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)
riverviewlogs2017-10-09 01:58 pm
krasnaya_vdova) wrote in riverviewlogs2017-10-09 01:58 pm
[open]
who: Ava Orlova & Other People
what: Memories
when: Memshare Event
where: Dreamscapes
warnings: Emotions, shitty familial relationships, violence, Red Room type trauma, child murder, child torture, I'll update as needed.
[ooc: All memshares are dreamscapes unless your name is Natasha Romanoff. If we didn't plot something, feel free to tag-in and get something random, or PM me or hit me up at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
natalia_vdova for any and all plotting needs.]
For Tony
The darkness bleeds into familiar sounds, hushed voices almost drowned out by the soft drone of the engines of a departing quinjet. Ava watches her own memories, doesn't notice that she's not alone at first as three people approach what's clearly the SHIELD Triskelion. There's Ava' looking a little younger, but also a little pale, a bottle of water clutched deathly tight in one hand. There's a dark-haired boy walking next to her, holding her hand, and then there's a rather sour looking Natasha Romanoff. The similarity between Ava and Nat is more obvious when they're standing so close together. They approach the security door, and as it slides open, there's a familiar face: Tony's face. Briefcase in hand, three-piece suit that probably costs as much as a low-end car.
The boy stops dead in his tracks, wide-eyed as Ava stops too. "Is that--?" He asks, like he's seen a ghost. Or, you know, an Avenger.
Natasha just shrugs, a touch of a smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. "Like I told you. I have friends in low places." Friends. That's Natasha's word for Tony.
"Agent Romanoff, what are you doing here? Or do you just happen to be stopping by to submit your proprietary plan for alternative energy subsidies, too?" He grins, teasing lightly.
"Not so much," Natasha says, crossing the distance and pulling him in for a brief but easy hug. "I was hoping you'd be here, actually."
"First Saturday of the month. Where else would I be?" Tony points out, a cock of his head to the side. "I thought you were off hunting bad guys in Bahrain?" It's friendly, the easy conversation of two people that keep in touch enough to know each others' schedules, including what part of the world she's in shooting at people.
"Turns out the bad guys are hunting me. Surprise." Natasha quips with an easy shrug as she pulls back a step. The two teens just watching quietly for the moment; the boy in shock and Ava's a little pale, like she's maybe not having the best day.
For Bucky (616)
Ava doesn't sleep easily, even now that she has her own room. Nightmares and memories, but tonight it feels different. She's there, watching her memories, like some kind of ghostly observer. Less visceral. The world fades into being, two teenagers in a room in the Triskelion; all grey walls, perfunctory bunk beds that seemed like they'd fit better in a prison, blue lights on the door lock. Ava's clearly younger, but only by a few years, maybe seventeen. The boy seems about the same age; short dark brown hair, brown eyes, broad shoulders. He looks at Ava like she puts oxygen in the room, though Ava seems distracted by something else, a tension as she moves. She lets go of his hand, pulling her backpack over her shoulder and getting ready to open the door, sparing a conspiratorial look back at him.
He nods, "You go left, I'll go right."
But Ava shakes her head. "I've got a better idea." She murmurs, opening the door. "Hey," she calls, getting the attention of the SHIELD agents patrolling near the door. She puts her hands up, a charming smile, brown eyes guileless. Just a girl, not a threat. "It's just me. Can I ask you for a favor?"
She holds up a roughed-up iPod, and manages to talk one of the agents into letting her use his comm to test the speaker, drawing him in when he reaches to retrieve it. It takes them a few seconds to put down the agents; Ava slams the door into his skull hard, though the sound thuds more than rings. She steps into the room as his partner charges, and the boy grabs him and slams his head into the frame of the bunkbed.
In a matter of seconds they've dragged the bodies out of immediate view, stolen the agents' earpieces, key cards, and sidearms, though the commlink the boy takes seems to be broken. It takes them twelve seconds after that to make it to the elevator. He's about to press the keycard to the panel, but Ava grabs his hand, touching a finger to her ear.
Instead, they slip down the hall to an alcove where the stairwell is; another two agents. Ava grins as she looks over at him, magnetic. "Now you take left, I'll take right."
what: Memories
when: Memshare Event
where: Dreamscapes
warnings: Emotions, shitty familial relationships, violence, Red Room type trauma, child murder, child torture, I'll update as needed.
[ooc: All memshares are dreamscapes unless your name is Natasha Romanoff. If we didn't plot something, feel free to tag-in and get something random, or PM me or hit me up at
For Tony
The darkness bleeds into familiar sounds, hushed voices almost drowned out by the soft drone of the engines of a departing quinjet. Ava watches her own memories, doesn't notice that she's not alone at first as three people approach what's clearly the SHIELD Triskelion. There's Ava' looking a little younger, but also a little pale, a bottle of water clutched deathly tight in one hand. There's a dark-haired boy walking next to her, holding her hand, and then there's a rather sour looking Natasha Romanoff. The similarity between Ava and Nat is more obvious when they're standing so close together. They approach the security door, and as it slides open, there's a familiar face: Tony's face. Briefcase in hand, three-piece suit that probably costs as much as a low-end car.
The boy stops dead in his tracks, wide-eyed as Ava stops too. "Is that--?" He asks, like he's seen a ghost. Or, you know, an Avenger.
Natasha just shrugs, a touch of a smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. "Like I told you. I have friends in low places." Friends. That's Natasha's word for Tony.
"Agent Romanoff, what are you doing here? Or do you just happen to be stopping by to submit your proprietary plan for alternative energy subsidies, too?" He grins, teasing lightly.
"Not so much," Natasha says, crossing the distance and pulling him in for a brief but easy hug. "I was hoping you'd be here, actually."
"First Saturday of the month. Where else would I be?" Tony points out, a cock of his head to the side. "I thought you were off hunting bad guys in Bahrain?" It's friendly, the easy conversation of two people that keep in touch enough to know each others' schedules, including what part of the world she's in shooting at people.
"Turns out the bad guys are hunting me. Surprise." Natasha quips with an easy shrug as she pulls back a step. The two teens just watching quietly for the moment; the boy in shock and Ava's a little pale, like she's maybe not having the best day.
For Bucky (616)
Ava doesn't sleep easily, even now that she has her own room. Nightmares and memories, but tonight it feels different. She's there, watching her memories, like some kind of ghostly observer. Less visceral. The world fades into being, two teenagers in a room in the Triskelion; all grey walls, perfunctory bunk beds that seemed like they'd fit better in a prison, blue lights on the door lock. Ava's clearly younger, but only by a few years, maybe seventeen. The boy seems about the same age; short dark brown hair, brown eyes, broad shoulders. He looks at Ava like she puts oxygen in the room, though Ava seems distracted by something else, a tension as she moves. She lets go of his hand, pulling her backpack over her shoulder and getting ready to open the door, sparing a conspiratorial look back at him.
He nods, "You go left, I'll go right."
But Ava shakes her head. "I've got a better idea." She murmurs, opening the door. "Hey," she calls, getting the attention of the SHIELD agents patrolling near the door. She puts her hands up, a charming smile, brown eyes guileless. Just a girl, not a threat. "It's just me. Can I ask you for a favor?"
She holds up a roughed-up iPod, and manages to talk one of the agents into letting her use his comm to test the speaker, drawing him in when he reaches to retrieve it. It takes them a few seconds to put down the agents; Ava slams the door into his skull hard, though the sound thuds more than rings. She steps into the room as his partner charges, and the boy grabs him and slams his head into the frame of the bunkbed.
In a matter of seconds they've dragged the bodies out of immediate view, stolen the agents' earpieces, key cards, and sidearms, though the commlink the boy takes seems to be broken. It takes them twelve seconds after that to make it to the elevator. He's about to press the keycard to the panel, but Ava grabs his hand, touching a finger to her ear.
Instead, they slip down the hall to an alcove where the stairwell is; another two agents. Ava grins as she looks over at him, magnetic. "Now you take left, I'll take right."
Steve (616)
In the memory, it's Ava and two other SHIELD trainees, in those recognizable black bodysuits as they move through a very crowded subway station. Someone familiar with New York City might be able to recognize it as Herald Square. Ava's on point; and they're chasing after a dark figure that moves a little strangely as he cuts through the crowd. Ava's telling someone over the comms to cut him off before he makes it down to the platforms.
She's trying to be good, to work as a team, so she stays with the others, gives directions, but resists the urge to just do things herself. But there's that itch between her shoulders, that desire to push. She's trying here, even if it frustrates her, especially when the person she'd been talking to doesn't make it in time. And it's down on the platforms where things go bad. With the crowds, the other agents can't seem to be able to keep him from getting close to the edge.
It seems to happen in slow-motion, almost. The oncoming train, the way their target elbows someone off the edge of the platform in front of the oncoming train, and in the commotion three people fall. Ava's already moving, not playing nice, but fast, fluid and dangerous, amid a shout at the team to not lose him. One of those swords striking the wall, and the surge of electricity plunges everything into darkness. It's impossible to track her except by the blue glow of her eyes until she's silhouetted in front of the headlights as she throws herself in front of a train in a rather stunning display of utter recklessness and disregard for her own life.
I AM SORRY I AM THE WORST. I thought I responded to this!!
Steve feels himself follow the scene as it plays out, like he's the camera watching the team in action. He sees the more antsy two hurry to follow their directives, fumbling in their motions while Ava tries to help coordinate them. The struggles of a new group play out for him in the station and he watches, mesmerized by it all. He sees the train; the shove; the falling civilians.
He tries to yell and leap forward, but it's a memory. So Steve watches as Ava moves, diving off the platform and into the path of the oncoming metal behemoth as the lights go out. He stands at the edge of the crowd, a piece of the scenery watching the redhead disappear in a wash of light.
"Ava?" His voice sounds out of place in that memory. A hollow sound that is too clear. Too invasive. "What happened?"
She had to have made it. Something happened. Steve waits, breathing muted as he listens for any sort of response from her.
you're great!! IT'S FINE :D
"Watch," she says softly, even if part of her doesn't want him to see this. The way that her eyes spark, electric blue, first her irises, then spilling out, the way there's that blue glow over the center of her chest, visible through the fabric of her uniform. The way her skin ripples with currents of energy, shifting to sea blue, making the red of her hair even more stark.
There's energy, blue light, electric that courses along the surface of the train, pulses out, courses along the rains. There's the sound of metal on metal, the groan of it warping, gold sparks that shoot in the dark. One hand up, the other still gripping her swords. She doesn't flinch. The train stops short with a shudder of metal. Once everything stills, once her eyes are the only part of her that glows, she climbs back up to the platform and helps the people she saved up onto their feet, directing them in the direction of the exit.
"Tell me you got him," she calls over her communicator, heaving a sigh of what seems like it should be relief, though she still seems tense. She then moves toward the subway car, wrangling the doors open, but most of her attention is on making sure no one gets hurt as people get off. No rushing, no one knocked down, and it only takes a little bit of yelling over the din.
She doesn't look at Steve, just looks at the Ava that moves in the memory, the people. "I miscalculated a bit, though. Didn't just stop that train." She admits softly, holding herself like she's waiting for something. And she is- judgement, revulsion, that way people look at her once they realize what she is.
There's an announcement that comes over the speakers about suspended train service, and once the platform's cleared Ava just sighs and waits for the cleanup.