thecapitol | We are all strangers in a strange land [Open]

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We are all strangers in a strange land [Open]

WHO| Nasir and others
WHAT| Nasir decides the best way to cope with being brought to Panem is to ~~try and hit people a lot~~ spar.
WHEN| The same day as Nasir's arrival, lasting for most of the day.
WHERE| Training Center
WARNINGS| Violence, probably some cursing

Nasir knew he should get his bearings and explore the new city he found himself in but it was overwhelming. There was simply too much to process. Everything was unfamiliar from the clothes to the people to his own room. While it was more comfortable than the tent he’d lived in for months, he missed the tent all the same. As he missed many things, not the least of which his friends and lover. Even if he returned he didn’t know if he would find them: if Laeta and Sibyl had convinced Agron to move on beyond the grasp of Rome without Nasir or if he stubbornly remained waiting for him, at risk of his life.

Nasir's anger at being torn away-- enslaved again-- brought him to the training center. The journey there had been interesting to say the least and he did not care for that elevator room. But as soon as his hand grasped a spear he felt more at ease. Now if only he had something other than a target, someone who could give him a proper challenge.

Looking around, he spotted a figure and quickly approached them.

“I would spar with you, if you are of desire.” Nasir himself did not appear to be impressive. Short and lithe, he went shirtless and wore a necklace of what, on closer inspection, were three phalluses. But he had a determination in his eyes and he handled his spear with surety.

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Nasir walked after Enjolras, sizing up his stance and the way he moved.

"Then I will trade spear for sword." He could keep his weapon but he needed to maintain his skill with blades.

"I am new. They say I represent District 2." Honestly, 'represent' seemed like an inaccurate word to Nasir. He did know these people. He did not want to know them. And he did not want to fight for them either. But one did what they must to survive.

"If you are a mentor then you survived the arena?"

"Survived is a good way to think of it, I suppose." It always feels disingenuous to say that he won, even if that is the technical truth. Winning by being the last one to die, even if it's by your own hand, isn't really winning at all, nor had it ever been something he'd wanted. He pushed the thought from his mind, selecting a light sword. It was more versatile than a saber this time, but still nothing that would require both of his hands.

"District 2 is relatively well cared for and traditionally one of the three favored to win the Games. You will have an easier time finding Sponsors because of it."

"You will understand if I do not thank the gods for their favor." Nasir chose a heavier sword than Enjolras's but not one that would overly encumber him. He gave it a few test swings before nodding in approval and stepping back to face the other man.

"Are Sponsors so crucial to survival?" The thought of having to charm these people, playing their game out of the arena as well as in, turned his stomach.

As he spoke Nasir stepped back into a more open space, one more suited for a fight.

"They help." It was a disgusting system, but he could admit to that much of it. For his part, Enjolras could say that he had never played to the sponsors in any way that was false to himself. If they chose to appreciate a certain aspect of his actions, then so be it. He wouldn't work to gain their favor for its own sake, there were better things to focus on.

He stepped back toward the practice mats, trusting that the smaller man would follow. As he walked, he stretched his arms over his head. Venus' workouts were helping his confidence within the training center, but he still felt as if his movements were stiff and unpracticed in relation to this around him. The stretching helped, if only minimally. "They can send food, weapons, equipment or medical supplies during the Arenas. As the Arenas last for several weeks and are generally designed to be inhospitable to people, medical supplies and food, in particular, can become quite necessary. Before outsiders were brought into the Games, most of the Tributes died from exposure or other natural disasters, not by being murdered outright."

Nasir walked onto the mat. He was still ready from his last match and needed no preparation.

"I see. Win the crowd's favor and live. It is not so different then." Nasir had never been to the arena but he had heard of it enough to know what it was like. Gaining approval meant as much as winning a fight. You could not live for long without either.

Nasir frowned. He had no desire to perform for these people but neither did he want to die.

"If Rome has fallen then it yet survives in these people." His voice was quiet and bitter and he thirsted even more to tear his captors throats out.

But he was still keeping a sharp eye on Enjolras, for whenever he chose to attack.

He felt the weight of the weapon keenly in his grasp. Enjolras hadn't cared much for fencing as a young man, viewing it as secondary to his studies. It was quaint, archaic, even in his day.

"Are you a Roman?" The question held a sort of idle curiosity. There was something to Nasir that had seemed brusque, of a sort of quality similar to that typically exuded by Maximus. It wouldn't have surprised him, but he didn't want to infer incorrectly either. "There are a number of people here from very far in the past. Like myself, though if you are a Roman, monsieur, you are from significantly longer ago than I am."

Nasir was growing more and more used to hearing that response. Even Maximus had been ahead of him in time.

"I am Syrian." He answered shortly, remembering a time when his response to that question would have been just the opposite. "But I spent most of my life under the heel of Rome."

It was clear from his tone that he held no affection for the place. It had been a long time since he called himself Roman and he found the memory shameful.

"It's a pity that its memory lingers even in the distant future. Though I suppose it is not distant now, for either of us."

"I admire the tales I know of the Republic, less of the Empire. Though I suppose no system of government is without it's faults and I would prefer if Roman democracy had been remembered, rather than their brutality." He raised his sword, poised for a match to begin. If this man was used to living under Roman rule, it was likely that Enjolras' original assertion would be correct and that he would be no match for Nasir at all.

"I am from Bordeaux, in France, though you would may know it as Gaul. Do you have any specific preferences before we begin?"

Oh, it was a good thing that Nasir had not picked up the hatred of Gauls that his lover held, though the group had often caused problems for them. Yet Enjolras did not seem like them.

"Then you admire tales of a Republic that gladly stripped Gauls of their freedom." Nasir's voice did not openly hold malice but his estimation of this man had decreased dramatically.

Nasir raised his sword. Now that he knew Enjolras held affection for the Republic he would enjoy this all the more.

"Attack me."

"As I said, no government is without its flaws." There was also the matter of the proper French and the Gauls being just a few hundred years removed, and the distinctly Enlightenment-tinged claim that the Gauls' existence in the State of Nature gave them little right to resist such treatment by the Romans, but Enjolras wouldn't have been confident in that argument if he'd had opportunity or a mind to make it. Instead, he raised his sword obligingly, turning his body to a classical fencing stance.

"En garde," he called, falling into a lunge toward Nasir. His movement was quick, a sort of stabbing gesture aimed for his opponent's chest.

Nasir easily sidestepped and swung his spear hard so he could knock it aside, and if so, follow it up by bringing it across the other man's legs to make him lose his balance.

"Then you approve of being enslaved."

With the others who had claimed inexperience he had held back, at least at first. Not so with Enjolras.

Any who would side with his enemy were to be dealt with in the same manner.

"What part of flaws implies my approval?" He countered both with words and action, using what he'd learned from Venus' tutoring to maintain himself despite the blow. There was no doubt in his mind that Nasir the better skilled, and it was only a matter of time until he was defeated, but that didn't mean he had to just roll over and take it. More than a matter of pride, however, this was another opportunity to learn, an opportunity to improve, and he would readily accept a momentary defeat for that.

Stepping quickly around Nasir risked exposing his back, but it was the best way to gain the upper hand. There was no higher territory, nothing that would inherently be a better position, but there was the half-seconds that could be gained from forcing his opponent to turn his head and that was, perhaps, worthwhile. "I take it you were a Roman slave."

The deduction came with a sweeping motion of his sword aimed at Nasir's shoulder. It, too, was a gamble, but it seemed logical. It would at least explain the man's hatred for Rome.

"Yet you admire the Republic and its tales. Do they speak of the brutality inflicted upon their slaves? The freedom they deprived them? Is that what you admire?"

As he spoke Nasir blocked the sword, deflecting the blow and bringing the blunt end of his spear up to hit Enjolras in the stomach.

"Yes, I was a slave." And he was again, when he never expected to be. Enslaved, and even though he was no longer a boy, it seemed there was nothing he could do to change that.

He recoiled from the blow, struggling to maintain both his balance and defensive stance against the attack.

"Only inasmuch as they glorify the accomplishments of the republic." Enjolras slammed rather than swished the light blade down hard across the wooden spear, attacking Nasir's weapon rather than his person. "History is written by the victors. It is not right, and it is not fair, but that is how it is and will probably always be."

It was a difficult position to take, and generally contrary to his own views. His opponent's anger was entirely justified, and Rome's accomplishments did nothing to mitigate the atrocities it committed to develop itself as a power. Then again, the converse argument applied equally well. "The fact remains that every civil society has, at least in part, endeavored to emulate Rome. For good, as well as for bad."

"Then I would have them all crumble to dust." Nasir was no fool. He had expected that Rome would live but the knowledge that it was considered something to be emulated and the cavalier way Enjolras excused it-- that was hard to hear, coming so soon after the loss of his friends and leader.

Nasir's grip on his spear was such that the blow did not rattle him and he kept his grip. He swung his spear, first one end and then the other, giving Enjolras little reprieve but neither taking opportunity to incapacitate him. He was toying with him and venting his anger. Of course, if Enjolras happened to lose grip on sword or give Nasir a glaring opening, he would not hesitate.

It was difficult, he realized, to look at someone fighting with another type of weapon and analyze how he should be moving. Enjolras' combat experience was almost purely theoretical. He had been taught to fence, and done so with some competence in a school setting, but never outside of it. At the barricade, they had fought with muskets, and anything else that was readily available. The bulk of his experience came from the occasional brawls that were inevitable when one spent too much time in cafes that served too much wine, but even those were negligible. Increasingly, at the training center, he was realizing that he was ill-equipped in comparison to most of the other Tributes. Particularly those with similarly anachronistic backgrounds.

Still, he had his pride to consider. It forces him to tighten his hold on the blade, try harder rather than give up the hopeless fight.

"You would undo all of human history, monsieur." The words are accompanied by another thrust forward, another effort to somehow gain the upper hand. It won't happen, but it's worth the experiment. "We have lived long enough that most of Rome's shortcomings are understood even while their triumphs are exalted. Someday men will look back on us here and now with a similar chagrin."

"Triumphs built upon the backs of slaves, as are these 'games.'" Nasir dodged the thrust and swung his spear to sweep the sword aside and continued his assault.

"I see nothing here but greed and those who place us beneath heel." Nasir found it difficult to admire the splendid cage they had built for him, full of everything they deemed desirous, when all he saw were bars.

Nasir stopped teasing and started go in for the, in this case metaphorical, kill. He struck the sword harder, trying to twist it around in Enjolras's grasp from the force of the blow, then moved to bring it down hard on Enjolras's shoulder.

The force sent him back, but he clung to his weapon, careful to avoid being disarmed. Normally Enjolras would try to fuel Nasir's anger, try to use it to somehow gain the upper hand. There was nothing for it in this, however, and all he
could do was dig in and try to stay upright against the brunt of the attack.

"I see advancements in science and medicine. I see technological progress beyond my wildest dreams." It shoulder ached from the force of the attack. He was outmatched.

"I would like to think it possible to work against the evils that men do, and still retain the good from them." And with the exertion of the words, his stance broke, balance failing. He stumbled backward, hand still gripped around the light practice sword for dear life, certain that if he didn't regain his footing, it would all be over. It probably was already.

Nasir didn't care about progress if it came on the backs of slaves but instead of responding, Nasir took advantage of Enjolras's weak footing. He swept his sword across his legs, narrowly deciding against hitting the knees themselves.

If he succeeded, he would bring his spear down to point it at Enjolras's throat, but several inches away from it. If he didn't, there was always another opportunity for attack.

In either case, he did not feel like responding.

He did succeed. Enjolras tumbled backward, arms splaying wildly to try and recover his balance. He fell hard on the mat, the padding being the only thing to keep his wrist, which absorbed the brunt of the fall, from twisting painfully. He cursed, the French escaping him instinctively. By the time he looked back up, Nasir's weapon was in his face, just below eye level. It was over.

"I yield."

Nasir lingered for a short moment. He wasn't considering hurting Enjolras but there was some manner of triumph at having brought this man down, one he would not ordinarily feel were it not for the subject of conversation.

But quickly Nasir withdrew his spear and stepped back.

"Are you injured?" He didn't know whether or not the curse was from defeat or hurt.

"No," he replied, moving to pick himself up again now that he wasn't facing down a spear, blunted though it may have been. "Or not in any way for which you should feel responsible."

He found his feet again, dusting off the knees of his sweatpants as if there was anything on the practice mat to merit such an action. "You fight well. I told you that I would not be a match for you, monsieur."

Nasir watched, unmoving.

"Gratitude. You withstood longer than many others I have fought." As one of the principal trainers of new recruits, that wasn't saying much. However Enjolras had fared better than some of the Roman legionnaires.

"If you had not broken words you may yet have lasted longer."

The phrasing caught him for a moment. Even with the translators, there were always things from their peculiar languages that stuck and made them distinct to their place and time. "I prefer to do my fighting with words whenever possible. To me, violence should be our last resort."

Enjolras drew himself up again, realizing the hypocrisy in that assertion. They were, after all, in a training center, and he was, after all, a mentor of a game predicated on violence. He frowned, searching for the words to clarify that claim. "Which is not to make the option unavailable entirely. Simply to say that I would prefer if it were unnecessary."

Nasir was not used to such words. He did not crave blood as others had had known and loved did and had willingly left it behind but he had enjoyed spilling it when called upon.

"A rare thing to hear voiced. Countless times violence has proved to be the only recourse and serves as repayment for wrongs inflicted upon the undeserving. Little can be accomplished with words when gazing into the eyes of those who would see you as inferior." He did not bother softening his words, even if he was being watched. He could have said worse.

We are all strangers in a strange land [Open]

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