thecapitol | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who| Roland and Milla
What| a stroll around the city
Where| various Capitol businesses
When| nowish?
Warnings/Notes| Warnings: none yet. Notes: although I think it's not an official part of the games anymore I'm using the wiki as a guide to what places they're going to be wandering around.

Roland starts looking for her early. Not early for him, of course, although at one or two points in his time here he's briefly wished he could sleep half the day away, as so many of these people seem to do. The trick to getting up early as a tribute of Panem, he's found, is to keep busy.

By eight o' the clock, he can tell that today, nothing in the tower is going to do it for him. Not knitting - that he saves till after curfew, anyway - and not training, and certainly not the library full of the overblown life stories of Panem's greatest citizens. Not the bar, because Roland knows what happens when men take to drinking in this sort of restless mood and he hasn't sunk so far as that.

Wandering the city by himself won't be enough. He'd like some company, if he can find it. He waits a while to do so, unsure of the sleeping habits of miss Vodello and not wanting to start things off on the wrong foot. Nine, surely. That's late enough for anyone. Or it should be.

At a couple minutes after he's in the District 11 suite and looking around hopefully. Well, if she isn't here, at least looking for her will keep him busy a while.

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Luckily for Roland, Milla herself tends to be an early enough riser when it comes to weekdays. She's already fallen into her habit of over cooking- which leaves the suite smelling like food instead of the burned in ashy smell that seems ingrained into it.

Milla easily emerges from the kitchen after she's piled the leftovers away, distracted as she pulls her hair loose from the rough bun she's had it in. The sight of Roland though warrants a bright smile and exclamation of, "Roland, darling! What brings you up here?"

That prompts a tiny bit of happiness to creep into his expression, too - the 'darling' is certainly an affectation and reminds him of the toadying and false affection of highborn ladies at all those large formal events, when there was still a place in his world for such things, but the warmth of the woman still seems genuine. That warmth is something sorely needed in this place, and turns what might otherwise become annoying into just a quirk. A little like the Initiate's constant 'motherfucker's - except, perhaps, from the opposite direction.

"An odd mood, if I'm honest," he says, taking a couple steps closer. "I find myself needing to walk, perhaps around the city. If you haven't any plans, maybe you'll join me." Roland holds out his hand, eyebrows raised.

It is all real with Milla, even if she isn't showing all the cards in her deck- she is is fond of Roland. The man had impressed her. He was solid- but flexible, truly genuine in a world where it could kill you. Milla felt like she could trust him, which was more than she could give most at this point.

The fact he came for her company certainly said she had left her own impression on him. The thought just made her smile warmer, more playful. She pressed her hand against her chest playfully, "I'd be honored to, dear. I'm not one to turn down an adventure based on an odd mood."

Edited 2014-10-30 05:19 (UTC)

"I don't know how much adventure we'll find. In this city, hopefully not much." The fingers of his right hand curl, still waiting, held out toward her. "But if there's some kind of adventure you'd like, I'll surely do my best."

The woman gladly steps forward to close the small distance between them. Milla gladly reaches out to take Roland's hand in her own, the psychic won't keep him waiting a moment longer. "We'll find something, darling. Even if it's much smaller scale than most adventures are."

"The real question is, where to start. This is a big place after all."

"Outside," he decides, keeping her hand held up at about the level of their chests as he heads toward the elevator. "I need to be out of here for a while. Have you ventured far outside the tower since you arrived?" And before that last word, to Roland's credit, he almost doesn't hesitate at all. 'Arrived' says it all, doesn't it?

Arrived is one way of putting it, Milla would have personally used 'taken'- but she'd rather not spoil the mood. She'd rather this be a fun romp.

Milla practically glides along with Roland, even without her levitation, her movements are airy and eased as they walk together towards the elevator. "I've done some looking around, but not much. I became a bit focused on airing the suite out and meeting my roommates."

"Then perhaps it's time you saw the rest of it. The parts we can get to, at least." He backs into the elevator, pulling her hand toward him to lead her in. "Tell me, miss Vodello, what do you enjoy? I'd take you dancing but most of those places seem only to operate at night."

Milla readily places her trust in Roland, being lead along into the elevator without hesitation. Really, he trusted her when they danced, she can offer the same thing here and now.

"That curfew certainly is putting a damper on our possibilities already." She says with a soft laugh, "I enjoy sightseeing, history usually interests me, but- this city seems more focused on shopping and fashion with what I did see."

"How will art do you? They claim a couple pieces there are artifacts from before their 'dark days'." He shrugs. Much as he's inclined to think those days were a haven of light and knowledge simply because his gaolers call them dark, history's history. Or at least, an opportunity to see what it is the people of this place call history.

"And the shopping too, of course." His eyes flit over her outfit, mentally comparing it to the popular fashions of the city. Whatever they are at the moment. A corner of his lips twitch. "Doesn't please you?"

"That would be worth seeing." Milla easily agrees, "I'd like to know what things were like before all of this." She gestures at their surroundings with her free hand. She wants to know in some vague way how a place can be so technologically advanced and boasting so loudly when it eats its way through people.

She saw that twitch, Roland. She brushes a hand against her very brightly colored dress. "I can't complain too much about some of the fashion choices. I just enjoy knowing about the culture through other means as well, darling."

"I know this culture thinks your dress is fairly bland unless you're wearing a live animal on top of your head." He raises his eyebrows at her. What more could you really want to know about a place's fashions? Then the elevator doors open and he looks away toward the building's main entrance beyond.

"I don't know how much you're going to learn." He lets his hand drift off hers as he walks forward, looking back at her. "Might depend on what you know of your own world's art."

His comment elicits a laugh from the Brazilian woman. "Oh, should I invest in some live animals then, or a cannon that shoots confetti to fit in?" She jokes readily back as the elevator comes to a stop.

Milla readily walks after Roland, quick to keep step with the man. "I know enough to have some understanding. Even if I won't know everything, seeing what started everything out is always educational, even if you can't put all the pieces together right away."

Should he mention that the cannon, if she got one, would probably have to go far lower to really work for these people? True as it is, Roland decides that low humor is more appropriate for a barroom than a stroll with a lady, and only answers her question with a raised eyebrow.

He slows as they get to the main doors, holding one open for her and gesturing outside. "Like solving a mystery, aye? Or a riddle. You take what you know and put it together as you can."

If he had said as much, Milla would have likely laughed and teased him in turn. Really with what she had seen, a bit obscene humor wouldn't have offended her.

"Yes, very much like that. We're in quite the riddle right now. It needs solving." She offers back before stepping through the opened door. She waits for Roland to step out himself, reaching out to loop her arm with his.

Roland finds himself leaning against her before he quite realizes it, just enough to press their shoulders together. There've been few sources of touch for him these past months, fewer just recently, and her actively seeking out his touch for perhaps the first time in their acquaintance has him remembering the fact. He lets himself lean, taking what he can while it's available.

He glances out the corner of his eye at their surroundings, and the good thing about thinking on those other matters - it's taken him far enough from the tower that he may be able to speak just a little more freely. "Take care which parts of that riddle you try to make sense of. Some answers do no one any good."

When he stays close to her and doesn't exclaim in surprise or pull away, Milla simply smiles. She hums softly as they walk together. The sound is likely lost in the bustle of the Capitol, but its there just as much as her gentle grip on him is.

"I certainly don't plan on poking the hornets nest. Not openly." She states simply, the burned in brand on his face is enough for Milla to guess that she can speak more freely with Roland herself. No one you consider a loyal citizen would have something burned into their flesh. "Knowing, even if the answers hurt is better than not knowing at all."

Edited 2014-11-09 03:17 (UTC)

"You're so certain of that?" He says it slowly and looks at her a moment, solemn and old. Then he gives a quick shake of his head to try and stem any attempt at a debate, and moves the conversation along.

"Well, art's as good a place to start as any. Better than the library, certainly, and maybe you'll get more from it than I did. Even in the days artists of my world used their Touch-" and here he waves a hand beside his head, meaning to indicate his mind, "-to paint of days to come, I was never much use making sense of it."

"Certain enough." She promises quietly, but doesn't protest when Roland moves the conversation forward. It's a dangerous topic to step into, so Milla isn't really bothered when it's pushed away for now.

"Art tends to be a reflection of a culture. So it's something we can at least see for ourselves." She offers, though she does find herself asking. "How many people had Touch in your world, dear?" It just sounds like psychics from her world to some degree.

"It was called the tool of artists and gunslingers - so maybe not many. Not all of us had it either, though most did to one degree or another." He looks up, eyes following the graceful shapes of the buildings all around. The curve of a tower, the 'petals' of the flower-shaped museum growing more visible the closer they come, the elaborate front doors of all the shops they pass. Beautiful by anyone's standards, so long as you don't stick around too long to admire it. "No longer, I suppose. Not here. You sound comfortable with the idea. Have something like the Touch in your world?"

Milla's gaze naturally traces over the beautiful architecture, the beauty only feels ironic at this point. A little surreal if she lets herself think on it too long. She just gently squeezes Roland's arm to brush the thought aside. "We have something similar to it." She answers with a slow nod as she looks back at Roland, "It varies more wildly in my home. Some can hear plants speak, others can set things on fire without a match- it's something very rare."

"Sounds a bit different from what I'm used to." His free hand waves toward the aforementioned museum, since it's hardly recognizable as such. At least to him. "That's the place. Have you ever seen someone in your world do anything like that?"

"You'll have to tell me more about Touch then, dear. It sounds fascinating." Though her attention is easily diverted towards the building as Roland gestures.

"Museums tend to be very elaborate where I'm from- so it's similar. Though this is a bit overblown." She comments as her gaze moves across the building once more taking in the details. Milla could admit maybe her own bias against what they had been thrown into was coloring her words, but it was hard not to have it lurking in the back of her mind. Death arenas are hard to forget. "Shall we head in?"

"I think so too, though I meant things like the, ah, plant-speaking." As he talks he looks over the main entrance of the place and heads toward it. He's still leaning against Milla as they enter and doesn't move away, but he does tense and catch his breath briefly, a reaction he didn't realize he was going to have until it happened. He forces himself to steady, frustrated; just because the building's almost shaped like a rose doesn't mean his mind should associate this place with that powerful old memory at all.

There are a few paintings at each side of the room and he focuses on the closest, looks at Milla to jerk his head toward it. Let's ignore the escalators for now. "Care to start with these?"

Milla laughs softly at the misunderstanding, "Ah- yes, I have. A few children I taught could speak to plants." She answers as they walk together. The sudden tensing doesn't go unnoticed on her part. She gently offers his arm a comforting squeeze, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. Milla isn't sure what caused Roland's blip of tenseness, but she's going to make sure he knows he's not alone.

"These look like a lovely place to start." She agrees with a smile.

Roland blinks down at her head on his shoulder, surprised one more time by touch. But it fits, doesn't it? First the dancing, then linking her arm with his, and this. Response to the reaction Roland'd been frustrated with himself for, maybe, but it also makes it fairly clear the level of contact she's comfortable with and he feels a part of his tension drain into it, letting his cheek rest carefully along the side of her head.

"You do know," he murmurs only for her ears, sounding amused, "Capitol news is going to tell people we're courting." And then at a more normal volume, sounding surprised and pleased along with it, "You taught?" The painting, he thinks, can wait until he knows more about this.

Edited 2014-11-12 02:55 (UTC)

"Let them talk. Certainly won't be the first time they're wrong." She offers with an amused sound of her own, her smile playful at the edges before Roland tone shifts to a louder one.

"I was helping out at a summer camp before I was brought here." The implication she was teaching something similar to Touch is there, but left unstated for now. "I was just teaching a class before I woke up here and was given the spiel all new comers are given."

Roland does catch that implication, matching the rarity of such people with Milla having mentioned at least a few being in her class, but he's content enough to let it lie. "I've taught a little myself," he says, skipping over the circumstance she mentions not because it's unpleasant but because there's no point in reaffirming its cruelty, especially to tributes like Milla who so clearly have a purpose and a people to go back to. They both already know all there is to say about the matter.

"Not to children. It wasn't what I was expecting." He lifts his head just enough to let her lift hers, in case she doesn't want to spend this whole trip getting a crick in her neck. Doing so gives him a glimpse of the closest painting out of the corner of his eye - a portrait of a stern-faced man standing with one foot propped up on something, fist held out. Roland can't make out the details without looking at it more directly, which he doesn't particularly care to yet.

"Have you now-? What did you teach, dear?" Even with the shift, Milla still keeps her arm looped with Roland's. He's an ally, a friend- and she plans on keeping him close. This world is made up of secrets and false faces. "If you don't mind me asking anyhow."

When Milla catches sight of the man standing proudly on the canvas she gives a very undignified snort. "I see some things never change." Classic painting has a similar style even here. Proud conquering white men stern looks written across their features and power implied in their pose. One does not escape that style too easily.

Her derision earns a curious look from Roland, but he decides to prioritize. First question first. "I taught my friends to be gunslingers. Never thought so often of my own old teacher." Roland's gaze goes distant, thinking on that teacher now, but as important as the past is, it is - well - past, and there's no reason to dwell. Especially not in the middle of a conversation.

In the interests of that conversation, and because he is honestly curious, Roland raises his eyebrows and tilts his head toward the painting. Second question second. "Seen similar in your own world?"

She'll likely ask him more about gunslinging later, Milla's interested, but it might not be the topic to discuss in a museum of all places. For now she nods at his words before he questions her amusement at the painting.

"The art world in my world is mostly based on this sort of thing." She says with some amusement clear in her voice. "All older white men looking particularly perturbed."

Roland grunts, taking another look at the thing to see what she means. "The stories of this place are much the same, if you've gone looking for any. All lies about great men who've done great deeds for Panem. All things like this. Should probably be surprised the whole museum isn't filled with the same." He tugs gently at her arm, turning to look around. "Anything else in this room strike you differently?"

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