thecapitol | (no subject)

Who| Some, utterly open.
What| A resolution that he have no strangers in an arena again.
Where| All over the place. Specify in your tag where you're running into him.
When| Week 7. Any thread on the roof or outdoors takes place after dark, otherwise anytime.
Warnings/Notes| None yet.

After Some woke up in his room, a few days ago, he gave himself time. A little peace, a little space. He stayed in his room, he favored his restored leg. He tried to get reaccustomed to the paste they pretended was food for him. He stole a pair of tribbles from the room down the hall, and rebuilt the nest that the avoxes had tidied away in his absence.

On the third day, though, he armored himself in shawl and hat, deliberately asking Two's stylist to help him choose clothes to be a little silly, a little disarming. He wanted to be approachable. And then he headed out. He rode the glass elevators, looking out, down one and up the other and down again. He visited the rooftop garden, and and picked twigs there off the potted trees. He went to the dining hall, to eat, or play along in that pretense again at any rate. He left the tower, going out into the streets and looking for a cafe he thought he remembered from before. And everywhere he went, he sought company.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

To Some, though, none of that sounded crazy. Not one bit. He just nodded, gaze gone distant. "I've... yes. Sometimes." He looked down, taking conscious note of those scars, and deliberately laid the fingers of two hands against two of them: one that ran from his belly up to the notch of his ribs in a hair-thin, jagged line, and the other a bolder patch just to the left of center. "These two deaths were like that. The quiet one, though... that one I remember things. I drifted, cold, and tried to speak to people I knew."

A wry grin spreads on Sigma's face. Though they were yet strangers, he felt he could identify with Some. There were very few humans capable of dying more than once outside of these Games. He observes Some's scars quietly, wondering where they have come from without asking.

"The quiet one..." he repeats sympathetically. Though it is likely not quite what Some means, he realizes that none of the deaths he has experienced have been 'quiet' in the least. Could an esper even die of natural causes? "Not to push you into explaining something you are not comfortable with... but could you tell me more?" He leaves the question open ended enough that Some can extrapolate on whichever part he wishes.

He nodded, though he wasn't quite ready to look back into the human's face, unsure of what he would see there. "This is the second human City I've been brought to, out of my own world. Bete Noire was... It was the City that wanted us, kept us there. You could not even escape by dying."

He shrugged narrowly, with a faint joint-popping sound as all four shoulders briefly interlocked, than separated.

"And it was a violent city, always. The people there were violent. I was violent. But once, I died just... in sleeping. Quiet. People were dying so all over the city. I was dead... something like a month. Perhaps longer."

This is entirely new information and Sigma leans towards Some, listening carefully. He had not realized there were those among them that had crossed into more than one universe. What an entirely bizarre phenomenon...

"I am truly sorry, Some. It is not a pleasant feeling, death..."

He is unsure how else to offer his sympathy, but he is genuine. Sigma turns his head away a moment, speculating. "I knew a woman, once, capable of slipping into universes she had never existed in... universes she had already died in. Sometimes she would leave for another one as suddenly as she had come. Perhaps that is what is happening to you, to the others at this city of which you speak," he offered.

"It was not a feeling at all."

He's quiet a moment, head bowed though still tilted towards the other. "Maybe. Others spoke of other cities. But it was definitely Bete Noire itself who brought us there. Kept us like pets. Not something inherent in ourselves."

Sigma's first reply is a strained smile. Yes, he was referring to the impenetrable nothingness one felt during death (how unfortunate it was to be an esper, to hold on to his conscience after ceasing to exist!)... it frightened him more than anything, made him wonder if he would see such a fate once he inevitably died of old age. If these games did not kill him first, of course.

"Not unlike this place, I suppose..." he murmured. "I have never heard of one capable of bringing others in from another universe. Such power is too much for me to imagine. I had preferred to pretend that it must be the lot of us who slipped here ourselves, but it seems I have to face the truth eventually," he ceded. "...You have been through too much, Some."

He took a deep breath, shaking his shoulders a little to settle them, and nudged the hat off to run a hand through his shaggy crest. Another hand caught it before it fell in the water, but barely.

"I have- been through less than I deserve, maybe."

Sigma's eyebrows crease at this. "Oh, Some..." He did not believe in touching one to console them, but if he were younger, he would have put a hand on the creature's shoulder. "Do not believe that. Even the worst of us deserve happiness."

He looks up at the sky idly. "I have done the most horrible things one could imagine in my life, as well. I try not to think that I have been brought here as some sort of punishment. It is simply cruel coincidence."

"I think... I do not know if it is our gods, or just the fact that much less happens to grues than to humans, but I had never heard of coincidence before I came to live with your kind. I am still not sure I understand it."

Sigma smiled. He was happy to finally learned the name of Some's species, but did not let this get in the way of their conversation. "Gods, you say? I suppose if one believed in the interference of gods as 'fate' rather than random chance, coincidence would mean very little. It is a matter of perspective, I suppose. We humans must be a rather peculiar lot to you." From the slant of his words, it was clear which kind of god Sigma believed in: one that must be appealed to to influence anything at all.

"It isn't... it is not really interference, any more than a storyteller is interfering in a story by telling you what happens next," he said, choosing his words carefully, words that carried echoes of his mothers' voices. "We- grues- believe in..." He let himself trail off, sighing.

"I would be happier if humans were more peculiar. It is that you make so much sense that is upsetting, when I think about it."