thecapitol | climbing up the walls

Entry tags:

climbing up the walls

Who| Nill and YOU
What| Nill has a full pass! She's going around seeing if anyone needs anything. Also training and hanging out on the rooftop later.
Where| Literally every district suite in the tower, and then later the training center and rooftop.
When| a few days after the start of curfew, throughout the night after 11pm.
Warnings/Notes| smoking? will add more as needed.

(a.)

Hello, tower residents! It's well past the start of curfew, but if you're paying attention, you might hear the telltale ding of the elevators stopping at your floor. Anyone curious enough to investigate will find a young blond-haired woman with wings stepping off, and though she doesn't look entirely comfortable with intruding the way she is, she nonetheless seems friendly. She steps over to near the entrance of the actual suite, though she doesn't go inside any further, and raps her knuckles against the wall a few times, to make sure that if anyone is there, she has their attention.

If someone actually comes out then Nill puts on her most polite smile, and she holds up a notepad, a message already written out on it.

hello.
my name is Nill.
I have a full pass, so I can go out at night.
if there is anything you need I would be happy to get it for you.

It certainly looks like she means it, too. Her demeanor is nothing but gentle and kind, if a bit uncertain of the method she's using.

As or District 9, Nill probably won't be around too much tonight, but she left a note on the fridge, informing her suitemates that if they want anything after curfew they're free to ask her to get it for them. There's a tiny doodle on the corner of the page of a person with a dress and wings, for anyone who doesn't know her by name yet.

(b.) 4 - 5am, training center.

Anyone who's either got a pass of their own, or is just ignoring the curfew for the evening, will see a rare site if they wander into the training center: at one of the corner stations, there's one young woman, dressed in clothes that would obviously be good for training just about anything. That part isn't so unusual.

The unusual part is that she's practicing with weapons.

If you've been in the training center before this point, then chances are you've seen Nill at some point or another. She's there every day, practicing with almost everything available to her, but she never, ever touches the weapons. Up until now she's always stayed at the smaller stations, practicing knots, learning which things are or are not safe to eat, figuring out how to do camouflage. But tonight (this morning) she's working on training with weapons, and she stops at almost every station, trying every single thing available to her.

At first glance, it might even seem like she's bad with them.

(c.) 6am, rooftop.

An hour before the end of curfew, Nill has found herself on the rooftop, looking at the stars before it gets too bright out for her to see them terribly well. Right now the sky is still dark, and Nill sits on a bench near some of the plants, relaxed and almost close to content. She has a flashlight and a book, open in her lap, and she frequently switches from looking at the sky to using the flashlight to look at the book in her lap.

A lit cigarette dangles from between her lips, but she doesn't actually seem to inhale from it very often, instead just letting the smoke rise around her.

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She'll get used to it. Nill is usually pretty good at picking up whatever quirks people might have and accommodating them as needed. She had watched bits and pieces of his game since their network conversation, and she'll probably watch an interview, if only to make sure that his game didn't damage his abilities irreparably.

(Nill really, really likes Clementine.)

She understands the acceptance for what it is, and a small, warm smile spreads across her face.

it's the best place I have found so far.
I don't mind sharing it.

As quirks go, Linden is an individual with many, too many to put most people entirely at ease. If anything can be said for him, though, it's that he's consistent, and anyone who takes comfort in consistency will grow to appreciate that his tics are quite predictable.

As for whether his abilities are damaged beyond repair... he was quicker then, sharper, clever and cocky and full of wiry, tenacious life. Now, he's still clever, and sharp sometimes, but his vitality has faded. That will to live isn't as strong. There's a sense that he's frost-touched, maybe too deep to ever completely heal, but talking to him for a certain amount of time should assuage any fears that he is not competent. That much, at least, he can still do, and Clementine is far from in bad hands.

Linden's first cigarette is burning low. He takes one last drag, discarding the butt and lighting his second smoke with much steadier hands.

"So. You haven't always been mute. How did it happen?"

A jarring subject change, maybe, but some of Linden's famous tenacity absolutely remains.

As far as Nill can tell, the subject change is actually a good sign. For whatever the drugs have done to his body, his mind is at least still pretty intact, which is about the most you can hope for when it comes to people who have been addicts for a very long time. Her smile flickers slightly, and she reaches to take the lighter from him, so she can put her own cigarette in the ashtray cup and light another one. Even as she does she sets the pack between them, in case he decides he'd like a third.

She smokes it quietly, and glances around. There are surely video cameras up here, and someone will probably see it eventually, but there's not a lot she can do about it. For all she knows they might already know about it already, but the instinct to conceal most things is one ingrained deep.

Nill writes out a response, her handwriting smaller this time, on the off chance that it might actually help. She doesn't believe it will, but the attempt can't hurt.

if you look like I do in my world, you're not the same kind of human as other people.
they like to make sure you know that.

As if to illustrate the point, she flutters her wings again, a slow movement this time, hopefully one that won't make him too twitchy again.

He eyes the cigarette shiftily, as if entertaining the notion of grabbing a couple more just to ensure that he has something to get him through the next little while. Withdrawal begs for any small distraction and he feels he could benefit from even the indulgence of a comparatively weak addiction to take his mind off it. For now, he refrains.

He squints to see that lettering, smaller and more cramped than what she's been using for script so far. Linden thinks he can guess why; the President has eyes and ears everywhere, and he's had plenty of time to come to terms with that and adjust his life accordingly.

"So this was done to you? Like an Avox?"

He keeps his voice low, too, hoping that whatever is picking them up won't be able to discern the movement of his lips or the words coming out of them.

yes.
they take different things from different people. it's not always a voice.
I was very young. I don't remember what talking is like.

If nothing else, she's grateful that he seems to understand her sentiment of not wanting it to be something that gets out very much. God knows the Capitol would just do it to further her image and might use the knowledge against her, or think of it as indicative of anti-Capitol sentiment. All things she's been trying her damnedest to avoid. It seems the best key to survival here is to stay as far under the radar as possible. It won't last, but it wasn't going to stop her from taking advantage of it while she could.

"How do they determine what to take from someone? And why? By 'different', do you mean 'rebels?'"

He's sure to keep his voice down when he asks, considering the subject matter they are broaching is very risky. He knows and recognizes it.

Nill's eyes widen a little, just barely, but otherwise she doesn't outwardly react to the statement. Instead she feigns curiosity, and tries her best to look like what she writes down has a question on it.

I don't know.
no. people with physical attributes like mine.
some have horns. some look a little like dogs or boars.
we're descendants of what they created. it's to make us less human than they are.

[Linden's experience with this, primarily, is with Avoxes. He knows that's what became of his parents, and it bothers him on a deep level to know that they're considered less than even the poorest District 6 or 12 street dweller.]

They tell us from the time we were very young that things like that happened in the Dark Days. Before the Peace. I'm not old enough to remember if it's true or not... but it sounds unfortunate.

[It sounds like a very hard way to live. Her expression remains curious, but equally concerned.

What a way to grow up. She's not sure how old Linden is, but she starting to get the general idea that this world, for how awful it is and for its flaws, is where he actually comes from. She doesn't have a lot of experience with that. She's never trusted any natives, not really.

But what is there to lose right now? There's no one here that she loves anyway.]

it is.
when they made people like me it was the gold days.

[She's never really considered it before, but maybe this world is hers, further down the line. At a point where they could say they helped, and people actually believed them. But whatever she was from, it certainly wasn't considered the Dark Days.]

tell me something you like. anything. act like I asked you.

[Linden's age is difficult to pin down. Like many Morphling addicts, strange things have happened to his skin and eyes. Like many former Victors, he's old and jaded beyond his years in some ways, and stunted in others. He could be in his late teens or his late twenties; looking up his Games will reveal that he is 27 years old.

Her request surprises him, and he's momentarily stunned. She did ask him, so acting like she did won't be too difficult. What will be difficult is coming up with something he likes.

"Morphling" is the first thing that comes to mind, the obvious, the thing he's living for now. The second are Avoxes, technically true but kind of a taboo to admit to. He flounders for a second, but then the choice is clear. Once it occurs to him, it's impossible to think of anything else.]

Um.

[A broken laugh escapes him.]

Scorpii Cronen. I liked Scorpii, who's... well, he's a person I killed, but I really liked him. I think we understood each other in a lot of ways and we would have been friends if we'd met under different circumstances. I think about him a lot. Sometimes I wish he'd won instead, just so he could think about me.

[She remembers seeing Scorpii in the footage. Truth be told, she hadn't watched the whole thing - it would take too long. There was a lot she needed to go back and rewatch, preferably not when it was moving at ten times the normal speed, but she's fairly certain most people in Panem saw the final fight between Scorpii and Linden in the Arena.

Nill watches Linden for a long moment, her expression a little sad, before she nods. She writes it down, and then carefully pulls the page out of her notepad, folding it and tucking it neatly into a pocket. Easier to dispose of later. No evidence of the conversation, so long as the Capitol didn't overhear it.

The next page is blank though, and the conversation isn't done, even if she's deemed the more dangerous parts over.]

sometimes by remembering people we keep them alive.

[Everyone who has seen Scorpii remembers him; boyish and slender, with deep gold eyes and a fringe of light brown hair. Handsome and charming, he had slain in his interviews and was a Capitol favorite from the starting gate. Most women, and quite a few men, were in love with the 18-year-old Career from District 2.

Linden, of course, has to struggle to remember past the searing hatred in the man's eyes as the life drained from them. It had been excellently dramatic, of course, many Capitol citizens had told him later that they'd been holding their breaths the whole time, waiting to see who would die of their mortal wound first. He has trouble remembering the time after his victory, too, but he knows that this was a common sentiment.

He watches Nill fold and conceal the evidence of the conversation; smart. He can appreciate that. Though part of him looks like he'd rather not, his dark eyes skim over the next part of what's been written.]

Sometimes.

[He will agree that much, at least, but a light has gone out behind his eyes. He is still in mourning, after over a decade.]

In my memory, he's always dying, faster than me. My dreams, too. There aren't a lot of ways to get away from it...

[Morphling is the obvious one. His hands are shaking again, and he reaches for another cigarette, claiming it even though he hasn't finished his current one.]

[Not hard to see why Linden had turned to the drugs eventually. It might have been a choice, and it might have been something they pushed on him, but eventually dealing with the shakes when he was off the drugs was an easier way to cope than to not being on them at all.

Perhaps with some level of empathy, Nill lifts the lighter for him and flicks it on, holding it steady so that if he wants he can start smoking them both. This, perhaps better than the addiction, is something she understands. Her mourning hasn't been for nearly as long since it started, but she wasn't over it. Just gained more to mourn. It had gotten her killed eventually.

Even as she holds the lighter, she writes with her other hand, puffing quietly from her cigarette.]

it keeps them alive.
it doesn't do that for the people remembering them.

[The way it started doesn't really matter, truly; the fact is that he's dependent on Morphling now, and has no immediate desire not to be. It melts pain and dissipates fear and anger, and Linden has so many horrors to unravel that resting his head on a tattered cloud feels like a very logical solution.

He sets the waning cigarette aside, placing the fresh one in his mouth and leaning toward the flame, igniting the end, clearly glad to smoke both at once.]

So...

[The only light in his eyes is the brief reflection of the cigarette's burning tip as he inhales.]

Whose memory is killing you?

[You know my secret; all of Panem knows. It's only fair.]

[If it were under better circumstances, she might tell him. The name can't be used against her anymore like it might have been in the past; unlike a lot of people that come and go in places like this Nill is sure, beyond any shadow of doubt, that for all the people that can be brought back, he's not one of them. Not anymore.

But there are other people who are gone that they might, who they could use against her or just hurt because she had loved them, and though they're dead they might still be brought back. It's not something she can risk, even if it's for someone that might need to see it.

A very slight smile tugs her lips upward as she sets the lighter aside, but there's no warmth in the expression, more a caricature of something real than anything else. Hollow. It sits well-practiced on her face.]

it already killed me.

[Not like she can hide that from the Capitol. They're the ones that brought her back.]

[He's more familiar with that expression than he would like to admit. The emptiness, the practiced, placid quality... it stares back at him from mirrors, when he can stand to look at the wasted ruin he's turned himself into.]

You died in the Arena and came back? I'm still trying to decide if that's better or worse than what we had before. Remembering death can't be good for a person.

[She doesn't need to employ it often, but she's finding that it's a useful skill to have in a place like this. Excellent for interviews that she can't manage otherwise.

Nill rolls her cigarette idly between her fingers, looking down at the ashes that fall from it while she considers what to say next. She doesn't particularly want to lie to him, but there's only so much she can say before the Capitol realizes they know significantly less about her than they might think they do. Right now she's banking on them just knowing the circumstances of her death, though of course there's no way to be sure of that. Still, it never hurts to be careful.

She settles.]

it's complicated.
I died somewhere else and I woke up here.
they healed everything.

They have no problem bringing some people back. I wonder why others pose such a problem.

[He's thinking of past fallen Tributes, and one in particular. He tries not to sound too bitter; it's not Nill's fault, and it would be cruel to imply that he blames her.]

It sounds complicated. Are you at liberty to say anything more about it?

[He keeps his voice down, but he'll understand if she can't. If she has a shred of privacy from the Capitol's predatory grip, she should be able to keep it.]

[If his bitterness bothers her, however mild, then it doesn't show. Truth be told, Nill is bitter about it too. She's seen places like this bring back monsters, and then never bring back people who were loved and missed. There's no discernible pattern. There's only the assumptions that she can make when it doesn't seem worth it to try to make things sound even remotely good.

Today's not one of those days. She shrugs her shoulders, wings moving with the shrug, before a very tiny smile spreads across her face, soft and barely there, but not the hollowed out thing from earlier.]

it's too much right now. I'm sorry.

[Anyone who was fond of romanticizing things, like the media around here was from time to time, could easily take it to mean that it's not something she's up to talking about right now. Especially if the Capitol is aware that she died after getting a loved one killed. The truth is that it's just too dangerous a risk for her to take. She figures if he needs to then Linden will get it.]

[He glances at the paper and doesn't seem surprised by her answer.]

Don't apologize to me for anything. I understand. Thank you for your honesty, and for not permitting me to make a fool of myself by pushing you beyond your comfort.

[There. It makes it all about them. The Capitol should not find it especially suspicious.]

[It's not often that Nill can easily walk away from a conversation these days without a great deal of worry that it's going to come back to get her in the throat later, but for once she's fairly confident that they managed to do a good job of it. If nothing else, hopefully if anyone got in trouble for this one, it wouldn't be him.]

thank you for understanding.

[She looks upward briefly, and the sky has begun to brighten - the stars are already significantly harder to see, and the other Tributes will probably be up soon. Nill pushes the pack of cigarettes towards him again, and sets the lighter on top of it.]

it's getting late. I should go.
keep the pack.
you can hold on to the lighter for now.

[It's another gentle invitation, additional encouragement. She wants to reinforce that the offer before wasn't just a courtesy, and that he's more than welcome if he wants.]

[He nods amicably enough. A naturally inquisitive soul, it leaves him with a certain amount of unrest to go without satisfying his curiosity, but he can overcome it, suppress it, keep it from ruining what he's sensing is a promising... friendship? Is that word all right to use? It's certainly positive and warm, and though Linden doesn't customarily keep friends, he's glad to let the word fill the space that Nill's existence has created.]

If you're sure... they'll definitely get smoked, if you leave them with me.

[Accepting the cigarettes and lighter are a no-brainer. They'll ease the pain that comes with being off Morphling for the next few hours, help take his mind off the difficulty that comes with living off it.]

Take care, Nill.

[She smiles, before going about collecting her things in an easy-to-carry pile. Two books, the flashlight, nthe makeshift ashtray, a notebook that seems to have pages full of seemingly random dots (constellations). She takes one last drag from her cigarette, burned down to the end, and puts the last few embers out.

Her expression takes on a slightly warmer note as she writes out another message, before moving to stand, gathering her things in her arms. Then she holds up the notepad again.]

you too.
I'll see you later.

[Then it gets placed on the other books, and she offers him a little wave, before turning to head to the elevators.]

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climbing up the walls

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