elektra natchios (skyblack) wrote in crownplazaic, @ 2021-07-11 20:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread, elektra natchios, octavio "octane" silva |
Who: Elektra and Octane
Where: The kitchen
When: Saturday night, 1 AM
What: A run-in
Status: Complete
Warnings: Language?
The open fridge cast a steady blue-white glare over the floor. It was the only source of light in the kitchen, glinting off appliances and industrial counters alike, and driving back the shadows without quite banishing them. There had been people in here earlier. The ghost of baked goods still hung heavy in the air, though there was no pile of dirty dishes to scowl at, nor mixing bowls left to lick. Guests at the Crown Plaza were well-behaved. For the most part. In (borrowed) leggings and a (borrowed) hoodie, Elektra stood with her back to the open fridge, letting the artificial cool air wash over her skin. From the unwrapped parcel of raw ham in front of her, she removed one paper-thin slice, rolled it up, and set it on a plate. It formed a neat little rose of prosciutto cotto, fit for a fancy restaurant. She did the same with the next one. And the one after that. It was a fastidious way to fix a meal, but there was no one around to protest her playing with her food. What she’d been told about the doors was true; every room besides the kitchen and the guest rooms seemed inaccessible. So, naturally, the residents had converged where they could: outside, the voices echoing, or in here. The fridge’s contents looked slightly depleted as a result, but they’d likely replenish overnight. Or they wouldn’t and the next few days would get a lot more exciting. Elektra rolled up another slice of ham. Any second now, she’d make herself eat it. Any second. |