we walk in love but fly in chains

[ka_sera_sera]

Who| Roland, the Signless
What| gift giving and figuring out what 'going out on a date' actually entails
Where| vague places around the Capitol
When| recently, a little while after the space arena
Warnings/Notes| none likely, will update if any are needed

The thing about Panem - aside from the imprisonment, the death, the bloodsport and the perpetual, crushing lack of options - is that it is predictable. Once Roland had started to get a feel for the place, for the way the Capitol's attention moves, shifting from one imagined drama to the next but always locked solidly onto their 'tributes', he'd realized the attention felt familiar. Being known as the heir of Eld and son of the Lord of Light, in meaning, could not be more different from being a tribute of this strange, cruel land. In effect, however, the similarities are clear, no matter how little he likes to think on them. 

Which is to say, when one knows the time of an interview, but not the name of the news-man doing it nor the place it'll happen, those latter are not so difficult to figure out. The reporters of this place fight for attention and fame the same way nobles and lesser diplomats used to tear into one another in those old, gone days to the same purpose. If one has been keeping track of the appearances made by his - well, his quadrantmate is probably the best word - and knows the pattern in which Panem's 'TV personalities' tend to tear into one another, then one can figure out where that quadrantmate is going to be with a minimum of fiddling with one's holo-gram wristwatch machine that one has not yet precisely figured the use of. 

So it is that Roland crouches behind one of Panem's elaborately designed, perfumed dumpsters with a fair view of both the front and back paths out of this particular news-building. As vantage points go it was not his first choice, but so long as it keeps him out of sight of those few fans who've followed the same thought-path as Roland himself, he will stay in this spot and be grateful. He watches the two exits, ignroing the flakes drifting over his hair and shoulders because the snowfall is sparse and not a problem yet. Of course, if Signless is wearing a hood against it it might become one, but the shape of the man's body is plenty familiar. If a short, squared figure starts out either path, he'll have to risk leaving his cover to check. 

Comments

[ka_sera_sera]

"I remember. She, the Piionic, and your mother. Your family." He could try the closer word there, but struggling with the High Speech when he knows that no matter what some other word completely is going to come out of his mouth seems disrespectful, here. He gives the collar of his jacket couple sharp tugs closer to his neck, wondering vaguely if he should have given in completely to the stylists today and worn the scarf that one'd been shoving at him. He's sure he's got a half knitted one somewhere, little though that helps now.

Nevermind. Signless' hand against his is warm enough to be getting on with. "I'd like to hear more of them, if ever you tell. Even the Psiionic." A corner of his mouth twitches up. He doesn't really dislike your friend, Signless. Even if he is composed at least fifty percent of dick.

[69problems]

"There's quite a lot to tell if you wanted to listen -- even about him." He smiles, though his eyes are elsewhere, scanning the storefronts they walk past (and carefully not meeting the eyes of any of the native humans around them). Surely he'll find somewhere that looks promising.

"He told me that you threw a sword at him. I think it made a good impression, though it takes quite a while for him to open up to anyone."

Finally a place catches his eye. It's a little less over the top compared to most Capitol restaurants (though that's saying very little), but what draws him to it is the massive fish tank visible through the windows, brightly-lit against the low lighting of the dining room. Seafood is one of those things he had very little of on Alternia: even on the boat they ate mostly dried meats and fruits and nuts and other things that would keep for the long journey. He's also as a consequence grown quite fond of it in Panem.

"What about that one?"

[ka_sera_sera]

He slows to look over it, seeing the place less with the eye of someone who wants to eat and more of someone who has something to say and kind of wants the setting to be right for it. Fish is as good as any other food - hell, maybe fish means this one'll suit his purpose even better. Or at least as well as he can expect. In this city any place that sells something which he can recognize as food is probably a lucky find, the more typical food hopefully equating to a more typical kind of meal. No heavy thump of base coming from the building either, and hopefully no scarcely dressed Capitolites writhing around to it. "It'll do," he decides and heads up the steps, the hand that connects him to Signless trailing behind.

"A good impression?" he asks, pushing a door open and for the moment ignoring the shining marble desk beyond it, as well as the person standing there. "I don't doubt you, but he seemed less than interested in being impressed last we met."

[69problems]

"He wouldn't have been. The more he likes you the less polite he gets."

With the Psiioniic it's always difficult to tell the difference between genuine derision and fond teasing. It takes a practiced eye, something only gained with time.

"He'll have appreciated your bluntness, if nothing else."

As they step up to the marble desk the host titters excitedly. Heads in the dining room turn. The Victor, here, and with his lover? How interesting.

They don't even have to wait or ask to be seated. Another host in a suit with bright glowing inlays made to look like jellyfish markings trots up holding two menus and beckons for them to follow, looking both excited and curious. They're led past the desk and through an archway built into the grand fishtank which separates the dining room from the foyer. As it turns out, the fishtank is the majority of the restaurant -- not only does it line the walls of the circular dining room but the floor and cieling as well. All of the light comes from the tank, which throws the dining room into a shimmering mottled blue and green twilight. Tables with pearly white tablecloths are set out on circular black platforms and booths are built into depressions in the glass around the back wall. They're led to one of these.

The table itself sits on another raised black platform, ringed by a seat made of black leather. Signless sits when their host indicates he should, his black coat blending with the black seat while the inset stones gleam. For as long as he's been in Panem he's avoided spending too much time in Capitol locales, but this might not be so bad. There are no screens playing footage from the last arena. The only sounds in the air are the soft murmurs of the other patrons and light piano music coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. No screams.

On the table, instead of a candle -- no need with the ambient lighting -- is a tall straight glass with a single betta fish inside.

[ka_sera_sera]

As they make their way through the room Roland lets himself look - well, not impressed. Knowing the rot that lies underneath all this city's marvels, feeling the consequences of it so dearly, takes a good bit of the wind from that particular sail. Awe, then. For all his distaste for the attitudes of these people, for their excesses, he is still sometimes reminded that these may as well be the Old Ones of his own world's history. They've reached the same heights, produced the same wonders that, before Panem, he'd only heard of in legend. There's life in these walls, in the ceiling and in the floor, sea unnaturally brought to land and held in place with technology his world hadn't even begun to understand for centuries. Centuries or, maybe, for much longer.

Of course, to the rest of the people here this is only a place to eat. The very excess that created this marvel makes its creators numb to it. The real wonder, so far as the owners of the low voices that follow them to the booth are concerned, is Panem's latest gossip. Which, for the moment, happens to be the two of them. If this room had a table that carried sound more than any of the others, he's sure they would have been brought to it. As it is, their 'host' has had to settle for one from which he and Signless can both see and be seen by nearly every other table in the room.

Once they sit and their host begins to move away, Roland leans forward. "Would you eat first, before I show-"

He pauses. Looks at the Capitolite, who started moving away but didn't quite finish. "Oh, are you ready to order already?" The woman says, in response to Roland's total lack of expression. "There's no need to hurry, I'll be ready whenever you decide."

Roland does not look away from her.

"Or would you rather start with drinks?" she says hurriedly, swiping her finger over the glass screen of one of their menus. With a few taps pictures of different colored bottles appear on it, alongside names. She's recovered already, and now looks more eager than anything else. "These two are particularly suited to that intimate night out..."

[69problems]

Signless's expression is not blank like Roland's is, but there is a certain fixed quality to his polite, patient expression. Perhaps if they make their decisions quickly they won't have to deal with too much overeager hovering. He doesn't hold it against her, not really, but that doesn't mean he enjoys it.

"Drinks sound excellent," he says decisively and she turns to him with a smile that looks just a little grateful. "I would prefer something lighter, personally, though I admit I'm not well-versed in wine."

"I'd recommend this one, then," she says, tapping on an expanding one of the images. The screen fills with information about it that he doesn't bother to read. "The White Fence Chardonnay. It's one of our most popular, pairs well with our entire menu, and is a very good introductory wine."

"That one, then, please."

She seems pleased in the same way a mother might be when their child takes their first wobbly steps. Look, the Victor is assimilating as we speak! He's becoming civilized right before our eyes! I'll go get the camera! But at least it gets her to leave for the moment.

"Now," he says, dropping the fake smile for a more genuine one. "You were saying?"

[ka_sera_sera]

[ooc: So I could cut this post into two parts too, let you do whatever with the waitress and give Signless a chance to respond to the first half, so if that would work better I can edit.]


He had been about to ask if Signless would rather eat first, but Roland's patience - deep as it can be, when it needs to - is not infinite, and what patience he's got stored for Capitolite nonsense is partly used up. ('Shut up, Steve.') And the longer he waits, the more likely they'll keep being interrupted by that same Capitolite nonsense. So now what would be nerves in anyone else Roland decides in him is impatience, and decides finally to give in to it.

"Some time ago, you gave of me a gift." He feels it in his pocket, turns it in his fingers, but it isn't time to take it out. Not yet. "So that I would remember, regardless what else may happen in this place. A symbol of you, and of us, in the manner of your people. I remember. I know you'll do the same, but I've left you too long without a token of my own. I'd hoped it'd be done before this last arena, arranged to have it delivered to you, just in case."

He leans back against the soft material of the booth, shrugs a shoulder. "But you'll see more in it after I've had the chance to explain. My people have symbols of their own, you see. Or, had, though many still remember the old ways." The waitress returns then and Roland sits in silence, watching Signless' face as if their conversation has simply hit a natural pause. There's a moment, then glasses are set in front of each of them, drinks are poured, and a bottle thumps onto the table. There's another moment, briefer, and then he watches with some approval as she walks away. She could have stalled there, hovered on the pretense of waiting for their dinner order, but she didn't. Any Capitolite who can learn so quickly to take a hint - quickly for this city, anyway - is probably worth keeping track of.

Later. For now he's got something more important to focus on. "Time was, among other things, was conceived of in my home as a great wheel." Signless has his own teaching voice, and Roland has his - a little of it's slipping into his voice here and it feels familiar, he knows he's explained his old culture in this voice before, but that was some time ago and it's a risk to think too deeply on it. He thinks of the wheel itself, instead. How it was imagined, how to explain.

"The water of-" Of ka, damn it, but he doesn't feel like stuttering and stammering around a failed attempt at the word, not right now. "-of fate push against it and time moves." The two fingers of his right hand rise, sketching a lazy circle in the air as he speaks. "A man may build a city, see it gather people and knowledge and land, and as time moves that civilization reaches its peak-" His hand pauses at the top of the imaginary circle, then starts down its other side. "Crumbles, falls into darkness. Then another man builds another city, gathers that same old knowledge, and the process begins again."

He leans forward, one hand slipping back into his pocket. "Some used to claim that people are pushed in the same way. That those k-" He stops himself, then. Grimaces briefly. "Those moved together by fate do so too in cycles. That love may meet its end, but only for a while. If the worst should happen-" His hand pulls out of his pocket, reaches for Signless', and gently sets a small piece of blue-grey metal into his palm. The metal is shaped into a small water wheel, its inside and the bottom of each little spoke coated in the same marbled red and white stone that makes up Roland's own necklace. "-then turn this, and know that time is turning in the same way. That if you meet a man one day, and he reminds you a little of me- Well, who can say?"

His hands cover Signless', trying to curl his fingers around the wheel. "Keep this, dear, and remember: Even if things should fall down around us now, if it should happen that we fail and lose everything- the wheel will turn. We'll meet one another again."