thecapitol | Waiting in the Wings [Open]

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Waiting in the Wings [Open]

Who| Haruto Soma and you!
What| Coping with yet another weird dimensional disruption. Also, with bad donuts.
Where| District 11 suite, and the shopping district
When| Near the end of the arena
Warnings/Notes| None yet. Will edit if necessary.

District 11 Suites

Haruto Soma wasn't happy to have woken up on a cold metal cot, nor did he he like a single word of the explanations given to him as he was marched to a mystery destination. He was going to be put in a game? To the death? It was an honor? What? He was upset and gobsmacked enough about it that he hadn't found the time to get a word in edgewise or even complain about his lack of rings and driver until he'd been tossed in a room full of weapons and gear and made to show off his stuff for some judges. And with that done he was just as hastily picked back up by those 'Peacekeepers' and marched to yet another place, handed a communicator and a credit card, and left to his own devices.

"...huh." So that is why that he is standing in the middle of the District 11 suite looking both slightly stunned and ready for the other shoe to drop. That can't be it. There must be something more waiting to happen. Something worse. He is still in this keyed-up and paranoid frame of mind when he finally unroots himself from the spot and goes exploring this entirely too luxurious place.

Once he finds the kitchen, the exploration comes to a brief stop. He's putting on a pot of coffee and rummaging around for coffee cups and the sugar dish. Coffee will help him calm his nerves and help him think. And once he can think, he can think his way out of this situation, he's sure.

Out in the Capitol - Shopping District

He almost didn't believe it when it turned out that he could leave the Training Center. When it became obvious that there was nowhere to leave to, that even his hedonistic city had its Peackeeper-enforced limits, it diminished his hopeful excitement somewhat. But he'd found a bakery among the shops and restaurants in the shopping district, one that professed to specialize in donuts. Very nice, yes.

A little discussion with the staff over what exactly constituted a 'plain sugar' donut, and he'd swiped his credit card, been handed a bag of half a dozen fresh donuts, and went on his way to find a bench to sit on while he enjoyed his find. He absently fished the first one out and bit into it... and then choked and sputtered and made a noise as though he was dying. It was a donut, but what the hell kind of sugar was it coated in!? It tasted like the unnatural fusion of fried dough and licking a flower-scented air freshener! But he is determined to not spit it out, nor to hurl it up along with his breakfast from earlier in the day. A wizard would never do anything so undignified! So he is bracing himself against the back of the bench with one hand, doubled halfway over, chewing and looking like he has just eaten the worst thing ever.

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A young man in a jacket with a fur collar, his pale blond hair styled into an elaborate pompadour leans against the back of Haruto's bench. "My good man," he says, "no matter what it is that you are eating, if it is making you ill you do not need to eat it. I am informed that an account has been created for me that, if I do but show the small card with my name on, it will allow me to purchase any number of goods and services at many of the local establishments. Come with me and we can seek out more toothsome fare."

Haruto is still choking (and turning slightly red) all the while that the guy with the fancy hair holds forth. "Whhht?" Oh boy. There is some misunderstanding here. He finally chokes down that bite of donut and croaks out a response. "I did buy these! They're not right!" Which is probably not nearly enlightening enough of an explanation, so he offers the bag with the five remaining flower-flavored donuts at the man, eyebrows arching and head bobbing in a 'go on' kind of way. "See for yourself!"

Ringabel takes a donut from the bag and bites into it, frowning as he does so. "I'm afraid it's much too sweet for my tastes. I'm the kind of man who likes things spicy!" He winks at Haruto.

He winked. There was a wink. Alright then. Haruto was just going to casually ignore that. "I'm sure they've got some spicy ones hidden around here somewhere, if that's your thing." He huffs slightly and folds up the bag, having no intention of eating any more of the things. "...so. Who are you?" Probably important to get this clarified as soon as possible. This guy seemed exceedingly at ease with the current goings on.

"They call me Ringabel," the man says, making no motion to finish eating his unwanted donut, "and I was wondering, have you been in this city long enough to find ducks? It occurs to me that we might rid ourselves of the offending pastries and make some feathered friends at the same time."

Haruto takes the man's name in with a nod. "Call me Haruto, then." He looks back over his shoulder upon hearing about the duck idea, rubbing a hand over his mouth. It's an awful idea. Or, wait, is it? "I haven't seen any. There might be pigeons. There might also be rules against feeding the birds." And then he grins, rising smoothly from the bench. "Might as well find out?"

Ringabel grins back. "Whether waterfowl or cityfowl, I'm sure there must be something we can feed. If not pigeons or ducks, perhaps squirrels. In any case, I believe there is a park of good size in this city, some few blocks back."

"To the park, then. If you know where it is, lead the way?" He grabs the bag of donuts, and casts a glance around. A 'few blocks back' could be quite a ways in a city like this.

"It cannot be that bad, can it?"

This particular comment comment comes from somewhere above his left shoulder, and although Iskierka hasn't really tried donuts - and doesn't really know what they are besides - she knows that she hasn't had many problems with the food in the Capitol. It's not really what she's used to eating, but it's not awful. On the other hand, she's pretty clearly not human, should he manage to get things under control long enough to see who's talking to him. In fact, she very neatly manages to hit everything on might expect to see in a dragon (which, in fact, she is, albeit a relatively small one).

Haruto nods vigorously, still trying to choke that bite of dissatisfactory donut down. Though a moment later he turns his head left towards the source of the voice and gives a little jump back along the bench. A dragon? A dragon! It's enough to get him to finally swallow the offending food, because it is suddenly very important that he talk again. "...they're not plain sugar." Yes, good job, Haruto, you are saying very important and also very clear and understandable things.

"Is there more than the one sort?"

To be fair, the idea of sugar at all is something that Iskierka had only really been exposed to after her arrival in Panem. And given that she isn't really terribly picky about what she eats most of the time she hasn't really had much call to stop and think about the various categories things might fall into. On the other hand, she supposes there could at least be more than the one sort.

(Maybe she'll have to try more of things the Capitol has on offer, if she's missed something like this.)

Edited 2014-10-08 08:45 (UTC)

"Yes." He really should elaborate, but he's not even sure where to start. He's been face to face with a dragon before, but it was Dragon, the one inside him, his phantom, not... the real thing. He dares let his eyes dart downwards to the bag of donuts for an instant, but then they're back on her, and he offers it to her slowly, the top open.

"...you can try one, if you'd like." It feels like a bit of his composure and nerve is coming back. He even manages something of a smile. "Although I'm not sure if dragons eat donuts or not."

"I do not see why we couldn't,' Iskierka answers. Sure, she hasn't but it's not as if most of the other things she's tried since arriving in Panem have caused her any significant harm. On the other hand, actually managing to get a donut out of the bag proves to be a little more difficult. True, her foreclaws are of a size much more suited to that sort of thing now than they might have been previously but it still takes her a moment or three to get a donut out of the back.

"Are they all meant to look like this?" she asks, once she finally has. (She may not have spent much time peering into the windows of stores that might have sold them, although she'll never admit it.)

"The only dragon that I've known never let me know his eating habits." He gives a bit of a shrug, there. And when it seems that she's having trouble getting a donut out of the bag, Haruto crinkles it around and pushes up the bottom to get the pastries a little higher and easier to grab at. It's round and covered in sugar and smells both sweet and kind of floral.

"Most of them. Some of them don't have a hole in the middle, and they're filled with something. Some of them have glaze or frosting on them. But the ones I like are just plain, with sugar on them." He absently folds the bag back up while waiting for her to have a bite. Would she like them?

"He must have eaten something," Iskierka comments, wings shifting a little as she says it. That much she knows for certain, although to be fair, she not much aware of the idea of Haruto's dragon being more of a phantom than anything else.

She eyes the donut for a moment longer before taking what is probably an experimental bit, but ends up accounting for a good half or so of the donut. Even a roughly horse-sized dragon has an awful lot of mouth to go around.

"Oh!" she comments, once she managed to actually finish the bite. "It is ever so sweet." Sweeter than anything she's had before, and by the expression on her face and the way she's cautiously eyeing the rest of the donut it's fairly clear that she's not certain she likes it much either. If she wanted to eat sweet flowers she could just as easily go find an actual flower, and surely that would at least not have such a strange texture to it.

"He never struck me as having much of an appetite for anything but fighting." It's said absently while he sets the donut bag down on the bench beside himself. Her reaction to this should be interesting. Did dragons like donuts....?

"That's the idea, donuts are desserts! Or snacks. They're meant to be sweet." Apparently not, if he's reading her expression and tone correctly. He's making an effort to not grin too widely about it, though. "Not your thing, are they?" Then after a brief pause, "What do you prefer to eat?" Please don't say wizards, please don't say wizards...

"Oh. Well, I can hardly fault him for that. It is terribly enjoyable."

It's certainly much more interesting than not fighting is, at the very least, and that's most of what matters, as far as she's concerned. The rest can take care of itself, when and if it should happen.

"I am fond of cow, when I can get it. But everyone here seems to want to call it something else, and I'm not certain why."

"Is that a common dragon hobby? Or just personal preference?" This was getting to be sort of enjoyable, really. He'd never had any particularly friendly chats with Dragon, just a lot of declaring and posturing. This all felt properly wizardy. Or something.

"Beef, you mean? Or something other than that? This place is a little strange... I'm still adjusting."

"That is what everyone here is calling it."

She's not entirely certain what to make of the fact, and has yet to really get used to it, but she's at least aware of the fact that most of the people of Panem are going to be calling it something else. The rest can wait, or at least, she isn't in any sort of hurry to get around to changing what she calls it.

"But back at home I would have been more than big enough to simply have a whole cow."

"Really?" Haruto jolts slightly, visibly surprised. They can bring a dragon here and shrink it? If the people here were capable of that, then sealing up his magic was probably relatively easy. "How... about how big were you? Or, I mean, how big are you supposed to be?"

The exact measurements of how big she'd been aren't something that comes easily to Iskierka. It's not really something people speak of in that sort of terms. But she still knows a few things and perhaps those will remain explanation enough in this case.

"It is only the lightweights that would be this small, and even most of those are larger. I should normally be a heavyweight, although there are some larger."

Thorongil has heard only rumor of what happened to leave the District 11 rooms in such disrepair. Workers -- some mute, some not -- have made the place livable, but not comfortable.

"You seem more familiar with these devices than I," observes the tall man. He's still in a hoodie, jeans, and boots. "What is it you are doing?"

"Huh?" Haruto had been focusing so intently on his search for coffee cups that he hadn't noticed the other man coming into the kitchen. He casts a quick and no small amount suspicious glance over his shoulder, realizes that he's not yet another Peacekeeper, and then smiles. "I'm making coffee. It's the first thing I've been able to do out of my own free will since getting here." And he turns back around for another moment, opens the next cabinet... and ah, mugs. Perfect. He snatches two, because coffee is the sort of thing you share. Especially in a situation like this one. "You want a cup?"

The tall man starts, then breaks into a laugh. "Of all things, I did not expect to find coffee here! That is nigh unheard-of north of the deserts of Harad, save only in the Shire, for they have a taste for it there. I have not had it in nearly twoscore years. Very well!"

He wasn't sure about this young man with the Easterling features, but an offer to share a drink is a point in Haruto's favor.

Haruto is pleasantly surprised by that laughter. And then interested in what else the man has to say, and how he's saying it. Just where's he from, where coffee's hardly known? The past? It's not entirely out of the question in his experience, even without taking the Capitol's scheming into account.

"It's been that long?" He laughs, too, and sets both mugs down on the counter. "I don't think I could go a day without it." And he turns briefly, to snatch up the sugar that he just spotted from the corner of his eye. "...so are you here for 'games', too?" He says it casually, or at least he tries to say it casually... but the smile is out of his eyes. There's something keener there, instead.

The keen glance is not missed.

"I should hope the answer to that question would be obvious," says Thorongil. His body language is easy, his shoulders relaxed, but his own smile becomes as guarded as Haruto's. "I don't think much of the common folk of this land, and I would not be mistaken for one." He thinks the people of the Capitol are silly, foolish, and brutish.

"Oh?" This man's been around a little more than he has, then. Good. He can learn a few things over coffee. "I've met their 'Peacekeepers', and a panel of judges. What are the rest of them like?"

And the coffee maker hisses and rattles, the pot nearly done brewing.

"They are simpering and foolish," says Thorongil ungently. "They speak eagerly of the games to come, and they care for naught but sating their appetites, whether it be for food or for blood."

There is a beat of silence as the coffeemaker rattles; Thorongil decides not to ask about it, since of all the devilish devices in this city it seems the most benign.

"...their manner of dress is also strange," Thorongil goes on. "If it were the clothes only, I could forgive it, for I am sure mine would look strange enough to them. But they are foolish people in foolish clothes, and it angers me that my death will have such lookers-on and gossips, growing fat on the spilt blood of their slaves."

Wow, Thorongil. Tell us how you really feel.

That's not quite the answer that Haruto had been anticipating. His brow furrows, and he looks as though he doesn't quite want to believe it. "You... you mean that everyone is alright with this?" And he indicates 'this' with a gesture around him, ending with a flick of his head towards a nearby window. "With pulling people in from all over, just to watch them die?" But they would be, wouldn't they? In every crazy world he's landed himself in, nearly everyone's been complicit in the craziness. Why would this be any different? His hand drops limply to his side, he stares out that window, briefly unable to pull himself back together. What sort of mess was this, really? And why did he have to be so damn defenseless, too? But the coffee maker giving its last steamy sputter is enough to snap him back into the moment. He turns sharply, and goes to fill both mugs.

"...I'll stop this. If I'm here, then I'm here for a reason. It's a Kamen Rider's job to put an end to things like this."

Kid's got quite the sense of self-importance, it seems.

Thorongil folds his arms. He's touched by the noble sentiment, although he's not sure what a Kamen is or how one rides it, but there is a more pressing concern.

"You are aware we are being watched?"

Proclamations like that had their place, when they would be useful, when they would serve a purpose. His expression is not unsympathetic but it is unforgiving.

That's the question that's on everyone's mind, these days. But it can wait for a little later. Haruto is roughly taking the lid off the sugar bowl and hauling a drawer open to find a spoon when it's pointed out to him that they're under surveillance. The silverware winds up jangling around more than is probably strictly necessary. So it's like that, is it? He fishes out a spoon and closes the drawer none too gently.

"I don't mind being the center of attention." He lifts his head and looks back to Thorongil with a tight smile. "Really... do they expect us to be alright with this? They do. They do, don't they?" So much for the smile. He looks away, and gets to spooning sugar into his coffee.

"Do you take milk? Cream? Sugar? Something else?" Because one, the question does need to be asked, and two, maybe there's some benefit to them talking about less important things for a while.

"I imagine the wiser ones do not," says Thorongil, looking at Haruto sideways. "But they expect us to show wisdom in return, and keep our mouths shut! Harsh punishment, it seems, is dealt out freely here, and needs little provocation."

He takes the cup of coffee Haruto has poured and smells it. No, this coffee needs nothing in it. Where did the Capitol get it? Thorongil wonders as he waits a few moments for it to cool.

Haruto stifles an unhappy snort. "They expect us to play along. That's expecting a lot." After a fourth spoonful of sugar is added to his cup of coffee, he gives it a quick stir and picks it up. It's still too hot to drink, but he takes a sip anyway, grimacing through it. And now, what else is there to say? If they're being watched, he hardly needs to make it any clearer that he doesn't like this and plans to be a bother.

"I don't think I caught your name." Yes, let's go with introductions. He puts a smile back on his face. "I'm Haruto Soma." And then, after a beat, "Also known as Kamen Rider Wizard."

Hey, it's important to tell people these things. Every world he's been to has known about Kamen Riders! This will totally demonstrate that he is a talented individual that totally has the situation under control.

Thorongil blinks, cocking his head and lowering his cup of coffee.

"You do not look like any wizard I have ever seen," he says, looking at Haruto curiously. "Nor have I heard of your kamen beasts. Yet to be counted among their riders must be a position of high honor." That is his guess, from hearing Haruto speak of it: it sounds like the Kamen Riders are an order of knights, who go about on their steeds righting wrongs and fighting injustice. Therefore, a kamen must be some kind of fantastic beast.

"I'm told I'm not like most wizards." He's heard commentary to that effect before, and it's still more amusing than anything else. It's the rest that sets off a look of confusion on his face, for this is the first time that he's run smack dab into the finicky tendencies of language translation around here.

"No, wait, wait..." He holds a hand up, as if that might possibly help. "I'm a masked rider. It means mask! How..." His face scrunches up, the confusing having reached some sort of peak, and he simply gives up and takes another drink of coffee. It helps him focus on the rest of what was said, and properly reflect on it. "It... it is an honor." Then, quickly, leaving that moment of unexpected humility behind, "You haven't heard of any others being here?"

"I have not," he replies, "though I have only been here a few days. It may be that others of your order are here, and that I simply have not met them."

A masked rider. That doesn't make any more or less sense to Thorongil, though he does wonder what purpose the masks serve. A mask usually hides one's identity, but Haruto has been more than open with his.

"My name is Thorongil. Before I came here I was a wanderer, and before that a soldier."

"I'll need to look. When there's one of us, more are rarely far behind." It's a reassuring thought, that he wasn't likely to be alone in this mess. Not that he wasn't handling it just fine so far, but...

"So, a soldier and a wizard? I guess we're sort of appropriate people to be throwing into that arena." He grins a bit before taking another drink of really, really good coffee. (Seriously, how does a situation this bad manage to have coffee this good?)

"Less inappropriate, maybe, than some others who have been chosen," says Thorongil darkly, glancing to the side over his cup of coffee, thinking of Clementine. "Some of those we have been told to fight are but children."

Haruto almost snorts some of that really, really good coffee out his nose. "What?!" He quickly lowers the cup and steps away, feeling around for some paper towel or something, because he just made a bit of a mess in all of his shock. "Children? They're stealing children and making them fight?!"

"Indeed." His eyes are hard and his face is grim. "I have spoken with one and glimpsed more. Many who have been brought here are young. Too young," he says, thinking of the minutes he had taken to look through the Tribute roster. There were but few children, mercifully, but many were no older than seventeen or eighteen. Those were little better than children; they should not be here, he thinks.

Thorongil had done a good job in mellowing Haruto out from doing anything too immediately idiotic, thus far. But this was just too much for him to sit back and accept. He tears some paper towel from a nearby dispenser, quickly wipes up the bit of coffee that he's spilled, and throws the wadded up remainder into the garbage with an absently easy toss. "I'm not fighting children." His next drink of coffee is hasty and almost sloppy, threatening to splash more of the stuff around, and he's already absently angling himself towards the kitchen's exit. "Of all the things, why..."

"Then don't."

Thorongil's words are brisk, simple, clear.

"They may have brought us here against our will, and may be capable of keeping us here, but they cannot force us to fight -- not unless they have some other devilry that takes our will from us."

"I don't plan on it." And now he's feeling too worked up for coffee, or even to continue this conversation. If he doesn't get out of here and get some air, he's not sure what he's going to do. He sets his coffee cup down and starts on his way out of the kitchen.

"Let's see them try and keep me in here." Hey. He's still new. Can you blame him for wanting to test the limits of his prison?

Thorongil takes a deep breath, steps forward to try to stop him, to say something--

"We are in another world!" he calls after Haruto. "Even if you escape the city, there is nowhere you can go!"

He lets the rest of his breath out in a sigh, and drops his hand. It is not that Thorongil is arguing passive acceptance. He is arguing fighting smart. But they are being watched, and there are limits to what he can say, and he does not think he could keep Haruto in the room.

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Waiting in the Wings [Open]

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