the part of having Natasha's memories and so much more in her head that she doesn't often talk about. As if her own aren't bad enough. Alexei, dead as she finally told him she loved him. The chaos of when Hydra had turned on the Academy. Dead bodies, people she'd known. Sometimes they're of being handcuffed under an old sink so the rest of the red room girls can hear when she screams.]
You up late or early?
[A casual question as someone steps into the kitchen, casually interested, though her smile is a little too sharp to be genuine.]
v. wildfire
[Wildcard me! Anything goes, pretty much. PM me or hit me up at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
natalia_vdova and I will write you a starter prompt if anyone wants specific stuff.]
what: Just a girl trying to settle in. Pick a prompt! Or request one and I'll give you something.
when: End of July
where: Around town, out in the acid rain, etc
warnings: Some violence of the sparring/monster fighting variety. Vague mentions of dead people and shitty things done to little girls.
i. i am flesh & i am bone
[Ava's always enjoyed physical exertion, whether it was the fencing classes that Sana had initially dragged her to back at the YMCA in Brooklyn, or the fact that she was always one of the first and last in the gym at the SHIELD Academy. So it's not really much of a surprise that she spends a not-insignificant amount of time pushing herself. She doesn't have an official job-- not yet at least-- and so it's a pretty decent way to spend her time for the moment. Not to mention that it helps with the control, with keeping her powers in check when she has that focus so it's good from every facet. Sometimes it's at one of the gyms, other times it's a quiet place out beyond the fence, driving her motorcycle until she finds someplace with enough space, or sometimes good target practice.
She's five foot nothing, slender enough that most people could probably lift her one-handed, and yet any doubt about her strength is side-lined with how she hits the punching bag, how fast and agile, how she throws her body through the air, or watching how she climbs-- just her arm strength, hitting the top and then kicking off, landing light on her toes and then settling onto her feet. She makes it look effortless. She'll work with weapons when she has enough space for it. Various sized blades being her favorites. Armed or unarmed, if you watch her too long, or if she recognizes you, she'll probably ask if you want to go a round or two, a smile and a lift of her eyebrow, bright red hair that falls around her face.
Sometimes, when she's alone, early morning, before the sun, sometimes she dances. A silhouette of something that looks almost like ballet in nothing but the grey light. She moves like a shadow, like a dying swan, even without silk shoes.]
ii. draw you like one of my french girls
[She always has her sketchpad with her, pencils and sometimes some black charcoals. Sometimes she'll trade a drawing for an ice cream or something else small, trinkets and conversation where she smiles and nods and gets more than she gives about herself. She misses Brooklyn, misses the city and sketching buildings and attractive women with coffee in hand too busy to see the people beneath them. But she doesn't really miss home -- not in the idea of someplace on the other side of the portal, where she didn't really belong. Just a girl on the run, running without really knowing what's after her, but knowing that something is. Maybe always would be.
This is something she's good at. Something that's hers and doesn't come from that link to Natasha. Which in Ava's life are things that come few and far between. So much of her is not her at all. She has more memories of Natasha's life, more of her feelings that always seem so much bigger than her own. She likes drawing, likes catching people, the lines of their face, an expression, the way the light falls soft just before sunset. And sometimes it's just nice to catch a familiar face, and have that moment to look back on later.
Some people she actually goes up to with a smile, asking if they mind, if they'll sit under the light from that tree and wait just a few minutes... but usually she prefers the covert approach. Something less conscious about it that she likes. But, sometimes, when she's covertly drawing people they don't always wait for her to finish. So move too quickly and you might have a slightly awkward redhead calling out to you as she looks up from her sketchpad with a slightly awkward smile curving her lips as she gestures --]
Do you mind waiting just a second? I'm almost finished. It'll just be a minute longer, I promise.
iii. fight song
[It almost goes without saying that she volunteers when there are people going out to try and put an end to the acid rain that's been plaguing the city. She's not on the perimeter guard or anything like that, but well. She has a certain skillset and if she can help stop this? She's going to. It was what she'd always wanted, when she was a kid sitting in a SHIELD safehouse that no one seemed to know existed. The Red Widow. Like Natasha, except better. There for people. Not a disappointment the way that the Black Widow had disappointed her. She'd rescue people, save people that needed it. And the truth is that she hasn't really felt like she'd gotten to do much- if any- saving. Not with the body count she's seen over the past year.
She has her outfit from SHIELD under the garish yellow hazmat suit, not that the white bodysuit with the double-hourglass is particularly visible. She's managed to arrange her belt on the outside of her gear so that she can get to her blades or her gun when trouble starts. It goes pretty much without saying that it's going to. She thinks she could maybe use her powers to find someway to create some kind of barrier, but given the likely interactions with electricity and water and how her control is fuzzy on good days, she's opting not to risk it for the moment.
After the first encounter, she's slipping around the rest of the team, checking both for injuries and possible tears in suits that could lead to things being worse the next time around. She fared pretty well herself, though her eyes are glowing bright blue with her swords tucked back into her belt, the energy still lingering.]
You alright?
iv. i'm caught up in a dream
[The nightmares haven't stopped just because she's in space however many of thousands miles and worlds away from home due to some kind of magic portal. It just makes her more self-conscious, more worried about them. She knows how badly it could go, she just doesn't know what to do about it. There doesn't quite seem to be a choice alternative to the cement room she'd had in the Academy. Little that was flammable aside from her cot. So far it hasn't been that bad, she usually startles awake before its anything more than singed bedsheets, but it's still a threat. That looming cloud of knowing that she's dangerous.
So she's something of a not-uncommon face on nights like that, somewhere between midnight and dawn, she usually ends up leaning against a counter in the kitchen holding a cup of coffee that she isn't drinking. It's never her floor-- she just needs somewhere to linger, catch her breath, someplace that feels a little less toxic, less like she might accidentally pull down the walls. It's very faint, but there's a vague scent of fire and lightning strikes around her, but she certainly doesn't bring it up. A little out of place, but she doesn't seem to mind. Maybe she's waiting for someone, maybe she's just enjoying the scent of the cup of stolen coffee she holds in between her hands.
The extra-perceptive might catch onto the tension in her shoulders, the way her body's spring-wound, coiled as she tries to focus on even breaths. Sometimes the nightmares are her own, and sometimes they're not. It's the part of having Natasha's memories and so much more in her head that she doesn't often talk about. As if her own aren't bad enough. Alexei, dead as she finally told him she loved him. The chaos of when Hydra had turned on the Academy. Dead bodies, people she'd known. Sometimes they're of being handcuffed under an old sink so the rest of the red room girls can hear when she screams.]
You up late or early?
[A casual question as someone steps into the kitchen, casually interested, though her smile is a little too sharp to be genuine.]
v. wildfire
[Wildcard me! Anything goes, pretty much. PM me or hit me up at
no subject
I was in the Academy. Operations-- Field Agent training.
[She misses those days, honestly, even if things hadn't been perfect, even if there had always been that looming cloud of knowing what they were capable of. Finding out they were Hydra hadn't really been a shock, but it still cut. Another sort of betrayal, and she'd run. But there had been good people mired in all of that, too. Coulson, some of the other recruits, and even if she'd never quite gotten along with Hill, she'd seemed like a good person. She gives Steve a last once-over, then steps back, with a shrug.
She ditches the yellow bunny suit in favor of her own uniform. It's one thing wearing the protective gear while standing around in the rain herding people in trouble, but she's not wearing it on her bike. If it's absolutely necessary, they'll probably have more to pass out.] I'm pretty sure that's how it works. It'll help stop this rain, too.
[She teases him a little, but leads the way outside. The bike in question is a red Harley, which she hops onto with an easy smile.] C'mon.