Jet Link | 002 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
metalicarus) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-01-16 01:02 pm
metalicarus) wrote in thecapitol2015-01-16 01:02 pm
Entry tags:
[Open] I fell in love and my love still grows
Who| Jet Link and Open
What| Painting, model cars, dancing and music
Where| The training center, the park, district 2 commons and the roof
When| After the arena but before the crowning
Warnings/Notes| Nothing right now!
Training Center
This was one of those mornings when he'd woken up at seemingly nothing and just couldn't go back to sleep. It didn't happen often, mostly when a nightmare he couldn't remember had infiltrated his sleep, so the best remedy was to go ahead and do something rather than lay around hoping sleep would come to him sometime before he was supposed to get up for breakfast.
What he decided to do with himself was something he was sure none of his mentors or prep team would be overly pleased with, but they weren't around so who cared? Jet made his way down to the Training Center, not in work out clothes, but in something just as plain. Once he got there, he went straight for where he'd found the paints last time. His previous wall-decorations had long since been cleaned up, but that only meant Jet had an entire wall as his canvas once more.
At first, he painted shapes and abstract pictures, then turned to objects -ships, buildings, places he knew from home- then came the faces. It was only the face, like a hyper close-up picture of someone Panem had never seen, but the details were clear and crisp as though Jet were looking at his subjects face as he painted them. Eight faces developed on the wall fast, one woman, one old man, a baby and the rest a group of men ranging from ages 18 to 47 and each a different race from the other. Then more faces appeared as the hours past, these ones perhaps more familiar to anyone who might happen down into the training room. Friends Jet had made over the almost-year he'd been in Panem joined the faces of the family he hadn't seen in ages on the concrete wall.
He stepped back a moment to observe his handiwork and studied each of the faces intently. A moment later saw him returning to the paint canisters and picking one up that he hadn't broken into. It was some deep dark red that nearly seemed brown and soon it was splattered all over the wall as Jet tossed it there. He tried not to hit the faces, just the spaces around them, but paint was paint and it splattered, so he didn't worry too much if some of it got where it wasn't supposed to be.
Unfortunately, that place it wasn't supposed to be might also be someone who'd happened to venture too close to the wall at the time and now found paint on themselves. Jet could only find it in him to be slightly remorseful. He turned towards his poor paint victim and offered half a smile. "Sorry about that, wasn't paying a lot of attention. Guess I should've said 'watch out' or something."
The Park
Once upon a time, Albert had been dealing with regaining his dexterity and Jet had offered him all kinds of model airplanes to help. They had started simple as Albert's ability to lift a pencil and not break it was about the height of his achievement, but as time went on and he got better with his cybernetic hands, Jet had gotten him more and more complex models.
That was how Jet found himself out in the park one day with a model of a car he'd only ever seen in Panem. The engine was different, but similar enough Jet was confident he could figure it out with enough time. He took the model and a bed sheet and cleared the snow from a table in the park so he could work. The bed sheet was turned into a sort of table cloth that Jet set all the small pieces on and went to work. With the snow covering everything, he didn't anticipate the park would see much traffic and it made the whole place seem peaceful, something he'd need as his fight with his own metal hand's dexterity caused the blond endless frustration. He was well aware how funny it might look to see a grown man with a model of a car, especially out in the snow, but luckily there wasn't anyone around right then to question. Jet would just have to hope either his luck would hold out or people would mind their own business if not.
District 2 commons
Jet didn't spend a whole lot of time in District 2 these days. He'd moved most of his stuff back into Albert's room once he'd gained a pass and now that the curfew was lifted, where he was or what he was doing wasn't even a problem anymore. However, Felicity was on this floor and Jessica was not and, right now, District 3's mentor was making staying on that floor very difficult. Bottles of booze didn't bother Jet as a rule, but when there were that many and he knew they all belonged to one person, it made him uncomfortable in a way most things didn't. He'd go back when it was time for bed but, for now, he was going to hide out on the floor that should be his.
But apart from the thing with Jessica, Jet was feeling pretty damn good that day. Yes, nothing had changed over all, they were still trapped in endless death arenas and caught under the thumb of a dictator, but he also had his friends in decent enough health, he was married to the man of his dreams, and strictly speaking, things were not overly insane right this moment. It left him in a better mood than he'd felt in a while. With no one (noticeably) around in the commons while he was there making himself some lunch, Jet let himself relax. Relaxing led to a tune running through his head, one he hadn't heard in a while, but the words sprung from his memory like he'd only heard it the other day. One thing led to another and soon a decent rendition of runaround Sue was serenading District 2's commons, complete with graceful and out-of-period dance moves performed by the blond singing. Yeah, it was all sixties but right that moment, a parade of peacekeepers could have gone through the commons and Jet would have kept up his performance with no shame.
The Roof
It's chilly, but the sunlight keeps everything a little warmer than it should be when Jet makes his way up there. For once, it seemed, there wasn't anyone else up there with him, something he was sure would change given enough time. But since there was no one there right then he let himself find a perch on a bench (his feet on the bench part while he sat on the back of the thing itself) and pull the harmonica out from one of his jacket's pockets. He'd found it on accident while he'd been out in the city and as soon as he found it was the exact same instrument he'd first learned how to play years back, he'd instantly gotten it for himself. A little bit of home in the middle of the insanity that was Panem. Jet brought the instrument to his mouth and gave it an experimental blow to test the sound. Moments later, the roof was washed in the slow almost sad sounds of a harmonica. The song finished out before switching to something more peppy -sort of, 'Home on the range' as Jet knew it was still kinda slow- and switched again to something else when that was done. He'd go through his whole repertoire of songs if left to his own devices, or at least until it got too cold to stay in one place anymore.
What| Painting, model cars, dancing and music
Where| The training center, the park, district 2 commons and the roof
When| After the arena but before the crowning
Warnings/Notes| Nothing right now!
Training Center
This was one of those mornings when he'd woken up at seemingly nothing and just couldn't go back to sleep. It didn't happen often, mostly when a nightmare he couldn't remember had infiltrated his sleep, so the best remedy was to go ahead and do something rather than lay around hoping sleep would come to him sometime before he was supposed to get up for breakfast.
What he decided to do with himself was something he was sure none of his mentors or prep team would be overly pleased with, but they weren't around so who cared? Jet made his way down to the Training Center, not in work out clothes, but in something just as plain. Once he got there, he went straight for where he'd found the paints last time. His previous wall-decorations had long since been cleaned up, but that only meant Jet had an entire wall as his canvas once more.
At first, he painted shapes and abstract pictures, then turned to objects -ships, buildings, places he knew from home- then came the faces. It was only the face, like a hyper close-up picture of someone Panem had never seen, but the details were clear and crisp as though Jet were looking at his subjects face as he painted them. Eight faces developed on the wall fast, one woman, one old man, a baby and the rest a group of men ranging from ages 18 to 47 and each a different race from the other. Then more faces appeared as the hours past, these ones perhaps more familiar to anyone who might happen down into the training room. Friends Jet had made over the almost-year he'd been in Panem joined the faces of the family he hadn't seen in ages on the concrete wall.
He stepped back a moment to observe his handiwork and studied each of the faces intently. A moment later saw him returning to the paint canisters and picking one up that he hadn't broken into. It was some deep dark red that nearly seemed brown and soon it was splattered all over the wall as Jet tossed it there. He tried not to hit the faces, just the spaces around them, but paint was paint and it splattered, so he didn't worry too much if some of it got where it wasn't supposed to be.
Unfortunately, that place it wasn't supposed to be might also be someone who'd happened to venture too close to the wall at the time and now found paint on themselves. Jet could only find it in him to be slightly remorseful. He turned towards his poor paint victim and offered half a smile. "Sorry about that, wasn't paying a lot of attention. Guess I should've said 'watch out' or something."
The Park
Once upon a time, Albert had been dealing with regaining his dexterity and Jet had offered him all kinds of model airplanes to help. They had started simple as Albert's ability to lift a pencil and not break it was about the height of his achievement, but as time went on and he got better with his cybernetic hands, Jet had gotten him more and more complex models.
That was how Jet found himself out in the park one day with a model of a car he'd only ever seen in Panem. The engine was different, but similar enough Jet was confident he could figure it out with enough time. He took the model and a bed sheet and cleared the snow from a table in the park so he could work. The bed sheet was turned into a sort of table cloth that Jet set all the small pieces on and went to work. With the snow covering everything, he didn't anticipate the park would see much traffic and it made the whole place seem peaceful, something he'd need as his fight with his own metal hand's dexterity caused the blond endless frustration. He was well aware how funny it might look to see a grown man with a model of a car, especially out in the snow, but luckily there wasn't anyone around right then to question. Jet would just have to hope either his luck would hold out or people would mind their own business if not.
District 2 commons
Jet didn't spend a whole lot of time in District 2 these days. He'd moved most of his stuff back into Albert's room once he'd gained a pass and now that the curfew was lifted, where he was or what he was doing wasn't even a problem anymore. However, Felicity was on this floor and Jessica was not and, right now, District 3's mentor was making staying on that floor very difficult. Bottles of booze didn't bother Jet as a rule, but when there were that many and he knew they all belonged to one person, it made him uncomfortable in a way most things didn't. He'd go back when it was time for bed but, for now, he was going to hide out on the floor that should be his.
But apart from the thing with Jessica, Jet was feeling pretty damn good that day. Yes, nothing had changed over all, they were still trapped in endless death arenas and caught under the thumb of a dictator, but he also had his friends in decent enough health, he was married to the man of his dreams, and strictly speaking, things were not overly insane right this moment. It left him in a better mood than he'd felt in a while. With no one (noticeably) around in the commons while he was there making himself some lunch, Jet let himself relax. Relaxing led to a tune running through his head, one he hadn't heard in a while, but the words sprung from his memory like he'd only heard it the other day. One thing led to another and soon a decent rendition of runaround Sue was serenading District 2's commons, complete with graceful and out-of-period dance moves performed by the blond singing. Yeah, it was all sixties but right that moment, a parade of peacekeepers could have gone through the commons and Jet would have kept up his performance with no shame.
The Roof
It's chilly, but the sunlight keeps everything a little warmer than it should be when Jet makes his way up there. For once, it seemed, there wasn't anyone else up there with him, something he was sure would change given enough time. But since there was no one there right then he let himself find a perch on a bench (his feet on the bench part while he sat on the back of the thing itself) and pull the harmonica out from one of his jacket's pockets. He'd found it on accident while he'd been out in the city and as soon as he found it was the exact same instrument he'd first learned how to play years back, he'd instantly gotten it for himself. A little bit of home in the middle of the insanity that was Panem. Jet brought the instrument to his mouth and gave it an experimental blow to test the sound. Moments later, the roof was washed in the slow almost sad sounds of a harmonica. The song finished out before switching to something more peppy -sort of, 'Home on the range' as Jet knew it was still kinda slow- and switched again to something else when that was done. He'd go through his whole repertoire of songs if left to his own devices, or at least until it got too cold to stay in one place anymore.
Park
So the park it is today. He's not quite dressed for the snow, but tramps through it anyway, moving aimlessly until he spots the other person.
Unfortunately, Firo's not one to mind his own business. He walks right over to the guy. "What're you doin' with that?"
no subject
"It's a model car, I'm building it." He didn't bother to explain about how it helped his dexterity, it wasn't really the guy's business, although it wasn't like he was wearing gloves to hide the metal of his cybernetics.
Jet set the piece he'd been working with down on the sheet and gave the newcomer a better look-over. What he saw made the confusion give way to mild concern that had him raising a brow at the guy. "Aren't you cold?"
no subject
When he noticed that there was something a little different about this man's hands, Firo found himself openly staring at them. "...Are those gloves or somethin'?"
He hasn't made the connection between the strange hands and why the man might be tinkering. As far as he can tell right now, this guy is just really strange.
Isn't everything here?
no subject
There was a reason he'd retreated to the quiet seclusion of a park when he didn't usually like being alone.
The comment about his hands made him look from them to the guy and shake his head. He wished they were gloves, that would mean he had his normal limbs underneath and would be having troubles breaking glasses he picked up. "No, they're my hands. A 'present' from the capitol not too long ago."
He scooted over a bit on the bench and shrugged a shoulder. "If you're gonna hang around, you can sit if you want." And if the guy wanted to move on, that was cool too, he just didn't want to seem unsociable.
no subject
Offering Firo a seat is probably a terrible mistake; he will not hesitate to talk someone's ear off. So, as he processes robot hands, he smiles, nods his gratitude, and plops right down on the bench.
He shifts so he's properly facing the guy. All right, time to grill. "So, uh, your hands, then... Did somebody cut 'em off or somethin'?" Things like hands don't just up and disappear. While Firo's crowd usually only cuts hands off on corpses, he supposes it isn't too much of a stretch to use them on a living person as a very sick sort of punishment.
But then, because he hasn't found a single thing to like about this place yet, he has to wonder if the capitol chopped them off themselves. Is this the kind of thing they face if they're not cooperative..?
no subject
"Yeah, the Capitol did. They took me and my husband away in the night and took our arms and legs and replaced them with cybernetics like these." On their wedding night no less, bastards. They'd left a little cybernetic implant under their left eyes as well, but since Jet had it covered with a bandage to keep it from getting too cold and aggravating the skin around it, he didn't bother to bring it up.
no subject
He watches closely, eyes getting wider as the story goes on. "What the--?!"
Obviously it was going to be something horrible--there's no nice way to lose a body part--but that's even worse than what he would have first guessed. Not only is it a harsh and callous punishment, Firo can't imagine it helps to know the same thing is happening to someone you love.
Remembering that he should lower his volume, he grits his teeth and glances around the park. "Damn. That's a pretty fuckin' awful thing to do to someone." And for what?
no subject
If any of them pissed off the right people, it'd be easy for the Capitol to just not bring them back. Why allow a troublemaker to live? And the worst part was, this was what had happened to them for doing basically nothing.
"You got a name, kid?"
no subject
"Here I thought they were just too crazy to know any better." The outcome for the tributes is the same, he supposes. Still, there's something chilling about someone who knows they're terrible and just doesn't care. That's the kind of person who can only be stopped by being taken out.
Firo has never enjoyed being called 'kid,' but he supposes he can bite his lip to swallow his fussing. This guy kind of seems like he deserves some slack. "Firo Prochainezo. How about you?"
no subject
"Jet Link. District 2. Nice to meet you, Firo sorry it's gotta be in this crap hole."
Jet poked at the model car a moment then decided he'd had enough sitting out in the snow. As it was, he'd probably stayed so long his metal hands were too cold to even offer a handshake without potentially hurting someone with skin. As he packed up the little kit and shoved it into a bag he'd brought, he glanced over to Firo. "You wanna blow this joint and find somewhere that's got something warm to eat?"
no subject
Though he has to wonder if he's already worn said friendliness out when Jet starts packing up. At hearing the request, he relaxes and the grin springs back onto his face.
"For a minute there I thought I'd chased you away." He stands up and brushes some residual snow off himself. "That sounds great to me. To be honest, I haven't figured out what places are good around here yet--actually, I haven't really checked out any of 'em. Didn't think I could find a place as good as home, so..." He shrugs.
no subject
"What do you miss most from home? Won't be perfect, but it'll be better than nothing."
no subject
It would take ages to list everything he misses from home, but food is easy. "My Family's restaurant. We do Italian and Chinese." A pause. "I could do without the honey in everything, though."
Sorry, Sena, but Alveare's gimmick is a bit weird and he feels free to admit it without the threat of her scowling at him.
no subject
"Their Italian's good though, so I'll take you to my favorite place." Since Jet was Italian, he knew that should probably appeal to him more, but a plate of pasta was a lot harder for the Capitol to flub than decent Lo Mein, so he wasn't overly impressed with it.
"....wait, who puts honey in either of those things?"
no subject
Jet's reaction makes complete sense, so Firo just laughs and shrugs a shoulder. "Far as I know, just Sena. She's the lady who owns our restaraunt. It's called--" He frowns as his mouth refuses to say the word he wants it to. He'll have to settle for the English. "Well, it means "beehive." And the front's a honey shop, so I guess she thought it made sense to put it in everything."
A little regretfully, he adds, "Even the wine and all."
no subject
"That sounds horrible." He grinned. "I'm sorry."
A thought occurred to him and his grin faded a bit as he lead them down a new road. "Hey, how long've you been stuck here, Firo? I don't think I've seen you around before...not that I pay attention to every single face I don't know either." He didn't like to think about it, but there was a lot of turn over in this place, people the Captiol just didn't deem 'entertaining enough' or whatever and just never resurrected.
no subject
Such a tiny, trivial issue as wine was almost a relief to focus on. Firo's own expression turned sour as he turned his attention to the next question. "Not too long. Found myself here just a little over a week ago."
He folded his arms around himself, trying not to wince at the memory. One moment he was in a dungeon, carrying out his orders... and just when he'd thought he couldn't get any lower, he wound up here.
"What about you?"
no subject
For now, he just wanted normalcy when he could get it, even if that meant wine and close-enough-to-Italian food.
"Some people have been here for over three."
no subject
Luke from the bar had only been there a few months and even that seemed overwhelming to Firo.
"How do you..?" Not go crazy? That question hadn't gone over well with the last guy, so Firo let it trail off.
no subject
The half-asked question made him give the kid a considering look as he attempted to figure out the other half of it. "Do...what? Not lose it cause this whole place's messed up? Some of us haven't done a real good job, honestly. Anyone who's been here a year or more's probably got a screw or two loose, but we manage. Honestly, it's probably got something to do with finding people to keep you sane, as sentimental and...well...dumb it sounds to make friends in a death arena."
He knew he'd be completely gone by this point if it weren't for the little family he'd made for himself. "Sorry, that's about all the advice on that I've got."
no subject
"Not gonna lie, it does sound pretty damn weird." He shrugged, "But I guess you've gotta do crazy things to survive in a crazy place, huh?"
no subject
"I'll be happy to answer any questions you've got otherwise, but let's get some food first, I'm starting to feel that cold and I know I'm feeling my stomach."
no subject
"Sounds like a plan to me." He'd follow Jet to wherever they were headed, taking careful mental notes of the area around them. Maybe it made him look a bit paranoid, but he didn't care. He'd been assured he wouldn't need to watch out, that the Peacekeepers would take care of everything. He was very sure that was all bullshit.
"I think that's pretty much the biggest question I got, anyway."