thecapitol | ( open ) back & forth until the end

Entry tags:

( open ) back & forth until the end

also respond in prose or brackets, idc, i'll match your format.

[ he still has a hard time accepting that he's in another world entirely, but.. there's no denying that this isn't mount doom or any part of middle earth he's ever been in before. and aragorn--thorongil, he must remember to call him thorongil, even in his thoughts--seems certain. that's always been good enough for frodo before.

he's starting to regain a little of his strength, now. his uncle and thorongil have been urging him to eat a little more, and though he still has very little appetite, it's.. helping (and his uncle could stand to listen to his own advice). he hates that his condition is a concern for someone like thorongil, who has so many more important things to consider and to do. and though he's very grateful, as always, for his friendship and his protection, frodo has begun to long for the outside. he needs.. he needs to see the outside again. the sun, stars. trees. running water. and though he knows that this place is very different from home, he needs to see it.

any distraction, he hopes, will help. perhaps if he's exploring this city, he can drown out the ring's call and influence. (it's out there, he knows, he feels it.)

he'd dressed this morning in clothing as close to what he's accustomed to as possible (feet bare as usual), and had left with separate notes for his uncle and thorongil if they came looking for him. --outside, it had been a little frightening, a little overwhelming at first, and he still tires easily.. but at least there are benches to rest on when he wearies of trying not to be stepped on by curious big folk.

at any point throughout the day, then, one might find a small hobbit perched on a bench watching pedestrian traffic, or up on his toes to look into shop windows, or struggling to make his way through a city full of people twice his size. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Megan was experiencing some of the same struggles as Frodo, though she didn't realize it. After a few days spent throwing a massive tantrum in her new bedroom, she'd more or less come to accept the circumstances of her new situation. She wasn't happy about any of it. In fact, one might even say she was enraged about it. But the others she'd met in the District One suite seemed emphatic that she had to come to terms with what was happening to her. The threats of the Capitol seemed vague and abstract still, but she didn't exactly feel the need to test them.

She did however feel the need to test the assertion that her powers no longer worked. Indeed, every time she spread her wings and tried to fly, her feet stayed flat on the ground. No matter how she tried, she couldn't get airborne. It was a travesty if ever there was one, and Megan felt like wailing as a result.

But she was a big kid, and as such, she opted to take her frustrations out as she stomped around outside of the Tribute Center. A petite girl with pink hair, black eyes, elf ears, and a set of insect wings growing out of her back was sure to get a fair amount of attention. People were gawking at her, taking out their phones to snap photos, pointing and whispering to each other. She wanted to scream at them, all of them. And she was about to do just that when she spotted the short little fellow on the bench nearby. He had pointy ears too. Hm. A kindred soul, perhaps? Someone else who knew the misery of being different?]

Hey, you! Yeah, you! Hello!

[She was looking right at Frodo, thick Welsh accent coloring her words. Smiling, she waved at him.]

Hey! I like your ears.

[ much to his embarrassment, he finds himself staring a little, himself. my, what bright hair. he colours when she calls out to him, though, eyes widening, a hand going self-consciously to his ear. but.. hers are basically the same shape. still, she's no hobbit, and with those wings, she's no elf or human, either. he has no idea how to classify her.

puzzled and still a little flustered, he lifts his hand away to wave in return. ]

.. Oh, um. Thank you. [ feet dangling, he crosses his ankles, trying to ignore the attention that turns back to him. he keeps trying to tell himself it's no different from home. most people have never seen a hobbit, just as.. he supposes most people have never seen a young woman with wings. ] You-- You must be new, too? [ a guess, but she doesn't seem to be accustomed to the interest from the locals, either. ]

[In spite of her better judgement, Megan smile gets bigger, and she nods as she approaches the hobbit. In a second, she felt more at ease. As they are fond of saying, misery loves company, and at her core, Megan is anything but miserable.]

I guess so. Isn't it weird how this is apparently a thing here? Being new to the murder-opolis, or whatever it is they call this place again?

[She shakes her head, and is, for the moment, content to ignore the passersby.]

I'm Megan. What's your name?

[ he fidgets a little shyly as she approaches, but offers a small smile in return, trying very hard not to sneak glances at her wings. it isn't polite, and she'd seemed bothered by people staring. ]

I thought it was simply called the Capitol. I've never been in a place like this before, though, I must admit. My-- My world seems so much simpler.

[ at the introduction, he dips his chin in a polite nod. ] Frodo Baggins. It's very nice to meet you, Lady Megan.

[Megan's about to comment on the Capitol basically being a murder-opolis when his name gives her pause.]

Frodo Baggins?

[She blinks quickly, hands clapping together.]

Is that your real name? Is it really?

[ he blinks, then offers a hesitant nod. ] Yes, it is. Frodo Baggins, originally of the Shire.

[ is she one of the ones aragorn had mentioned, who've read his uncle's book? goodness, but it's strange to think of. and she doesn't look like someone from his world. is there a copy in this world, then? ]

[Oh, but she can hardly contain her excitement! A hobbit? A real live hobbit?! With fuzzy feet and all! What were the odds of that happening, especially in a weird cross-universal totalitarian government complete with death tournaments?]

That's fantastic! It really is! Won't you tell me about the Shire sometime? I'm picturing someplace completely peaceful and lovely, someplace a lot like Wales!

Even though Tony's prison cuff and frozen assets have made life kind of irritating for him, he can't deny that his charm is still in full effect at the smoothie bar he found before he decided to break people out of jail and still manages to score free drinks there just by not being a dick and chatting helping out a little.

With a berry concoction obtained Tony starts heading back to the tribute tower, and then that's when he sees the Hobbit on his toes peering into a window, his large hairy bare feet doesn't escape Tony's notice either. Tony glances around for a moment to look at the others around the area, he has a thought in his head and just can't tell from surrounding evidence if he's right, one of the downsides to everyone in the capitol dressed up in some of the strangest fashions.

"So, are we just that eager for Halloween?"

He takes a sip of his smoothie as he stands behind the halfling.

At first, Frodo has no idea that he's being spoken to. As he finishes watching the Big Folk in the store, though, and drops back down on his heels, he turns-- only to startle, a hand clutching his chest in fright at the Man so close and watching him. Honestly, he hardly has reason to be so jumpy here. It isn't as if orcs lurk around every corner, and a Man is certainly less intimidating than that. Generally speaking.

"Goodness, you gave me a fright." A pause, then, realizing that he'd been asked a question, and puzzling over it. "Begging your pardon, but I'm not certain I understand the reference. What is 'Halloween'?"

One more strange thing about this world, perhaps, though he's not certain he understands how it pertains to him.

Tony just drinks more as he raises his eyebrow when he's told he managed to frighten the kid. Because really, no one should be so jumpy that he causes someone to be startled.

"Huh."

Is all he says initially as he takes a moment to savour what he drank, licking his lips idly before answering.

"It's called a heap of different things in my world, so I guess it might not be called that elsewhere. You know, you dress up like a fictional character or a witch or something and beg candy off people or threaten to egg their house. Has a whole chant, everything. Even an actual meaning behind that no one cares about these days. Or, you know you're just cosplaying."

With him facing Tony now, he has a better look at what he's wearing, and he pays special attention to the feet.

"You know, that's some really well done feet. Let me guess, silicone and a textured paint?"

Well, that made.. very little sense to Frodo. And he has about fifty things that he'd like to ask about it. Why dress up as something else and beg for candies? And what's cosplaying? And what in the world is he talking about regarding his feet?

He follows the stranger's gaze down to said feet, his toes curling a little self-consciously against the pavement. While he's accustomed to being a bit of a novelty among Men and especially in this world, the close attention is a little uncomfortable.

"My feet certainly aren't painted," he offers cautiously, hands clasping together loosely as he glances back up. ".. They're just dirty. I've been walking a lot today."

He pulls the drink away from his mouth to take a proper look at his feet, looking harder he really couldn't tell if there were seams or not and then frowns.

"So what you're saying is that wherever you go brought here from you come from some kind of Hobbit people?"

There was a weird thing about Tony, he has no problem with the existence of tribbles, dragons, or female versions of his friends. However for some reason actual hobbits being here is weird to him.

"Well.. yes." He blinks up at the stranger, brows drawing together, puzzled both by the knowledge of his species and the disbelief. If he's read Bilbo's book, then shouldn't he be from the same world?

Still, there's no need not to be polite, so he offers a short, still cautious bow, straightening again and clasping his hands loosely to keep them from any nervous gestures. Maybe this outing had been a bad idea so soon after being brought from Mordor.

".. My name is Frodo. Frodo Baggins, originally from Hobbiton in the Shire." He wishes he'd known earlier to start using a different name, but now it seems a little pointless to call himself anything else.

At the introduction Tony's face goes blank.

So, not Hobbit-like at all, but in fact very actual-Hobbit.

"Huh."

Is all he says in reaction to that, taking another drink. Before remembering normal people have manners and Frodo did bow and all, so he holds out his hand in an offer to shake it.

"Tony Stark, New York City, New York." He pauses. "Know any Oompa Loompas? Wait, never mind probably not really."

Yeah he really never expected to meet anyone from a Tolkien novel, he doesn't know why this was something unexpected to him, but then movies or not, Tony never really saw the big deal about the stories so elected to just not pay that much attention.

He blinks at the gesture, peering at Tony's hand for a few moments before seeming to understand the gesture. Taking the larger palm in his, he glances back up again, head tilting faintly.

"Oompa Loompas? What are those?" A slightly puzzled moment, but then he seems to shake himself of it. "It's very nice to meet you, Master Stark. Is New York someplace in this world, perhaps..?" He's still adjusting to this other-worlds thing.

"They're like you but orange. Sing more too."

He answers without even a thought behind it as he shakes Frodo's hand before sticking the hand back in his pockets.

"Uh, no. It's from my own world. It's dirtier than here. but I like it more, it's got more character and more interesting crazy people. Also hot dogs."

Tony is probably only confusing Frodo more, but really, Tony's been confusing people his whole life so it just doesn't register to him anymore that he's like that.

Punchy's obliviousness is selective. He can't take a hint to save his life, and quite often the subtleties of socializing completely elude him, leaving him to act a fool with no awareness of exactly how he appears to others. His worldview can be described as a satellite in tight orbit around his own ego, taking photographs of the planet it circles.

However, he likes to think he has a sixth sense for people he can help. When he sees a small person - almost a child, he first thinks, and where are the parents? - trying to get through a tight throng of shoppers on one of the busier streets, it's instinct to squeeze and jostle through these costumed Capitolites and try to protect the little guy from getting trampled.

"Yo, homes, need a boost?" Punchy crouches down, big grin and not a trace of hesitation at the idea of giving the little guy a piggyback ride. His face is smattered with freckles, and his clothing is many-layered and has at least three popped collars.

Frodo actually jumps a little as someone situates themselves in front of him, keeping him from being knocked over or stepped on. This is certainly one of the Big Folk, though he thinks he's young, given that he seems to be entirely beardless (beards and not-beards are puzzling for a Hobbit, given that they don't grow them). Though he supposes he might shave? Folk from other worlds certainly make all this very complicated.

"I-- I'm sorry, a boost?" He offers a small, slightly shy smile, though, toes curling against the pavement. "I think I'm all right. It's just-- goodness, it's very apparent that these people are not at all accustomed to small folk."

Punchy actually looks disappointed that he's not going to be able to give the sickly little guy a ride. It takes the wind out of his sails, so to speak. He would have liked to imagine himself a valiant savor instead of just a nosy would-be hero.

"You sure? Peeps is gonna be stepping on those big-ass feets of yours."

Still, Punchy keeps himself positioned between the flow of the crowd and Frodo, a big brightly-colored blockade. Shoppers move around him like water around a river rock. "Peeps here's more used to towering high in their stripper heels than short shits like you."

It's been a few weeks since Thor's embarrassing defeat in the Arena and his temper has started to ease some. Some. An iota, perhaps. He loathes it here, but everyone does. There's no reason for him to inflict a foul mood on anyone when they are as trapped as he is. Save for a few people, of course..

In the mornings, when curfew ends, he embarks on long walks to ease his frustrations. He's making his way back to the tower now with a flavoured latte. Pumpkin, they had told him. He finds it eases the frustration some, so he had left the cafe with two. He doesn't even need to worry if he'll want it enough to drink it, it is delicious.

He spies Frodo on his bench as he's walking and it isn't hard to surmise a few things just from a glance. He's not from here, he's tiny and, more importantly, he's new here. Both are terrible things to be, Thor thinks, so he invites himself to sit beside him. "Are you new among us?" He asks, seeking clarification for the sake of being polite.

He hadn't been looking, really, letting himself people-watch another street (what strange clothing these people seem to wear), so the sound of a voice so close earns a startled glance. His gaze lifts when he realizes this person's face isn't where he expected it to be, eyes going very wide in his small face. Goodness, but this is a very big person. A Man, perhaps? No Elf, given the beard and rounded ears, but he's not nearly as scruffy looking as Aragorn.

"I-- I am, yes," he admits with a hesitant smile, hands twisting together in his lap. "I just arrived a few days ago." A pause, then he offers a polite nod. "My name is Frodo. Frodo Baggins. It's very nice to meet you." He hopes it'll be nice, anyway. He's really not up to running from anyone right now.

Likewise, Thor has trouble placing Frodo. He doesn't really seem Midgardian. He's certainly no Asgardian, but he feels as if they may be more alike than some others here. A strange thought, given the apparent size difference.

His smile fades some when he affirms what he had worried would be true. He feels great sympathy for anyone brought here, but he's aware that a simple offer of help is more than enough to put some at ease.

"Thor Odinson." He gives his name in turn. "I wish I could call it a pleasure, Frodo, but it is not nice to be here." He won't sugarcoat that much, but he will extend the spare latte toward him. "But there is some good in any bad situation."

[Honestly, if he hadn't met a hobbit the other day and Aragorn before that, there is no way Steve could jump to the conclusion he's about to, but, yep, he's looking at another Hobbit. The other had much lighter hair, so he knows the Capitol managed to grab someone else too.

Hobbits were much too kind of a place like this. They didn't belong here, but really, Steve felt that way about everyone, especially kids.

Steve is already making his way over to the window shopper before he realizes it, taking a look at what's in the window himself. There's all manner of weird and colorful trinkets on display, most of which Steve isn't sure the purpose of.]

They're interesting to look at, I'll give them that, but I have no idea what they do. [Steve turns slightly to look at Frodo, in case the Hobbit wasn't sure he was addressing him. He minds how much he turns though, keeping the disfiguring brand on his right cheek from direct view.]

[ he doesn't quite jump as he's addressed, but he does give a wary glance up. in truth, after the journey he's had, he really should be accustomed to big folk, especially humans. on the other hand, after what had happened with boromir, and then faramir's men and those working for the dark lord--and now, brought to this strange place--well, it's hard not to be a little bit distrustful. after all, he's a hobbit, and they even took sting-- defending himself would be a little difficult if someone were to try to hurt him.

still, this man looks nice enough, clean and neat and polite, and there's nothing dark or cruel in his gaze, when he lifts his own to meet it. blushing a little, he curls hands in the hem of his shirt, offering a small smile. ]

I cannot say that I know more than you. I've simply.. never seen a city like this. Even Rivendell cannot compare. [ not, he supposes, that he can really compare lord elrond's domain to a human city. but even so, this is an enormous and alien place.

with a blink, he seems to recall that not everyone would know of rivendell, and clears his throat. ] .. Ah.. Rivendell is a place where I am from. It's an elven city, very old and very lovely.

[Hearing someone speak of Rivendell like it's real is an interesting experience for Steve, very surreal. He's fully aware he's fictional in other universes too, but this is a level of odd for Steve that is difficult to not find hard to believe. Even if this isn't his first time dealing with it.

He gives the Hobbit a slightly abashed smile.] I actually know about Rivendell, though I've only read about it.

Have to say, it always sounded beautiful. This place is more- [he casts a look around] -overwhelming.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( open ) back & forth until the end

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Around the shopping district

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Tagging in with prose, hope you don't mind?

not at all, sorry for the lateness!!

no worries! I am slow with this character

late i hope this is okay

yes, yes it totally is

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject