Vivian "Ice" Whitcove (as_cold_as_ice) wrote in zenithrp, @ 2017-10-27 15:21:00 |
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The day prior had been ... well, better than the two that had preceded it. Ice had appreciated the time out of the cell, though she'd appreciated somewhat less the congregation of people. So after everything had been more or less sorted out, she'd taken her knotted sheets from her second cell, found a quiet, dry third cell, tied the door open, and claimed that as her area. It had still been boring, but after she'd tied the door open with the shredded sheet, it wasn't as bad as being caged. Well, caged in the little cage; they were still caged in a bigger one. The lack of acknowledgement of the event from their captors didn't concern her in the least. While she was pleased to be out of the cell, she wasn't pleased to be back in the bigger cage. She'd expected nothing else though. At least here, she had room to move. So she went through her morning routine - she stretched, warmed up in her room, then moved across the hall to the empty one. She wasn't looking forward to the day someone wound up in this particular room, but that wasn't anything she could control, so it wasn't an active worry. It was simply something she'd deal with when she had to. Stepping inside, she left the door open as she moved to the music in her head. She did occasionally think she should look into getting music up here, somehow, but most of the time it didn't bother her not to have it. Reasoning that most of the people would be grouping up with friends, tending to wounds, and otherwise coping with the events of the day prior, Ice didn't anticipate anyone bothering her. She had no helpful skills when it came to tending wounds, and she wasn't inclined to be a listener or a conversationalist. She was no one's therapist. So she dealt in her own way. The rage she'd had since she'd first woken up here had only compounded in the cell. While the dancing helped to keep it tamped down, it did little to dissipate it. There was going to be a moment, she thought, when she was going to snap, release it on the wrong target, and she hoped not. Not so much for their sake but rather because she wasn't interested in anyone seeing that side of her - or the consequences it carried. There'd been one ... acceptable target, but someone had beaten her to the punch there - and that was a shame. She was beyond ready for this particular ordeal to be over. To be sent back home. To never see any of these people ever again, unless it was a face in the audience at a ballet. But she couldn't walk away. She couldn't step out the front door and leave. She had to endure the confinement, endure the whims of their captors, survive the trials, and to what end? If they meant to kill everyone at the end of it, Ice hoped they gave people a sporting chance at freedom. Though ... what exactly about them implied any sort of fair play so far? Nothing, really. Dancing her way close to the wall, Ice threw up one leg, planting her foot against the wall before arching her back to let her head nearly touch the floor. Placing her hands down, she pushed off the wall into something like a handspring, landing in a crouch before remaining there for a moment. She sort of wanted to scream, or maybe to punch something, but it was a display that would benefit no one, least of all herself. So she stood, took a last look around the empty room, and crossed the hallway toward her bedroom where she intended to stay for the rest of the day with the exception of venturing to the kitchen for meals. |