Why should they go out to fight?

[biiowiired]

Who| The Ψiioniic biiowiired and YOU
What| Arriving and scoping out possible escape routes
Where| Central commons, District 9 floor, gym, a street outside a train station
When| dec 01-02. Threads below won't happen in the order they were posted.
Warnings/Notes| mentions of slavery, abuse, language, lisping, Alternian society's (and Psii's) insensitivity towards the disabled

Training Center: Central Commons

He fucked up somewhere, but how? He was always so careful, so fastidious, so goddamn paranoid. And he didn't even have any memory of a fight, let alone capture. Did his friends make it out ok? Exactly how badly did he fail to protect them? He'd had no inkling of their deaths, no vision, nothing.... So they were alive, at least.

He couldn't fail to notice the voices of the dead were gone, now that he'd arrived here. He never thought he'd miss them, but now would be a really great time to have apeshit psionics up his sleeve. Trying to call up a bit of energy in his fingertips as he was marched towards the living quarters was fruitless. He was frustrated that he couldn't simply level this place and rocket out of here.

Once alone, the tall troll leaned his shoulder against a wall. His hands shook. A few reporters turned their heads to eye the wan Tribute with grey skin, fiery-colored horns, and scars head to toe. He had been dressed in clothes that weren't his, but accents of his District's yellow suited him anyway. He was a yellowblood, a slave caste on Alternia. Now he was a slave once again.... He wanted to retch. He knew from experience exactly what that entailed.

Training Center: District 9 suites dining area

He didn't have eyes for the wasted luxury on District 9's floor, only on possible escape routes. Reinforced windows, people guarding all the exits, and who knew what the city borders were like? His eyes were wide and alert, slightly manic with the knowledge that he'd have to endure and escape captivity all over again. He wanted to check every room for electronic bugs, but he curbed that impulse in front of the ever-present Peacekeepers.

Eventually he'd had enough of metaphorical buzzing against glass he couldn't break. He cornered one of the servants(?) in the dining area, speaking in a low mutter:

"Hey. I know you can hear me. Talk to me. How long have you been here? When do the peathekeeperth change shiftth? What'th border patrol like? Hey. At leatht tell me to get lotht if you're not going to thay anything."

Training Center: Gym

There was no point working out in the gym with the next arena just a few days away. But it was always good to get an idea of the competition.... God, if he was already thinking of his fellow slaves that way, how would he fare in the arena? He didn't want to fight anyone; his real enemies were the ones in the Capitol pulling the strings.

And yet there he was, in a suitably dark corner, his red and blue eyes scanning every Tribute. He was looking for strengths and weaknesses. Fights among slaves back home weren't unheard of. If anyone here really bought into this killing game, he'd have to watch his back.

Capitol: Street outside a train station

He squinted against the sun, hardly daring to believe he could go out during the day and not be horribly burned. Damn the curfew anyway, he was nocturnal. He groggily kept to the shadows, rubbing drowsiness from his eyes. He was clearly marked as an off-worlder, Capitol fashions having not quite reached the point of grey skin, orange horns, and eyes in bright red and blue, schlerae and all. He'd also shrugged off the attentions of the stylist (for now), which meant his hair was still on end from worrying fingers through it, and he looked like he could use a meal and a good day's sleep. Both were available to him, but he didn't have much time to waste.

He was willing to bet that his best chance of escape would be after he left much of the Capitol's surveillance, en route to the arena. Other than a jet, the train seemed to be the fastest way in and out of the city. Psii hung around the entrances, scoping out the station. He knew Peacekeepers would be watching all points of exit. He'd probably come up dry on escape plans today, but what was he supposed to do? sit and twiddle his prongs in his respiteblock? train in the gym to kill people who should be his allies against the Capitol slavers? He didn't want to die, but he also didn't want to spin his wheels in their shitty Games.

Comments

[reassures]

She definitely hadn't imagined the lisp. That's good to know. She's still not really sure what a lisp is, exactly, but either this guy is in fact Sollux or... has the same thing going on as Kankri, Karkat and the Signless do. Though she's still not clear on just what exactly that is.

Nill watches the Avox leave, her expression quietly worried, before returning her attention to the Psiioniic again. Shes getting pretty fast at writing responses these days, but it still takes her a moment.

it works differently here.
the only mutes are the avoxes and I.
are you Sollux?

[biiowiired]

"No, wrong troll. You mean there'th thomeone walking around who lookth like me?"

Maybe someone with the same mutation. Probably a lowblood. A possible ally? He needed to know more. Not every downtrodden lowblood was willing to fight for freedom. The thought of ancestors and descendants didn't even cross his mind. He never believed that highblood bullshit. Just another excuse for them to lord their ancestor mythology over lowbloods without the means or lifespans to find out their own ancestry.

"What'th an Avoxth?"

[reassures]

So not a grown up Sollux. It might have been nice if he was, truth be told, but Nill never expected that. Sometimes you can't help but hope for a world in which people you know, even in passing, got to survive past their childhood. It's not a trend she's ever run into, but surely there must be a few places like that. If only, if only.

there used to be.
he's not here anymore.

Her wings shift against her back, and she frowns down at her notepad, trying to think of a concise way to describe the Avoxes that won't make what happened to them sound like a good thing, but without getting her in trouble. That was always an issue.

an avox is one of the servants.
they did something and that's how the Capitol punished them.
a lot was taken from them.

[biiowiired]

He'd thought her wings were cosmetic, but apparently they could move? She was no angel, though. Angels were terrifying motherfuckers in Alternian mythology, not cute little mute girls with funny yellow hair. He was more concerned with what she wrote next.

The Avox was silent, obedient. Like a slave. Psii remembered punishments. Systematic wearing down of the psyche. Fearmongering. Routine beating, whipping, and culling of his friends. His hands shook. His face became like stone, a defense against his own fear. Sometimes memories rose up like bile to drown him for several seconds. Inconvenient, that.

Nill's words did not adequately describe what happened to Avoxes. In fact, they completely glossed over what was probably something disturbing. If she cared enough to give the Avox a pitying look, why didn't she express more outrage? Fury worked through his shock—

"Why are you—?" —and then paranoia trumped everything else. Of course. She wasn't speaking freely. No one here did. The rooms were probably bugged. The hacker and outlaw was already familiar with all the ways a person could invade another's privacy. On Alternia, every time Psii and his merry band of heretics found themselves in a civilized area, his fingers itched to check for electronic bugs in every room they entered. He'd wanted to do this here too, but for the ever-present Peacekeepers. He balled his hands into fists to steady himself.

"Funny how I can underthtand what you're writing. And all the thignth, and alienth gibbering in different languageth. They mutht have upgraded my brain while I wath out." He tapped his temple, and his attempts at keeping cool failed as his voice wavered. Invasion of his privacy was already bad, but fucking around with his mind, his last refuge, was downright disturbing.

[reassures]

Nill's eyes actually go a little wide, just for a second, quiet dread immediately creeping in when she thinks he might make a scene about it. It was one thing for Karkat to fly off the handle about things - doing so seemed to be his baseline constant, and he rarely said something quite wrong enough that they'd take him in for it. She's not sure how this guy will handle that.

The relief on her face is a little obvious when he doesn't pursue that line, but it's short lived. Her eyes close, and a little shudder goes through her wings, which she almost immediately covers up by faking a funny-sounding sneeze. Not long ago she'd been told by an anon that something being done to their brains was actually very likely, but she doesn't know if that theory is something the Capitol is aware of. She can't say as much, no matter how terrifying the idea is. Enough has been done to her mind. If she lingered on the idea for very long that even more was done to it, she probably wouldn't sleep again.

She ducks her head a little when she writes this time, reigning her expression back into something relatively neutral but friendly. She adds more than she needs to just to give herself an extra few seconds to accomplish it.

if they did I'm sure it was so you could communicate with the rest of us.
tributes have a curfew. no one out of their district past 11pm.
no leaving again until 7am without a pass.
you can apply for one.
I have a full pass. I can go out any night.
if you need anything let me know.

[biiowiired]

Psii knew about hiding one's opinions. Go long enough, and that was almost on par with silencing them altogether. But even as a slave, he had his private moments. How else would he have heard Signless's sermon? No so, here. If all the rooms were truly bugged, the Capitol would see all.

He wondered if he should jack off constantly in front of the cameras just to piss them off.

"Yeah, curfew. Tho I've heard. Tho I can thtill leave my block to get a thnack from the thermal hull, right? Ath long ath I don't leave my dithtrict'th floor?"

He had to make doubly sure of his boundaries, after all. Even if this was more mobile freedom than he'd been allowed sweeps ago as a slave, he was being watched.

"Communication ith very important," he added cryptically. It wasn't untrue, he being a hacker. "I'd like to keep in touch with you, if you live on thith floor."

psii pls

[reassures]

At first she's not sure what a thermal hull is, and she almost frowns, but it clicks quickly enough. She's spent enough time around trolls in the past that it doesn't take her too long, and he's got the right idea so she doesn't need to correct him. So she just gives him a thumbs up at first, and if something about his tone seems off when he talks about communication then it certainly doesn't show in the smile she gives him.

I do live here.
they gave us communicators.
it has a map of the city, but nothing to type with.
you can use them to contact others or make posts for everyone to see.
not many people use them, but sometimes important announcements are made over it.
you should keep an eye on it.

She'll leave just how important up to his imagination, but hopefully the intent is clear; watch the network. It seems about the only time anyone can speak their mind about this place is when one of the Lonestar posts pop up.

But after he's done reading, she taps the communicator on her wrist, demonstrating how to get to the map for him.

he'll do it, don't think he won't

[biiowiired]

Psii would apologize for clinging to his lowblood vernacular, except he totally wouldn't. The last thing he wanted to do was try acting like a snooty highblood.

"I will. I'm all about technology. Though that'th pretty lame they can't type. Haven't they ever heard of projection keyboardth?"

He was just miffed he couldn't use his typing quirk regularly. Yet another thing the Capitol took from him.

"Tho I gueth you'll have a partner in crime for thermal hull thnack runth. I'm the Ψiioniic and I'm nocturnal."

He shrugged and rolled his eyes. Diurnal people, thinking they're the center of paradox space. It's hard being a troll, and no one understands.

[reassures]

In response Nill mostly just offers a shrug. She's not sure how Lonestar managed the keyboards he did when the Capitol didn't seem inclined to use them themselves. It had never really bothered anyone Nill spoke with, but that's because everyone else she knows with access to the communicators can talk. No one else really needs to write on paper and hold it up for the camera.

it's nice to meet you.
my name is Nill.
I usually sleep during the day.
could you write that for me?

She's human, so she's not exactly naturally nocturnal, but it's what she's used to. And it's a lot nicer sleeping in a sunny room, honestly. But she turns the notepad around and hods it out to him. Between the odd name - a title? he wouldn't be the first troll she's met with one - and his lisp, she's not sure how to go about spelling that one if she needs to mention him to someone.

i'm sorry psii is such a loser with his quirk like serously wth nerd

[biiowiired]

God, this human(?) was almost nauseatingly polite. Not an insult or quip in sight. But if there was one thing going for Psii, it was that he responded to whatever behavior in kind.

Feeling slightly weird not writing in his color, he penned,

Ψiioniic

in troll script, the only language he knew besides code. He hoped his chicken scratch wouldn't drive the implanted translators or whatever crazy, and showed it to her. "Troll titleth uthually have to be a thertain length. The word 'pthionic' doethn't cut it, tho thome bullshitting wath required. Inthidentally, it'th my quirk." He scrawled again,

II would type liike thii2. Except my color2 yellow.

Of cour2e 2♊nce ♊ have the benef♊t of wr♊t♊ng ♊ can u2e my 2ymbol two. ♊t doe2nt go over two well w♊th 2ome word proce22or2 becau2e people 2uck at ba2♊c programm♊ng.
♊ not♊ced human2 dont have hemotyp♊ng ba2ed on blood color. Do they even have typ♊ng qu♊rk2?

Nill's writing was so plain, no numbers or anything. He handed the pad back to her. Writing his words instead of speaking then was honestly kind of fun. No lisp to deal with, and he always enjoyed instant messaging anyway.

I do not mind I was gonna say that's a cute icon but then I read the keywords god damn it psii

[reassures]

The Psi symbol isn't one that Nill has really seen before, and when he hands the notepad back to her she takes a moment to look it over. She tries to do a careful copy in the corner of the page, and apparently satisfied, goes on to read the rest of what he actually wrote.

Nill's own handwriting is very neat and careful. Under better circumstances it's a little prettier and more feminine, but like this she makes a point of making sure that it's decently-sized, plain and easy to read. It's her best method of communication around here after all, and someone not being able to read her handwriting would just be unfortunate all around.

The other symbol, however, Nill recognizes. Her expression brightens a little as she writes.

most humans have the same blood color.
some people type differently, but not like troll quirks.
♊ is Gemini, right?
do you not like to use your name?

She holds it up again, and then gestures for him to take it if he wants. It sort of seemed as though he liked the writing.

he's such a charmer oh no

[biiowiired]

Psii didn't spare much time lamenting his terrible handwriting born of terrible education. His hands had spent more time in manual labor than clerical duties. With trolls, anything that required something be recorded most likely involved a computer. After teaching himself most of what he knew now, he typed his messages and notes. Disciple had the most practice with pen and paper; she was the most prolific writer among Psii's friends.

Who2 Gem♊n♊? That a22hole better not be u2♊ng my qu♊rk becau2e ♊ thought of ♊t f♊r2t.
Hatchname2 are per2onal two a t♊tled troll. Only clo2e fr♊end2 2hould u2e them.
You could call me "Ψ" for 2hort ♊f you want. "P2♊♊".
Whatever. You know what ♊ mean.

[reassures]

It seems like she was right to refer to the Initiate by his title instead of the name that he gave her. Her initial understanding of the situation hadn't been accurate, but the end result was the same - it wasn't a name that was supposed to be given out to anyone. It was good to know. He's the third troll she's met that has a title, and while she had never really questioned it before it wasn't exactly a normal practice among humans.

She takes a moment to copy the Psii symbol, mostly just to see if she can, before actually writing another reply.

Gemini is a constellation in the stars.
I still need to find it. it's pretty in pictures.
thank you.

[biiowiired]

He only let close friends call him by his wiggler name. To Psii, Mituna was the pathetic troll slave, and the Ψiioniic was the powerful rebel. He even hated his past self a little, for being weak enough to be enslaved. (On Alternia, if terrible things happened to you, it was because you fucked up.) He'd put his squalid past behind anyway, always more concerned with the future.

2orry. ♊ dont know jack 2h♊t about human con2tellat♊on2.
N♊ce two know my 2ymbol ♊2 pretty in human 2tar2. ♊ll 2ee you around N♊ll.

He cracked a real smile, unfortunately partly obscured by his fangs. Trolls smiles were.... bracing.