thecapitol | open;

Entry tags:

open;

Who| Joel and OPEN!
What| Joel's (not so) auspicious return to the Capitol. The arena messed him up pretty bad, and now he's got stuff to catch up on here.
Where| Various; see starters.
When| Week 6, possibly into week 7.
Warnings/Notes| Lots and lots of manpain. Probably some cussing, possibly discussion of child death and zombie violence.

[ 1: D8 suites; ]

Joel spends the better part of three days after his return in his room. He's got a stash of food, and he's used to not bathing for long periods of time. He can't bring himself to leave, regardless. Not after all that happened. Not after Sarah. He couldn't save her, again. He couldn't save Riley. He couldn't save Clem. Clem. Christ. And now Ellie's alone in that hellish place, and he can't face it.

He can't.

[ 2: D8 common area; ]

When he finally emerges from his room, bleary and sleep-deprived and thinner than before he went into the arena, Joel makes a beeline for the kitchen area. It's one of the things that he can always do to calm himself down here - cook. Fresh food, good food, is in abundance here, and Joel takes advantage of it. It's almost therapeutic for him.

Of course, there's no avoiding the multiple television screens that are always on in the common area, proclaiming the latest "news". A news report catches his eye, and for a while he's enraptured, unable to look away as the anchor details the plague, the quarantines - and an entire district, blown off the map.

Joel's face darkens, into a scowl, something tight and disgusted but not surprised, not horrified. If anything, it's all too familiar. No wonder it's so quiet around this place.

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, and then goes back to his cooking.

[ 3: Training Center; ]

Eventually, by the end of the week, in need of something else to occupy him, Joel ventures to the training center. He doesn't think training really does him much good - his skills were all acquired through long practice. But it gives him occupation, and it can be a good idea to check out who else is around, and what they're doing

Size up the competition, so to speak.

[ 4: A coffee shop; ]

By the end of the week, with the quarantines lifted and the fear of disease essentially gone, the city is getting back to normal - well, normal by Capitol standards, anyway. It's strange, to see a place recovering from a disease. Joel's world never recovered. It just fell apart, completely.

But there's no point dwelling on it. If he does that, he'll just start to think about things better left alone. His old life. Sarah. Hell, even Ellie. At least getting out of the Tribute Center gets him away from all the screens for a while. He watches sometimes, to see if they're following Ellie at all, but just as often he can't, doesn't want to, doesn't see the point. So he finds a coffee shop, a secluded one, away from the big touristy areas. Good strong coffee is what he needs.

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It seems like conversation about where they're from is definitely out here, though it seems like a good way to get some basic information about everybody he'll be staying with. Still, he's pushing the question aside right now, and instead, trying to think of something useful. Actually on that front, something DOES occur to him.

"So, I've gotta ask, there's not some kind of secret District 8 initiation, is there?"

Joel is, Siroc will quickly learn, not much of a conversationalist, and least of all when it comes to talking about himself. It's far too depressing, for one thing.

"Not that I know of," he says in answer, with a shrug. "Watch out for the green kid with the white things in his face, though - he's a goddamn slob and he'll eat your food even if you leave a note on it."

Depressing IS a thing that all of them can do without here, really. Then again, given the kill or be killed thing going on the rest of the time, and the times when you're pretty horrified with yourself for thinking about killing people in horrific ways, depressing's probably going to be a thing that happens. Either way, he doesn't have to cause more of it, at least.

"Green kid with white things...That's ah...good to know." And weird, by the sound of his voice there. He keeps forgetting there aren't just humans around here, sometimes.

"You might wanna keep a stash in your room, just in case," he advises, dumping eggs and bacon and toast onto a plate for himself. "Canned stuff, protein bars, that kinda thing."

"They use cans for that now?" Siroc looks rather impressed. "The tin sort i mean, not jars?" He'd never heard of a protien bar, but he could learn. In the meantime, the canned foods knowledge had was...pretty impressive.

"How does someone...wait, I guess if the food had liquid with it, maybe already cooked and then canned so it's good later...I guess I see how that could work. " Kind of, anyway.

"Uh, yeah," Joel says, and pulls out a can of green beans, sliding it his way. "Not sure exactly how it's done - water and salt, I think, mostly."

"Water and salt, yes that would explain the preservative qualities..." Siroc is musing on this now, not particularly speaking to anyone in particular, and then hes moving on to read the nutrition label, staring at some of the words he's never seen before in his life. "And then to simply seal them up. It's genius. It really is. "

There are a few bright spots in this world for some of the tributes, maybe. Siroc's just happens to be canned vegetables. Who knew?

"Uh, yeah. Miracle of modern food preservation." Joel figures this guy must be from an earlier time or something - he sometimes feels overwhelmed by all the technology here, he can't imagine what it must be like for someone coming from the 19th century, or earlier.

"I prefer the fresh stuff, though."

"It really is." Siroc can't help but think of the possibilities involved here, how much help this might have BEEN for so many people. Because, sure, there are ways to put up foods to last, of course, but this is so different, so seemingly easy for the average person to have access to.

"And even during winter, or in times of drought when what's been already prepared's run out..." If he's musing out loud, well, he's a bit too excited to care. "Fresh are much better when they can be found, but this! Imagine what could be shipped from place to place. If they're ensured to last, then they could withstand a journey by sea and to people in whole other countries who don't have the same CROPS...imagine what this could do at sea itself. Goodbye to hardtack, when it isn't rotten and..."

Here, Siroc's stopping himself before he goes too far in thinking about life at sea or anything of the sort. And realizing how he might sound a bit ridiculous to someone more used to the technologies around them.

"I...sorry about that." He throws in there, even though hes not all THAT worried about that little foray into the mind of the 16th century inventor and futurist.

"It's just the type of problem I could never have envisioned solving. Though it explains a lot about how the districts manage to get everything sent here before it wilts or ends up bad."

And it begs a few questions, like how, if the districts are the ones controlling all production, do they not seem to have any legs to stand on when it comes to deciding their own production or just about anything. While the king is still young, still learning what he needs to do and prone to young teenaged drama, even he would find it stupid to discount and disrespect the roles played by the provinces and neighboring countries. There would be too much to risk for that. So the fact that the capitol has discovered a means to control that is...both pretty horrifying when he thinks about what it might BE, and part hopeful that more things like District 3 don't need to happen again if there's some way the capitol could be reminded of what the districts do for them.

It feels like the kind of thought that would get him in trouble, even not knowing all the details yet, so Siroc's going to keep it to himself just now, but it's a LOT to think about and look into when he has the time to poke. For now, there are other things to think about.

"Science has come so far." he says instead, to close that off. "That's the kind of decent thing I needed to learn after all of the broadcasts."

"Uh, guess so," Joel says nonchalantly. This guy must be a real smartypants by his world's standards, or something. Frankly, Joel has never really considered it. The big questions, technological stuff. Joel knows what he needs to know to stay alive, and the rest is extraneous.

"I don't think it's about decency so much as convenience, though," he points out, not willing to give the Capitol any credit if he can possibly avoid it.

For Siroc, the bigger questions tend to be where his mind goes now, mostly because they're, well, a lot easier than people for him. He's also considered just a little crazy by his world's standards too, maybe by just about anyone's. It probably takes a certain brand of that to pull off some of what he manages to get done.

"I have to think you're right." He agrees on that last point. "There's something that tells me that if they could come up with a hilarious new way to preserve food, just for us, they'd go ahead and implement that and record the results. I think we're supposed to be quaint or something for them. It's probably a coincidence that these are easy."

"I think if they thought keeping us in the arena forever was viable they'd do it," he says with a shrug. "But if they give us some luxuries between arenas, maybe it ain't so bad."

Whether he thinks that's actually a successful tactic, he doesn't say. Joel is already toeing the line pretty close here, and he knows they're always watching.

"Ah yes the continuous struggles of man versus nature. nature versus man, man versus other man, man versus whatever the grey people with horns I've seen around are.It would make finding a winner pretty difficult though, unless they went for out and out killing. I've read they used to grab the tributes from the districts that we represent, that they used to grab children, but apparently they've learned those are a finite resource. I suppose with so many worlds open to them now that problem's not a big one anymore. And well, don't get me wrong, I'd rather me than any girl or boy, from anywhere, I had a little sister and brother once, I wouldn't want anyone their age stuck in the arena, but it proves, I guess that they're sadistic enough to keep pulling us in to kill if they really wanted that."

Is that too much? Siroc's glancing around a little to see if there is anything like the "bugs" he's heard mentioned in passing, but he doesn't seem to see any insects or insect shaped machines, but too much or not, it's true.

"Of course if they did that, they'd lose out on the cult of popularity with some of the tributes who have been here longer. Less celebrity endorsements anyway, if they just up and kill their spokestributes, you know, and then less money for the businesses. We probably are safe from it for those reasons, at least."

The string of words just sort of washes over Joel. He knows what went on before, too. Frankly, what went on before isn't his business or concern - he had his own problems, like surviving to see another day.

But there's one - very important point - he feels the need to correct Siroc on.

"They still bring in kids," he growls. "People can act like they don't anymore all they like, but a kid won the last arena, and there are more where she came from.

"And don't kid yourself - we're not safe for any reason."

If they think they have to, they'll kill everyone in the tribute tower, he's sure. They'll do it in a way that doesn't make them seem culpable - like the lies they're telling about district 3 - but they will absolutely do it.

That news is pretty awful, actually, and Siroc's reeling back at it a little.

“Do they? Well. That was unexpected and completely horrible.” He guesses he shouldn't be too surprised, but even so, the words are pretty hard to hear and deal with processing.

“Here I thought we were actually accomplishing something by keeping them out. I guess some things are too good to be true. Not that any of this is GOOD, but, well, the thought was. And so was the one where we're at least sort of safe. Granted if we're talking what they just did to their district...”

Well, it's obviously not good anyway. And Siroc hates knowing things like that. And it's not that he wants to attract anyone's attention. That woman in charge of the peacekeepers who announced the warfare in district 3 is terrifying, so it's better to be one of the tributes in the middle of the pack than to attract attention either good OR bad, but still...still he'd like to know he has some agency.

Which is a laugh right there, isn't it?

“I don't mind dying, you know, if the cause is right and if I can either do something right, or eventually be allowed to go home, but I don't want to just bring it on, you're right. I guess it's toeing their line for me, but damn do I resent that.”

What they just did to their district. Joel shakes his head.

"I'm not talkin' about shit. You wanna talk about it, go right ahead, but leave me the hell out. I've got people - kids - I look after. I want no part of that."

"That makes sense." Siroc's usually better at keeping his head down than he has right now. It's hard to get used to the idea that he's being watched even now, that there are people that intensely interested in what's going on no matter what. The thought is terrifying and maybe he'd been slightly in denial about the whole thing to start with when he'd started talking but...

"You're right not to want to get involved. I don't mean I want to DO anything,not that I would know what, but I guess...If I could find some meaning to this, some kind of dignity, it might get easier. It's a lot to ask for, and I'm not asking you or anybody else, just trying to think this through a little. I'm...not used to being lost like this, I guess, and I'm sorry I pulled you into something that looks bad. Maybe if I started looking at our district besides knowing they make cloth, it would be a good start."

"There is no meaning," Joel points out. "You find what you need to keep goin', that's it."

There's never been any meaning. To any of it.

"That is incredibly depressing in light of the way they spun this. If I wanted to wager any money that it gets better the longer you're here, I'd end up really poor, wouldn't I?"

Not that he had completely believed the chipper escorts who had squealed about how lucky he was when they were tossing him into the arena anyway, but, he HAD tried to find a bright spot. A bright spot which had basically just been obliterated.

Some part of him guessed that this could be worse. The sleeping arrangements were't bad, he had relative freedom of movement if he wanted to take them up on this, no one was stopping him from using the downtime how he wanted, it was more the matter of the arena and the constant deaths. Before, back on the ships, there had been God, but he wasn't sure if God amounted to much in this world, considering what he'd been asked to do. On the other hand, that was something to think of later,instead of right this minute.

"Might as well make the best of this, I guess. At least no one's dropped in here with me." Those seemed like the worst sorts of things to Siroc right there. Not so much the having his friends with him when he needed their support, but the possibility of having to kill them was worse. That almost helped a little to think of, in fact. Yeah, almost.

Joel just shrugs vaguely. "Like I said - do whatever you need to do."

If that means trying to be optimistic, then so be it. He accepted a long time ago that everyone has their own reasons, for wanting to stay alive. Generally he doesn't judge too much. He thinks anyone who believes in God is an idiot, but other than that.

The last situation of Siroc's life that was remotely like this? He does credit God for getting him through things that time. Here, though? He's reasonably sure God wouldn't exactly approve of the way things are going enough to stick around. Which IS a little contradictory but then, given how things are, also kind of reasonable.

"What I really need to do isn't really an option, since that's all coming back to panic and freak out." Siroc shrugs a little. This whole thing was already real, but it's seeming to get worse every day anyway. Who knew that was possible, huh?

"None of my business," Joel remarks. He fed the guy, he's not taking responsibility for anything else.

"You want help learnin' the ropes, I can do that. The rest is on you."

"Fair enough. I can panic and freak out on my own time."

Siroc allows, since it's not exactly something he wants to waste time doing anyway. He hates doing nothing but sitting around being terrified, so it's better to avoid as much of that as he can. And it'll probably look better for him anyway, in terms of getting sponsored.

"Seeing as I lasted about all of a day in there, and I'm apparently about to walk into something since I can't keep my mouth shut, any kind of primer would be pretty useful."

Siroc did need the help, after all, if he didn't want to get himself in deeper trouble along the way, and then, his eyes widened a little, as an idea occurred to him. Instruction manuals! Those could be applied to just about anything for the greater good of humanity, couldn't they? Even here. Maybe, especially here. It could cut down on so much trouble and unwanted deaths.

"Do you suppose some sort of written guide to living here might of use?" He asked instead. "From the new tribute's point of view, people to ask about things, explanations of how all of the new technologies work? It could have something of a market, right?"

"Uh, maybe - I guess there's a fair few like you around here, that don't know how to use stuff," Joel says with a shrug. "I'm no writer, though. I'd say - as long as you keep it basic and don't talk about politics, should be okay."

"No politics." Siroc noted, with a little grin. "Well THAT sounds familiar enough. King and Country, Religion and the State. It's all rather a hushed up situation at home unless you're with certain high placed people, particularly the heads of either power." He didn't know what had made him slip before. Maybe because it'd all felt bigger than politics, and more personal. But he did wish to stay alive here, he thought, and so that was a trick to learn.

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