thecapitol | you wake each day with your thoughts [OPEN]

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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.))

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There's a number of things Karkat is feeling in the wake of Lonestar--Brainiac--whoever's execution, but the one above the rest is rattled. It was a statement they made in airing that whole thing, in making them watch. Do not resist, you will be caught, you will be culled. You will be made an example of. And it's not the gore itself, not the base act of someone dying, but the whole of it. To present it on something like an entertainment program, too--it puts everything too neatly. The Tributes are only there for their entertainment, and they must comply.

To cap it off, they have an arena to look forward to. And of course there would be; that's what they're here for. Talking about it, hinting about it--that means it has to be soon, though, doesn't it? The timing feels like a punishment all its own, one more reminder of their use. So long as that presses on his mind he can't relax.

But he's going to need to be rested, he knows. For all he can go a long while without, and he's certain he won't trust himself to rest in the arena, that's no reason to weaken himself beforehand. And so, not all too long after the broadcast, he hauls himself up to district 9. Sooner or later she'll have to be there--

And indeed, he spots her in short order with her wreath of smoke. He might not know her in depth just yet, but he's never seen her smoke indoors. His approach is slow, concern filtering into his eyes. Of course he can't be the only one this affected.

"Nill?"

It hasn't been long since the announcement. It's still morning, and many of the other tributes have filtered off of the district floor, or have made a point of not leaving their rooms at all. Nill doesn't blame them. If she didn't feel the need to keep herself busy, she might be doing the same.

She's considered drinking with the kind of single-mindedness that only people who used to drink a fair amount do, but ultimately turned the idea down, because she's fairly sure there won't be enough time to sober up after, or to recover from the dehydration that alcohol causes. Going into an environment where they might not have water, this seems like a very bad idea. So she's settled for smoking, and she's on her second cigarette in the past twenty minutes when she hears the elevator ding. It doesn't occur to her that it might be someone to see her.

It's not until he speaks up that she even actually lifts her head to look his way, and when she does it takes a few seconds longer than it usually does for a smile to make it's way onto her face, and even then it's very half-hearted, and he'll probably get a decent look at that ugly bruise beneath her hair. She waves him over, before tapping ash into a mug on the coffee table and turning her attention to the notepad on her knees, tucked up a little so she doesn't need to bend over to read it.

The page has details of Brainiac's death and the announcements before and after it, with a few arrows between different things. She's trying and failing to see if they gave any hints about the Arena during the execution.

Being affected by this is natural, but somehow seeing the effect is worse than just expecting it. The delay in her smile, the many notes in her notepad, and--

"Is that a bruise?" he asks as he nears. He ends up sinking into a seat beside her, not too close, but enough he can look between her and the notebook propped on her knees. He's more certain about the mark from this distance, but what caused it? It can't have happened that recently, did it? Surely not a fight - she hardly seems the sort, especially when she's the one who broke things up between him and the Initiate.

He was going to ask to sleep in her room, but the importance seems diminished for the moment. Instead, looking down again, he asks, "What are the notes for? I mean obviously that shit just happened, everyone saw it, but--why notes?"

In all the silent commotion since the execution, Nill had actually managed to forget about the bruise. She lifts a hand to her forehead and almost flinches when she touches it, but it settles into more of a grimace than anything. The smile doesn't take its place on her face again, her expression shifting into something a little more neutral.

Her eyes dart over the page one more time, and she pushes a few strands of hair behind her ear, which probably makes it easier to see that there's makeup on the bruise. She considers her notepad for a few seconds before writing close to the bottom of the page, and tilting it so he has an easier time of reading it. As he does she inhales from her cigarette and exhales away from him.

training accident. I'm ok.
they're all about shows.
I thought there might have been a hint for the arena.

She's quickly realizing that them doing so wouldn't make that much sense. It might be interesting, but probably too dangerous in the long run.

I was wrong.
I can't find anything.

Tender to the touch, the full extent minimized by makeup... Karkat's frown remains in place, a muscle in jaw tightening as he regards it, but he doesn't pry. He has no reason not to believe the cause she gives. It just seems worse than a regular thump.

With the notepad raised, he looks over the notes she's made more intently, letting that take the focus. It's more than he took notice of.

"Trying to figure out any hints was the last place my mind was," he admits. "Even if they did sneak something in somewhere we won't know how to deal until it's actually happening. Especially when you haven't been in an arena before--and don't ask me, because the one I was in apparently wasn't the regular kind."

He's not meaning to demean her efforts at all, because it shows an attention that could be quite valuable. But like this, he means to comfort. It's not her fault if she can't find anything, and it's all daunting either way.

Technically speaking, it is the truth. It was an accident, technically, and it was while training. She just left out the part where she basically had a PTSD-induced panic attack and tried to break the face of one of her mentors with her head. It's not even that she doesn't go into it further because she doesn't want him to worry. She's ashamed of herself.

Still, it does seem like he's trying to make her feel better, in his own way. She offers him a small smile, though it doesn't last long.

I watched parts of other arenas.
not much, but I thought it might be enough.

Obviously it wasn't, but she honestly couldn't stomach much more than that. Watching some of Linden's tapes were bad enough, and watching tapes from the arena before she was here was worse. The kid's arena was unbearable, but that one she watched in its entirety.

She puts the notepad on her knees again, pencil held still against the paper, before her expression pulls into a frown. She puts an X over the notes, and flips to the next page.

in the arena you should hide as much as you can.
stay away from big groups.
only talk to people you trust if you can help it.
don't let anyone you don't trust near you.

Karkat's never had PTSD over anything, but he has had cases of near panic. In any case, without the knowledge of what happened or even a hint to it, his worry stays at a low simmer. It will die down if nothing further happens to fuel it.

A muscle in his jaw shifts as he reads her first reply. He hasn't particularly watched past footage himself. He's seen enough people dying to know he doesn't like it, and even if most of these wouldn't be those he knows or cares about, that doesn't mean they deserved it.

He doesn't comment until she's written things onto the new page.

"I'm going to be careful. I'm not even going to sleep if I can help it," he explains, which reminds him. "I actually came here to ask if I can sleep in your block again, but got sidetracked talking--which is fine. This is important." She gets a glance, then his focus is back on her notepad.

"I have teammates from before I came here, people I trust. I'd help them and they'd help me. And you--you've done enough for me that I'll help you if I see you, too." It's said simply, easily, without a fuss. He means it.

She's already writing before he's done talking, mind going at a mile an hour. Her first time was in a place more like the arenas here - either one person won or no one won, and that was enough to get most people going. It helped that several participants enjoyed it. Then she'd barely lasted a day, one of the first picked off. She'd made mistakes.

But the second time she was okay. She was with one other person and they kept each other alive, killed monsters, had each other's backs. They stayed away from the major groups and they survived, and that seems like the best plan, maybe even for long-term. He could do it if he was careful. He just needed to try not to yell. That's what she's thinking of, trying to remember the things she should have done but hadn't. Ways maybe he can survive this whole thing.

if you get the chance you should rest.
these arenas are a lot longer than the one you were in.
they can last for weeks.
check water before you try to drink it.
don't trust plants you don't recognize.
don

That's about as far as she gets when he says that he would help her, and she stops writing, lifting her head after a moment to look at him.

It's not that her expression is disbelieving, but she does look surprised. She'd enjoyed Karkat's company, and she was glad she could do for him what she had up until this point, but she never expected to get anything in return for it, for him to want to help her. Not because she didn't think he would, it just wasn't really how she looked at it.

Finally, her expression softens into a small, warm smile, the first genuine one she's managed since he got here.

of course you can.
thank you. really.
I'll help you too, whenever I can.

"I mean it," he says when she looks at him, a little off guard himself for her surprise. Not his tone, though - that's solid and sincere. He's someone who makes friends easily, the kind who remembers a handful of conversations with someone from one day three years ago and wonder if he can still be friends when they finally see each other again. She hasn't given him the slightest reason not to do the same for her.

The smile she gives him is immensely reassuring. Some kind of tightness drops out of his shoulders, and his mouth picks up into an almost-smile of his own.

"Thanks," he says first, before looking back over what she's written.

"First off--" He points to her words as he answers. "--I can go weeks without much sleep. I've done it before, in another place with a bunch of enemies, though those weren't actual people. I can do it again." His finger draws down. "I've been checking out the survival stations in the training place downstairs, so I'm learning some of the plants I can eat. I can already hunt if there's wildlife or whatever; I'm not amazing, but I can survive."

His hand withdraws as he looks to Nill again and asks, "How much combat experience do you have?"

She doesn't look the type, but from looks alone most people wouldn't guess a tiny girl like Nepeta was the best hunter on his team. It's worth asking.

It's been easy, since she got here, to fall back into some of the mindset that she used to be in during her last year or so in the Port. She'd been making such a point to try to be more trusting of people like she was in Exsilium, so much so that she completely forgot about the idea that those people might want to help her. Despite herself, she can get too focused on particular aspects of things from time to time.

Nill takes one more drag from her cigarette, and then drops it into the cup on the table, exhaling as she listens and politely blowing the smoke as much away from him as she can. (When did it get so smokey in here?)

...okay, he was probably right about being able to go without sleep for longer than she was. She never slept much, hadn't for years, but she's not sure she could manage it for so long in a high stress environment. It'd get to her eventually, she was sure.

But her... how much could she tell him without potentially endangering the facade she has here? If it was just a matter of other tributes not knowing, she'd tell him in an instant. But the Capitol is always watching, always listening, and she an't give away her trump cards. Not with an Arena so close. After that, maybe, when they wouldn't think so well of her. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

I've had to keep people I love safe.
I wouldn't last long if I ran into someone strong.

As if to demonstrate, she lifts an arm and flexes her muscle. While what she's got isn't exactly flimsy, it's obvious that she's just not made for acquiring much muscle mass. She's made for speed and endurance, not physical strength. The people who first designed humans like her probably wanted it that way. If she could kill or get away from someone stronger than her fast enough, they'd win in the end.

It is a lot of smoke, easier to notice in the confined space than it was up on the roof, but he tolerates it. It's not the point right now.

He hasn't the faintest idea of her past; all he knows is that she's died before. Even if she is hiding some things, it's not unthinkable for her to do so in a place like this. Her point about her arms stands regardless.

"Hmm." He leans his head in, regarding the limb. Though a little shorter than her, he's stocky, a compact little brick of a troll. What he can do is likely different than her abilities. "Fight smart, and fight fast. If the odds aren't in your favor or are too questionable, then run, hide, or both. There's no shame in it if it means your survive. Focus on disabling more than big, dramatic things - go for joints or soft parts."

Disabling is never a bad technique, in his mind. Sickle fighting involves much of it, and the threshecutioners that used them were the deadliest military group Alternia had.

Edited 2014-12-07 09:52 (UTC)

While not especially tall, Nill is all long limbs, pretty and delicate and the last thing most people think of when they think of people who can fend for themselves. It doesn't mean she's incapable of it, but she spent such a good chunk of time relying on abilities that weren't natural that she's lacking a little in the strength department. She spent a good year building up her physical abilities, but getting pulled from where she did, she has all of the reflexes and none of the ability to use them. She processes faster than she can react.

Her smile widens a little, and she actually manages a very small giggle. It sounds a lot like the kind of thing she was taught by some of the people who wanted to teach her how to get by early on, which is nice.

I can do that.
I'm not strong, but I'm fast.
knives are supposed to be in most of the arenas.

His eyebrow lifts at her giggle, but he doesn't ask anything.

"That's what I'm hoping," he says with a point to the bit about knives. "They aren't my usual, but they're blades and they're short range, so it's the closest I'll probably get without something from a sponsor."

He's been trying to learn some during his time on the training floor. It's not much yet, only basic in his mind, and much of his strategy involves trying to adapt what sickle techniques he can in a way that's not stupid to use with a straighter blade. It's... not the most effective. A lot of it is flailing around, but useless flailing is where he started with the sickle too before Sgrub gave him practical experience. He has faith in his ability to learn under pressure.

He's used to short range blades, but not knives? There are a lot of different kinds of blades of course, but there aren't that many that work a lot different than a standard knife. Different blade lengths, of course, durability and weight, but those were the only real factors you needed to worry about. She's not sure what Karkat might use that's not close enough to a knife.

specialized weapons probably won't be in the cornucopia.
if Linden can he'll make sure you get what you're used to.
he wants his tributes to win.
but you shouldn't count on it.

Truth be told, even if Karkat is popular with sponsors, Linden might not be. It might be difficult for him to get something for all his tributes. She just hopes he can keep Karkat and Clementine alive.

You can't hook a limb with a knife.

He waves off her warning. "I'm used to life giving me only the grimiest luck from the bottom of the barrel. If I don't find a sickle, I'll hardly be surprised. And I'm not expecting to be a favorite for the Capitol - who the hell wants a short, grumpy troll who doesn't want to kill people?"

It's self-deprecating, but more than she probably knows. He can't even pretend he's what a troll should be when he's hear. Violent, strong, ready to cull whoever he needs to: that's not him. He's seen too many people die before him and has died twice now himself. When he's stuck here, this place too harsh and the Tributes largely innocent, it seems wrong to take out all his rage on them.

If he has to, if it were life and death, if it were to defend someone, then maybe... But that's the only scenario he sees.

"I don't want to be popular with viewers anyway," he finishes, and he rolls his eyes.

If she could have the same kind of chances by not being popular with the audience, then Nill wouldn't want it, either. But from what she's looked into, it seems like some of the outcomes for arenas were determined by the gifts that were given to competing tributes. The last thing that kept them alive longer than the other person.

I like the way you are.
trying to be popular could help you stay alive.
you should think about it.

She really does like him the way he is. But in a place like this there was no way not wanting to hurt people wouldn't get him killed somewhere down the line.

Karkat exhales through his nose, and keeps quiet for a moment. Think about it, trying to be popular. He might have to. He doesn't want to, but he doesn't want to die - which is probably futile to wish for in a place like this. Sooner or later something or someone will off him to make the game more interesting or raise their chances of winning.

"Maybe," he grants. He doesn't sound convinced yet.

"You would have better luck than me if you tried. You're cute, and you're nice, and they'd probably jump right on the whole wing thing. You're unassuming--an underbarkfiend if anything. It could help. Play it up, make people think you're something fragile, and then... Even if you're not strong, what you can do will still be a surprise." He glances back. "That's the best I can suggest."

An underbarkfiend? While she's not too bad at picking apart what troll terms mean, she honestly has no idea what to make of that one. The only thing it makes her think of is Heine, who was all bark and bite, but he had never been an "under" anything, aside from where he (and most people it seemed at times) came from. They were nowhere near the same level, and never would be.

it sounds like a good plan.

There's really no safe way to tell him that it was already her plan. She might if it was ever safe to, if she ever had the chance. For now it would need to wait.

She should probably be paying attention to the fact that he just called her cute, but it didn't even really register thanks to the general topic. Whoops.

shouldn't you be more worried about yourself?

An underdog is what he meant, not a literal canine this time. So long as she doesn't ask, he doesn't bother to clarify.

For now, he's left to his ignorance, both on that and her already having thought of his plan. There's a lot to her he doesn't know yet. Whether her life itself contributes doesn't even matter when the environment is so ill-conducive to sharing.

He frowns as he considers her question.

"I have friends and teammates here who I trust, who I'd help and who would help me. I've fought things before, too, in all sizes. I don't know how to make the media like me." And like he said, he doesn't really want to, though he hasn't forgotten her encouragement. "I'm used to being a leader, so it's natural to try to think of whose skills could do what."

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you wake each day with your thoughts [OPEN]

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