Natasha Romanoff (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
widows_kiss) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2014-04-21 06:51 pm
widows_kiss) wrote in entrancelogs2014-04-21 06:51 pm
[OPEN] Ready or Not...
Who: Natasha & whichever unlucky souls stumble across her!
Where: the kitchen
When: evening of 4/21
Rating: PG-13ish? There might be cursing but hopefully no violence. Probably. Maybe? >.>
Summary: Hello, Wonderland! There's a spy rooting through your drawers. Wait, that didn't come out right...
The Story:
Natasha knows something is off before she even opens her eyes.
She's slumped over a solid surface, her head cushioned on her arms, toes just barely reaching the floor beneath the stool or whatever it is she's perched on. She goes from the unawareness of sleep - or unconsciousness? - to high alert in the span of a heartbeat, although visibly she doesn't so much as twitch. Her breathing remains calm and even as though she were still deeply asleep, but she's already cataloging what her senses can tell her without the aid of her eyes.
This is not her sofa, where she's fairly certain she'd drifted off a short while earlier. Her thoughts are clear, not clouded or foggy, no telltale traces of a foreign agent responsible for missing time and changed locations. She's unhurt except for the lingering ache of still-healing injuries and as far as she can tell there's nothing restraining her. It's quiet - no hint of anyone else around, although she waits almost a minute to be sure before letting her eyes slide open.
The kitchen's unfamiliar. Large, well-equipped, tall windows letting in the warm rays of a setting sun. There's a bowl of fruit at the other end of the counter, simple and unassuming. Nothing is familiar and nothing stands out as obviously out of place, other than her. It's just a kitchen. One she's got no idea how she arrived in, but at least she's apparently been given the freedom to look around.
Natasha slides off the stool to prowl around the room, checking the windows first but there's no one in sight, just an ornate stretch of gardens outside. Her second task is rooting through the kitchen drawers in search of a knife or anything else she can use as a weapon.
She's not sure why she's here, if she's in danger or not, but she likes to be prepared for anything, just in case. And call it paranoia but waking up somewhere strange and unfamiliar - no matter how pleasant - rarely results in anything good.
On second thought, maybe she'll borrow a few knives...
Where: the kitchen
When: evening of 4/21
Rating: PG-13ish? There might be cursing but hopefully no violence. Probably. Maybe? >.>
Summary: Hello, Wonderland! There's a spy rooting through your drawers. Wait, that didn't come out right...
The Story:
Natasha knows something is off before she even opens her eyes.
She's slumped over a solid surface, her head cushioned on her arms, toes just barely reaching the floor beneath the stool or whatever it is she's perched on. She goes from the unawareness of sleep - or unconsciousness? - to high alert in the span of a heartbeat, although visibly she doesn't so much as twitch. Her breathing remains calm and even as though she were still deeply asleep, but she's already cataloging what her senses can tell her without the aid of her eyes.
This is not her sofa, where she's fairly certain she'd drifted off a short while earlier. Her thoughts are clear, not clouded or foggy, no telltale traces of a foreign agent responsible for missing time and changed locations. She's unhurt except for the lingering ache of still-healing injuries and as far as she can tell there's nothing restraining her. It's quiet - no hint of anyone else around, although she waits almost a minute to be sure before letting her eyes slide open.
The kitchen's unfamiliar. Large, well-equipped, tall windows letting in the warm rays of a setting sun. There's a bowl of fruit at the other end of the counter, simple and unassuming. Nothing is familiar and nothing stands out as obviously out of place, other than her. It's just a kitchen. One she's got no idea how she arrived in, but at least she's apparently been given the freedom to look around.
Natasha slides off the stool to prowl around the room, checking the windows first but there's no one in sight, just an ornate stretch of gardens outside. Her second task is rooting through the kitchen drawers in search of a knife or anything else she can use as a weapon.
She's not sure why she's here, if she's in danger or not, but she likes to be prepared for anything, just in case. And call it paranoia but waking up somewhere strange and unfamiliar - no matter how pleasant - rarely results in anything good.
On second thought, maybe she'll borrow a few knives...
no subject
So she lifts the bottle in a playful salute and gives Selina a cheeky grin. "There is no such thing as too much vodka," she informs her, handing it back.
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Maybe Bane and the others had mentioned the truth, maybe. But Batman was a mystery and all of the threads were tangled up in ways that the cat did not like.
Mysteries were fun, only when you were sure you weren't going to get taken for a ride.
She accepts the vodka, "...I hate it here." she grumps, "I'm bored. I can't stand it half the time. Be careful about that. I don't know how bad things were back where you came from but I never thought I'd miss living in what amounts to...to...Tehran."
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"I don't think anyone particularly enjoys being bored. I can see how this place might do it to you though, if left to your own devices long enough. What do people do here?"
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"Wonderland. Why is this my life? I suppose I should probably go find a room, get settled in. Maybe see if anyone else I know is here."
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She offers her a hand, a slightly unsteady one, "good to meet you."
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