nill (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
reassures) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-11-21 08:36 pm
reassures) wrote in thecapitol2014-11-21 08:36 pm
you wake each day with your thoughts [OPEN]
Who| Nill and YOU
What| A week in the life of Nill. There's like 5 different prompts.
Where| All over!
When| Any time from the 20th up to the arena.
Warnings/Notes| One prompt involves staring at alcohol. Will update as needed.
(a.) rooftop, any night; 6am - 7:30am.
One of the nicer things about being granted a full pass by the Capitol is not only that Nill gets to come and go whenever she pleases, but that when she's on the rooftop at night, there are very few people who actually come to join her. While she's more than happy for company, there's also something very nice about it being dark out, and finding the world mostly quiet save for the background noise of a city that doesn't follow the same constrictive rules that the rest of the tributes need to.
She spends most nights before the end of the curfew up on the roof, matching stars and constellations, smoking quietly with company or without. But lately the days have grown shorter and the nights longer, which has given her more time to spend star gazing before she heads back down to her own district. Long enough that if anyone was awake, they could easily find her there and join her after the curfew had ended.
(b.) various district suites, any night; 11pm - 4am.
With the start of curfew comes Nill making her way to the various suites in the tower. It's been awhile since she began doing this, checking if there was anything anyone needed to help get them through the night, so she doesn't go to every single floor. But chances are if she knows even one person on a floor she'll drop by, stepping off the elevator with a small smile on her face and a knock on the wall to announce her presence before she goes further inside.
Need a junkfood fix? Someone to keep you company if you're awake at some random hour and confined to your floor? Maybe a cigarette? Nill's got your back.
(c.) District 9 suite; throughout any night
As always, Nill never spends a great deal of time in her own suite with her district-mates. Having the curfew forced on everyone so soon after her arrival left her with little desire to remain there for extended periods of time, so she spends as often as she can anywhere but there, but it doesn't mean she's not willing to get things for the people she lives with, or spend time with them if invited. She really should get to know them better. She'll probably wander back for one thing or another every other hour or so, though she does try to be quiet for the sake of the people actually sleeping.
(d.) Day; any time
The daytime hours are much more in contrast with what Nill occupies herself with at night. While the night is spent running arbitrary errands or spending time with whoever seems to be around or in need of it, day time is usually reserved for running errands, finding food, going to the library, the training center. Her days are very routine, and she seems to like it that way, or she wouldn't keep it up, right?
Every day finds her in the training center, trying to learn another simple skill. This week has found her trying to memorize the list of plants that you can eat, and she goes through the options on the screen, trying to match as many as she can. It's obvious when she gets one wrong, because she visibly cringes every time it happens But there are a dozen other stations, and Nill is more than glad to switch it up every few hours, although she almost never goes near the weapons.
(e.) common area, 11/24; 8pm - 9pm. [the alcohol prompt.]
It's not often that Nill can be found at the bar in the tribute tower, but that's where anyone wandering past will spot her today. Granted, she hasn't left herself very visible. She's found a place tucked away in a corner, one of the few booths the place seems to have, and in front of her she's got several things spread out. Two different books, a ringed notebook that she seems to be taking notes in from the books, a pencil or two. Her usual notepad meant for communication is off to the side at the edge of the table, folded and left open. The only words written on the page are a drink order, and a polite thank you below it.
Across from her a glass of something that smells suspiciously like whiskey sits with a lemon wedge, as it has since the bartender brought it over to her. Every so often she glances up from her work to gauge how much of the ice has melted, even though it's all long since gone. Occasionally she stops what she's doing to stretch a little, rub at where the handful of bandages on her fingers are irritating her skin, and watches the drink as if it will do something, before she sets back to her work.
Nill hasn't so much as touched it. She's been sitting there with it for at least an hour. The bartender has been kind enough not to come by again.
(f.) post-arena announcement and "Lonestar's" execution.
It's honestly dumb to be as obvious as she is, but it's hard for her to do much about it. Not only did the Capitol publicly execute a kid, but they just announced that there was going to be an Arena soon, one of the real ones with only one victor and potentially weeks or months of looking over your shoulder waiting for someone to come and kill you.
And that's terrifying, because for as much as Nill has been able to do in the past, for all the things she's survived, her last two experiences with anything like an Arena barely lasted a day, and she only survived one of those because she got lucky.
So Nill has taken it upon herself to smoke at almost every waking second until they haul them off. Anyone that looks closely enough will see her hands shaking slightly whenever she goes to light a new one. Outside of that her day stays mostly the same as far as her schedule goes, errands, busy work to keep her mind from wandering, it's just that she does it with a constant haze of smoke around her, regardless of whether she's inside or outside. The only other time she's smoked indoors was during the Kid Arena.
There's also a very ugly bruise taking up most of her forehead and almost making it look like she's got at least one black-and-blue eye. Some of it's been covered up with makeup, but makeup can only do so much for someone that bruises like a peach and tried to break someone's face with her head.
It's been a rough week.
((ooc: this is basically a catch all. Got anything specific you want and I can stick something in here for you. Just let me know! Feel free to tag in whenever you like, and for as many prompts as you like.))
What| A week in the life of Nill. There's like 5 different prompts.
Where| All over!
When| Any time from the 20th up to the arena.
Warnings/Notes| One prompt involves staring at alcohol. Will update as needed.
(a.) rooftop, any night; 6am - 7:30am.
One of the nicer things about being granted a full pass by the Capitol is not only that Nill gets to come and go whenever she pleases, but that when she's on the rooftop at night, there are very few people who actually come to join her. While she's more than happy for company, there's also something very nice about it being dark out, and finding the world mostly quiet save for the background noise of a city that doesn't follow the same constrictive rules that the rest of the tributes need to.
She spends most nights before the end of the curfew up on the roof, matching stars and constellations, smoking quietly with company or without. But lately the days have grown shorter and the nights longer, which has given her more time to spend star gazing before she heads back down to her own district. Long enough that if anyone was awake, they could easily find her there and join her after the curfew had ended.
(b.) various district suites, any night; 11pm - 4am.
With the start of curfew comes Nill making her way to the various suites in the tower. It's been awhile since she began doing this, checking if there was anything anyone needed to help get them through the night, so she doesn't go to every single floor. But chances are if she knows even one person on a floor she'll drop by, stepping off the elevator with a small smile on her face and a knock on the wall to announce her presence before she goes further inside.
Need a junkfood fix? Someone to keep you company if you're awake at some random hour and confined to your floor? Maybe a cigarette? Nill's got your back.
(c.) District 9 suite; throughout any night
As always, Nill never spends a great deal of time in her own suite with her district-mates. Having the curfew forced on everyone so soon after her arrival left her with little desire to remain there for extended periods of time, so she spends as often as she can anywhere but there, but it doesn't mean she's not willing to get things for the people she lives with, or spend time with them if invited. She really should get to know them better. She'll probably wander back for one thing or another every other hour or so, though she does try to be quiet for the sake of the people actually sleeping.
(d.) Day; any time
The daytime hours are much more in contrast with what Nill occupies herself with at night. While the night is spent running arbitrary errands or spending time with whoever seems to be around or in need of it, day time is usually reserved for running errands, finding food, going to the library, the training center. Her days are very routine, and she seems to like it that way, or she wouldn't keep it up, right?
Every day finds her in the training center, trying to learn another simple skill. This week has found her trying to memorize the list of plants that you can eat, and she goes through the options on the screen, trying to match as many as she can. It's obvious when she gets one wrong, because she visibly cringes every time it happens But there are a dozen other stations, and Nill is more than glad to switch it up every few hours, although she almost never goes near the weapons.
(e.) common area, 11/24; 8pm - 9pm. [the alcohol prompt.]
It's not often that Nill can be found at the bar in the tribute tower, but that's where anyone wandering past will spot her today. Granted, she hasn't left herself very visible. She's found a place tucked away in a corner, one of the few booths the place seems to have, and in front of her she's got several things spread out. Two different books, a ringed notebook that she seems to be taking notes in from the books, a pencil or two. Her usual notepad meant for communication is off to the side at the edge of the table, folded and left open. The only words written on the page are a drink order, and a polite thank you below it.
Across from her a glass of something that smells suspiciously like whiskey sits with a lemon wedge, as it has since the bartender brought it over to her. Every so often she glances up from her work to gauge how much of the ice has melted, even though it's all long since gone. Occasionally she stops what she's doing to stretch a little, rub at where the handful of bandages on her fingers are irritating her skin, and watches the drink as if it will do something, before she sets back to her work.
Nill hasn't so much as touched it. She's been sitting there with it for at least an hour. The bartender has been kind enough not to come by again.
(f.) post-arena announcement and "Lonestar's" execution.
It's honestly dumb to be as obvious as she is, but it's hard for her to do much about it. Not only did the Capitol publicly execute a kid, but they just announced that there was going to be an Arena soon, one of the real ones with only one victor and potentially weeks or months of looking over your shoulder waiting for someone to come and kill you.
And that's terrifying, because for as much as Nill has been able to do in the past, for all the things she's survived, her last two experiences with anything like an Arena barely lasted a day, and she only survived one of those because she got lucky.
So Nill has taken it upon herself to smoke at almost every waking second until they haul them off. Anyone that looks closely enough will see her hands shaking slightly whenever she goes to light a new one. Outside of that her day stays mostly the same as far as her schedule goes, errands, busy work to keep her mind from wandering, it's just that she does it with a constant haze of smoke around her, regardless of whether she's inside or outside. The only other time she's smoked indoors was during the Kid Arena.
There's also a very ugly bruise taking up most of her forehead and almost making it look like she's got at least one black-and-blue eye. Some of it's been covered up with makeup, but makeup can only do so much for someone that bruises like a peach and tried to break someone's face with her head.
It's been a rough week.
((ooc: this is basically a catch all. Got anything specific you want and I can stick something in here for you. Just let me know! Feel free to tag in whenever you like, and for as many prompts as you like.))
no subject
Unreachable.
The silence between them weighs thick and heavy like smoke and though her smile lingers bravely he knows a mask when he sees one. Knows pain when it’s seeping through the cracks and he feels his chest ache dully. He’s seen it in enough haggard faces in the past two years, seen it in his own the rare moments he has found a grimy mirror and had a moment to himself just to duck his head and gaze tiredly into it for a long moment, wondering if he’d still recognize the person looking back at him as days bled into weeks and weeks to months and the world wore away at him little by little. A slow death by a thousand cuts.
Everyone has their fronts and coping strategies; everyone their burdens to bear. All need a shoulder to lean on every now and again. And it’s all too easy to forget when letting others slump against his and fighting to summon the strength to forge onwards for more than just himself. A group was only as strong as its leader.
He’s quietly grateful for when Nill attempts to convey her thoughts and he instinctively glances to his own wrist for a watch he isn’t wearing before looking up at her again, curious and unsure.
“Was about five after three, last I checked. If... that's what you're wonderin'.”
no subject
She could make do if not, but if they did she could use her notepad to actually tell him things. Then he wouldn't need to make guesses to a girl in the dark he probably can't even see that well.
If feels like she might be able to handle things a little better in the light, where she knows he'll be able to actually see her face instead of just the shadows that pass across it. Sometimes it's easier to not let things slip if you know they'll be noticed more easily. Or so she likes to tell herself.
no subject
Prominent cheekbones, a nose a touch too big for his face (or so he had been teased about relentlessly throughout childhood and well into his teens,) and the patchy beginnings of a beard he hadn’t the genes to grow out.
“Good?” It makes little difference to him whether the light is on or off. Others might feel differently, though, if their doors are cracked open.
no subject
Nill's twisted a little in her seat to watch as he changes the lighting, and she holds up a hand to give him a thumbs up once she thinks it's bright enough that he could probably read, but hopefully not bright enough to start waking people up.
Her own features are feminine and pretty, almost delicate looking. So as not to startle him later she's extended her wings a little so that he'll be able to see them almost right away, and all the feathers are white and clean, adding to the charm that the Capitol has loved to play up. For the moment the only obvious blemishes are the small scars on the sides of her hands, but those might not even be visible from where Luke is.
no subject
“Name's Luke, by the way." He offers in an attempted ice-breaker, trying not to look all too long at her soft, white feathers. It's about as polite as having a conversation with a hot girl's breasts, he supposes. Or something of the sort.
no subject
She has a small shoulder bag with her, and she pulls her notepad out of it, which looks a little beat up but otherwise well cared for. She also pulls out a pencil, and flips to a fresh page.
it's nice to meet you.
my name is Nill.
She holds it up for him to see after she's done, the writing large enough that he should be able to see it easily enough.
no subject
He waits patiently as she digs into her bag, rubbing the sleep-bleariness out of his eyes and leaning in a little further, elbows resting on his knees, to make out her writing on the page.
“Well it's nice meetin’ you too, Nill. ...Can't help wishin' it were under better circumstances but, well--” He pauses to shrug, lifting a hand almost immediately afterwards to hide a massive, eye-watering yawn. “Could be worse.” Like the two of them face-to-face in the arena.
no subject
Which isn't to say that the circumstances are always like this - this particular kind of scenario is a little more rare than that - but it certainly wouldn't be the first time she made a friend at odd hours of the morning. It's also her way of agreeing, because if she's made friends like this before, then it could certainly be much worse.
no subject
The days of hitting up clubs and parties are long gone, memories of laughter and giddy happiness, warm and golden in his belly, and a soft mouth melting to his fuzzy-edged and bittersweet. He had always thought there’d be more time for carelessness. More time to enjoy living. Everyone must have before the end of everything they had known had come.
no subject
do you need anything?
I have a full pass.
It's always been easier for Nill to do things for other people than to dwell on her own problems for long, and possibly running out to get something for what might be a new friend sounds like a much better idea than further considering the ghost of a dead boy that she couldn't do anything for anymore.
no subject
“Naw, naw I’m good.” He shakes his head softly. “Thank you. So... how long you been here for? If y'don' mind me askin'.”
no subject
Which she writes first, and then holds up for him to see, while she thinks about just how long she's been here. She distantly remembers having conversations with people her first few days, and she knows she trained a little, learned a little, maybe actually smiled a few times, but for the most part it was a blur of motion and cigarette smoke. She knows approximately when she got here, but if someone asked her for a date she wouldn't be able to give it. Pre-curfew. Post-prison break. She doesn't really have any other time markers than that.
After taking a few seconds to consider it she writes and holds up the notepad again.
a little less than two months.
it's been quiet.
no subject
"I admit that ain't exactly the first word I'd a' used to describe the place." He says, smoothing his thumb over his knuckles - an unthinking, calming gesture - as he reflects on the mini-arena not all too long ago. Reflects on the keen, maddening helplessness twisting his gut into knots as he had stared at screens, every muscle in his body tightly coiled and ready for a fight. But there was nothing he could do. Nothing any of them could do but watch and wait and be eaten alive from the inside.
no subject
Maybe she's wrong. She has been in the past.
how long have you been here?
no subject
A dozen thoughts crowd his mind and he wants to ask Nill if she knows if anyone has attempted escape and made it. But the thought of someone out there watching and listening even at this ungodly hour has him choosing his words more carefully. It feels safer to speak more candidly while out in open spaces or in a crowd.
“Still feelin’ my way around.” And though he leaves it at that there's an undeniable, quiet defiance in the set of his jaw.
no subject
It's the middle of the night, but it's not hard to see someone that's equally unhappy in a situation when you spot them. Especially when it's the kind of expression Nill understands and recognizes easily enough.
you're not the only one.
most of us are.
Possible double meaning? Only if he notices. Nill is too wary to be any more obvious than that.