thecapitol | out of the frying pan, into the fire

Entry tags:

out of the frying pan, into the fire

Who| Belle and you!!
What| Our newest Disney princess is trying to adjust to her new surroundings.
Where| here and there. D6 suites | around the capitol (shopping district & coffee shop)
When| backdated to 7/31
Warnings/Notes| none!

[Distric 6 suites]

Once again Belle found herself from a situation where she was being held as a prisoner in a wondrous, enchanted world. There were doors that opened automatically when you approached, strange looking pipes that could transport you to other floor, small switches on the wall that could turn the light on and off. What else can you call those things but sorcery? However, this time she was demanded to do more than just dine with her captors. Just the idea of what she was asked-- no, told to do was crushing and distracting enough for her not to pay much attention to all wonders around her. She locked the door right after reaching her chambers and went to bed, crying silent tears as she didn't want anyone possible near her to find about her misery (and from what Belle understood, there was always someone near and watching) until she fell asleep.

By the morning Belle was already feeling much better. Sure, her situation hadn't improved a bit, but she also knew from experience that she couldn't just spent her entire time while hiding and sulking in her room. Besides, her curiosity towards the Capitol had awoken within her. So, without bothering to look at the new clothes her 'stylist' had provided her, Belle carefully left her room.

At first she was surprised how... clean and spacious the lounge was with its white walls and few odd looking decorations on tables. Second thing that caught her eye was the large mirror-looking thing placed on the wall. What made it especially strange to her was that its surface was all black, barely reflecting anything at all.

What a strange object, she thought to herself and cracked a small smile as she turned away to examine the rest of the room.

[The streets of the Capitol]

There was no end to her astonishment or for her curiosity as she walked down the very lively streets of Capitol. Everything she had seen in the Tribute Tower just moments ago seemed so plain and calm compared to the colorful and overly flamboyant designs of the shopping districts. Even the people looked stranger than she could have ever imagined, with their weird clothes and bright colored skins and hairs. Even Belle, who was refined lady, found it hard not to stop to take a
second look at some things she passed. Now she truly felt like she was in another world.

She, herself, earned a few odd looks and whispers from the locals for still wearing her red dress, which she had arrived with. But right now Belle couldn't really care a less about what these people thought of her as she moved gracefully among the crowd.

After spending a hour or two while walking around the streets without a real goal on her mind, Belle decided to take a break and visit a small coffee shop near her. She was, after all, french and true friend to all kinds of coffees.

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The smell was what had attracted him. Entirely unfamiliar, almost...woody? He had no way to describe it. It was pleasant, though, so he decided to give it a try. If there was a whole shop dedicated to selling drinks of it, it had to be something good.

The only problem? Hiccup had never had coffee before and he also didn't know what sugar was. That meant that as Belle got in line to get her coffee, she was treated to the sight of a young man that looked like he'd walked out of a storybook about Vikings, standing at the counter where all the milk and sugar was, sipping his coffee, grimacing, and looking at the various things there as if trying to figure out which thing he could put in it to make it taste less bitter.

Well now, that wasn't a sight you see everyday. The young man stood out from the crowd like a sore thumb even more than she did. He didn't look anything like people back at her home world either. It was almost a miracle to see someone out in the city who's appearance was, well.. more 'outdated' than hers.

After getting her own cup of coffee Belle approached the boy, noticing his dilemma and smiling a little to herself.

"Is it not to your taste?"

"Generally speaking, things that seem to exist sheerly just to be bitter aren't to my taste." He looked into his cup mournfully. "How can something that smells so good taste so bad?"

...he said as he looked wonderingly at his completely black coffee with nothing at all in it.

He took a step towards the counter with various coffee accouterments, the spring in his prosthetic leg creaking, and pointed. The Capitol had more than the standard in some worlds, including some kind of strange carton of something that said it was "soy-friendly."

"Are any of these supposed to go in it? Is that the trick? You put stuff in it that makes it taste less like spoiled yak milk?"

Edited 2014-08-13 04:10 (UTC)

The weird creaking noise captured Belle's attention for a brief moment. She shot a curious look down on the boy's leg as he moved, wondering what might have caused it.

However, she didn't want to come across as rude, so she quickly looked back up before the boy could even notice her stare and walked right next to him.

"I suppose it tastes a little bitter, especially if you haven't drank it before." She chuckled and offered him a creamer. "Here, this should soften the taste a little."

Hiccup tried putting a bit in and sipped it.

"...Still bitter. Not as bitter, at least. Thank you muchly. Weird though. Definitely not yak milk." He pointed to the pour bottle of sugar. "What's this white grainy stuff?"

He paused and then added, "That's not sand, is it? Please tell me these people aren't that backward when it comes to their food stuffs because it's really hard to outdo my village on being terrible with their food but sand would do it."

That remark earned another chuckle from her. "No, don't worry it's not sand."

She put down her own cup of coffee, picking up sugar container and poured a little bit of it to her free palm.

"This is sugar. It's something you can use it as a sweetener, it's pretty much like a spice." She tipped her finger to the small pile of sugar on her palm and then licked sugar off.

"Do you want to try?"

Hiccup shrugged and took the container in his hand. He poured a bit into his coffee, took one of the stirrers, briefly looked at it quizzically, then used it to stir it.

After he took an experimental sip, his eyes suddenly went wide and his face lit up.

"What is this magical substance and where can I get it on a regular basis? Oh wow."

All they had back home to sweeten things was fruit.

Belle also pours the rest of sugar from her palm to her coffee.

"Sugar can be found almost everywhere, at least in a rich place like this." She laughs, finding the boy's excitement rather amusing and endearing, in a way. "Just be careful that you don't put too much of it." She teases a little and picks up her cup again.

"My name is Belle. It's very nice to meet you."

"We don't have any where I'm from, but then I'm from a little island that's way up north of nowhere," said Hiccup. "Vikings have this wonderful tendency to find the least habitable places possible to try to colonize, like, for instance, an island that has snow nine months of the year."

Belle. Interesting name.

"My name's Hiccup, by the way."

He held out his hand. "Do you happen to do that handshake thing a lot of people do here to say hello or am I just kinda holding my hand in the air like an idiot right now?"

There's rarely a day when Hans isn't in a coffee shop of some sort. It has become something of an addiction for him, though part of it is simply because cafes are wonderful for people watching and listening in on gossip. Having been here a long time, he can easily rattle off complicated orders and know he's getting exactly what he wants.

He's just ahead of Belle in line and he steps to the side, giving her a curious look. He can't instantly identify her as a tribute, though her dress seems a little dated and strange for the weather. There's something about her way that makes him think she may well be new.

"The mocha here is delicious." He nods knowingly as he advises her. "Chocolate and coffee were practically made for each other."

Belle was staring at the bulletin board in which all the drinks were listed in a confusion. The menu was indeed full of extraordinary coffee-drinks and varieties. Most of the choices displayed in front of her did sound very delicious and interesting, but she didn't know where to begin with. The more she listened of the orders made before her the more lost she felt.

When had something simple as ordering a coffee become so complicated?

So the sudden advise from man in front of her was completely welcomed. "Ah, thank you." She nodded quickly and offered him a smile. "I take it's your favorite, sir?"

When his assistance is well received he'll smile warmly at the stranger, nodding in place of a bow. His old school manners make it hard for him not to gesture in some manner when he's talking to someone new.

"It's no problem, really. I've spent enough time here to trial a few flavours." He crinkles his nose in a sly smile. "Actually, why don't I just.." He trails off, stepping forward again so he can speak to the staff. "Could I add a second of the same to my order, please? Thank you." He steps back to Belle casually. "I have a feeling you might like it."

As she was walking around the common room, she would see a tall young man in a glittery blue suit come in through the door. His eyes lit up with recognition when he saw her: ah, there's the last of them.

"You must be Belle," he said, crossing to her. He held out a hand. "I'm Stephen Reagan. I'm the Escort for this District."

It had been so long since the last time Belle had a proper encounter with another human being (the meeting last night with peacekeepers and gamemakers hardly counted) and the strange man approached her so quickly that Belle had barely any time to register what was happening.

"I, um. Yes, I am." She answered, a bit distracted by the bright outfit he was wearing, and took his hand hesitantly. "How do you know my name?"

He shook her hand, warmly but gently, then let it go. "I was given your name and headshot when you arrived. Welcome to District 6, Belle -- I know this is a lot to take in, but I'll do my best to answer any questions you have."

"I see," she nodded slowly. To say that Belle felt overwhelmed was putting it mildly. She was still confused by her surroundings and everything she witnessed and went through less than 24 hours ago. There still was so many questions she wanted to ask, but found herself unsure to do so. After all, the people she met yesterday weren't really all that interested in giving her any answers.

However, this man, Stephen did seem eager to help her and he was the first person to treat her nicely and polite. It was a worth of shot.

"Any questions I have?" she repeated, fiddling with her fingers. "Well, then. Could we start from the beginning? What is this place? And what is the purpose of these games ? The people I met last night gave me a very brief explanation of... Of everything that is going on."

"This place," Stephen began, moving to a chair and motioning for her to sit as well, "is called Panem. It's divided into thirteen sections: twelve Districts and the Capitol, which is where we are now. Each District has its own industry, such as fishing, farming or lumber. You represent District 6, which builds and maintains the transportation system that runs throughout Panem. The Districts work for the Capitol, and the Capitol regulates the Districts' industry." It was euphemistic, he knew, and dishonest, but he wasn't going to talk about what the system was really like just yet. Not on camera. If Belle was smart, though, she might still guess.

"Almost eighty years ago," Stephen went on in a darker tone, "the Districts were discontent under the Capitol's rule, and rose up against it in war. The Capitol won, and as a reminder of its power, instituted the very first Hunger Games. Each year, every District sent two Tributes, one girl and one boy, to the Capitol to fight to the death." His face was serious, not flippant or approving; he wasn't speaking against the system, but there was something sad in the way he talked about it. "The winners were crowned Victors and given lives of luxury, and the Districts they represented were given extra supplies and extra food."

Here he paused, looking at her, making sure she was keeping up.

Belle sat down on the chair next to him and crossed her hands as she listened intensively Stephen's tale. The more she heard the more suspicious and nervous she grew. It sounded wrong and unfair to her that Capitol was so separated from the districts. She wanted to ask more about the relations between these people and what had caused them to be 'discontent' enough to wage a war. But there was something in Stephen's tone that told her to stay silent for now.

"But why are we here?" she asked cautiously. "We aren't from this world, we have nothing to do with your conflicts."

Good, she was following -- and she was picking up quickly on the fact that she couldn't speak freely here.

"Every twenty-five years, the Hunger Games are played with special rules. This is called a Quarter Quell. For example, the last one had four Tributes sent from each District instead of two. This time, it was decided that we would take the Tributes from other worlds, assign eight to each District, hold Arenas four times a year, and revive each Tribute after his or her death."

He waited for her inevitable questions, for her protests. Stephen knew they were coming, and rather than offer an explanation that might sound like justification, he decided to respond to her questions as they came.

The color began to fade a little from Belle's face when Stephen finished. Even though the situation had been explained her last night, it only now really sank in. She was devastated and scared. This all was too much for her.

"W-what do you mean 'revived?' We don't stay dead? How?"

"I don't know exactly how it's done," Stephen admitted. "But it's very real. When you die in the Arena, you will wake up a short while later in your room in the Capitol, whole and healthy."

"B-but why?" That really didn't make any sense to her. Why would they go through so much trouble if they were only going to summon new people to participate in their games?

"What happens after we're revived? "

"After you come back, you're allowed to live in the Capitol fairly normally. You attend parties, you rest, and you train for the next Games." Stephen was being completely honest, very direct, not trying to couch any of it in euphemism. Living in the Capitol was nice, of course, but to someone who had just been told they would fight to the death in a neverending cycle, it wouldn't be very comforting.

So, she'd have to spent the rest of her life in constant fear and confusion, while preparing to get slaughtered in front of everyone? That didn't sound anything like 'fairly normal' life to her. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. The urge to burst into tears, yell and protest only grew stronger, but she knew better than to lash out her feeling on Stephen-- who was really trying to help her here.

"And if I win? Will I'll be go back to home, then?" She asks hopefully.

This was a part of the conversation Stephen particularly hated. "...no," he said. "The reward for winning is never having to enter the Arena again. You become a Mentor -- it's their job to coach the Tributes of their District on how to win, and to talk to potential sponsors during each Arena."

There was no way out.

With an audible sigh, she drops her head to her hands, letting the news sink in. She has to think about this for a minute.

She had already mentally prepared for never being able to see her beloved father again, but at least back then she had been in a same world with him. This deal felt far more permanent and certain than her previous situation. Also, this meant that she'd never see her dear friends Lumiere, Mrs. Potts, Cogsworth again. Or Beast.

Then, after a brief moment she collects herself and looks up to Stephen, more confidently than before.

"Who are Sponsors? What can they do?"

"Everyone in Panem will be watching your performance in the Arena," Stephen explains. "If they like you, or bet on you, or just want to help, they'll buy things to send to you in the Arena. The right sponsor gift can mean the difference between life and death for a Tribute." He's nothing but matter-of-fact about it. After all, he's been doing this for years.

"Bet on me? Like a horse?" She raises a brow disapprovingly before shaking her head. So, it seemed like that, in the end, fighting in the arenas were only small part of a much bigger game. Well, too bad that she has never been quite good at the popularity contests.

"What do I have to do? I suppose that in a place like this being just 'yourself' isn't going to win you any points?" She still refused to play the games. But while she refused to harm anyone, she still wanted to stay alive.

"That depends," Stephen replies, "on how interesting your self is. So, why don't you start by telling me a little about it?"

He leans back in the chair and crosses one leg over the other, resting the ankle on the knee, ready to listen.

"It doesn't have to be personal. Just start with some things that make you unique."

"Well, back in my world I live in a small village with my father, where people are mostly nice and they live a quiet life as each day follows another. I spent most of my days while helping my father at his workshop, he's a great inventor you see, or then while taking care of the farm."

There was a small hint of melancholy in her voice voice when she spoke of her hometown. While she did not think of ill or held any hard feelings towards the other villagers, it still somewhat saddened and hurt her to think about the time at her village. After all, she had never heard anyone to describe her as kindly as 'unique.' The words she kept hearing the people gossip were 'funny' or 'odd.'

"It's a nice life, I suppose." She sighs before continuing, still not sure what all she should tell him. "Not one for me, though. It might sound a quite funny and rather peculiar but I've always wanted to travel, to see world. Experience an adventure in a real life instead of just reading about it."

Astrid is still getting accustomed to the floor that she's been told is her new home, though she still had yet to meet the others that would be living there with her, most of them either hiding in their rooms or possibly just staying away to deny their situation.

But later that morning, as she steps out of her own room, she does encounter someone else on her floor, yet another girl who doesn't quite look like she belongs there. With the way she examines the room, it was easy to tell she must not have been there long either.

"I'm guessing you're new too?"

Belle was just examining another strange looking, round object on a table that radiated light in different colors, when she heard footsteps behind her. She spun around and saw a young, blond girl looking at her way. So, this must be one of her district-mates.

"Ah, yes. I suppose I am." She said and placed the object she was holding back to the table. "My name is Belle. I hope I did not wake you up."

"Oh, no, I've been up all morning. I'm Astrid," she offers a small smile, figuring this girl was probably just as lost and confused about this new situation as she was.

"The beds are kind of odd though. Almost way too soft, like you're on some kind of cloud. Most of the stuff in this place is pretty weird," she comments with a light laugh.

"Too soft?" That was interesting thing to point out. Sure, the beds were even softer than back in Beast's castle but still, that was like the last thing on her mind.

Belle took a better look at the girl in front of her, now only noticing her appearance and attire that didn't seem like anything she had seen before.

"What kind of beds do you sleep in back at your home, then?"

That's right. Everyone's part of different worlds. Chances were some people were at least a little more accustomed to some things than she was.

"Well, back home, our furniture is usually just plain wood. Nothing like the giant pillow benches," she says, gesturing to the couches. "And the beds have just a few furs on it, so I'm a bit more used to a rougher surface, I guess. Actually, most of the materials here aren't found in my village. It seems like some of us come from a time much further back than most of the people here."

"Furs? It sounds like you're from north?" She asked, sounding genuinely interested. Even though she had experienced some long winters and such, she still had never really been to north.

"That seems to be the case. At my world we had something very much alike to these cushions," also nodding at the couches. "But still, everything is so advanced here."

Edited 2014-08-18 09:06 (UTC)

"I guess we might be. Most of the villages we know of are more towards the south. But we haven't ventured out too far beyond that yet. It's only been since we got the dragons that we've actually started finding out more about what other places are in the world." It comes from being from a time very far behind from everyone else. Especially considering they still believed the world was flat.

She gives the couch another feel, still amused by its texture. "And this is probably the least weird thing compared to everything else. The moving paintings, for instance." She points to the television. "Those just seem impossible."

It's late by the time he's done greeting the returned arrivals, finishing ceremony and getting back into a garb unmarked by paint and glitter; his stylists having once again decided on something deemed both suitably princely and feral. In all his good mood, he'd almost thought to go to Mituna, ready to press the button for the floor of district two. And then stopping.

Which is why, although he's been mostly Mirth carried all day, he reverts in just that small section of time to his default scowl, fangs hanging over. He falls back against the elevator wall, hunching down to make up for his towering height and horns.

Which is naturally, when the elevator doors open up to another what he ain't seen before. He debates on it, perhaps a little too obviously. Then settles, "EVENING." So as to greet.

Belle let's out unintentional gasp of surprise when the elevator door opens. One would probably think that after living together with a monstrous Beast and living furniture she'd be used to seeing unusual looking characters around. Well, it was first time for her to meet someone who was looked so humanlike yet beastly at the same time. So, it was no surprise that she was a bit frightened by the man she sees before her.

But still, she wasn't going to let that nervousness to bother her. She gave him a small smile as she stepped inside the elevator next to him.

"Good evening."

Fear ain't surprising. A gasp, a shocked glance, all things what ain't new. He was well and used to it, even before his half-sweep here. He'd always been a fear figure.

What's curious is the recovery she manages. People didn't tend to go from fear to smiles. It has him giving a second glance to she.

"You're motherfucking like as to be new, ain't you?"

She raises her brow and turns her head when the strange looking man speaks again. Clearly not approving the manner she's being spoken to, especially when she's treating him with respect by not staring or making scene--- even though she's aware that kind of reaction would be considered normal by pretty much anyone else.

"Yes I am. Are you not, then?"

There it is. He can see it. He can pinpoint the direct moment when she's has come to the expected annoyance with his natural speech. The second most common thing to happen under immediate fear. Less fun, more aggravating.

But she's not mocking yet so he remains civil. If perhaps still scowling.

"HALF A SWEEP. A motherfucking year as all it be about the preach of human calling. UPON HEARDUCTS HIS WAS TALE SAID THERE BE SOME WHAT BEEN LONGER. A welcoming into the wicked shit then."

She blinks in a confusion but keeps the polite smile on her lips.

A lot of what he just said didn't make much sense to her. However, this time while it certainly confused her it also pinged her curiosity instead offending her. Though she still didn't appreciate hearing him using such rude words while speaking to her.

"A year?" That.. was a long time to spent in a weird like this, especially if what she heard about them being revived after each arena was true. An uneasy sting appears to her chest when she thinks about what all he must have witnessed during that year.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

He lifts a brow at her, and more specifically, that she feel need to apologize for his being here, like that's being something what all she has slightest say in. He's been around humans for some time now and it still surprises. He wonders if she'd still say that if she knew him.

"BETTER A MOTHERFUCKING YEAR THAN NOT GETTING HIS OWNSELF RETURNED BACKLIKE UP AT ALL. Ain't that being legit?" He gets all of a slim smirk.

Then, he takes a small step back, offering the smallest of princely bows, one arm folded in front. "THE INITIATE, FRAYSONG. What be a sister's calling?"

Charles had found his way into the coffee shop. He was holding a cup of tea and sitting at a table mulling over a book. It was a history book, but Charles could tell it was censored. The amount of information it contained was in reality very little, and none of it was particularly useful. What was one meant to do with the most basic of facts? He closed it, frustrated, and put it under his arm. He got back in line to obtain another tea, having finished his.

He had seen her face only briefly in having looked at the tribute list, deciding to look to see who had just gotten here. She was new.

She didn't appear to really fit in here at all.

"Welcome," he said. It was hard to say. Still, he wore a smile when he said it.

Edited 2014-08-04 03:35 (UTC)

Belle was just about to look for an empty table where she could sit down and enjoy her cup of coffee when she suddenly hears an unknown speaking to her. She turns around quickly (without spilling any of her coffee!) to face the man, whom the voice belongs to.

"Ah, well. Thank you, sir?" She returns the smile, although her confusion could easily be detected from her voice. She didn't know this man and wasn't even entirely sure whether he was citizen of Panem or another tribute, like her.

But still. She must have manners.

"I do not believe we have met before."

"I can't imagine we have. After all, you got here pretty recently, didn't you?" he asked. Charles preferred to keep up with who was in the arena. It wasn't so much a 'know his enemy' sort of thing, and more of a 'know the other victims' type of thing. He adjusted the book under his arm and offered her his hand. He was making every attempt to be polite in doing so.

"I'm Charles Xavier. I'd say welcome, but as you've probably learned, this place has very complicated politics." That was the understatement of the day.

"Belle." She answers to handshake by giving him her hand, smiling somewhat confused.

"It's very nice to meet you, Charles. Can I ask you how do you know that I'm new?" Sure, her current dress and lost demeanor were the dead giveaway. "Am I that obvious?"

"You're an unfamiliar face," he answered. Of course, that was true, despite his habit of keeping up with things. "It's not too obvious, but new people here always seem a little...out of odds with themselves and their surroundings. There's nothing to be ashamed of." Charles was making every effort to be polite and come off as kind towards her.

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out of the frying pan, into the fire

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sorry for the long wait, was busy from the move, we can keep going or wrap soon, your call

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[D6]

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district 6.

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[ the coffee shop ; ]

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