thecapitol | Game Night

Entry tags:

Game Night

Who| Torin and Linden
What| Two Victors meet for a game of chess.
Where| Torin's apartment.
When| Sometime this afternoon.
Warnings| Discussion of drugs, death, all sorts of fun things that follow past Tributes around.

Torin wasn't known for being particularly social. Sure, he handled himself very well when it came to navigating the complicated web of Capitol parties that produced Sponsors to help out his Tributes, but that was just part of his job, and not a part he particularly enjoyed. He wasn't in the habit of making friends at these parties, merely casual acquaintances that might throw money at his Tributes.

But it was different when he was dealing with other Victors. They understood. At least, the ones that weren't also from Two understood. They got that sense of loss despite winning what was said to be a great victory, and most of them came out broken for it. Torin wasn't sure what drove him to keep going, what kept him brave enough to continue facing life without falling back on some sort of crutch in a bottle, but it was something.

Possibly it was the feeling that he was an example. He had to be strong for those he was supposed to guide and watch over, even if traditionally, that meant he was to guide kids who were already perfectly all right with what would be expected of them. Yet there were Victors from other Districts, Victors from places where the Games were not well-loved, whose views were more similar to Torin's own. And the older he got, the more he wanted to try to guide those Victors as well as his own Tributes. That's what led him to offer to play a game or two of chess with Linden, and that's what led him to clean up his already Spartan apartment in preparation for guests. He'd obtained a chessboard and some light snacks, and with that host stuff taken care of, was tinkering with a few things at his workbench while waiting for his guest to arrive.

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Linden had tried extremely hard to go the entire day without getting messed up. He'd woken with the intention at 10:00 AM, and had managed to follow through with it until just after lunch. It was difficult in the Capitol; even for a very determined recovering addict, vices were everywhere, and Linden was really more of a fair weather recovering addict. He knew what it was to have it hard, and when making pain go away was so easy, just a pill or a push away, it was nearly impossible to resist that temptation.

Still, the promise of a game of chess with someone he liked, respected, and owed was a strong motivator not to go overboard. He's indulged in Morphling enough to function, banishing the headaches and hunger pangs and reminders that his habit was rotting him from the inside. So at the designated time, he arrives at Torin's apartment, disheveled but clean, under the influence but not strung-out. He knocks on the door with fingers so thin that his knuckles will probably be bruised, shuffling restlessly as he waits for the older Mentor to answer.

Torin put the items he'd been working on aside on the workbench before going to open the door. "Ah, Linden! Please, come in." He gives the young man standing there a reassuring smile as he steps aside to make that coming in thing a lot easier. His apartment's pretty simple, given the ridiculous amounts of excess that permeate the Capitol, and everything looks like it was chosen with an eye more towards function than fashion.

Linden meets Torin's glance, briefly returning the ghost of a smile as he's admitted into the Mentor's clean, spare-looking apartment. It's very far from the typical Capitol aesthetic, looking like whoever had decorated it had thought first of practical aspects rather than surface frill and stupidity. It's an atmosphere that Linden appreciates, if only because he finds the bright colors and heavy scents of most Capitol rooms to be overwhelming and hardly conducive to nursing hangovers.

"Thanks for making time for me today," he says, his typical monotone lilting into something more earnest. "I think I've needed something like this for awhile, so..."

Oblivious to etiquette, he peers around at the apartment as he removes his jacket, trying to discern more about the District 2 Victor.

There are two surfaces in the apartment that have much going for them--the table the chessboard is set up on, and the workbench, which has a few gears and things put together in a decidedly un-watchlike fashion in between the bits that definitely are watches in various stages of assembly.

"My pleasure." Torin gives him a polite nod. "I think I've needed something like this, as well. Something quiet. Far less involved than a party." Really, perhaps he should have chosen somewhere that was less likely to be bugged than his apartment, but being partied out wasn't exactly cause to be brought up on charges of treason. "Can I get you something to drink? I've got a few juices, some sparkling, some not. And water." No, no alcohol in this apartment.

The hard lines of Linden's face soften as his gaze lingers on the chess board; he finds the presence of boards in any space comforting. For all the different styles and possible moves, the rules and initial setup remain the same. The workbench is somewhat more alien; though his background is "factory rat", no one from District 6 would ever call Linden good at his job, and he's not fantastic at seeing how things, especially tiny and delicate things, fit together.

His hands would shake too badly to assemble something as precise as a watch. The realization makes him stifle a chuff of unprovoked laughter. It isn't funny, and it doubtless looks strange, but humor is something Linden lost his feel for a long time ago.

He seems surprised that alcohol is not among the beverages offered, and he waits a few more beats, giving Torin ample time to mention liquor. He doesn't, though, and Linden clears his throat, attempting to conceal his disappointment... and the fact that he doesn't truly know how to talk to people when there's not a drink in his hand.

"Juice...?" He says slowly, a request that sounds disbelieving and mystified, but he might as well drink something since he's here, fill his shrunken belly even if it doesn't go to his head.

"Juice," Torin confirms. "It's all I have here." It's unclear as to whether or not this is a deliberate attempt to get Linden to sober up if only for a little while, or this is just Torin being Torin. The man's got a very straight-laced reputation, and while he may have a glass of wine at an event here and there, it's just that: a glass of wine.

Granted, it wouldn't be too hard for him to acquire something for guests, but he hasn't. He starts to walk towards the modest little kitchen area he has and waves Linden towards the game table and its chairs, as well as the sofa. "Please, take a seat wherever you'd like."

Though Linden's not thrilled with the lack of more substantial libations, he's not so rude that he'll storm out or insist on being accommodated. Though he's desperate to maintain his buzz, he's more desperate to make a fairly good impression now that he has a chance to, away from the lights and sounds of a party grown overwhelming. Torin is someone he wishes to approve of him. Torin mentored Scorpii. Torin is a chance to be close to the life he wished for over a decade ago. He nods resignedly; though their reputations clash, he will uncomplainingly default to Torin's way of living this afternoon.

He folds his spare frame into a chair; it seems too big for him, despite being of a fairly normal size. As he contemplates a few hours drug and alcohol free, he stares at the pieces and wills them to induce clarity and focus as Torin heads toward the kitchen.

"Where did you get your set?" he calls, by way of making conversation before the start of the actual conversation. Ever since his arena, Linden is uneasy with silence.

Torin might even have been willing to indulge a protest or two at the lack of alcohol--it's easy enough to have something brought up in these apartments--but he was curious to see how Linden might react to things without it. What the real Linden might be like...if such a thing still existed. So many Victors' hearts died long before the rest of them...

"I got it back in Disrict Two," Torin calls back in answer to Linden's question as he easily retrieves the juice. "It was a gift from my sister."

Torin might yet be asked to indulge such a request, but for now, Linden's need hasn't eclipsed his determination to be the kind of guest the famously private Torin would be willing to invite back. As for what the "real him" is like... he's not quite sure. Torin's guess is really as good as his, because every mirror shows him a wasted stranger and he struggles to remember life before the Games.

"Your sister?" He asks, plucking two pawns from the board and palming them; their weight and texture in his hands is pleasing. "She must be nice, if she gave you such a nice gift." He squeezes the pawns, something to focus on, an outlet for the stress of even this much restraint from his usual vices. When Torin returns, he extends both closed hands.

"Choose, for color."

"She's very thoughtful," Torin confirms as he sets the drinks down and takes his own seat. A bit air-headed and too fond of the Capitol, perhaps, but thoughtful in her own way. And it's not much of a secret that they're...well, "close" isn't the right word for it, perhaps, though he's pretty fond of her and her family. They're the ones he visits for holidays, after all.

"I'll take whatever's on the left." And Torin gestures to that hand.

Like most Victors, Torin is a celebrity, and most people in Panem know certain things about him. Though he's done better than many at concealing the most private aspects of his life from the curious public, his holiday plans and relationship with certain members of his family are well-known to Linden and plenty of others.

Linden opens his hand to reveal a white pawn. "Like one of your suits," he points out candidly, setting it in place on the opposite side of the board and staking his own claim with the black pawn. "I hope you don't mind initiating. But I'll warn you... retaliation was always my great strength."

Torin has to smile at the comparison to one of his suits. "Fitting, then. And I don't mind starting at all." He moves one of his pawns. It's a fairly conservative opening move. "Makes it all the more interesting to see where things go."

Linden tilts his head, mirroring the move with one of his own pawns.

"Interesting is usually better, isn't it? In a controlled environment, anyway. When it comes to life... boring is, at least, safe. It means that nothing terrible is happening."

Torin nods and moves a different pawn. "Certainly. Sometimes, there seems to be a fine line between too boring to live and too interesting to stay alive."

Choosing now to deviate, Linden moves a knight; he ultimately favors a defensive approach, but still tries to open the board early to his more powerful pieces.

"The way some of the new Tributes talk, it's like they come from places where it's not like that... where lives have meaning no matter how boring or interesting they are. Pretty wild, isn't it?"

Torin makes a note of that and advances one of the pawns he'd moved earlier. He'd play around with the pawns a bit more, see what L did, and then make a more impressive move.

"Fascinating, really." They're probably treading dangerous waters here. Caution's a good idea. "Must be quite the culture shock for them, I'd imagine..." There's no way he's outright disagreeing with Linden there; treason or not, there's the truth to consider.

Linden has a habit of doing this, tempting fate by playing chicken with potentially dangerous subjects and statements. He's doubtless aware of it, because he's always just ambiguous enough to behave as though the statements weren't intended, but those who feel similarly can hear the ire in his words very easily.

"The Trolls say that their world is actually more violent. I tried to tell one of them, in my District, about humans, and he didn't believe that we aren't some gentle, soft, uncomplicated species."

Delicately, he takes one of Torin's pawns off the board, replacing it with one of his own.

"Did he really? Even after seeing the Games in action?" There's genuine interest there, because Torin has got to wonder about that sort of culture.

There's a slight smirk at the lost pawn, and Torin decides to bring out one of his knights.

"He claimed it wasn't always like this. I think he means before the Uprising, but... he'd be wrong, wouldn't he? It was worse then. There was war."

Linden is troubled as he says this, regurgitating what the propaganda tapes have spouted since long before his birth. He responds by moving a bishop to protect his queen.

"Of course there was war. That's been a constant of human history, I think." There's a note of regret in Torin's voice as he scrutinizes the board and then makes a more cautious move with one of his pawns.

"I don't know about a constant..." Linden says, pushing the knight on his king's side out toward the center of the board. "Whatever we have now... it's not paradise, but it isn't war, I don't think. It can't be worse..."

"It could be a lot worse," Torin allows as he maneuvers one of his own knights in response. But it could be better. So much better. "Our violence is more...contained." Contained in the Arenas, which were bad enough. Not a sign of a particularly healthy society.

"Contained is better than rampant. I... regret the violence I saw. As a career, I don't know if you feel the same, but I feel honored that others were spared because I was reaped. That's something that every Tribute should feel, from every District... the fact that if nothing else, their life has saved other lives."

He castles on his king's side.

"I felt much the same way." Torin brings a bishop out onto the field. "Better me than some of the others who might have gone...not that many people back home shared that sentiment. It's very much a great honor there."

"That's what he said," Linden says quietly, moving another pawn so as to make a diagonal path for his queen. A risky move, to bring her out so early, but taking potentially damaging risks is behavior that Linden is no stranger to.

"What did you think, when you volunteered? That you'd bring glory to your District and your family? Did you want to go then?"

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