thecapitol | even a natural born fighter can find cause to break sometimes

Entry tags:

even a natural born fighter can find cause to break sometimes

Who| astrid and anyone
What| not getting the best first impressions on her first day
Where| training center (district 6 suites, halls/elevators, training room)
When| 7/31
Warnings/Notes| mentions of death

Astrid had grown up knowing nothing but how to fight. She came from a world where warring against dragons was once all that she had known, where there was only ever enough time to think of survival and whether she could be up enough of a defense to live for another day. But that had long since been over. It was years since the Vikings had made peace with the dragons, learning to live amongst them, obtaining the privilege to go about each day with harmony and the opportunity to just laugh without the constant fear of dying.

She never imagined being thrown back into a world like that, not in this way anyhow. Filled with strange foreign gadgets and nothing at all familiar from her home, all she's told is that she would be fighting for her survival--a tribute, they called her, yet all she can wonder if she had somehow been a sacrifice to the gods. Perhaps, that's what this was, a test of some kind. But even so, nothing explain this strange place she had been brought to. Where was Berk? Where were her friends? Where was Hiccup?

a ↠ district 6 suites

Insulation might be one of the first things she really takes notice of, oddly enough. But when you experience nine months of harsh winters in your home, it wouldn't take long to catch on to the incredible new sense of warmth that overtakes you. Not that the lack of cold truly made her feel better or safer in this situation anyway.

The entire floor was incredibly large, noting the almost endless amount of rooms that she'd learned belong to others much like herself. She finds herself in the common room, carefully touching the incredibly soft, bench-like furniture (Were those safe to sit on? Why were they so soft?) before noticing the moving paintings on the wall.

Except they weren't paintings at all, recalling someone mentioning televisions and that they would display everything she needed to know--about the "games", the Capitol, the tributes. She studies the screen with a mixture of confusion and curiosity, noting how the pictures seem to "speak" as well. But she hardly pays mind to the spoken words, not when suddenly the most disturbing deaths are displayed for her to see, horrifying images that even someone such as herself, so well acquainted with war, grows sick in the stomach just to watch.

The sequences switch through fast, but she has no doubt when she sees a well-known blond twin on the screen and subconsciously rejoices for a quick second at the sight of a familiar face before suddenly there's a bite at the neck and all she sees is Ruffnut being eaten alive.

A struggling gasp is all she can manage, the screen already switching to yet another gruesome death as if the one of her friend no longer mattered, just another number in the toll of all these people losing their lives so instantly lacking reason. If it weren't for an empty stomach, she'd have lost all its contents in that moment, not that it would do anything to help with taking in the next sight.

Hiccup.

It was only on the screen for mere seconds, but she knows that ruffled mess of hair and peg leg anywhere. And in a quick flash that she's convinced is an illusion, she watches as the love of her life gets stabbed in the chest, not even having put up a fight, falling hopelessly into death.

b ↠ halls / elevators

It wasn't exactly easy to be in the best of moods after seeing hundreds get murdered right before your eyes, including a close friend and your lover. But she needed to figure this place, figure out why she was here and what she needed to do to get out as soon as possible.

But this place was so large, odd contraptions scattered about, strange moving boxed rooms that took her up and down the height of the building--everything was too otherworldly, things she never could possibly understand. So in addition to the anger already dwelling up inside, frustration becomes a familiar friend as she wanders hopelessly through the different floors of the building, a lost Viking with no idea how to get out.

c ↠ training room

Finally, something familiar to her. Even if she's disgusted about this new environment, the sight of the double sided axe that she quickly takes in her hands brings an extreme comfort to her. Suddenly, she's much more protected. Even if it was just in this room, holding it brought forth a new sense of courage that she had yet to experience since she came upon this new world.

She swings around the axe with ease, and for a few moments, she forgets everything she's already seen that day, everything she's learned and her mind relaxes as her body becomes accustomed again to what she had always known well how to do: to fight.

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"They haven't told you much yet, have they?" Clementine guesses sympathetically. "That's what we're here for. They bring us here from our home worlds to fight in what they call 'The Hunger Games', it's a fight to the death in an arena and most times they only let one of us win. They show it on television like that so all the people who live here can watch, they find it entertaining."

There's audible disgust as she describes the Capitol citizens approval of the games. "If you win you don't... well most of the time they don't make you do it again."Clementine herself has just recently learned how little of a guarantee that can be now. "And if you die they bring you back and you go into the arena again."

All that she was told was that she would be fighting to the death. Stripped of her usual clothing, the only thing left she had from Berk, she was thrown in here with no further knowledge of what she had somehow gotten herself into.

But it's a bit difficult to grasp the girl's explanation, trying to piece it together, but still finding a few gaps in her understanding. "What do you mean they bring you back? How's that even possible? Are they gods?"

She doesn't ask jokingly. Vikings believed the gods were capable of many things, although reviving the dead was never one of them. When someone died, they'd be dining in Valhalla with Odin, Thor, Freya, many of those they worshipped, but they've never come back.

But if by some chance what this girl was saying was true, then ...

Gods? That's not an explanation she's ever heard before from anyone. Clementine's pretty sure God has nothing to do with what happens here, to be honest she's not sure he even exists or actually given much thought to it.

"They're not Gods. They have really advanced technology though, that's how they bring us here and bring us back from the dead too." she points at the screen. "Everyone who dies on there, they come back to life. They're around here now. I know it sounds crazy but it's the truth, it happened to me in the last arena too."

It wasn't as strictly clean cut for Clementine as she's making out but it's all this person needs to hear.

It's not so much that Astrid truly finds everything she says to be believable, but she wants to believe it's true. Because it meant the possibility that Hiccup could still be alive, that Ruffnut and all of those seemingly innocent victims were still out there now, unharmed and safe.

There's proof in her current location as well, already having experienced items and a setting that were far beyond anything she had ever seen back home. Even traveling further from Berk on dragons, they had never come across a place that looked even partially similar to what she was seeing now.

As much of a guard that she wants to put up, nothing about this girl seemed threatening. Maybe it's due to her current temporary state of hopelessness from what she had seen on the screen, but with how horrible the state of everything was, she wanted to believe in the few hopeful words she was hearing now.

"I'm Astrid," she finally says with a sigh. She relaxes her shoulder, shifting from standing so tensely. "How long have you been here?"

"Do you... want to sit down?" Clementine offers, gesturing at the couch. It was a lot to take in so she decided it might be better for the older girl, Astrid as she introduced herself, to sit down. "I'm Clementine."

She sinks down onto the couch cushions first regardless of what Astrid says, frowning as she thinks back through the months she's been here. "Four months, give or take. It feels longer sometimes."

It felt like years to Clem sometimes and the world she'd come from seemed like something of a horrible nightmare. Not that Panem had turned out to be much of a good dream either. "I live in this suite too."

Despite the odd appearance, watching the girl, she supposes this soft bench was alright to just sit on. She follows suit seating herself slowly, surprised by how soft it is, even softer than laying on a stack of furs.

Four months. And somehow Astrid had the gut feeling that there might have been others who had been around for much longer than that time frame. Would she end up with the same fate?

"So ... we have to keep fighting? Over and over again?"

"That's about the short of it, unless you win." Clementine confirmed for her. "It's a bit more complicated than that but I can try to explain everything for you and answer any questions you have. The people who bring us here... they don't like to tell us much. It's entertainment for them what they put us through, so the less we know the better they like it. It makes it more fun for them to watch."

There's no point in sugarcoating it, any of it, not if you wanted to have a chance at surviving. Clementine had learned quickly just how devious the Capitol could be and what lengths they'd go to to give the citizenry what they wanted.

Entertainment. The closest thing she could compare this to was the Thawfest Games back on Berk. It had several events that took place where they'd compete, testing out strength, agility, skills, dragon training abilities, and so forth. But the games were always friendly--for the most part, not counting the heavy sense of competition and taunting that occurred throughout--and they were all in good Viking fun, and of course, never to the death.

Even if it was far more serious, that was the best comparison she could make though it didn't have much effect in calming her nerves.

"So, what are we doing here now? I mean, if they want us to fight, what's this place for?" She felt a bit guilty for throwing all her questions on the girl, considering it wasn't the happiest of topics. But she was very appreciative that she was willing to share all this information with her considering how much in the dark she was.

"We don't fight all the time." Clementine nods. "The arena's take time for them to set up because they're never the same twice. When we die, and between arena's they send us back to this place. It's called the Tribute Training Centre. It's where we live and if you want to, you can train to try and prepare for when you have to fight."

She hopes that's clear, "There's a whole city outside this building we're allowed to go out into but you can't go any further than that. You'll get in trouble if you do and you don't want that, believe me. The Capitol is strict on us following their rules."

"So, the only real way out is to fight, huh?" Not that she wouldn't still keep her eyes and ears open in trying to learn of other possibilities. She didn't exactly want to just settle on the idea that she was stuck here for good. Plus, Clementine said that if you won, you didn't have to fight again--most of the time--which didn't exactly sound like a promise that they'd let you go home.

"Sounds like they're trying to soften the blow by making you feel at home."

"Yeah. And if you win they make you a mentor, that means you're supposed to help teach the other tributes how to win since you did it yourself." Clementine's lips quirk at that. Given how the arena's changed and how much of surviving in the end came down to luck she wasn't sure how useful a system that actually was, except to keep the victors where the Capitol could see them.

"You're right. When we're not in the arena we get treated pretty well. We get good food and as much of it as we want, nice clothes, comfy rooms... they talk about us like we're honoured guests rather than prisoners. It's pretty messed up."

Becoming a mentor doesn't really sound like a way out, but she supposes it's what most people would consider to be a better alternative than repeating the cycle of fighting over and over again.

"It's the chicken treatment," she realizes, suddenly lost in her thoughts as she processes the setup. "People feed chickens to make them plump, provide them with plenty of water and necessities, keeping them living well before they kill them to eat. Seems like we're chickens."

She shakes her head, realizing that probably wasn't the prettiest comparison, though the fates seemed fairly similar. The chickens seemed to have it easier in that at least they didn't have to relive it repeatedly.

"How much longer until everyone has to fight again?"

"I never had chickens but that sounds pretty accurate to me." It's the first time Clementine's ever heard that analogy before. She's heard other phrases thrown around, 'gilded cage' for one but she thinks Astrid's example is the best one so far.

Clementine has to sit back and think about the next question. She counts back the weeks since the last arena ended, since the crowning and then only last week the mini-arena she had won. "... not long. I think maybe a couple more weeks. They don't tell us exactly when it will happen so we'll be off-guard. It makes for better television that way."

"I guess it'd make sense for them to keep hush about it. Apparently they don't like sharing a lot of information at all. It really does sounds like some horrible game." The lack of a schedule means Astrid would have to move really fast if she wanted to find a way to get out before the fighting started. But seeing as how there were plenty of others stuck here too, it was becoming less and less hopeful that she'd have any more luck than they did.

But she decides to let her plans rest, at least for the moment, looking at the girl with curiosity. "Never had chickens, huh? Where are you from?"

"Nope." Clementine shakes her head, "My advice, go train with the weapons downstairs if you can. They're the sort of stuff they might give us in the arena and also, try and find people you can fight with. It's better if you're not alone in there."

It's not an entirely out of left field question. "Georgia, in the United States. My parents... they were some kind of business workers. I can't remember exactly what. We got all our food from the store."

"I guess I don't have much of a choice." At least training was something Astrid was accustomed to. Realizing she should have some allies might be a bit more troubling. She didn't always have the knack to trust people easily, but with the circumstances, she'd probably have to fix that habit a bit.

Taking this as her first step, honestly appreciating the explanation, she gives Clementine a small smile. "Thanks for the tip though."

The locations she gives forms question marks, the words being completely unfamiliar to her. "I've never heard of any of those places. I'm from Berk, though. It's kind an isolated island, so we haven't seen much else."

"You're welcome." Clementine nods. She doesn't exactly play the games to win herself but she also doesn't want to die, or to see anyone else die. A problem when the rule was only one person could walk away, it didn't matter though, she wasn't going to let someone go in there blind. That would be cruel.

"I never heard of Berk either. What's it like there?"

There's a sad smile that comes when she thinks of home, the very place she'd love to be back in right then.

"It's not the best place, I'm sure. Our winters are really long and it gets kind of tough to stock up on supplies before hand, but we're a bunch of pretty stubborn Vikings that always pull through."

She gives a light shrug, continuing her description as if it were an ordinary thing. "But we're also dragon trainers, so it's become more fun there, especially during the summers with dragon racing. It always keeps people's spirits up when it gets rough."

Well that's some information Clementine wasn't expecting.

She sits up a little straighter, curling one leg underneath her. "You're a Viking? Like the people with the horned helmets and those long boats?" Clementine watched a programme about them once, years ago. The imagery stuck with her.

"And dragons, real dragons?"

She nods with a slight chuckle. "Yeah, though I've never cared much for the helmets. They're kind of more for decoration than anything."

It brought about a bit of warm feeling to hear Clementine describe them, a bit surprised to know someone from another world was familiar with her kind. It almost made her feel a little less out of place here. Just a little.

"Do you not have dragons around where you're from? We used to fight them before we made peace. Now everyone in the village has their own. I've got a girl named Stormfly. She's almost a bit bird like, squawking all over the place, but she's very loving and playful."

"We don't have any Vikings in my world, there used to be but it was a long time ago I think." How long for certain Clementine couldn't say, after all she never made it past first grade and since then history has never been on her list of priorities. Maybe once there was someone who could have taught her regardless of the world falling apart but he was gone like so many others.

"I don't think we ever had any real dragons but there were lots of stories about them. Usually they had princesses who were locked in towers and the prince would have to kill the dragon to save them." Clementine explains to Astrid, looking interested. "I like that name."

She's a bit disheartened to hear the phrase used to be, as though Vikings had somehow vanished. She doesn't know what world Clementine comes from, but she'd rather not ask a further explanation on that. The uncertainty in her tone told her she probably wouldn't know much about it anyway.

"I'm not really surprised that that's how the stories would go since we used to fight dragons too, but ... well, we're slowly trying to convince more groups to make peace with them. I don't know much about princesses and princes though. That, we've only heard stories." Some nearby tribes had talked about lands where kings rules, but they hadn't ever strayed far enough to see it for themselves.

The thought of her own dragon though keeps a smile on her face. "I wish I could introduce Stormfly to you. She'd like you, I think, and she's fun to play with. She especially loves playing catch."

"Maybe there did use to be dragons in my world too. There were other big things like them called dinosaurs once, but only some could fly and none of them breathed fire. I think. They were supposed to be gone before there were any people though." That all this might fly over Astrid's head hasn't crossed Clementine's mind just yet. "Every girl I used to know wanted to be a princess."

She grins, "Like you'd play with a dog? I really wish you could show her to me too." A dragon that plays catch, it's such a fanciful idea to a girl like Clementine it's impossible not to love it.

"Hmm, I've never heard of dinosaurs. But not all our dragons breathe fire, so maybe they were something like them, at least." Though according to pagan beliefs, she doesn't quite recall the existence of dragons before the existence of humans. But she'd rather not worry about that detail too much.

"Most girls grow up wanting to be shield maidens in our village. They're strong warriors that help defend in battle. Are princesses like that?" How little she knew.

But she's glad to see Clementine smiling, though it surprises her a little. She hadn't expected to see that kind of warmth in a place like this. "Mhmm, like a dog." She pauses for a moment before continuing. "I'll show her to you some day. When we get out of here." Maybe it was too hopeful of a statement. But her experiences in recent years had shown her that during times like these, it was better to see things that way.

"Um..." Clementine shakes her head. "Not really. Princesses don't fight, normally. They wear pretty dresses and go to balls and whenever they get in trouble a prince or a knight is supposed to come save them. Sometimes they get put under spells and have to be woken up with a kiss." her lips twitch. "I think I'd rather be a shieldmaiden."

The notion is a hopeful one that Clementine herself hasn't given up on thinking about sometimes. It doesn't hurt to play along with it, she thinks, even if there's no knowing if it's really possible they could ever leave this world again, even if the Capitol is somehow stopped. "Deal. When we get out of here."

It wasn't like Clem had much to go back to in her own world.

even a natural born fighter can find cause to break sometimes

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