Adora doesn't like any of this. The last thing she needed was having her life interrupted, right when the entire planet was poised to be invaded by Horde Prime and Glimmer was kidnapped (or something). Somehow, she feels like she could have done something better. Like she could have been faster or smarter or more on top of things and then she wouldn't be here, like this is some sort of weird punishment for not being quite good enough. This place also reminds her of the Fright Zone in deeply unpleasant ways, especially the whole shock collar and the repeated assurances that yes, they were absolutely doing the right thing.
She'd heard that before. And she'd believed in it, too, right up until she'd been shown the truth about the world. Then she'd fallen for it again with Light Hope and the sword and... everything else. She's not going to trust in a "benevolent" authority figure so easily again. Especially not when they're quick to resort to torture. It really does feel like Shadow Weaver and the Fright Zone all over again and she doesn't like it. It makes her skin crawl.
She can't do anything, though. Her mind is working overtime, going a million miles an hour trying to come up with a plan or something she can do that won't result in her (or more importantly, anyone else) getting shocked. Maybe she just has to wait - but she's awful at just waiting, so Adora hits the gym instead. She's on one of the treadmills at first, determined, eyes locked forward, expression set as she pounds out a five kilometer run. Once that's done, it's on to weights.
Which means...
"Hey-" She needs some help, "Can you, uh, spot me?"
She gestures at the bench-press she's getting ready to lift. Safety first, right?
Alternatively, she can be found beating the ever-living crap out of one of the punching bags.
2-K
Day two. Not better than day one, so far. In fact, it's arguably worse, since there have been alarms going off and animate objects chasing people all over the rig. Adora is frazzled, frustrated, and incredibly ready to just start breaking things. But she can't do that right now. No; she has to make a plan. Plan first, smash later. Come on, Adora, get it together.
She peeks out of the door she has half-open and then ducks back into the little room (more of a closet, really) with the handful of others she's managed to find. Outside, the sound of distant wells, clattering, and general chaos continues. She takes a deep breath and reaches up to tuck her hair back into her customary ponytail, snapping it into place with a hair-tie. It's time to get to work and that means taking charge. No one else is going to do it, right?
"OK," she says with a frown, "Let's take a second - there's at least two of those stupid fire-hoses down the hall and we need to figure out how to get past them. What do we have that we can work with?"
Adora | She-ra and the Princesses of Power
Adora doesn't like any of this. The last thing she needed was having her life interrupted, right when the entire planet was poised to be invaded by Horde Prime and Glimmer was kidnapped (or something). Somehow, she feels like she could have done something better. Like she could have been faster or smarter or more on top of things and then she wouldn't be here, like this is some sort of weird punishment for not being quite good enough. This place also reminds her of the Fright Zone in deeply unpleasant ways, especially the whole shock collar and the repeated assurances that yes, they were absolutely doing the right thing.
She'd heard that before. And she'd believed in it, too, right up until she'd been shown the truth about the world. Then she'd fallen for it again with Light Hope and the sword and... everything else. She's not going to trust in a "benevolent" authority figure so easily again. Especially not when they're quick to resort to torture. It really does feel like Shadow Weaver and the Fright Zone all over again and she doesn't like it. It makes her skin crawl.
She can't do anything, though. Her mind is working overtime, going a million miles an hour trying to come up with a plan or something she can do that won't result in her (or more importantly, anyone else) getting shocked. Maybe she just has to wait - but she's awful at just waiting, so Adora hits the gym instead. She's on one of the treadmills at first, determined, eyes locked forward, expression set as she pounds out a five kilometer run. Once that's done, it's on to weights.
Which means...
"Hey-" She needs some help, "Can you, uh, spot me?"
She gestures at the bench-press she's getting ready to lift. Safety first, right?
Alternatively, she can be found beating the ever-living crap out of one of the punching bags.
2-K
Day two. Not better than day one, so far. In fact, it's arguably worse, since there have been alarms going off and animate objects chasing people all over the rig. Adora is frazzled, frustrated, and incredibly ready to just start breaking things. But she can't do that right now. No; she has to make a plan. Plan first, smash later. Come on, Adora, get it together.
She peeks out of the door she has half-open and then ducks back into the little room (more of a closet, really) with the handful of others she's managed to find. Outside, the sound of distant wells, clattering, and general chaos continues. She takes a deep breath and reaches up to tuck her hair back into her customary ponytail, snapping it into place with a hair-tie. It's time to get to work and that means taking charge. No one else is going to do it, right?
"OK," she says with a frown, "Let's take a second - there's at least two of those stupid fire-hoses down the hall and we need to figure out how to get past them. What do we have that we can work with?"
Give her something. Anything. Please.