thecapitol | (OPEN) at least he's not dead now

Entry tags:

(OPEN) at least he's not dead now

Who| Karkat and whoever runs across him.
What| Now that he's out of the mini-arena, Karkat's exploring the place he has to live.
Where| All across the Training Center.
When| After his death in the mini-arena ~ a few days after. Anywhere around then.
Warnings/Notes| Karkat is pretty foulmouthed and irreverent, but nothing else. Feel free to use prose (whichever tense) or action; I'll adapt with you.

Of all the ways Karkat would wish to be welcomed someplace new, this was not one of them. Thanks to the arena, which they'd shoved him in with only minimal explanation, he'd suffered his second death in as many days. Wasn't it enough for Jane to fork him before he showed up? Did he really have to get...

He didn't want to think about it. Maybe it was better that it was something from the arena rather than a fellow tribute, but it didn't make being killed by an oversized, animatronic cartoon beast any better.

Even after, being alive was strange. Back during Sgrub and everything else before Panem, at least there were countless mechanics to explain why someone might revive. Here he didn't know what they did. Something technological? It wasn't unthinkable when they'd brought him here from another part of reality, and while he was glad to not be dead permanently, it was unsettling to think they had such technology at their disposal.

Now he was... not free, but at least somewhere safe. Not subject to the current edition of the Hunger Games, at any rate. He learned his district and what that meant. (District 6, transportation, here's your floor and your room.) He learned that the tower was host to tributes and the various mentors, escorts, stylists, and whoever else served part of this entertainment machine. Night would bring curfew, but days would be relatively open, giving him the chance to feel out his surroundings.

A.
One place he'd definitely find himself was the actual training center, the floor from which the building got its name. Being here would mean needing to be in shape and on his game, and while he had skills still left over from Sgrub, they would do no good if left unpracticed. If he could find a sickle amongst the weapons provided there, he'd be practicing with that. Otherwise he might check out the other stations. Learn knots? Sure. Learn edible plants? Worthwhile. And then there was regular old relief of frustration: he may not have been a fistkind user, but that didn't stop him from taking things out a punching bag.

B.
Night of course would leave him confined to the District 6 area. Unused to a bed, lacking sopor slime, and still rattled from the arena, he didn't sleep much. It didn't help that his species was naturally nocturnal, but even during the day he sought little rest. At least the common area had a TV and games to play, and the kitchen helped for hunger or thirst. It wouldn't be hard to spot the look on his face: tired and grumpy, with perpetual bags under his eyes.

C.
During the day again, he more than once found himself up on the roof. Here the atmosphere was less stifling, with fresh air and an actual sky to see, unlike the darkness or the void or luminescent shapes of dream bubbles back on the meteor. It wasn't his sky, not the one he knew from Alternia, but if it had been he wouldn't have been able to stand the sun. This was tolerable - relaxing, even - and it gave him a space from everything else.

D.
But beyond the rest, he wandered. The tower was big, and he knew well enough that people he knew had to be around. He'd heard mention, or seen a flash of horn in the arena he couldn't stop long enough to identify, and he had run into Eridan while he was still in there. It meant teammates or friends were here, and these above all else he sought out, carrying him through common rooms or the lobby or across hallways and elevators throughout the tower. Feasibly anyone could run into him; though short, most people weren't grey with horns, and it made him stand out.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's honestly a little strange that Nill never made the connection between Karkat and the other Vantases in the tower, but she can contribute that to only seeing Karkat in person a few times, even if she'd liked him plenty. Even watching the Arena, she didn't get it until she heard one of the announcers use his name, and after that it had made sense. (She's aware she might have lost people in her head again. She tries not to dwell on it.)

After that, she hadn't been able to go see him. She'd had to help Davesprite, who had burning slime on his wings, and then... and then. Honestly, she was scared. There was already one person that didn't know her.

There's not much to be done about it now, though. Nill exits the elevator onto the roof, a cigarette already between her lips, a lighter in her hand, ready to light it when she steps out, but she stops in place, because there's Karkat, and she had been very pointedly not looking for him. But there he is, and Nill is there now anyway. Now or never.

She exhales a deep breath, and lights the cigarette, before pulling her notepad out. When she walks over to Karkat there's a small smile on her face, and she holds up the notepad, a word already written on the otherwise blank page.

hello.

Karkat's moved past some of his initial stresses when he's up on the roof this time. He's got friends here, teammates, and that means that he something to work with. There might not be any immediate progress against this place, and he still needs to learn more to be certain how to move, but it's always easier when he has people at his back that he can trust.

He's standing near to the edge, though a good space from the barrier, looking out at the buildings again. He didn't live in a big city where he came from, and human architecture differs quite a bit from that of trolls. Their windows are all different, for one. He's seen them plenty of times in the various movies he's watched, but it's still strange to see them in person, even at a distance.

He hears the approach before he sees her, catches her out the corner before he turns, and then... Honestly, he stares. Humans aren't weird; he's to those. But wings? Then rather than say anything she lifts up her notepad, plain greeting neatly written with no explanation whatsoever.

"Hi?" His eyebrows are knitted up, and don't show sign of untangling. "Should I know you? Let me just get it out of the way: I've been told I was here before but I don't remember anything about it, so if we were friends or acquaintances or anything like that my sponge has been washed clean as new on the subject."

It's not the kind of response that Nill is really used to getting for things like this, and it's obvious that it throws her off a little at first, uncertain of how to proceed. Her wings flutter, and she's about to shake her head, but--

Honesty. She needed to be honest. She didn't want to just go around lying to everyone again because it made her life easier or less painful, and here, lying wasn't going to protect as many people the way it might in other places. She taps ash from the end of her cigarette, before finally actually writing a response that she can show him.

we were friends. it was a long time ago.
I wasn't expecting you to remember me.
I'm sorry it seemed that way.

She always hoped, because without hope, she would be a much more miserable person than she is. But she almost never expects anything to come from them. It's a little easier to handles these places and to not be disappointed if you don't expect something. Or so she likes to tell herself.

He's not surprised to see her thrown off. It's an awkward circumstance, an awkward situation, and even if she did just walk up out of friendliness it's a bit to take in. He lets her process and write, figuring now that, okay, maybe she can't talk.

"Oh," he says, once the notebook is lifted to read. "No, no, it's fine. I'm just not usually approached by human chicks with wings." He motions at the beyond-the-shoulder area. "Or whatever you are. I'm still getting used to their being so many humans in the first place. Like fuck, how many Earths are there? Two was enough."

And there he falls back into a comfortable mode. Bitching about things: it's always easy. Besides, she seems nice enough.

"I take it you already know my name, so who are you?"

The awkward expression that had taken up residence on her face quickly melts into another smile, this one friendlier and a little more open, even if her feathers ruffle up a little at 'chick with wings'. They smooth out again quickly enough.

For some reason Earth is a really popular setting for alternate worlds. She hasn't really figured out why, but running into people not from earth has been strangely rare in Nill's experience.

I'm human. just a little different.
my name is Nill. it's nice to meet you.
Karkat, right?
did they tell you about the curfew?

He's yet to see any trolls not from Alternia or Beforus, let alone one unrelated to the teams who played. But so many humans, especially unrelated to the Earths he knew of, is downright bizarre. Maybe it's because the world itself seems to be some alternate Earth. Humans in charge would go after more of their kind, right? But then why be so specific about a less usual species? It doesn't make much sense to him.

He lets her ruffle of feathers go without comment. Yes, Nill, you are a chick with wings. He didn't mean it badly at least. Human but a little different will work too; he chalks it up to a difference in universe.

He nods to her now. "Nill, okay. And yeah, I'm Karkat, surname Vantas. But if you mean the steaming load of horseshit that is confining even the resident nocturnal species to their district floors at night, then yes, I was told about that too."

There's a bird pun to be made there somewhere. Truly a horrible tragedy that Nill is not terribly punny. Where's Davesprite when you need him?

She's starting to wonder if the same surnames mean they're actually related, or if it's because they belong to a certain kind of group. Initiate had told her once that it was his hatchsymbol, but Nill doesn't really know enough about trolls to extrapolate very much from that information alone.

I have a full pass. I can go wherever I want at night.
if they don't give you a pass I can get you anything you need after curfew starts.

It's a shame she couldn't have known Sollux longer. He would have provided her with all the puns she needs.

Karkat's eyebrows raise.

"A full pass? How did you get that?" He wouldn't even know the first thing of applying for a regular one.

"Unless you can hunt down something called sopor slime for me, though, there's nothing I really need at this point. Which I'm doubting, because why give a troll a human bed if they know it's a troll they're bringing in in the first place?" An irritable breath leaves him. "Between one thing and another it's like they're magically expecting us to convert to human conventions when that's not how we work."

It's the first time she's heard a troll mention sopor slime, and though she's not sure how that works or what it is exactly, her expression quickly twists into something more concerned. It might not be a huge deal if none of the other trolls have mentioned it up until this point, but it doesn't exactly sound reassuring, either.

they interview you.
I've never heard of that.
will you be okay without it?

An interview. That's it? It doesn't really tell him how she got something like a full pass, and for that he gives her a flat look. But if her concern is elsewhere, he'll let it pass. They'd probably take too much issue with his attitude to give him a pass anyway.

"Considering I once went weeks on end without sleep at all, yes, I will be fine," he answers. "Sopor slime is this green goop trolls normally sleep in. It eases the nightmares we usually have, but I can deal with them."

Whenever he does sleep, which he hasn't much lately.

Nill's fairly certain that's meant to be reassuring, but it's sort of not. Trolls are a lot different from humans in terms of what they can and can't handle, and their organs are probably a lot different too, but humans don't usually handle sleeplessness and nightmares very well, and she's not altogether sure that's very different for trolls.

It's pretty obvious that she struggles a little with what to actually respond with, if the frowning and crossed out sentence starts are any indication.

is it
are there an
can you
I'll let you know if I find it.
do you know of any alternatives?
what district are you in?
I'm in 9.

He sees her struggling, a frown pulling gradually at his lips for it until she turns her notebook back.

"I'll be fine, Nill," he says. "The worst that happened in terms of sleeplessness was that I was really fucking tired after that. I got back to sleeping normally later and there was no lasting harm done."

The nightmares... Those will take a some getting used to again, after the dream bubbles sleep put him in during the meteor ride, but he can handle it. He will handle it.

"But no, I don't know any alternatives. I'm District Six. Transportation, for some reason?" His eyebrow quirks, like she might know something of how it works.

Motherly worry tends to be her default, no matter how well she's really known a person. But it's doubly concerning, because she's known a lot of trolls, and none of them ever mentioned the nightmare-reducing slime thing. "No lasting harm" isn't exactly a reassuring prospect either, but it's probably the best they're gonna get as far as this goes.

As for the district stuff though, Nill just shrugs, her wings moving with the gesture. She sort of suspects they just randomly stick them in whatever District lost the most Tributes during the Arenas. An easy and painless swap out, for them anyway.

9 is grain.

She's never seen a field of grain in her life, for the record. Not outside of pictures anyway.

But... crap, if he's in six--

Molotov is in your district. she's dangerous. be careful.
Clementine is really nice.
Linden is a little odd. he means well. he's a mentor.

His eyes catch on the shift of her wings, still unused to them, or at least wings of this type. Fairy wings are the usual on god tier trolls, but they lack the feathers and they move different ways. Human god tiers never had any, and she's doubtlessly from a different Earth to begin with.

He shrugs back when she gives her district's focus. Grain, okay. Whatever. It's not all that important if there's no reason to the assignation.

But now comes the list of names and descriptions, and once he reads them his eyebrows draw in.

"First, describe Molotov to me," he says. "What she looks like and why she's dangerous, though I'm going to guess wanton killing has something to do with it if we're in this place. And what do you mean by mentor?"

The basic definition is nothing beyond him, but that phrasing - a mentor, no further qualifiers - stands out to him.

Had no one told him about the mentors? ...well, it seemed like the first anyone saw of him was when he popped up in the Arena. Maybe that was entirely how he arrived, and he never got as far as much other info.

She writes out descriptors for mentors first, while she tries to recall just what she'd been told about Molotov, the wording - Nill has watched bits and pieces of other games since she got here, but there's only so much a person could handle at any given time as far as the watching people die quota went.

mentors are tributes that have won Arenas, and who teach people in their district how to fight, or get sponsors.
Linden was born in this world. he won his Arena more than 10 years ago.

For a moment she wonders if she should include the fact that Linden's an addict, but ultimately decides against it. Karkat could formulate his own opinions of Linden once he met him.

Molotov has red hair, and is missing one eye. she's human.
I was told not to let her breathe if I ever cornered her. that she was an expert.
there's a man as well. Black Tom. a human with a moustache. he's killed kids in the Arenas.

He got told a few things before and a few things after, but some of the details have been missed along the way. The 'before' was particularly lacking; he got little more than the concept before he was, in costume, being shot up into the arena. Beyond that, there's a lot to take in about this place in general.

He waits for her to write. It slows things down a bit communicating like this, but he's getting used to it more with each response.

"So I have some weirdo to guide me?" he asks, glancing from the paper to her face. "My hope grows exponentially. Surely victory is just around the corner with him at the helm."

It's more dramatics than true worry, born less out of what she said than his own disdain for the locals and the world he's trapped in. Still, it's for the best she left off the mention of his addiction.

The details on Molotov he takes in, but still he raises an eyebrow.

"'Not let her breath'? Expert on what, exactly? And this guy--" He points to the name Black Tom. "Remind me what a mustache is. I have a feeling it's one of your human things with the face hair, but I my study of your movies hasn't once focused on the particular styles."

She doesn't correct him. Karkat is naturally pretty abrasive, it always seemed, and though she doesn't totally agree she might as well just leave it. It's not often that he actually means to be hurtful with the shit he says, she's found, except when he is, so it's doubtful he means much by it.
h
The next time she lifts her notepad to see there's a little doodle in one corner on a new page, a crude human head with hair and eyes and nose, a line for a mouth, with a scribble for hair, and a carefully done mustache and goatee. There's an arrow pointing to the mustache with a label naming it as such, but the one pointing towards to goatee just has a few question marks listed. She has no idea what's that's called but she's pretty sure Black Tom has one.

Below that, there's more writing.

I think she's an expert at killing.

He leans in just a touch to examine the drawing, and for a doodle it does its job fine. Mustache, okay. Surprise noodle other facial hair feature, sure. He doesn't need the name so long as he can recognize who to look out for. He wouldn't consider himself a child, not that young, but he's not yet an adult.

"Fair enough," he says to the worst beneath. "Basically avoid these people if you don't want to die quick, huh? I'll keep my eye out for them and watch myself." And watch his friends, too, if it comes to it.

Straightening, his gaze returns to her face. "So how long have you been stuck here? If that's not awful to ask."

He catches on quick, which is kind of a relief. She's dealt with way too many people who just don't understand things like this no matter how much you try to make things clear to them. not only are they aggravating, but they tend to seriously endanger those around them.

She smiles, reassuring, and waves a hand dismissively before her next response.

I don't mind.
almost a month.
I haven't been in any arenas.

Karkat has had his slew of stupid decisions and bullheaded priorities, and he surely will in the future, but he has no reason to go straight at people who would likely kill him. This is place where they have more encouragement than they need.

Nill's answer raises his eyebrow. "None? But what about the one that just happened? Why did you get left out when I got shoved through first thing?"

The disbelief is understandable. Nill has always looked a lot younger than she actually is, and she'll probably still look pretty close to a teenager ten years from now. Some of the people at the slumber party had been surprised she wasn't in the arena either.

everyone in that arena was a kid.
humans are usually considered adults when they become 18 years old.
I'm 20.
everyone too old had to go to a slumber party. they played the arena on a projector.

"A slumber party?" If he was disbelieving about her age, he's incredulous about this. "Please tell me you don't mean a literal slumber party with pillows and pajamas and junk food. Blippy happy music and bright costumes or not, we were still dying in that arena, and they wanted to force you all to watch it like a big funtime jamboree?"

His hands fling out as he suddenly takes to pacing across the roof. Not far from her, no, his steps contain themselves to a small radius near her as he rants.

"This is fucked up. This is all fucked up." He's looking from the door off the roof to the buildings to the distance, to the little seating arrangements and plants decorating the areas around them. "This whole damn city is set up to make a big stinking celebration of people getting murdered, and what happens after? They put us back together like scattered puzzle pieces, good as new, and tell us to rip each other apart again."

He rounds back to as he snaps, "And it's not just other tributes! I got mauled by a fucking animatronic bear! Is that normal? Is it fucking usual to have to look out for everything in our environments while we try to avoid death from everyone else?" There's surely people beyond the roof who will hear as, head flinging back he yells, "This is just what I need!"

He looks back with a growling howl of frustration. "Fuck. These aren't even trolls and they're throwing us into this. Why? Why any of this? What the hell did I do to deserve it?!"

Edited (jesus typos everywhere) 2014-11-21 00:34 (UTC)

Oh, hell.

Is this enough to get someone made into an Avox? Surely it couldn't be. Surely the Capitol has had other newbies who have been displeased with their situation verbally, who could be understandably upset (on paperwork, anyway) by such a radical change to their lifestyle. It couldn't be the first time, and it wasn't like he was saying anything that would outright imply any intention to do harm to the system or the people responsible for it. Right?

She doesn't even know if she should interrupt him. Would that imply that she thought it was harmful and spur anyone watching into action?

At a loss, Nill remains seated, gaze darting between Karkat and the elevators every few seconds. Her hands are held up slightly in something that could be called a placating gesture, though not one Nill really realizes she's making. She doesn't reach for her notepad, just shakes her head in response to that last question. He didn't deserve it. None of them do, or so she tries to think most of the time. This is just the shithole they need to deal with.

But hell, Karkat, shut up. Please. Please, shut the fuck up.

Karkat does catch her gesture, and while it doesn't really stop him in progress, by the end he's just run out of steam. It's just a bunch of hot air venting out of him. He doesn't have any plans yet, and if he did he wouldn't go expelling those in this place. Be it chance, luck, or coincidence, no one comes running up to haul him away, but it's probably for the better her shuts up even then.

His shoulders slump.

"I hope it goes easier for you," he says, voice back to a normal volume, before he sinks into a chair.

If she wants to call him on it now, she has her chance.

Edited 2014-11-22 02:53 (UTC)

Oh, thank goodness. The relief is obvious on her face that when he's finally done talking she doesn't hear the ding of the elevators, or anyone else on the roof really seeming to care all that much.

The relief is short lived, because he opens his mouth again, and it's probably the first thing she's ever heard him say - any Karkat say - that has genuinely made her mad. Her jaw goes rigid, entire frame going tight, wings snapping shut against her back (unlike what they usually do when she's angry). She grits her teeth and exhales slowly, eyes shut, before she tries to write anything at all. It takes her a moment.

When she finally does start writing it's a little faster than normal, a few of the straight lines more elongated than usual, a little closer to slashes. She keeps it as controlled as she can, but just what does he think is supposed to be easier for her? Sitting in a room and watching kids die? Half of them she knew? One of them she sent more than half of her tickets to, and he still never walked out of that Arena, and they never brought him back. If she didn't keep smiling at anything that could possibly inspire it around here, she'd lose her mind.

there is nothing easy about this
you need to be more careful about what you say
people listen

The Capitol might take it as a jab at him. Hopefully he won't, because it's not.

c

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject