thecapitol | who are we to be emotional

Entry tags:

who are we to be emotional

WHO| Steph and YOU!
WHAT| Arrival Shenanigans
WHEN| Today after she gets dropped in Panem
WHERE| Training Center, District 8 Suites, Rooftop
WARNINGS| None at the moment!

Training Center

This isn't the first time Stephanie has woken up in a strange place, but it was certainly the first time for a mob of armed guards informing her that she was now apart of a battle royal to the death. She'd insisted that they must be joking, but when they got nasty and threatened violence, she backed off. Contrary to popular belief, she didn't actually enjoy getting beat up. There was also the nagging feeling that something was very wrong with her, she just couldn't place what, which is why she's here in the training center.

It doesn't take long for her to discover that they're somehow blocking the serum in her body. Her punches don't move the sandbags like they used to, and she gets winded so easily that it's alarming. Steph stops the bag from swinging, breathing hard and fast. None of this boded well.

District 8 Suites

The district suites where they dropped her off are ridiculous to say the least. They're huge and gaudy and she can't quite decide if she likes them or not; It's so much space for so few people. She might be biased in that respect, but there's no denying the scale and luxury of it all.

Steph is poking around the common areas and the kitchen, investigating all the bells and whistles. It's not like she has much else to do.

Rooftop

After everything that's happened so far, Steph has wandered to the rooftop for some fresh air. She has to admit that the view of the city is is impressive. It's still a whole different world, hostile and controlling, apparently feeding on death and pain like it's going out of style. It's frustrating to be so powerless in the face of such gross injustices. But none of that means she's about to give up. No, she's just got to come up with a plan of attack. And there's no use rushing headlong into trouble.

Threaded | Flat

He honestly hadn't been coming around to the training center as often as he should be since he'd come back to the capitol, maybe it was that feeling of wanting to relax and pretend he wasn't trapped in a death cycle the few weeks leading to his wedding. But that was silly when another arena might be just around the corner, what with their new attachment to mini-arenas.

So he was down there, practicing with his knives and daggers and making a real mess of the dummies he was training on. He just pretended they were capitol officials and the people behind all of this mess and it became really easy to focus really fast.

Normally, others doing their training went ignored if he didn't know them and a quick glance said he didn't, but when he stopped to take a break and noticed how winded she was, he decided a little socializing wouldn't hurt...besides, it was getting a little too quiet for his liking.

"You should take a break, if you hurt yourself now, you won't be in good shape for the next arena."

He realized after he said it that she might not be in the mood to talk or to even hear advice from another tribute (the more he looked at her, the more he was fairly sure she was new) but he'd already spoken faster than his brain could think, so it was too late now.

Tony was already up on the roof, like a great many people he had taken to the free space well enough, that and it being good and high up didn't at all hurt him as he does sorely miss being up good and high. He made no effort to sit in places that would make him feel more isolated like some tended to do up here. Mostly because when Tony wanted to be alone he knew more than a few ways to cut himself off from the world.

So right now, he's just leaning his arms on the railing as he looks out at the skyline, pretending it's New Yorks. Hearing footsteps he looks over his shoulder at her taking in her overall look and demeanour.

"Looks like you've been hit by the welcome wagon."

Is all he says before he looks back out over the skyline.

Darcy's found that, sometimes, things in the tower get too intense. Emotions run high. People lose their shit over having to share a bathroom with other people. Things are said, objects are thrown, and crazy Russian spies with eyepatches are apparently prone to losing their shit in the most epic of manners.

And when that happens, she grabs the iPod that Steve had liberated during the black out and returned to her and goes up to the roof. She just focuses on being surrounded by her music and the wind and the sight of all the other rooftops and tries to imagine that this is all some bizarre fantasy.

When Darcy sees the blonde, she can't help but stare a little bit. She's new. Or at least Darcy thinks she is. She's never seen her before. And...wow. She's gorgeous. Like, supermodel gorgeous.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Darcy asks one she finally manages to pick her jaw up off the ground.

By now he's long become accustomed to the limitations that they've placed upon his body. His time in the training centre is now dedicated to getting used to those limits, exploring and learning to cope with them so the next time they go into the arena he'll be as deadly as he can be. As he needs to be.

He's tired of failing and the events of the recent arena sit like open wounds on the surface of his mind. Bucky can do better, he will do better. It doesn't matter when they tell him it's 'okay', that he doesn't have too, he's still failing the mission goals and the Soldier's conditioning remains strong enough that he expects punishment for it after.

Or maybe it's not just the asset that feels that way, maybe James Barnes never sat well with failure either.

The metal arm is bare when he works out, his desire to cover it negated by a need not to overheat. Bucky picks up a bunch of small throwing knives, inputs instructions into a computer display to start targets moving at a rapid pace and then begins to throw.

Training is an important part of Gannicus's day - it separated the long evenings of drinking from the long mornings of being hungover. And he's got his work cut out for him: there are so many weapons here from beyond his time, so many skills yet to learn. The gulf between the arenas of his own time and the arenas he has been thrown in to lately has been difficult to cross. But training, learning, absorbing all he can from the strangers and aliens he is forced to call allies - this is his strategy now. This is how he spends his days.

Today it's rock climbing. He's been fighting his way up a wall of shifting pegs and moving blocks all morning and working up enough of a sweat that he's had to roughly tie his hair back in a low ponytail. In a pause between sets he wanders to get a cone of water, bringing him close enough for the blonde at the sandbag to catch his eye.

Gannicus watches work the bag for a few long moments then says:

"You possess good form." He grins appreciatively at her, nodding at the bag. "Should you wish to try your hand against real flesh, I would volunteer my services."

Speaking of ridiculous, Jolie really just adds to the decorum when they drop Stephanie off. She's sitting at the table in a gaudy dress with equally extravagant hair and make up, flicking boredly through a magazine before perking up at the entrance.

She's on her feet immediately, crossing toward Stephanie with a wide, bright smile. "They finally sent me another girl." She chirps, her voice just a little masculine, but not very telling. Her hands clasp together excitedly, taking in the finer details of Stephanie's appearance before it occurs to her that she ought to introduce herself.

"I'm Jolie, by the way. I'll be your stylist- yes, you have a stylist and no it's not optional." Have another smile. "On a scale of one to ten how freaked out are you?"

It's been a few weeks since she'd returned from the arena, but it was now that Astrid was really dedicating herself to training harder. It comes from experience that one learns that anything could happen when you're playing the games and no matter how stronger someone thinks they are, there's always things that could knock you out.

Already an expert with the axe, she begins practicing with other weapons to improve her variety in ability, but decides most of the training should go into making better use of her own body. Setting down the weights, she decides she's done fairly well for the day until she spots another blond across the room who seems to be doing a bit better.

Even if the stranger might believe she's weakened, in Astrid's eyes, it's still a very impressive sight, not often seeing too many girls with that amount of physical strength. She doesn't tend to approach first, but she's curious, walking closer to her without really thinking too much about it.

"That's quite an arm you've got there."

He's been up here a lot, the past few days since he woke up here. It's a lot to get a handle on, and he's always felt most like himself when he's close to the sky.

But he always keeps an eye out for other people up on the roof, since finding out a number of people come up here for similar reasons. So he notices her arrival, and gives her a nod.

"Hey," he greets, tossing her a smile. "Pretty great view for a prison, huh?"

He's been happy this past week. Which is surprising given how long it used to take to recover after arenas. This one especially didn't sit well with him, having killed Jet and then been killed by a diminutive torturer. Instead of focusing on that, or perhaps to avoid it, he's been honed in on the impending wedding. Flowers, guests, music, he's made himself so busy that he hardly has time to think of anything else before he tumbles into bed at night.

Which is why it's inevitable that it all catch up to him eventually. It's not all at once, just little things. Seeing Pruna across the lobby and having to fight down a wave of emotions so mixed they're almost unidentifiable. Mentions on television of the tributes to not return from the arena, Cecil and Fili and so many more. Even talking with Venus recently had taken a turn for the morose. He supposes he felt better after airing some of his dirty laundry, but needing to at all is a weight in and of itself. All these things combined are what brings Albert to the roof in an effort to just breathe for a moment.

He leans against the railing, back to it with the near-silent hum of the force field barely audible to the corners of his hearing. Normally he can't hear the fields at all, but the one on top of the tower he guesses they wanted to make more obvious, a deterrent if anyone wished to jump. Albert drops his spent cigarette to the small collection of butts at his feet and immediately lights another one, glancing up as the tall blonde woman steps out onto the roof among the topiaries. She's familiar somehow, but he can't put his finger on why. Maybe it's just the general aura of 'new tribute'.

"Do you smoke?" He normally doesn't approach strangers out of the blue, but he's been too much in his own head already today and needs an out.

It had become far too obvious to Haruto that he and everyone else were in for a very unpleasant time. And lacking his rings, his belt, and any flicker of his magic, it was also obvious to him that he'd need to learn to compensate for their absence. Without big gaudy chunks of magic rock on his fingers, he could certainly get away with punching things if the situation called for it.

So Stephanie isn't the only person at the punching bags today. But she's doing a lot better of a job than this guy. Who has reasonably good punching form, but no real resistance to punching things built up. He's been grimacing this last while... and then he finally stops, hisses through his clenched teeth, and shakes his now loosely balled hands out. Wizards shouldn't be punching things, apparently.

Suddenly noticing that his partner in practice punches had also stopped, he gives Stephanie a glance. And then his grimace becomes an awkward grin. "...think this'll do us any good?"

For the most part, Iskierka doesn't really bother with the training center. Very few of the things there are made for someone of her generalsize and shape, and so for the most part she simply pokes her head in now and again so that she can say that she has gone somewhat recently, should anyone bother to ask her.

Besides, she figures if she watches long enough maybe she'll get an idea of what the things are for. Enough that maybe she'd be able to make something of them herself. But that's for later, if at all. Right now, it's Stephanie that's the more interesting.

"Surely there are more interesting things to attack?"

Threaded | Flat

Training Center

On ze roof

Rooftop

Training centre

training!

district 8

training center;

Roof!

Another rooftop visitor

Training Center

Training Center