steepled: (Why)
Vivi Ornitier ([personal profile] steepled) wrote in [community profile] thecapitol2015-03-19 12:18 am

Where I go I just don't know

Who| Vivi and you!
What| Vivi explores the Capitol...or tries to. Overthinking is bad, man. Help him out?
Where| Starts off at the park, but it could go anywhere you like!
When| After his arena death in week 6.



There's a lot to see in the Capitol, probably enough to distract Vivi from these thoughts that seem to lead him nowhere. He had been roaming around for a while, eventually feeling the need to adjust his hat to block his view of the curious glances from the citizens. They're not screaming and running away, but having so many eyes on him like that makes him feel smaller than he already is. He's in a big city just like Alexandria, but that's where the similarities seem to end.

The bench he finds faces out to the rest of the park with the jogging path and a playground in plain view. He looks to sides first, searching for a familiar face before giving up and taking his seat. None of this is a dream after all. He really isn't in Alexandria anymore and he hasn't seen or heard from the others either. Zidane would've found him by now, Vivi thinks, knowing him.

He tips his hat back to better see and take note of the people around him. It's not the first time he's been in a big city and seeing friends and families playing with their children. But for some reason, instead of joy, he feels sadness.

"...I'm all alone now." He thinks to himself, lowering his head to look at his own feet.
rictator: (pic#8856488)

I hope this is okay. ;u;

[personal profile] rictator 2015-04-04 03:56 am (UTC)(link)
Eventually, Rick had needed to resign himself to the fact that he wasn't going to be comfortable within the Capitol's city limits. The tribute centre's corridors were more stifling than the prison tombs had ever been, and the streets were no better; the perpetual surveillance lent to the overwhelming claustrophobia in a way that physical barriers didn't, triggering every deep-rooted survival instinct he possessed. It felt as though he was under a microscope, every interaction, every move picked apart and analyzed. Everything he did needed to be calculated, every word carefully chosen, and it was draining in the worst way.

Ever since he'd returned from the arena, Rick had found himself traversing the park more and more frequently. There were no fewer cameras there, but it was the closest he'd found to anything resembling normal - or whatever it was that passed for 'normal' anymore. The trees and the illusion of open space... The city buildings loomed from every side, but he could come a little closer to ignoring them when he was there.

It was during one of his rounds that he'd spotted the tip of the hat peeking over the back of the bench, immediately reminded of his old sheriff's hat that Carl had always sported. Short and dwarfed by the size of the brim, Rick had assumed they were a child; it wouldn't have been the first time he'd seen one alone in the park. Too often they turned out to be tributes, and worst still, those who didn't have anyone else to keep an eye on them. Hardened as his exterior may have been, children still had a way of tugging at his heartstrings, and he'd never been quite able to suppress his more protective instincts.

"Hey-" his voice was soft, a tone rarely heard from him by any adult.

It was only then that he'd caught sight of the rest of the stranger's appearance, his eyebrows raised in muted surprise. The reaction was short lived, and he was already arranging his features into something friendlier - far from his default mode, these days.

"Are you alright? You looked like you might be a little lost."

Since his arrival and even before that, he'd seen a lot of things. Different worlds, different people - was this really so strange? He'd definitely seen more bizarre fashion trends in the Capitol. Part of him still wasn't fully convinced that this wasn't another one.
Edited 2015-04-04 03:57 (UTC)
rictator: (✮ now)

[personal profile] rictator 2015-04-24 07:24 am (UTC)(link)
Stuff. Under another circumstance, Rick might have laughed, knowing too well just how many times he'd used that same excuse. 'Stuff' was a lot easier than trying to put words to his issues or explaining away the ghosts that had haunted him back at the prison, beckoning him beyond the safety of their fences. It encompassed his marital problems into one neat little word, letting him duck out of conversations relatively unscathed; avoidance had long been one of his worse habits, preferring to slip away before things reached that ugly level of complicated that promised no good resolution.

He tucked his hands into the pockets of his shearling jacket, turning his gaze back out over the park. It had been a long time since he'd felt the need to interfere with the affairs of others - It never proved worth the risk, to himself or his family. He would have pegged him as a new tribute, if only because he hadn't noticed him before now - and his appearance was rather distinct - but that didn't mean much anymore. Panem was vast, enough that they could have arrived at the same time and still never crossed paths.

"Nothing you need to apologize for," he said, keeping a polite distance. "I haven't been here long, but this place is a pretty good one for figurin' things out."

So far, no sign of anyone else watching - which likely meant that he was there alone. It was enough to make the faint smile fade from his lips, his eyes dropping back to the bench. It wasn't his place to press, but Vivi had hardly said anything to assuage his concerns.

"Are you a tribute?"
rictator: (✮ home)

[personal profile] rictator 2015-05-18 09:48 am (UTC)(link)
Rick's death in the arena wasn't painless, but burning... It wouldn't have been a pleasant way to go. It was sickening to think that the Capitol would have cheered that sort of thing, a lingering, awful death somehow deemed more entertaining than a merciful one. Perhaps it made sense by the same twisted logic that these games were founded on, but watching it happen, experiencing it... Rick would have killed every last one of them, given the chance.

"Yeah," he admitted, his brow furrowed as he glanced back at him, trying to gauge his reaction. Without normal facial features, it was harder to do, but his body language was filling in some of the blanks.

There was no point in telling him he wouldn't have to do it. Survival wasn't something that a person chose to be tasked with - It was a necessity. To say that Vivi was never going to have to fight, never going to have to kill someone in order to protect his own life? It was the equivalent of signing his death sentence, and while they may have been strangers, it wasn't something Rick wanted for one so seemingly young.

It struck him then, that should he ever make it back home, he'd be having this same conversation with his daughter one day. He'd be forced to shove a knife in her hand, looking on helplessly as she was robbed of her childhood. He'd be there to tell her how best to kill a monster, and following that, the people who've turned into them. Praying to a non-existent god that somehow, she could still hold on to even a shred of innocence in a world designed to stamp it out.

"It's never gonna be normal, but it is the way things are." He wasn't much good at softening his blows anymore, and really, it didn't do either of them any good if he did. "We do what we have to so we can survive."
rictator: (Default)

[personal profile] rictator 2015-06-14 08:30 pm (UTC)(link)
Looking back on it, the question made sense to ask, though it still caught him off guard. After all, who was Rick to tell him the way things were, if he hadn't had that experience himself? In this world and his own, everyone had been forced to get their hands dirty at one point or another.

His expression darkened as he considered his answer, his gaze dropping to the ground.

Killed his best friend. Ripped a man's throat out with nothing but his teeth. Slaughtered an enemy camp.

What had he done? Perhaps it was easier to ask what he hadn't, at this point; the list of things he wouldn't do had dwindled with every new threat. He'd long since lost count of how many lives he'd taken, the blood on his hands thick enough that he'd never be able to fully cleanse it. Regardless of how things went, even with Washington, the promise of a cure and a dream of returning to normalcy, Rick already knew he'd never be able to go back to how things were. They could pretend there was hope, that they could adapt and change to life as it was, but... some changes were permanent.

"I kept my family safe," he settled on, his tone firm despite the neutral wording.

In the end, he'd done what was necessary. Everything he'd done was for them, and so long as it worked, so long as they lived, he didn't regret it.

But that was a pretty heavy subject, considering they hadn't even exchanged names. Social niceties were a luxury more than a necessity now, but they'd leapt straight into discussions of morality and death before Rick even knew what to call him.

He frowned, his head tilting slightly.

"You have a name?"
rictator: (pic#8873529)

[personal profile] rictator 2015-06-15 07:22 am (UTC)(link)
Rick had felt the same way, once upon a time. He still remembered that day in Atlanta, telling them then that 'we don't kill the living'. He'd even dared to believe it for a short time. But as things fell apart, he'd been forced to reconsider that stance; when it came down to you or them, when the lives at stake belonged to the people you cared about most, the decision to kill came far easier than it had any right to. The squeeze of the trigger felt the same, regardless of whether the target was breathing or a corpse. Being able to watch his little girl laugh as Daryl held her, to see his son grow into a man - It had been enough for him to cope with the rest.

The weight of their conversation was still heavy on him, and the smile he offered in return was small by most standards, edging on neutrality - but it was something.

"Rick Grimes."

The inclusion of his last name was a habit Rick had yet to break, even since coming to the Capitol. It was trained into him through years on the force, answering more often to his family name than to his first, particularly given just how common it was. Perhaps it even mattered to some of the citizens here, thanks to the bizarre celebrity-like status they'd been saddled with. That side of things, Rick didn't think he'd ever be used to.

He hesitated for a moment, casting one last glance around them, some small part of him still daring to hope that someone might approach to intervene. It wasn't that he was looking for trouble - but it would mean that there was something looking out for Vivi. Someone who'd take notice of him talking to strangers, and more importantly, protect him. If not in the Capitol, then where it mattered most, in the arena.

Rick wanted to know that he hadn't been dropped here alone.

"Are you here by yourself? Have you met up with anyone else from where you're from?"
rictator: (✮ still)

[personal profile] rictator 2015-07-02 08:41 am (UTC)(link)
There was a point in his life that Rick might have said the same - But all things considered, he'd have preferred it had Vivi not been there at all. There weren't many who deserved the fate forced upon them by the Capitol, but there was a certain quality that he recognized in the mage... Whether he lived or not, it wouldn't survive the things they were made to do. Eventually, they all had to adapt.

It hadn't been the answer he'd wanted to hear, but it didn't surprise him. Telling him it was only a matter of time, that others would start to arrive, was hardly reassuring, and more importantly, it wasn't a guarantee; Rick could still only guess at the Capitol's motivations when it came to tribute selection. The number of people originating from his own world seemed disproportionately high when compared to the average - If there was some pattern to it, he certainly hadn't figured it out.

And perhaps that was what was so disconcerting about it; there was no telling who would be next. With the numbers as they were, would they continue bringing in tributes from his world, or would they move on to one like Vivi's for the sake of diversity? Or somewhere else altogether? Dwelling on it was enough to make a man crazy, and really, would knowing make it any better? There was nothing they could do about it presently, beyond what they were already doing.

He hesitated as he considered his next response, warring against his own paranoid nature. There would always be a certain vulnerability in revealing those closest to you, and Rick wasn't sure he'd ever be able to fully ignore that fact; whatever sympathy he felt for the stranger didn't negate the fact that he didn't actually know him. That said, anyone with a pair of eyes and arena footage could have deduced who he cared about, whether he admitted to it or not.

"Yeah... Some of them," he said at length, followed by a slow nod. "A man named Daryl, and a girl. Beth."
rictator: (pic#8860966)

[personal profile] rictator 2015-07-28 05:07 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, he knew - and he was sorry too. Not that there was anything any of them could do about it. There were some back home who'd thought that infection had changed things, that death was different since the turn - but it wasn't. The walkers weren't alive, and as much as they looked like those they'd lost, they weren't. But even that was nothing compared to the mockery that Capitol had created; it wasn't something he thought he'd ever get used to.

Perhaps that was the way things were supposed to be. When dying became normal, if they ever did go back... They couldn't afford to let this make them weak.

"Yeah..."

Was he okay? Not really. But then, the definition of "okay" had shifted along with the rest of the world, changing to match their ever devolving situation. What was good for them now might have been before - Being able to eat, finding a safe place to spend the night, all the small things that they'd taken for granted were granted a new sense of import. Just having meat, regardless of what animal, was good now. Water, even if it had to be boiled before it was drinkable. It was certainly enough to change one's perspective on things.

He shook his head, as though to free himself from his own tangled thoughts. He'd been the one to approach Vivi - This wasn't his business, or his problem.

"Yeah," he repeated, his tone more definite. "I'm fine."

Rick chewed at the corner of his lip for a moment, considering. Maybe it was out of line, but there was some part of him that just didn't feel right leaving him - not out here, alone. He cast a glance up at the late afternoon sun, not looking at him when he spoke.

"It's getting pretty late. You got anything planned for dinner?"