thecapitol | What pretty cheeks they have, what pretty frocks they have!

Entry tags:

What pretty cheeks they have, what pretty frocks they have!

Who| Luna and you!
What| Luna tries to adjust to Panem. It's a little much, to say the least.
Where| Around the Capitol, then various places in the Training Center
When| Today
Warnings/Notes| None currently.

The Capitol
When Luna's taken to the suites and left to ponder her future, she doesn't know what to do. Waking up from what she knew had been her death, hearing she was going to be participating in another game, being expected to kill others as part of that game...she can't go through with all that again, she just can't. It's not long before she starts to feel a need for something more open - fewer walls, more nature if she can find it. Her body feels heavy and alien too, and the thought of staying inside makes her chest hurt. Leaving the Training Center makes her anxious too, but there are no locked doors on the way out and she knows there are people outside, she'd seen them as she was being escorted by the Peacekeepers. So when she steps outside...

It's almost overwhelming. All the colors, all the noise, all the people. Luna's only seen scenes like this in old records, and experiencing it for real is astounding - and intimidating. Curiosity wins over timidness but just barely, so she wanders the streets trying to stay out of people's way (difficult, given the bustling streets) and glances at colorful displays with a mixture of admiration and hesitation. She's not yet sure she's ready to go inside anywhere; shyness has been her cover before, but now the truth of it is coming back to bite.

Training Center (gym, rooftop, District 6 suites)
Eventually Luna returns to the Training Center, because she can only stay outside for so long. She stops by the training sublevel first, quickly recognizing how out of place she is among the people gathered. The gym is for people who want to improve themselves and increase their chances at survival and victory. Survival is something that appeals to Luna, but victory...isn't. She lingers there a little longer, just to observe and maybe talk with one or two people, but it's not too long before she goes exploring further.

And while the Training Center makes her uneasy, the rooftop doesn't. Even the Capitol doesn't have a lot of nature, so when she looks around and browses the gardens something in her heart settles down a little. She spends a while sitting near the edge of the roof looking down at the city below, and thinking of happy things. The whirlwind of life in the Capitol, the freedom of leaving the facility, surviving on her own outside. The fact that she's alive at all to see this right now. Not dying alone, but getting to be with...

When Luna starts crying, she takes that as her cue to leave. As far as she knows she's alone, but she could have missed something and she doesn't want anyone to see her like this right now. She sticks around for a few moments longer to compose herself, and then starts to head back down to the District 6 suites to see who else is there. It seems that she's going to be here for a while longer, after all. She'll need to figure out what she can do in the days ahead.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Cry your pardon miss," he says, automatically reaching his hands - all organic fingers on his left one, the first two on his right two made up of all cogs and gears covered in clear rubber - out toward her shoulders in case he'd startled or jostled her. Wouldn't do to upset a possible Capitolite by knocking them over, though she doesn't look much like one. Clothes aren't impractical enough, hair doesn't look quite enough like rock formations have started spontaneously growing out from her skull.

Still. Best be cautious. "Used as I am to the paths of this city, forgot I can't just take myself out of the crowd and stop looking at them. Of course others would be avoiding that crowd too. Didn't knock you too much, did I?"

For his part, with his high collar, plunging neckline, and outfit specifically fitted to his skinny form, Roland looks more like a Capitolite than he'd be comfortable with, if he knew it. Still, none of them would leave their hair down over their shoulders like that, and certainly none of them would dare show a face that's got so many bags and wrinkles on it. Small favors. Roland may be acclimating to this place, but at least he still looks old.

Unfortunately Luna's not yet savvy enough to recognize Capitol fashion relative to normal clothing (her normal includes a man in a giant metal suit, after all) so she hasn't yet registered Roland as a fellow Tribute. She does notice his hands on her shoulders, and her eyes are drawn to the mechanical fingers on his right one.

That's definitely got her attention now. Is he like her, then? Her appearance isn't so obvious and her fingers are smoother, but without her ABT she's not that different underneath. She's shocked enough that it takes her a moment to respond, and she backs up stammering her own apology. She knew she might bump into someone in these crowds, but it's still rather embarrassing. "No, no - it's all right. I'm sorry, I should have looked where I was going."

"Mm." He nods, looks her up and down once more. No apparent harm done, apology accepted. Satisfied that he will not be making any unwanted enemies today Roland steps back, dropping his hands and already beginning to look past her. Relentlessly as it's been trained into him to observe everything and to observe that everything constantly, spending his days as an errand boy for that silly little shop is more wearing than it ought to be and his mind is already back in that room in the Tribute Center which he means to settle in, and with the one who might just be there to settle in that room with him. He'd notice if the woman attacked him but barring that, so far as Roland is concerned Luna may as well no longer exist.

Edited (clarification ) 2015-09-27 23:43 (UTC)

Luna hadn't expected for him to leave so soon, so it's a shock when Roland looks like he's about to walk away. The exclamation is out of her mouth before she knows it: "Wait!"

She regrets it almost immediately because she has something she wants to say, but she doesn't know how to phrase it yet. If only she had more time - but she's already disturbed him twice now, she has to say something now. "Um..." She steels herself for a second for getting it out all in one breath: "Are you a robot?" And then an amendment: "Or something else, like...like a human, with mechanical parts." It makes just as much that he could be more like Sigma, after all. Or maybe she was reading too much into the entire thing. Whatever the cause it's too late to retract anything now.

Just like that, she exists again. Roland studies her, frowning thoughtfully, and moves a step or two back away from the crowd while he thinks about it. "Been called a robot a time or two," he says, and depending on how good she is at reading expressions it might be clear now that the question's got him curious about her.

"But no. The robots the Great Old Ones built in my world are made a great deal differently, in any case. These-" And here he holds up his right hand, because what else but those fingers could she be talking about, "Other than these I'm human enough. True threaded, for some generations back." The term, made up of English words as it is, doesn't set off the Capitol-made translation chip inside Roland's brain and so he does not think that she wouldn't know it. He might be a little surprised, in fact, to hear about any world in which attempts to get mutants out of the bloodlines was not simply a fact of life.

"Mind if I ask why you'd wonder? I've been asked quite a few questions in my time here, by fans and news-men and stylists and tributes. Never one quite like that."

"Oh." Luna's a little bit disappointed, and it shows in her expression. She'd known it was more than possible that this man is human too, but it would have been nice to meet someone like her in some way. She sees so little of herself in the crowd, and a kindred spirit would be nice right now.

And after a question like that she ought to have expected a question in return, but she's still caught off-guard for a moment. "Well, um..." Luna hesitates, debating whether or not to lie, and she's aware that her hesitation could be taken as an answer in itself. If he hasn't guessed, though, logically there's no particular reason to do lie. But Luna's still scared, because she's never actually told anyone who she is before - they find out on their own if they don't already know from the start, and then except for Sigma they dismiss her. She settles for ambiguity, the same tactic that got her through parts of the game.

"I'm familiar with robots where I come from. It looked like you have mechanical fingers, so I was wondering if the rest of you might be the same." Her words are nonchalant, like she's just a curious young woman with a passing interest in technology, but whether that's enough to cover her is up to Roland.

Whether she does pass for a simple young woman with curious interests isn't something Roland is certain of quite yet, and that uncertainty - as well as that other fact he's just learned about her, that where I come from - is interesting enough that Roland doesn't move to head back to the tribute tower just yet. "You're a tribute? A new one unless I miss my guess, which I might. Don't pay so much attention to the others as I really ought. Depending on just how familiar you are, you could do well here. A steady hand who knows machines inside and out could be of considerable value, if you meet the right people."

This isn't a genuine suggestion so much as a curious finger poking her to see what response he'll get. If it seems like he'll be able to get an answer from her that feels a little more certain than the one he's just gotten, that'll be well and good. See what she says, proceed from there.

"The right people?" Luna seems to consider that, looking thoughtful for a moment before shrinking back a little. "Oh, no, I couldn't..." And it's probably true, because she is familiar with her own design but it's nothing like the level of detail a real robotics expert would have. And as for the right people - well, Sigma probably counts as one of them and as best as she can figure he's brought her back only to toss her into another game without so much as a hello. Given that, she's going to guess that her intended role isn't anything special.

She shakes her head. "I know a little about robotics, but I probably don't know enough to make a living off of it. And besides, you've got it right. I'm a Tribute. I have a different kind of destiny." She gives a pained smile, because there's only so many ways you can laugh about death to begin with. And after everything in the Nonary Game, she can't even find it in herself to laugh about it at all.

Roland lets go of the idea of finding out some other reason behind her robot question, and he does it without a qualm. Files the suspicion away, of course, as he does all such suspicions and oddities, but it'd take more pushing to follow that suspicion up now then it's really worth. Things may be different someday, but Roland's always been comfortable leaving someday to fend for itself. For now, there's still no reason here to go making enemies.

"You truly think our being here is destiny?" He asks it with a certain shaprness to his tone, a frowning interest in his gaze that wasn't there a second ago. There aren't too many subjects Roland doesn't take seriously, but this is one on which he is rarely even casual. Destiny is not quite ka, that force which he's known since he was very young and which has driven his entire life, but with the language he's got available to him in Panem, it is the closest he can get. "Do you mean being a tribute, which some of us do petition out of, or being in this place at all?"

The turn in subject comes as a surprise, but for the most part it's not unwelcome. Luna hadn't intended her comment about her destiny to be taken the way it was, but maybe she ought to have chosen her words better. And more than that...until now she's been going on the assumption that the man was a nice Capitol resident. The fact that he isn't doesn't change the question, but it does change what she can guess about him.

"You're a Tribute, too? Then you should know. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking of anything as complicated as what you're saying...I just mean that I've been selected to participate in those games, and I don't believe that I can work my way out of it. And when I participate, I'll die." There's acceptance in those words, reluctant but resigned. Luna can only guess about higher destinies, but in her case it seems like a simple matter of projection.

"Yes." He studies her expression. She didn't confirm his guess about her being new but she hadn't denied it either, so maybe he ought to make sure she understands her situation. "And come back after, likely. Most do come back after their first, at least. Takes longer than that for the audience to get bored, I reckon." It's more complex than that, he thinks, the reasons some come back and some don't. But it isn't a lowly tribute's place to know those things. Only their place to suffer for it.

"Cry pardon again if you've been here long enough to know, but it isn't too hard to keep at least a little interest here, not once you learn a little. Course, that can be a trial in itself."

It occurs to him, late, to introduce himself. Probably should, given this is a tribute he's speaking to. Might do them well later on to know one another by name. "Roland Deschain," he nods. "District four. Well met, I think. Much as we can be here."

She'll come back? Luna's speechless for a moment, stunned by the idea. If they've brought her back once they can do it again, of course. But what Roland says seems to apply for everyone here, and humans are something else. The first thing out of her mouth is a soft "How?" before guessing that he might have explained if he knew - it should be a rather important detail. She shakes her head. What he says about keeping people's interest catches her attention too, because how does that determine whether you come back from death?

First things first, though. She gives Roland a more friendly smile. "I'm Luna. It's a pleasure to meet you...as much as we can be here, yes. Have you been here long? I woke up here only an hour or two ago." She looks out at the crowds again - it's still a lot to take in during that time, but meeting someone like this makes it a little less overwhelming.

"An hour? Newer than I thought. And out here already. When I got here a few arenas back, I didn't set foot outside the tower for a while." It hadn't been fear keeping him inside, although Roland will not mind at all if that's what Luna assumes. He isn't going to go into an explanation of the particular moment the gamemakers had taken him from, not even in his own mind, one that had taken at least a day to recover from.

"And I'd tell you how they did it if I knew." He does know a little, actually, knows what was on one of the rebel's network posts some time back. Outdated information now, likely, because Roland isn't useful to the rebellion and knows next to nothing about any of it. Still, he sometimes wonders what became of their plans to build their own machine, identical to the one the gamemakers apparently use. Doesn't wonder often, because there's no point to it. Certainly no point to saying so now, even if it weren't too dangerous to consider.

"I know when we come back after, it's in the same state as when we first arrived. When I return all my injuries are gone, and my friend the Signless had to accustom himself to Capitol food again after each of his arenas. I know these," and here he holds up those fingers that had so caught her attention, "are pressed into me anew when I wake up. I also know that this place can be a great deal different from what most of us are used to. What do you make of it? Found anything interesting yet?"

The idea that it might be unusual to leave the tower so soon comes as a surprise, and makes Luna slightly uneasy (or embarrassed) with the memory of how quickly she fled earlier. She knows it would have been even harder to process the situation had she stayed, but still it feels like a reminder that bravery has never been her strong point. Even venturing out here she has to battle shyness, and only a mix of avoidance of the suites and genuine wonder at her surroundings is keeping her from hurrying back.

One of those things has been good for her, though, so she chooses to focus on that. "Well, I've never seen anything like this place before. It's so--so colorful, and busy. It's very different from my home. It's hard to believe that a place like this can take people and tell them to die...over and over, if what you're saying is correct." She eyes Roland's fingers with some apprehension, recalling what he'd said about having them pressed into him. Was that a painful process? Why would they do something like that?

But then again, Sigma is here and that means putting people into that kind of situation is within the range of possibilities. It's crueler than she would have expected of him, but still possible. She amends her statement. "No, I guess it's not hard. Just confusing."

"Confusing," Roland repeats, looking almost as if he's studying her as he says it. Not because she's said something odd, but because that's far enough from his own first instincts about a place like this that he has to walk himself through the reasoning. "Why do you say so? I'd think a people whose ways are so much more extravagant than my own would have extravagant traditions, too."

Roland puts his hands on his hips and tilts his head back, looking up toward the tops of the - to him, at least - high, stylized buildings. His voice isn't too obviously dry, isn't too obviously careful, but those things are there, aye. It's the most he can do to warn her to watch what she says, and he thinks things will go better for her if she's perceptive enough to pick up on that. That hint of a tone, the suggestion in his posture that his words here aren't really so casual. "And I think you'll find tradition is what it is. A fine tradition, going back a fair piece of time. Even before the gamemakers invited us here to help them in it."

Edited (I missed an important s) 2015-10-08 15:10 (UTC)

Luna catches on that there's something more to his words, and although she doesn't yet know quite what it means - is someone in the crowd listening in? Could there be another significance to the "tradition"? - it's enough to up her guard a little bit. She wasn't made to be indiscreet, after all, even if she isn't especially good at guile either.

She can already guess that there's something going on with the Hunger Games. Roland calls it a tradition, and the people who brought her to the suites had treated her participation as an honor. Those point to some sort of purpose, something that would benefit this place. (She's pretty sure that Sigma's involvement also says that, but she has even less idea of his intentions here than she did in the Nonary Game.) All of that doesn't mean that the death involved is any less horrible, but it does mean that there may be more meaning to the Games here than simple entertainment.

That's where her speculation ends, though. She'll need more information to guess any more. "Where I come from, things are much different than they are here. We don't have much by way of tradition...I never imagined some of them could turn out like this. Could you please tell me more about it?"

"I'm no expert," he says, looking down from the buildings and back to her. He's only noting it, though, and continues without much of a pause. "You'll want to look into this yourself, too, if you're doing it. But it'll hurt nothing to start you off. This kingdom isn't only its capitol city. It's got baronies too - districts, they call them here. There are, ah, twelve." If that 'ah' sounds a little odd, well, it's meant to. Because the most influential district is the one the Capitol likes to pretend does not exist.

"The districts rose up against their Capitol. I don't know the details of that war. What I do know is what I was told - that the Capitol began their games as a reminder. Every tribute who wins gains food and wealth for their district, and those districts - as well as the rest of us - are reminded of just how generous the Capitol can be." Generous. He doesn't expand on that. Easy enough to read between the lines there, he's certain.

"But your own world. In all my travels I've never heard of a place with no tradition. Even my Gilead, with all its lost history, had a fair few. What kind of place do you come from, if you don't mind the question?"

That information is all new to Luna: districts, wars, so-called generosity. It's important information, and she wonders why she wasn't told any of it by the people who greeted her or escorted her to the tower. At least, she would have expected the part about earning food for the districts. The rest she can see being selectively ignored, unfortunately. Luna's not getting any answers about that right now, though, so she turns her attention to Roland's question.

"No, it's all right. Um..." Luna has a lot of things she could say, not all of them appropriate for the moment. In a way she can see a resemblance or two between her home and this city now, and more than a few contrasts. The use of deadly games fits in both categories, but she doesn't want to bring that up right now. Otherwise, it's mostly the differences left. "People are more spread out where I come from. There aren't really any cities, just settlements, and even those aren't very large. Mine housed just a few people other than myself. Things might have been different elsewhere, but...I've never seen anything else." Technically she hasn't been anywhere else either, but the end result is the same.

"Then your people must either be near their end, or their beginning." This is a matter in which Roland is honestly interested. He wouldn't call himself a historian, not if anyone asked, because that was one of the many subjects covered by his tutor in which Roland ever did lag behind all his mates. But the cycle of it, the way all kingdoms pass through that cycle in their own way, eventually, that is a matter on which he does know a little. And learning a few things of far and foreign lands will always be plenty worthwhile.

"More usually the former than the latter," he notes, but absently, because something's occurring to him. Nothing big, only that they might do with a change of scenery. "Miss Luna, I didn't mean to keep you idle on the street talking to me. I'd like to buy you a drink, but the days when a tribute could afford that are well gone. Care for a walk? Anywhere in particular you were headed before I bumped into you?"

Luna doesn't respond to the part about her home being near its end. He's hit upon the truth there, after all. Roland's invitation is the more striking topic, both in its implications (were Tributes given certain privileges at some point? Was it part of earning things for the districts?) and in its base offer. She supposes that he wants to talk more...it's not unwelcome, but the sentiment in relation to her is new.

She shakes her head to signal that no, she doesn't have a destination in mind at the moment. "I was just looking around the city until I met you. Um, a walk...a walk would be nice. Do you know where we could go? If there's a park here, I haven't seen one yet." And hopefully she has just missed any parks that are around here, she thinks. She hasn't seen much by way of nature and greenery so far, and a place as large and full of life as the Capitol ought to have at least a little bit of those things.

"Mhm." Roland lifts his chin to look over the crowd, evaluating how best to move through it. He seldom had to try hard to look over the heads of any crowd in his world, but though people aren't any taller, they have wigs. They have things in those wigs. He makes a habit of not looking too close at any one hairstyle. That way madness lies.

"You have parks in your world, then? You'll have to tell me if the one I'll lead you to is anything like 'em. Didn't know the word before coming here, least not that way. Come on, and stay close," he adds, heading toward the street proper at an angle that will move him with the current instead of against it. With some luck, no one will notice them and this path will lead them to a lesser-used alleyway after only a few seconds. "Ah, and if you see any Capitolite who looks a little too pleased to see us... Don't run, probably, you don't know this city well enough. Try and look busy, point me toward 'em."

And with that casual and reassuring afterthought, he sets off.

Luna follows, casting a wary look at the crowd as she registers Roland's point. Is it really that dangerous out here? The alleyway they've just entered isn't as busy and there must be all sorts in a city, but danger wouldn't be the first thing that came to her mind in this time and place. Roland clearly knows Panem better than she does, though, so she trusts his judgement and keeps an eye out for people. Trying to ferret out anyone who looks suspicious is a difficult task given that before today Luna's known all of ten people throughout her entire life, so Luna settles instead for looking for anyone who seems actively unsettling. None of those right now, at least.

And as long as they seem to be in no immediate danger, she decides to take the opportunity to make a small correction. "I think I ought to say...I've never seen a real park before. But I've seen pictures, and I can tell you how they compare to where we're going." Luna's no longer connected to the Rhizome's central computer so she can't reference the records directly, but she has spent enough time looking at them longingly that she has a general idea of what parks might look like anyway. That's probably enough.

Roland nods, noting those facts about her home. Parks-that-were, and photographs. "If it's trees you're looking for," he says, looking around and taking a turn up a slightly more crowded street, "you'll see plenty soon enough. The newer man in charge of the arenas likes to make them as they used to be, before the offworlders came. More trees than machines."

"Park's not far now, unless some fan or other finds us. Finds me, I guess, at least until they get wind of you. Hope you like being the center of attention, or at least have practiced at it. You'll need it, once this coming arena's finished."

"What?!" Luna's exclamation isn't quite a shout, but the sharp rise in pitch conveys her shock well enough. She's quiet for a second, briefly embarrassed by the outburst, and quiets down for her next question - although her disbelief is still very much evident. "Um, what do you mean by center of attention? How long is it until the arena's finished?"

There's a couple other questions hidden in those, most of which she doesn't know how to ask. Things like "What if I'm not prepared for attention?" and "What happens if I'm not good enough?" Being the center of attention is pretty much the opposite of what Luna ever expected for herself, and the sudden turn is a little disorienting. It's enough that she almost forgets the mention of trees in the arena, and the things that fact might imply. Things are a little hard to put together right now...

So she doesn't like attention. Alright. He turns a look on her, bland, at the outburst, but knows it'll get them no attention here. Not on a street of the Capitol, with all this other noise. "Not sure when it'll start, but arenas usually end after a few weeks. Maybe over a month," he says, making his way down yet another street and heading toward a little building-free patch in the not-so-distant distance. "Couldn't tell you precisely, I'm not used to being able to keep time for so long."

"And what I mean is exactly what I said. They're called games for a reason, and these people call to be entertained even outside of them. Our lives are theirs in almost every sense. They watch our days and nights in the arenas as many times as pleases them and pry into our lives outside that, gossip about it over their 'broadcast networks' and call it news. If you didn't need to practice for the arena I'd tell you to get used to that - call on someone, maybe, for not all of us came here well versed in dealing with it. Alain, I think, of district seven. Ask after him if you have time. Seems like he'd suit you, and if I recall it rightly he never did care for the trappings of court back in our day. What are you used to, miss Luna? I won't ask if you think you can handle life here, because you don't properly know what it is yet. But what kind of life did you have back in your own world? I take it nothing similar?"

Edited 2015-10-21 18:32 (UTC)

What pretty cheeks they have, what pretty frocks they have!

the Capitol

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