thecapitol | [open] Carrying those fears around;

Entry tags:

[open] Carrying those fears around;

Who| Adella and you...?
What| Waking up in the Capitol, dealing with culture shock and her death.
Where| Training Center, Central Commons, D12 suites
When| Late Week 4.
Warnings/Notes| Mentions of death

a]
Waking up alone in the Capitol was far more jarring than Adella could ever have expected. The wounds on her stomach and shoulder were gone, not even the ghost of pain remaining. She was slightly unresponsive to the aides who came to assist her. When she's shown to where the District 12 tributes live, she locks herself in her room, curled into herself for hours. Sometimes she sleeps, sometimes she lies awake, playing over the events in the Arena in her mind, trying to figure out if it was all real or some elaborate Fade nightmare.

When she finally emerges, she's a little more personable, sitting in the common room and attempting to figure out the technology in front of her. It's not going well.

b]
When she ventures out of the District 12 suites, she chooses to leave with purpose. Cullen had mentioned that there were others who had died before she'd arrived in the Arena, so she sets out to look for them. Not sure how to track them down she visits the Training Center, as well as the Central Commons, asking anyone who looks like they might be willing to stop for a moment if they'd seen Josephine, Cole, or a woman named Lavellan.

c]
In the Commons she does get pulled in by the screens displaying the games, seeing for the first time a replay of her own death as well as live footage. It's a sick experience, and yet she can't pull herself away, finds herself sitting and watching, worried for her friends still in the Arena.

She doesn't know how to help them, and anyone might see her sitting white knuckled as she watches whenever they appear on-screen, Cullen's lucky coin gripped so tightly in her hand it's left the mark of Andraste's face on her palm.

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China's taken to watching the viewers just as much as the games themselves. It may not be nearly as entertaining, but it can be informative.

She tells herself that it's curiosity, not sympathy, that moves her to approach the anxious-looking woman. Without waiting or asking for an invitation, she seats herself next to her. "You don't look well at all, dear."

There's probably not much going on in the Training Center other than a man laying on the floor while he tinkered around with a tablet. Phil had made it a nice routine to come here after his death, and build himself up again. It was work, then watch the Game itself. It was best to keep his mind busy and not fall back into the dread that still clung to him.

When he spotted the woman walking about, Gray sat up and placed the device aside for this. "Do you need help?" He asked, concerned about her.

She's so absorbed in the broadcast that she actually jumps a little when the woman sits next to her, although she recovers quickly. Forcing a smile, she tilts her head to the side.

"Really? Because I was thinking compared to a few days ago I look fantastic, now." It's amazing what having all your blood on the inside of your body and not all over the snow can do for a person.

In a different situation, she might have approached him to ask about the device he was tinkering with. As it was, she wouldn't have bothered him, but he engaged her, and she was more than happy to jump on someone offering their help. She gave him a smile, somewhat apologetic, since she isn't sure if she's being terribly intrusive.

"I do, actually. I'm... This is my first time here. When I was in the Arena, some of my friends told me a few of our other friends were already back here, and I'm trying to find them." The place is much larger than she expected it to be, and she has no idea how to find anything. "I'm looking for a young man- blonde, blue eyes, sort of sickly looking. His name is Cole. Also a woman named Josephine, dark hair and skin, with an Antivan accent."

The guard thought about that for a moment, as he tried to remember if anyone matching those descriptions around. He hadn't seen that many people there, or maybe he was too concentrated to see others use the facilities, He shook his head, "Uh, I haven't seen anyone like that over here, I'm sorry, ma'am."

When she mentioned that it was her first, Phil gave her a weary smile, "Mine too."

The joke is a pleasant surprise and China laughs lightly. "Yes, I'll have to concede to you there. You do look quite nicely fixed up."

And wasn't that just so kind of the Capitol?

"Are you watching for anything in particular?" Much as China herself loves the games, she's interested in the reasons the tributes have for watching.

There was one skill that it behooved all forms of military leadership to learn, bar none. It wasn't strategy, or the right ways to inspire loyalty in your men. There wasn't any real tactical value to it, not in the traditional sense. Shepard had grasped it firmly with both hands by the time she'd turned twelve, and her capabilities had only grown, since then.

Two fingers in mouth, and blow; the world's loudest whistle. Even upside down on the floor in a blanket fort, she could pull it off.

"Hey!" Over here, Adella, "You got a minute?"

Cole hears his name from across the room as he enters the training center, having just come back from his rounds of feeding all the stray animals in the Capitol. Or so it seemed, some days. He's better at it now that people have told him that cats like meat or fish more than anything. And they're not as scrawny as they used to be when they first met, which makes Cole incredibly happy.

He keeps his trademark hat pulled down low, but approaches the woman without much hesitation, tilting his head in momentary confusion.

"Hello. I am Cole. Are you hurt? Do you need help?"

It's what he does, after all. Help people.

Jason's taking his third fifteen-minute break in two hours in the Commons. It's that kind of morning. Jason was hoping Dorian would make it to the last week, not because he cares about Dorian but because that means Jason only has to deal with him from afar. Now Dorian's scheduled to be back any hour now and Jason's down too many Tributes.

He wanted to find Swann in District Eight, but he's been feeling like he's been clingy lately, and he knows people talk, and so instead he came down here and ordered a glass of mint-flavored water from the bartender and took up residence watching the Games. He's convinced himself that this is as much his job as anything else, and so even if he were inclined to clock out for his breaks he wouldn't see the need.

He sits on the couch in the commons, one ankle lazily slung over his knee, smoking his ever-present electronic cigarette that smells less like burning and more like VapoRub. He recognizes Trevelyan from Dorian's ill-advised alliance, which Jason seems incapable to break up no matter how much he hates seeing inter-District chumminess.

"It's like you people never learn. You can't have a cross-District alliance. The Gamemakers don't allow it, because it stands against everything the Games stand for." He takes a deep drag and stares at Adella, making sure she isn't ignoring him. "Obviously."

She looked a little defeated when he mentioned that he hadn't seen anyone matching the descriptions she gave, but she wasn't going to give up. She knew they had to be here, somewhere.

Her lips twitched a little into a reciprocative smile, as bizarre and anxious as this situation made her, it was also nice to know she wasn't the only one.

"I suppose it's nice to know I'm not alone, then. I'm- Adella."

"Well thank you," she replies, somewhat automatically. She still can't quite wrap her mind around it. At the woman's question, Adella presses her lips together, looking up at the screens for a moment, before turning back to her again.

"Most of my friends are still in there. I'm watching to make sure they're alright." Since she can't help them in any other way.

It's probably sad to say, this isn't the first time someone's whistled to get Adella's attention. She does have the good sense to look mildly annoyed by it, although when she spots the woman who whistled at her, she approaches warily. She's seen enough people with strange modifications to their bodies by now that she doesn't immediately jump to demon (although she did the first three times) but she's cautious, all the same.

"Can I help you?" she asks, a little coolly.

She'd had her back turned, otherwise she would have spotted Cole immediately, that hat stands out in a crowd. When she hears him behind her she turns, unable to suppress the relieved smile that spreads across her face.

"Thank the Maker you're here," she says, barely keeping from reaching out to clap her hands on his shoulders. She realizes, she isn't his Inquisitor, of course. Her smile grows a little serious, and she tilts her head down, as much in an attempt to look under the hat as anything. "Do you know who I am, Cole?"

She knew that her friends couldn't all survive. She'd heard the stakes of the Games, learned a little more about it, now. Still, watching them start to fall, it was heartbreaking. She wanted to scream at the screens, at the people who had created such an abomination against all human decency.

But she was silent, and watched the screens, hoping it would keep showing people she didn't know, hoping that those that were left were safe.

She hears the man speak, but isn't paying much attention to his words, not until he clearly focuses on her. Frowning she looks back at him, tilting her head to the side.

"Excuse me?"

Oh good, that doesn't get any less creepy in person.

There was something about listening to Adella Trevelyan at the remove provided by hidden microphones and a sheet of liquid crystal display that had allowed her to rationalize it. In person, there was no escaping the resemblance; she sounded far too much like one Specialist Samantha Traynor for comfort. Or maybe 'comfort' wasn't the right word, though Shepard hesitated to apply coincidence. It was too much like despair to try and parse what this kind of thing meant, from a tactical, or philosophical, angle.

"It looks to me like you're the one who could use some help," Demons, huh? Well, seems like she isn't making a good impression on anyone from Thedas, save Cassandra, so why not go for broke? "I'm Commander Shepard. I don't know if Cullen told you anything much, but we agreed on an alliance before the current Arena began. You're new, I'm experienced, maybe we can work something out."

"Oh you won't be, most of us die in the process...hopefully one of your friends will emerge the winner, you know?" Phil tried to explain as directly as he could, the band-aid approach. "Or they could be, uh, resting up in their assigned districts! You should always check the death lists, not that they'd be dead permanently of course."

He stood up and dusted his hands, "I'm Phil, District 6 Tribute and, uh, professional newbie, at least in this case."

"He mentioned an alliance, no names," she might sound a great deal like Samantha Traynor, but aside from some shared humor that's where the similarities end. Adella pressed her lips together, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. "He said they were killed early. That makes you experienced?" Yes, she made a mistake and ended up dead, too, but from what she'd heard they hadn't been very far into the Arena when she'd arrived.

She also can't entirely imagine Cullen being comfortable dealing with a woman who looks like this Commander Shepard, although it's entirely possible she's wrong on that.

"The friends I'm looking for... should already be here. Most of the people from my- Thedas, are still in the Arena." She still isn't used to saying they're from her world, or not. It was a strange situation. A look of dawning crossed her face at Phil's introduction and she smiled, a little apologetically.

"I'm District 12, I suppose. It's funny they divide us up, we're all being thrown in to die the same."

"Look, I've been here for about two years, now. That makes this, if you wanna count it, my tenth arena. And if you don't want help, I can go," It's hard to beat Krogan for malice, but the Turians have got that cod predatory thing like nobody else; Trevelyan is good, but Shepard has never been easy to quell, "But I'm trying to be your friend, and you're arguing with me."

Really, it was just so typical. You try to help people, you go out of your way to do what was the right thing, even if it led to a branch stuck in your bowels and blood on the snow. Damn it, she didn't even like Dorian!

"Not really making a good case for the Inquisition's side of this deal, gotta say."

The word Thedas was new to Phil but he quickly made a gesture to say, "Relax, you can say your world. I know I'm from another place way different from yours so, it's all right!"

Pushing back his hair, he asked, "And your people? We can cheer them on from here...at least that's what I do. If they've lasted this long, they're sure to be rewarded." At least that's his reasoning and from what he learned. He got up and offered her a seat.

"I said, you were never going to win with a cross-District alliance. It's against the purpose of the Games. God, it's like you Tributes don't even bother to understand the game you're playing before you go in and make fools of yourselves."

He exhales smoke that seems to make the inside of his nose and the roof of his mouth go numb. It relaxes him, and there's an expression on his face of something losing tension, of the perpetual tightness in his temples going a little slack for just a moment.

He waves a hand. "Dorian's one of mine. Believe me, he was at enough of a disadvantage before you all decided to tempt fate."

And it's clear from looking Adella up and down that he doesn't think much of her, either.

China raises an eyebrow, holding back the myriad questions that fly to her at that remark. "How kind of you."

"Which ones are yours?" she asks, instead of asking the woman which one she'll root for if it somehow comes down to a showdown between the ones she loves. That would just be rude, even if she is curious.

She'd made fun of Cullen for not always being very good at making friends, hence their lack of allies in the Arena, and here she was being pricklish herself. It's not entirely unlike her, but usually someone has to earn her ire, first. She's not handling her death particularly well.

Letting out a sigh she shakes her head. "I'm sorry, I'm not usually-" she pinches the bridge of her nose, before looking down at Shepard, forcing a smile.

"Do you mind starting over? Shepard, you said? You're acquainted with my people. Cullen, at least. I suppose you already know who I am, then."

"It's... complicated. Thedas is the name of where I am from," she replies, sitting down and giving Phil a small smile. "There appear to be... several different versions of it, and only my significant other seems to remember the world that I exist in, specifically." It's a little surreal, explaining the situation to someone on the outside of it all. But it also helps to boil it down.

"They're still all my people, though. It doesn't matter to me if they don't remember."

"You say that as if we volunteered for this game," Adella replies, a little coolly. She isn't a stranger to the look he's giving her, she gets it often enough back home and it has about as much effect on her now as it did then.

"Dorian is one of my people. He is from my world, and I will look out for him and he me, regardless of what kind of factions your Games have invented. If he's one of your charges, you should respect that I want to keep him alive." She doesn't see how it should matter, once they're in the Arena they're supposed to be ripping each other apart, who truly cares what District you're assigned to? It certainly makes no difference to her, she only knows as much about the world as what people have told her so far. District 12 is little more than a number she was arbitrarily assigned.

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