thecapitol | Hey there, how do you do?

Who| Sokka and whoever wants to bother him.
What| Sokka complains about this situation and does some exploring.
Where| Central Commons
When| Between Arena 5 and 6
Warnings/Notes| N/A

Sokka wasn't particularly fond of this new situation. He wasn't even convinced it was quite real yet. Somehow, part of his mind kept thinking that he'd wake up any minute in his own bed. At home. Surrounded by friends and family and away from this strange place with its towering metal buildings, lush housing and horrifying death matches. He'd spent a few minutes carefully exploring the suite he was supposed to be living in now and then descended to the main lobby. People here bustled about, and there seemed to be no one who might try to stop him leaving, if he tried.

But that would take a bit more investigation. So Sokka is slumped in a plush chair in the lobby, fiddling with the communication device he's been given and occasionally letting out a small curse whenever he does something that doesn't quite work. This thing is way too complicated.

"Who even designed this stupid thing?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

This should be the part where he cracked a Bill Gates joke...only R didn't remember who that was anymore. Some guy (maybe some zombie by now) who Did Stuff. Just another dead name.

Instead R sidled up - shuffled up? - to Sokka, reeking of the latest perfumes his stylist tried to blast him with. It didn't hide the very faint decomposition smell if someone stood close enough, but at least if anyone's eyes started watering, it'd be from Opal's Lavender Light and not his usual stench.

"Why bother?" R asked, genuinely interested here. "Talk...face to face?"

Maybe it was a Living thing. He was starting to realize people here really, really liked their gadgets, so much that it was kinda depressing. R lurched around the seat so he could flop down in the one across from Sokka.

"Well, yeah. But this thing seems really useful. Like, long distance communication! That's awesome. If only it weren't so complicated." Sokka looks up at R. Sniffs. Something smells like a dead animal but he can't figure out where it's coming from beneath all the perfume.

"Maybe I'll try and take it apart."

R grunted a "huh" at that.

"Won't..." R glanced around, like he half-expected their Escorts to coming charging at them. "They stop you?"

And what was he going to use to take it apart, anyway? His bare hands? Did he really want to see its insides that much? R leaned forward to get a better look at the communication device in his hands.

"Uh, I meant like in my room. I need to get some tools first, anyway." He turns the device over in his hands.

"What do they care if I take apart the stuff I give them? I'm supposed to fight to the death for them in like, two weeks." Cynicism, cynicism, cynicism.

The zombie thinks that one over, the thought almost visibly chugging away. "Toooosh," he wants to say "touche" but gives up. Too fancy. "Uh. Think...you'll win?"

Yeah, that's an amazing conversation opener. Good going. Let's talk about the new guy's odds on killing everyone else. It was the first thing that popped into R's mind.

"Maybe. I don't really wanna think about it." He'd rather tinker with this thing than about the fact that he's going to be fighting for his life in a short while.

"Why?" He looks up, studying R with a critical eye.

R seems surprised to have questions flipped back at him. "Curious?" Well, he is. He can't help himself. Plus he thought that was a really relevant question, seeing as humans are always worrying about how they'll do (it's weird they even ask "if", actually). He assumed this guy was the same deal.

"Can you call...home?" R points unsteadily at the device in the other Tribute's hand.

"Home? Like where I come from, home? No. I mean, even if I could there's nothing like this that could receive a message." He shrugs in resignation, pushing a few more buttons in his attempts to decipher the device. He looks up at R.

"...Everyone I've seen here looks a lot like you. I mean, like, no one looks like they're from the Fire Nation or the Earth Kingdom or the Water Tribe."

The device in Sokka's hand gives a stubborn, almost smug "bring it" beep. Do your worst, Water Tribe Tribute. (It might regret that once Sokka's gotten to it).

"Like me?" R isn't sure what to make of that. In his opinion, the people look more like the guy across from him - breathing, beating hearts and pulses, even if the clothing is godawful. Skin color isn't really a thing with the Dead, so it doesn't cross his mind that's what they're talking about. "Where's that?"

He hasn't heard of kingdoms or nations or tribes in forever and a day. R could totally buy they're real places though. It's not like he knows better with his missing memory of geography.

"Like. Pale, the way you are. The way your face is kinda structured. No one from my home looks quite like you." He can't think of the right word to describe it. He's never experienced something like this before. You can look like you're from the Earth Kingdom or the Fire Nation. You can definitely look like you're a member of the Water Tribe.

But this guy is something he can't place,

"Uh, it's hard to show you without a map, sorry."

Pale. That's probably the most diplomatic thing R's heard recently. "Pale" instead of saying he looks like death. R gets the warm fuzzies all over again.

"Ohhh," R thinks he understands now. Maybe wherever Sokka's from, his home hasn't been overrun by zombies. It sounds borderline mythical. "You...lucked out. Better no more like - " R shrugs and taps his chest. He decides on the spot he wants to return the compliment. "You look healthy," R adds.

There. That's like, the best compliment you can give to a Living, right? Telling them they're eating well and not looking like they're starving and running out of rations.

"What's it like? Your...home?"

"Cold. But I like the cold." Sokka smiles propping his hand on one chin. "There's always snow and ice and you have to work hard to make sure everyone gets what they need, but I love it. There's nothing like snow-shoeing across the ice pack early on a summer morning, the sun high in the sky and a stiff breeze off the ocean. It's beautiful."

Hey there, how do you do?

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