Joel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aintyourdad) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-03-02 01:22 pm
aintyourdad) wrote in thecapitol2014-03-02 01:22 pm
Entry tags:
i've seen more places than i can name; OPEN;
Who| Joel and Open!
What| Joel is figuring things out, his first week in the Capitol. Possibly checking in on some people, and bumping into new ones!
Where| Various locations - see the open starters for details.
When| The last week or so of the arena, leading up to the crowning.
Warnings/Notes| Maybe some cussing. The thread with Hawkeye will undoubtedly include descriptions of gore, child death, body horror and general brutality. Also drinking copious amounts of alcohol.
[1. D8 kitchen]
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, before the world went to hell, Joel had been a pretty normal guy. A hard-working, single dad, even. One who did normal things, like errand running, doctor appointments, soccer games.
He'd even, sometimes, cooked an actual meal. He was never a gourmet chef, of course, but out of necessity - being a single parent - and also partly because he just liked himself a good chili sometimes, he'd picked up a few things here and there. Now, after twenty years of scrounging and scavenging and - if he was lucky - cooking over a campfire, he found himself presented with a large, gleaming, state-of-the-art, fully-stocked kitchen. And plenty of leisure time to mess around with it.
Right now, he was mostly just digging around in drawers and cupboards, seeing what-all they had, matching it up with his memories when he could, and sometimes just pulling something out and staring at it in confusion. What the hell is that even used for?
[2. D8 suite]
Sleeping was never one of Joel's strong suits. Sleeping for eight hours at a time, on a big, soft bed? It just wasn't going to happen. He was too, too used to sleeping on the hard cold ground, in short, bite-sized chunks, plagued with nightmares to even contemplate sleeping through a whole night. Tonight, it was worse even than usual, only his second or third in the Capitol since dying in the arena, anyway, and Joel got up out of the nest of blankets he'd made on the floor to stretch his legs.
On entering the common room, he spotted the eerily familiar blue glow of a television screen - eerie, because it had been so long since such a thing had existed in his world, and familiar because it had been so ubiquitous in his life before the outbreak. On the screen, even this late at night, is coverage of the arena. It takes him a moment to work out what it is - a highlight reel, recapping some of the more dramatic moments of the past several weeks.
When his own face appeared on the screen, he froze, tensing up, unable to look away as Ellie's death was replayed in front of him like a movie. His fists clenched tightly and his face became hard as stone.
[3. A coffee shop]
Joel mostly found the Capitol distasteful. Too many people, on the whole, and all of them dressed ridiculously. And they stared at him, like he was some kind of circus freak. Like he was the weird one. But getting the lay of the land was old habit for him, and he knew at some point he was going to have to leave the main Tribute center again - it was better to know the major landmarks, at least, no matter how nervous the crowds of people made him.
Anyone watching him would just see an older man, shoulders tense and slightly hunched - at least, until he caught a whiff of something he never thought he would smell again. Coffee.
Goddamn, but that was coffee. Words could not describe how much he had missed coffee over the years - one of the few vices he'd had, before the outbreak. And now here it was, a goddamn coffee shop, right on the corner of a bustling intersection, like some kind of miracle, like an oasis in the desert. Joel ducked inside, overwhelmed with the smell. He was going to get him some fucking coffee.
[4. Tribute training center]
Joel never in his life did anything like training. Maybe that was why this place fascinated him - this clean, sterile place for people to just, what? Throw knives at targets for a while? Do workout routines? Oh sure, he remembered gyms, fitness centers, places where people used to go to exercise back when running and hiding and killing wasn't something most people had to do on an everyday basis.
But standing around, practicing different ways of killing people? To be able to do it better the next time? It kind of blew his mind. He ran a rough hand over some of the equipment, like he was trying to figure it out. Figure out how it might be helpful to anyone.
What| Joel is figuring things out, his first week in the Capitol. Possibly checking in on some people, and bumping into new ones!
Where| Various locations - see the open starters for details.
When| The last week or so of the arena, leading up to the crowning.
Warnings/Notes| Maybe some cussing. The thread with Hawkeye will undoubtedly include descriptions of gore, child death, body horror and general brutality. Also drinking copious amounts of alcohol.
[1. D8 kitchen]
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, before the world went to hell, Joel had been a pretty normal guy. A hard-working, single dad, even. One who did normal things, like errand running, doctor appointments, soccer games.
He'd even, sometimes, cooked an actual meal. He was never a gourmet chef, of course, but out of necessity - being a single parent - and also partly because he just liked himself a good chili sometimes, he'd picked up a few things here and there. Now, after twenty years of scrounging and scavenging and - if he was lucky - cooking over a campfire, he found himself presented with a large, gleaming, state-of-the-art, fully-stocked kitchen. And plenty of leisure time to mess around with it.
Right now, he was mostly just digging around in drawers and cupboards, seeing what-all they had, matching it up with his memories when he could, and sometimes just pulling something out and staring at it in confusion. What the hell is that even used for?
[2. D8 suite]
Sleeping was never one of Joel's strong suits. Sleeping for eight hours at a time, on a big, soft bed? It just wasn't going to happen. He was too, too used to sleeping on the hard cold ground, in short, bite-sized chunks, plagued with nightmares to even contemplate sleeping through a whole night. Tonight, it was worse even than usual, only his second or third in the Capitol since dying in the arena, anyway, and Joel got up out of the nest of blankets he'd made on the floor to stretch his legs.
On entering the common room, he spotted the eerily familiar blue glow of a television screen - eerie, because it had been so long since such a thing had existed in his world, and familiar because it had been so ubiquitous in his life before the outbreak. On the screen, even this late at night, is coverage of the arena. It takes him a moment to work out what it is - a highlight reel, recapping some of the more dramatic moments of the past several weeks.
When his own face appeared on the screen, he froze, tensing up, unable to look away as Ellie's death was replayed in front of him like a movie. His fists clenched tightly and his face became hard as stone.
[3. A coffee shop]
Joel mostly found the Capitol distasteful. Too many people, on the whole, and all of them dressed ridiculously. And they stared at him, like he was some kind of circus freak. Like he was the weird one. But getting the lay of the land was old habit for him, and he knew at some point he was going to have to leave the main Tribute center again - it was better to know the major landmarks, at least, no matter how nervous the crowds of people made him.
Anyone watching him would just see an older man, shoulders tense and slightly hunched - at least, until he caught a whiff of something he never thought he would smell again. Coffee.
Goddamn, but that was coffee. Words could not describe how much he had missed coffee over the years - one of the few vices he'd had, before the outbreak. And now here it was, a goddamn coffee shop, right on the corner of a bustling intersection, like some kind of miracle, like an oasis in the desert. Joel ducked inside, overwhelmed with the smell. He was going to get him some fucking coffee.
[4. Tribute training center]
Joel never in his life did anything like training. Maybe that was why this place fascinated him - this clean, sterile place for people to just, what? Throw knives at targets for a while? Do workout routines? Oh sure, he remembered gyms, fitness centers, places where people used to go to exercise back when running and hiding and killing wasn't something most people had to do on an everyday basis.
But standing around, practicing different ways of killing people? To be able to do it better the next time? It kind of blew his mind. He ran a rough hand over some of the equipment, like he was trying to figure it out. Figure out how it might be helpful to anyone.