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

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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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"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.

"Princesses sound way too dependent on other people and they don't seem like they'd have much confidence. Why would any girl want to be that?" She's a bit skeptical on the idea, but she's relieved to hear Clementine's response. "That's good. Shieldmaidens are strong, independent women that take on any challenge that gets thrown at her, never letting anything bring her down. And they never give up, no matter what."

Astrid had strived to be that way for as long as she could remember growing up. She'd like to think she's achieved that status, but she certainly hopes this place doesn't threaten to take that pride and confidence away from her.

Just like she'd like to believe there was hope in leaving, even if the idea of really showing Stormfly to Clementine seemed outrageous.

"Thanks for talking to me. I, uh, wouldn't have expected the people here to be kind."

"That sounds a lot more like my style." she grins back at Astrid, "Way more useful than going to balls."

She softens a little at the thanks and nods. "You're welcome, though it's really nothing. I like to try and help people and it's always good to make a new friend."

Friend. It's not the sort of thing she expected to find after seeing what she did on that screen. Not to mention, she had never been much for seeking out friends in the past, especially when it came to fighting. But somehow, she's relieved.

"It is. It's enough to make you feel a little better considering this whole thing. A little, but ... that's something."

Much better than nothing.

"If there's anything else you need help with, well, you know where I live." Clem says, looking around the District 6 suite in exaggerated fashion. "Outside the arena things are pretty nice, just don't do anything to make the peacekeepers mad at you."

Well, it's certainly convenient having someone she can trust living in the same floor as her. It was a nice thought and definitely helpful to keep in mind for the future.

"Yeah, thanks, I'll make a note." She gives a slight smile, looking around at the suite. "I guess my last question for now would be to ask what peacekeepers are? Just to be sure I keep them happy, I suppose."

"Peacekeepers are like the police here." Clementine says, trying to choose her words carefully and wishing she could get across that point too, about watching what you said inside places like the tribute centre, without sounding suspicious herself. "They keep guard, make sure we do what we're told and punish anyone who causes trouble."

Whether that be expressing anti-Capitol sentiment in the wrong place or getting into a fight. "They wear these white suits and helmets, they're hard to miss."

Astrid just nods. She'll have to make sure to keep that in mind for the future, somehow figuring that was probably a pretty important point to remember around here.

She suddenly stands, taking a breath as she contemplates her thoughts. "I'll keep that in mind. I think I'll try to take a look around here. If they do bring people back, then, well ... there's someone I need to find."

She pauses for a moment before going on. "I really do hope we get to talk more sometime."

"Okay." Clementine nods acceptingly, looking up at Astrid as she stands. "They do, I promise. I hope you find them."

Then she smiled, "Me too. See you around." she'll watch Astrid leave and then look back to the television, a moment later she reaches for the remote and stops the replays of the last arena. Being there was bad enough.

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even a natural born fighter can find cause to break sometimes

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