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thecapitol2014-07-31 12:01 pm
stotte) wrote in thecapitol2014-07-31 12:01 pm
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.
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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Still, she unclenches her fists slightly when she hears the soft tone, albeit keeping a cautious watch. Did she know him? She swallows hard, the visual returning to her mind. Her mouth quivers as she answers lowly. "Y-yeah ... yeah, I know him."
Know, not knew. She refuses to believe he's really gone.
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"Hiccup's alive?" Her arms lower down completely to her side, trying to register what she was being told. There was no possible way, he had to be lying. Once you were dead, that was it. You'd be taken to dine with the gods in Valhalla. There wasn't any coming back.
"That doesn't even make any sense. How can someone dead come back?"
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She looks back to the man before her, studying him carefully before finally asking, "You said you were ... an escort? What does that mean?"
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"It means I'm here to help you adjust to living in the Capitol," he replied. "Anything you need, any problems you have here, if I can possibly take care of them, I will. Then, when the Arena starts, it's my job to net you sponsors. People in the Capitol can send things to Tributes in the Arena, like food, supplies or weapons. It's my job to talk them into spending money on you."
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"And what do you get out of it?" She couldn't help still have suspicions, of course.
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It crosses her mind that it's possible there were people here who might be trying to make the best of a bad situation, and this guy could possibly be one of them. Maybe. It wasn't as though she'd be so quick to trust, but discussing the situation a bit more with him might not hurt. "Do we ever get to leave?"
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"To answer your first question," he begins, a little apologetically, "there are no current plans to send the Tributes home. I'm sorry about that. Perhaps one day, if the format of the Games changes radically enough, the Capitol may decide to send you back where you came from, but for now, I would advise learning as much about Capitol life as you can."
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"But why? Why are we even here? We have our own homes. We have nothing to do with this! Why can't we leave?"
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"So what's the difference with how it is now? They just upped the number of people who go in?" She asks, though she doesn't seem to take into account that at that point, fight to the death actually meant fight to the death.
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"But I don't understand why they're taking people from other worlds and completely against their will. Isn't that just kidnapping?"
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"The Capitol doesn't see it that way," he says. "And speaking against the Capitol will get you in trouble. You saw the men in the white armor as you came in, didn't you? Those are called Peacekeepers. Be very careful around them -- if you don't cooperate, they will arrest you."
It's his tone that keeps this from being a threat: the way he says it is earnest, concerned, and cautionary.
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"So, to sum up, I, along with a variety of other people from other worlds are supposed to fight in these so-called arenas, where, if you die, you'll be revived afterwards." It sounded even more like nonsense saying it out loud, but she'll deal for now.
"What happens if you win?"
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"Sponsors? No. They didn't really give me a lot to go off of other than the whole general 'fight or die' tagline." Or however it was worded. It was a lot to take in at the time when she had just arrived, with no knowledge of how she got there or where everyone was. It wasn't exactly a time to pay attention to details.
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"While you're in the Arena," he begins, "the people left in the Capitol can send you things. It can be anything -- supplies, weapons, food, water -- all useful things, all things that could save your life. But they're expensive, and the prices go up the longer you're in the Arena. It's the Escorts' and Mentors' job to convince these sponsors to spend money on their District's Tributes."
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She knows people far too well. And with a place like this, it seemed too good to be true that there were people who'd gift much needed items for free without expecting something in return.
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He taps his chin with a finger. "And, if they think you have a good chance of winning, they'll bet on you. If they do, and they think they can recoup what they spend on a sponsor gift with gambling winnings..." He leaves that open-ended; Astrid's more than bright enough to put it together.
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Though Astrid's not minding the system, considering she's pretty sure her chances of winning are fairly good. Even if she just got here, she was one of the strongest on Berk, twice as fearsome when she rode on her dragon's back. Things might be different here, but she's sure she can adjust. She just needed to prove it.
"And what exactly do I need to do to get people to like me here? Back home, if you were strong, that was pretty much what guaranteed some attention. Do I need to wave around an axe or something?"
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He gives her a searching look.
"Something tells me you already do."
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But something to fight for? It didn't exactly take a genius to catch on to that one.
"Is that why they brought me here with him? Some sort of motivation?"
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