thecapitol | District Tours: Train Ride

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District Tours: Train Ride

Prior to their departure, the Tributes have to suffer a photoshoot, a few interviewers asking them a thousand questions about how excited they are, and more than a few members of their style teams asking the Tributes to bring back mementos. "Don't worry about quality, dears, we can get that all here - we want you to bring us souvenirs for the novelty of it!"

The day of the trip, Tributes are roused bright and early, well before sunrise, and driven in Peacekeeper vans to the train station. It's all rather dour, and not like the start of a vacation at all; if one didn't know what was going on, and if the Escorts and head Stylists weren't chattering excitedly, they might think they were being hauled off to a war zone.

The trains, on the other hand, are plush, fancy things, and there is one per District. There's a single blockaded car for cargo, another for maintenance, driving and Peacekeeping staff, and then several others which are open to the Tributes. A dinner car serves three meals and has small snacks available throughout the day. Another car is an entertainment center with a selection of Capitol-approved films, and a the last one is the Tributes' temporary room. It has a bunk bed for each with sheets that was a truly intense threadcount, and a single massage chair in the back. The Stylists, Mentors and Escorts sleep in the same car, although separated by a partition.

Unfortunately, all the Tributes have to share the sleeping quarters, and it's first-come, first-served.

For the most part, the trip is so smooth that the surface of a glass full of water would not be disturbed. The trips to the closer Districts are a little under a day, but the furthest Districts - 3, 4, 7, 8, 11 and 12 - take nearly 48 hours.

[OOC: For Tributes accepted during the District tours, you can assume they arrived before the departure so they can participate in the District festivities. During the train ride there is still network access. There will only be this post and the party post from the mods for this event, so players are encouraged to make their own of their characters exploring their surroundings and enjoying the Districts.]

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When the Initiate finds that they're sharing a room, he wastes no time immediately darting for the one furtherest from anybody else as can be, taking the bottom bunk if only because his height wouldn't allow for anything else, and even then he feels far too cramped-- and too open. He shoves the blankest and sheets and pillow to be as much of a pile as he can make it, being much more aggressive with it all than truly necessary. He hates this. Already. He hasn't gone anywhere yet but he has already decided this.

He ducks his horns under the bunk and crawls in underneath, being very much a tangle of too-long-limbs as he tries to make himself as small as possible. Eventually he will find something to occupy himself with. For now, he opts to sulk. He pointedly does not look at anyone else.

Eventually, as time goes on, he starts to pull the sheets out to tuck them into the top bunk, starting to make a veil-like wall all around. It's almost, but not-quite, like a tent.

Edited 2014-01-08 01:28 (UTC)

Kankri picks the first top bunk he sees, a middling distance from the Initiate's. Seeing the indigo's discomfort, he wonders if he shouldn't talk to him - but then he decides against it. Kurloz was so distressed on their last conversation, and if what Signless said is true, his cultural context is the very antithesis of Kankri's own.

Besides, when he's under so much stress, he doesn't much want to be yelled at. Or to think about the fact that someone who's his friend - okay, an alternate, but still his friend - may very well try to kill him soon. So he just climbs onto his bunk, faces the wall, and hugs his pillow. Let the other Tributes go out and do whatever it is they're doing, he just wants to lie here and be miserable.

The Initiate doesn't put up sheets the whole way around. Not enough of them to have that and still have a decent pile. And so what it leaves is enough of an opening that he can see the other tributes, who might think of attacking. And who is very clearly not thought of it at all.

He's not gonna say it. He's not going to say a damn word, Messiahs, he's been lucky. He'd never have gotten this silence from the other Kankri. This is exactly how things should've gone the first he ever even met Kankri, just let him alone to be culled himself. He doesn't need to be involved.

He waits. He stays silent. He shoves at his pillow pile again.

"You're going at to keep your back exposed like that at to a bunch of killers? THAT AIN'T A HABIT WHAT ALL A MOTHERFUCKER WILL BE WANTING AT TO KEEP UP IN ARENAS."

Fuck.

Kankri jerks a little, surprised at being addressed, particularly by a troll who has by all appearances been avoiding him.

And Kurloz is lecturing him about not being used to thinking about violence, which was a reminder he didn't need of how different, how wrong the trolls here are. He curls around his pillow tightly.

"What's the point of cultivating such habits?" he replies, not a little bitterly. "I won't kill anyone. I can't. Even if I wanted to I wouldn't be capable of it, which I don't, it's against everything that's ever been important to me. So all I can do is die anyway, isn't it?"

Yeah, he's really not doing well.

The Initiate huffs and rolls his eyes. He hates himself for this already. This is just testament to it all that this is what he's resorted to.

"You'd be motherfucking surprised," He says. A growl follows. "YOUR OTHER USED TO SAY THAT TOO. Fact fucking is, everyone kills. BUT HOWEVER LONG AT YOU WANT TO FOOL YOURSELF, GO THE MOTHERFUCK AHEAD. Get all like to be having the illusory ideals tying down to snapping eventual like the rope in an execution."

He shifts about in his pile, laying his head on his arms to let his horns be ducked more comfortably. He huffs, "STILL STANDS; he ain't gonna want to die messy or painfully. RARE ALL IS AN EASY WAY TO DIE, BUT THERE ARE WORSE ONES. You got caught by that it may take all the fuck longer to bring your pieces up back together. IF THEY BOTHER."

The Initiate doesn't sound at all sympathetic. He sounds like he's got as much sympathy as if he's reading the directions of a food packet to be microwaved.

"Perhaps on Alternia," Kankri mutters. "Not Beforus. I don't know anyone like that."

He sighs, rolling onto his back. "Anyway, it's not as if I know anything about preventing...that sort of thing. I've only ever had people taking care of me. Treating me as if I were made of glass. I wasn't even allowed a lusus, they put me in a coldblood's care like a pampered pet because I was hatched 'deficient.'"

He keeps forgetting how... alien Kankri is, for lack of a better word. He's weird, the whole world he speaks about is weird, he leaks a motherfucking miasma of weird. It could possibly be infectious. He shakes his head after a full minute of staring. Where does he even begin on addressing all that? No small part of him wants to snap at him, but when was that ever new. He hasn't forgetten this is still a Kankri. That would be impossible.

"I wasn't motherfucking talking up on Alternia. I WAS TALKING OF HERE," He says. "You will die. HE DOUBTS YOU WILL GO IN FIRST MOTHERFUCKING TIME AND STROLL AFTERWAYS VICTORIOUS ON OUT. You want at a know for how to survive, at least so your cull ain't as bad as all it could be, you need to pay the fuck attention to what be around, realise what all be a danger and a use. AIN'T NECESSARY TO BE TAUGHT, IT'S LEARNT ALONE IT IS."

This is some cruel joke of the Messiahs he's still sure. Not only to send yet another jokevein but be sure he would be the one stuck with the fucker. He taps his claws on his own arm.

"First thing what all to forget is that this ain't Beforus or whatever the fuck neither. A LUSUS WON'T HELP YOU HERE, SO LACK OF ONE DON'T MATTER." He raises a brow. "Are you actually motherfucking made all of glasswares or deficiencies?"

Kankri bristles, at that. "Of course I'm not!" he protests. "You have no idea, how much I resented- all I'm saying is that I was never even, even allowed to look after myself, and after a lifetime of that it's quite difficult to have even the first idea of. How any of this works. 'Learned helplessness,' I've heard it called."

He sighs, rolling onto his side again, facing Kurloz again - finally meeting his eyes. "So no, I don't know things like that, Kurloz, and I never was given the choice of learning. Not that I'd like to be in this kind of situation anyway, but perhaps I'd have some idea of how to stay relatively safe."

And Kankri reacts, naturally, just as he was meant to. Kurloz watches him go on and ramble. He meets Kankri's eyes, the murky sort of color just starting to shift from grey, almost passing as rust except for those spots of fucking bright.

"MOTHERFUCKER, YOUR ANSWER BE SIMPLE AS THAT THEN," He says. "You ain't made all up of motherfucking glass? PROVE IT. Prove. FUCKERS. Wrong. ALREADY YOU GOT FOR THE MOTIVATOR RIGHT MOTHERFUCKING THERE. You got your reasons why you couldn't get a learn on then, what-the-fuck-ever, you don't have those blocks for it now. TAKING MOTHERFUCKING ADVANTAGE WOULD HAVE AT FOR A LOGIC, DON'T HE THINK?" He leaves a pause, so it may sink in and Kankri can think about it all. He would think this all obvious but sometimes certain trolls just failed to grasp things. And then, just like that, he's got a false grin stretched across his face. It isn't friendly.

"Another note up on survival?" He says. "DON'T CALL AT ME BY NAME! He has a title. THE INITIATE. Now tell him; what in Messiahs' names does that even motherfucking mean, 'in a coldblood's care'?"

"I will! Quite gladly, considering it's within my own self-interest! But as I keep telling you, I don't even know where to start," Kankri huffs. But then he absorbs the other thing Kurloz said and perks up slightly, forgetting to be miserable because the conversation is keeping him busy.

"I apologize if the use of names is considered rude in Alternian culture, and I'll refrain in the future if you wish. However, I must insist that you give me something besides a title to call you. I dislike titles; I think we should view other trolls as who they are, not merely as their function. We're all more than simply the sum of our parts." He shrugs slightly, the mildest flush in his cheeks. He hasn't really talked about his philosophy on titles much, since none of his friends have them, so he's a bit self-conscious about it.

He taps his lower lip as he considers the question, propping himself up on an elbow comfortably. "Well, I mean precisely that. My care and upbringing was given over to a member of the longer-lived castes. The practice is called 'culling,' though I don't know if you would have had it. Any troll who experiences some sort of- of deficiency- is put in the charge of someone more sensible, who knows what's best for them." HIs voice is dripping sarcasm and bitterness. He doesn't think much of that, to be honest.

Talking to Kankri like this is perpetually going to make him feel like he's downed some serious narcotics or something, he can tell right now. He makes a face, yet again. The apology was weird enough. That's a word he'd never thought to hear in that voice. Ever. What, was this motherfucker actually serious right now?

"FIRST THE FUCK OFF, WHAT?" The last word is almost a laugh because it's that flooring. "You're trying to tell at me, a bunch of motherfuckers--ACTUAL TROLLS-- and one's of the high went to play lusus? LIKE HELL. You're making at to joke you all up and are, calling it culling even. SUPPOSE HE'S RIGHT THEN, WE GOT 'CULLING', BECAUSE I GOT IT UP ON GOOD AUTHORITY NO SEADWELLER WOULD WANT FOR NOTHING BUT TO SEE A MOTHERFUCKER DROWN." He lets out a humorless chuckle at his own private joke. His head is still rested on his arms. To the casual observer this likely looks a lot different than it is.

He waves a hand. "On the second, let him make it all the fuck easier. I AM MY FUNCTION AND IT IS MY SUM. Like to be a derision up on my motherfucking person it all is to use my name and so you ain't damn getting to use a name. IF YOU DON'T LIKE FOR IT THAT'S TOO GODDAMN BAD. Names be for the quadranted and the close, and honest word up on it, hearing it from you, who shares face and voice of your other, leaves a bad taste." He smiles tightly. "IF I HEAR IT FROM HE AGAIN IT WILL BE THE LAST WHAT ALL IS SAID. If you fucking must, use Fraysong."

Edited 2014-01-09 04:47 (UTC)

"It's not a joke," Kankri retorts, drawing himself up indignantly. "It was my life, and I know about it far better than anyone else here would! I'm attempting to meet your strange Alternian ways and views halfway and it's certainly no easy task, the very least you could do is attempt to return the favor. Particularly when you're the one who asked! If you can't handle hearing answers you dislike, then there isn't any point to asking questions, is there?"

He crosses his arms. "Fraysong will be more than suitable, then."

"BROTHER, I DON'T THINK AT YOU UP AND UNDERSTAND," He snaps. He starts to lift his head, whacking his horns. He growls and hisses and tucks his head back down. Fuck, fuck, fuck this fucking trip and every fucking person fucking involved in it. At least the motherfucker stopped using his name.

"The fact that you ain't dead is me meeting half motherfucking way," He grumbles, with far less energy. "I'M OFFERING SUGGESTION AT FOR HOW TO NOT DIE WHEN ALL I OUGHT TO BE CULLING YOU NOW. Don't want for me to get expression up at for surprise or disbelief don't say on things what all bring about such. BUT WHAT THE FUCK EVER. Suppose at he believes. YOUR LIFE IS STILL DAMN RIDICULOUS, COMPARITIVE. Moving the fuck along. DO YOU WANT AT TO MOTHERFUCKING LIVE OR NOT?!"

"If you believed that much that I deserved to die, meeting me halfway would be avoiding me entirely. I'll remind you that you struck up this conversation and demanded those answers. I do want to live, of course I want to live even if it's a stupid hope that doesn't have a chance. But why are you interested in whether I live or not? You don't get along with either of my fellow redbloods, you were obviously disturbed by everything I told you about who you were to me on Beforus, so why are you trying to help me? You're being rude and off-putting about it, but that's still what you're doing!"

Abort, abort, mission fucking failure. Mission gone and spiralled down into the wicked shit and people are screaming but he is just sitting there, mouth gaping, face twisted into anger but not a damn thing's coming out. What's the command sir, they'd up and say, and he'd say he's got nothing. He's a tool. He is motherfucking wall smear.

And Kankri just asks why? The Initiate could scream.

Because I hate your fucking guts is why. Because I wish you'd fall off that bunk, crack your nug right open like it's an egg revealing the miracle where you die. Because I want to tear out every last inch of the sick shit out of you and let the screams be a symphony to everything I have done and will ever goddamn do again, the task inaugural, the job motherfucking bestowed to me by the Messiahs themselves. To bring you to death as is and has always been my hatchright. Because I hate everything you stand for. Because I want to wear your blood like it's mine and let them burn me as such and scar it all into my own veins and skin for all fucking time. Be-motherfucking-cause.

"I swore to spill no more of your blood," He admits and it tastes like his own guts all turned up. "I SWORE NOT GIVE WAY TO MORE OF YOUR GODDAMN HUE OVER MY DIGITS. Your fellow redbloods. YOU BRIGHTVIENS. You goddamn burn-seared fuckers like the death dogged hues of dawn. THE THINGS YOUR FELLOWS HAVE DONE. You have come so close, each of you, from taking all from me. FROM YOUR OWN EXPLANATORIES SPILLED LIKE FROTH, YOU SAY SPEAK OF A WORLD WHERE ALL... WHAT, WE SIT BACK AS IF IT WERE SHANGRI-LA? From your own mouth you paint me a sinner with your tale, where I thought at least the Messiahs could be appeased. YOU WANT TO MAKE COMPLAINT AT ME OF NEVER HAVING BEEN GIVEN FIGHT ALL FOR TO SURVIVE? You want for me to accept every bit of it and feel nothing?" He shakes his head, furiously. This is stupid and all the more awkward tucked in here. But he doesn't want to get out either.

"YOUR OTHER, MADE NEAR AT TO TAKE FROM IN NUMEROUS COUNT, THINGS WHAT ALL SHOULD HAVE BEEN MINE. Your other took my offerings and spat on them repeated. THE DESCENDENT IS JUST ANOTHER FOOL OF FUCKING FOOLS WANTING ALL TO BECOME A BIGGER ONE THAN THAT ALL OF HIS ANCESTOR. I went and made my message to them clear." And it should be clear, he thinks, too, exactly what he means here. It's in his eyes, his tone. Anyone with a functioning pan could guess.

"...AND THEN I SWORE THAT NEVER AGAIN IT WOULD OCCUR. I gave a promise, do you understand, to try something else. AND THAT, MOTHERFUCKER, IS WHAT I AM DOING. I am aware, if you are anything like your fellows, you will betray me, continue with whatever heresy. BUT BY MESSIAHS, I WILL KEEP MOTHERFUCKING WORD FOR HOWEVER ALL LONG IT TAKES." he thinks, Pyrope, this had better be motherfucking worth it. Let the Messiahs shot him down on the spot if ain't. He shifts about in the bunk, pushing his back up closer to the wall, folding himself in more and turning his head away.

"...You're not that different from how all he was. HE DIDN'T UNDERSTAND SHIT. Couldn't up and ken for nothing for why all things were-- had to be-- as all they were. WOULDN'T SAVE HIS OWN SKIN, NOT FOR FUCKING ANYONE. Not for anything what all could be said or who it might damn. DIDN'T KNOW HE WAS A TRAITOR-LIAR THEN." He turns. "And I ain't got a knowing for what the fuck you make to be down with you. IF YOU WANT TO LIVE, PERHAPS ALL YOU HAVE AT FOR DIFFERENCE ENOUGH IN YOU. Perhaps you can hang the fuck on to it enough all to listen and learn and maybe, just once, things could make like to be different. AIN'T GOING TO TRY AT TO PRETEND I LIKE YOU BECAUSE, BROTHER, I DON'T, AND THIS IS THE LAST FUCKING CHANCE I AM EVER GOING TO GIVE, THIS TIME IS IT." His hands cut through the air on the last word. He's breathing hard. He wishes Mituna were here, except really, he wishes more that he was wherever it was Mituna was going. His head drops, he sighs heavily and he runs a hand through his hair. The bullet spirals through the air and he snatches it up to chomp down and gnaw on it.

"...I trusted you once, Kankri Vantas..." He hisses through his teeth, barely audible, "...if there is any motherfucking thing in you that truly gives the slightest fuck up on anything... don't make this be my mistake again."

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District Tours: Train Ride

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