thecapitol | I'm not sure what I'm looking for anymore

Entry tags:

I'm not sure what I'm looking for anymore

Who| Rochelle and Open!
What| Rochelle just got here. What's going on, where am I? Why does everyone make a face when I ask about Nick???
Where| Around the Tribute Center
When| After the arena
Warnings/Notes| Possibly swearing at some point? Discussions of violence, probably.

Was this the rescue they'd worked so hard for? Was this the rescue that her and her team had dragged themselves through hell, chased by zombies, tanks, witches, and every special type of infected that walked this godforsaken earth? The last thing she remembered was making it to the helicopter, a tank close on her heels. It'd been a close one, but when she'd reached out, sturdy hands gripped her, as they always did when she needed them to. Whose hands, it didn't matter, because they were all a unit, each depending on the others for survival.

But this was different. The Hunger Games, they said. Battle to the death, they said. Like some kind of Battle Royale, except instead of Japanese kids in a dystopian future...It was her. Also in a dystopian future. Well, shit. She knew that there had been a lot of issues with carriers, people immune but exposed. They'd been gunned down by the military (though her sources on this were scribbles in pen on walls), but it seemed a little...excessive, to shuttle them in a helicopter to compete in some kind of blood match.

She is careful, as she walks, slowly going around the suite, looking into her room, walking down the hallway and exploring the areas available to her. She's thinking, mind whirling, but stays calm. Anyone who sees her will notice, she doesn't seem to be panicking, but there's a way that she watches everyone around her, quietly observing them.

She hasn't seen people in a long time, besides her teammates, but even as she quietly looks around at these new faces, she feels lonely. Three shadows are missing from her side, and she constantly turns to speak, asking Nick what he made of this, about to joke to Coach they ought to find the cafeteria, asking Ellis if he saw anyone looking friendly.

Her priorities were ordered neatly: Find her boys, find out what's going on, find weapons, and escape.

Rochelle can be located pretty much anywhere she's allowed in the Tribute Center, and might approach friendlier-looking people. Those who aren't so friendly-looking can come over and figure out who the new meat is.

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She couldn't help but laugh when she was pulled to her tip toes, his enthusiasm contagious. Once let go, she stayed close to him, patting his arm as he drooped. She didn't seem to pleased when she heard that Coach was MIA--He was their leader, the one who made the calls, the one that hustled them around and made sure they didn't fall behind. It would be hard to figure all of this out, and what to do, without him.

She has to raise her eyebrow when he mentions Nick, though. Nick, not liked? At least one thing had stayed the same when everything else was different.

"Okay, I was with you, up until 'not in the usual way', you're going have to explain that one a little better." She told him, a small smirk playing across her lips. Clearly, she had no idea just how bad Nick had pissed everyone off--In her head, she pictured Nick swindling some poor saps out of their money, that's what he was in Savannah to do in the first place, right?

How does one tell their apocalypse big sister their resident jackass went on a shooting spree and killed about 20% of the Tributes here? Including children? That was a question on Ellis had been thinking about for a while now and it was showtime. Rochelle would be one of the few people in the world who'd understand as he did, she knew what was at stake back home...but the kids' deaths were still a hard sell even for him.

"Well, he did try to con a few people but tha's not the problem. Let's find ya a seat an' you gotta promise you're not gonna freak out, because I plan on kickin' his ass," El prefaced as best he could.

Rochelle had learned to take her teammates' various flaws in strides. But the way Ellis spoke, she could already feel a headache forming. She gave him a concerned look, lips thinning. "El, you're really worrying me now." She told him, but agreed. Heading off, she quickly located a little alcove with some seats. While walking, she kept close to him, occasionally glancing at him, and once even reaching out and gently tapping his arm. Being separated from them had been a challenge. And now that she was getting more and more nervous, knowing at least one of them was next to her have her some comfort.

She sank down into the too plush chair, frowning and wiggling around in the unexpected comfort. Turning to her teammate, she leaned forward, lacing her fingers together. "Alright. Lay it on me, Ellis. What happened?"

The assurances were needed as Ellis settled into their private little corner. "Nick shot at least eight people in the head, includin' a twelve-year-old boy an' a nineteen year old girl, I think."

Jesus Christ.

Being blunt may have been his thing but Ellis would have to learn some tact before he went out for interviews. Maybe Rochelle could coach him in the future. He paused and immediately added, "They ain't infected or permanently dead! I mean...I guess you were told about the Hunger Games an' really, I died too!" El points to his neck and ribs, "Got jabbed here, here, Nick too an' we're all in this Tower reality show. Did I lose ya yet? Because it's gonna git worse."

At least Rochelle would get everything she needed from the young man, even if it were the hardest pill to swallow.

Ellis was never one to explain things delicately, but even Rochelle is floored by the revelations that Ellis dishes out rapid-fire. She's glad that he suggested sitting, or she might have been literally floored. Instead, she sinks into the chair, gripping the edges, and staring down. Her eyes are wide, and for a moment, she is certain that this is all a big prank that Ellis did, some elaborate joke for the one who woke up late, and he was about to drop the truth, and work with her on what they were going to tell Coach.

She stares at him in utter confusion for a few moments, waiting for his face to crack into a grin. But he doesn't.

"Ellis...Ellis, you got to be kidding me." She spoke softly, a hint of pleading in her voice, asking him to be kidding her, because the truth would be so much worse.

Hearing that plea, that assurance that this was all a hoax, it wasn't possible for El to lie. The wear of his first Arena took away some of his old joy in life, enough that it could be seen.

"I wish I was," he spoke in a rare whisper, a sound that he never let out unless there was danger around the corner. "Ro, we're here an' that's wha' we gotta concentrate on. We either win an' live in the lap of luxury for all time, or we keep dyin' an' coming back like som' twisted respawning. An' trust me, there are people here that are ruthless, worse than what Nick did. We gotta meet with Nick an' git something going, anything for the next one."

That was the mechanic's priority now: make sure both his friends, and Coach if he came, make it as far as the gambler did, or further.

He was serious. Even if that look on his face didn't seal it, the whispering did. She leaned forward, a look of pain on her face. This was beyond the Green Flu, this was beyond everything else. She reached out, touching Ellis' wrist gently. Whatever was going on...He was right about one thing. They'd have to do this like they always did. Together.

"I...yeah. Alright. We'll figure out how to win. We can do this. Let's find Nick."

She doesn't know what to think. But she does know that whatever they're going to do, they've got to do it together.

"I haven't run into him just yet, but I plan on huggin' him then punchin' him in th' dick."

Ellis truly cares about Nick but Rochelle wasn't there when he saw the kills, rage boiled in his blood. The man wasted bullets, precious bullets, and yes, he was eager to kill as many Tributes, he should have known better. But Rochelle's expression rendered his threat mostly moot.

"Do ya wanna settle in somewhere? Wha's your District?" He tried to make her feel normal. "I can take ya over there...How was Coach back home?"

"Good. Give him one for me, too." She replied calmly. She hadn't quite had the chance to process what Nick had done yet, to be honest. The whole stuck in a revolving door death Battle Royale was still weighing heavily on her. Thinking on what Ellis told her, she really wasn't surprised. Nick was a survivor, just like her. But unlike her and Ellis, the whole morality thing had never seemed to quite sink in. He would do what was necessary to survive. She didn't find it hard to expand that to include killing other people.

She'd discuss it with him later.

"My district..." They'd mentioned it to her, even though it meant nothing to her. "Is 3. What does that mean? I can stay with you and Nick, right?" She knew that in a setting where you didn't have to constantly huddle together for life, people might find her staying with several grown men a little...odd, but she'd rather get looks, than have to sleep alone.

"As for Coach...I don't know, I mean. The last thing I remember, we were all together. We'd just crossed that godawful bridge, and reached the helicopter. All of us." She shook her head. Ellis had clearly been here longer than her, but to her, they had all been there, only a matter of days ago.

The mechanic had one rule about killing other survivors: do not engage unless threatened with life or death. Sure it was naive but maybe he held onto whatever hope they had of solving things without murder. "A hug or an impromptu opera performance by Nicole?"

At the mention of her district, El smiled, "You're not supposed to but I'm right above ya on D4. Nick's D7 an' it's easier for him to sneak out than the other way around." And yet he would leave his room if to make sure Rochelle had a good night's sleep. The time displacement however, spooked the young man.

"It...seems longer. That feels like it happened months ago, Ro."

Rochelle was never one to be quick to try to kill anyone, either. But Nick was...Nick. She would with hold judgement until she had a better grasp on the situation. Right then, there was so much going on, she would have to compartmentalize and figure out things in order. Maybe when she saw Nick she could speak to him. She laughed, at what he said, though, shaking her head. "Both, maybe." At least he still had his humor.

"I don't understand this district stuff. Why do we have to stay in our district suites? What does it matter?" She leaned back, crossing her arms. She didn't need to share a room with the guys--The idea of a full night without listening to snoring had it's merits--But she didn't like the idea of being on completely different floors.

She tilted her head at him, looking...confused. "...How long have you been here? I mean--I remember running for the helicopter. Ducking past all the infected, jumping on it. It was...barely a full day ago."

"I've been here for a month, maybe more. Nick's been here for far longer. The Arena made me lose track o' time, an' I slept a lot after I came back from th' dead," Ellis spoke in a distant, even melancholic manner. Rochelle barely had a moment to rest after New Orleans.

"It's supposed to be so we know who we're gettin' killed for, instead of their people. It's in th' grapevine, or somethin'," the mechanic explained as best he could, unaware that children used to be Tributes. "I guess I can try an' visit ya. At least I don't snore like Coach did."

The man could literally wake the dead.

"A month? Longer?" She stared at him with no small amount of alarm. Even that phrase, After I came back from the dead. Surviving had always been their thing, they'd called themselves survivors, and suddenly that was no longer an option. Suddenly dying was not only a real possibility, but doubtless, and they would just pop back up. And Ellis and Nick had already done it once before. Without her.

"...I see." Rochelle did her best to stay collected, stay calm. But it was clear that all this news was slowly, quietly picking at her. It was too much to take in at once, too awful to imagine. She held her hands together so they wouldn't waver, eyes staying wide so she didn't have to try to blink away wetness. What good would it do anyone? What good would it do Ellis? Herself? No, she would hold herself together.

"I'd appreciate the two of you being around. I'm just sorry I couldn't be there for you." She reached out for his hand, guilt eating at her. Ellis was worn, she could tell, and if he could have survived the Green Flu, only to become ragged here...That gave some show of what they were dealing with. But at least, she'd be here to help.

Empathy had been one of El's strongest suits and he knew exactly how Rochelle looked and sounded like when she was about to cry. He not only allowed her to take his hand but he also swiped his other thumb along her cheek, as if to tell her that it was okay to let things out. The Green Flu made the young man grow up in terms with dealing with death and loss, this place just reinforced it even further. The moment he came back from the dead, it was then that he realized just how deep the Capitol owned him and Nick. Rochelle didn't need that burden thrust onto her.

"Don't be sorry, Ro," the mechanic offered, "It's not your fault, tha' you weren't here baby girl. We were stolen away, we didn't choose this. I would've given the world if you an' Nick be spared from all this." But it had to be said, "As long as we don't win, we're not Survivors. I will do my damnedest to make sure one of us takes tha' title again."

Her movements were subtle, gripping his hand, but scooting closer. She presses her face into his shoulder, and doesn't move. It's not fair, they worked so hard, they tried so hard, they suffered and suffered, mauled by tanks and witches and everything the Green Flu could throw at them, ran across a bridge that was being bombed, dodging a horde and a tank and everything else--To end up here. Had they not earned rest? Had they not earned freedom from fear?

Her tears are silent, only her shoulders shaking as she took raspy breaths, only the dampness in his shoulder. There were few she trusted her tears to, and she would keep them as private as possible. His words don't help, though she knows they were meant to. But she can't decide which is worse--The idea of being stuck in some never ending death match, or watching Nick and Ellis have to be stuck there, while she rests easy. No, that would be worse. All or nothing.

Once she can speak, she does so, though her voice is shaking more than she would like. "I'd rather be in that arena, than in here, without you, Ellis."

The mechanic held his friend close...and maybe let some tears slip out of his face while he could. He had to allow himself this moment of weakness, of having done so much, killed so many Infected, and now this? To kill their fellow survivors or whatever they were for someone else's sport?!

"But what if...I don't want you or Nick t' suffer an' goddamn, Nick got so close," he whispered, broken for this one instance. It was physically impossible for Ellis to be the happy-go-lucky young man all the time as he used to be, "I don't wanna see you guys die. I don't wanna lose ya." Over and over again. That was his hell, wasn't it?

"S-Sorry," he immediately tried to get his bearings for her. He tried to smile again, "Just had to let that out. I'll be all right." No he wasn't but at least he had someone to be honest with. To not be afraid in baring his heart to.

Edited 2015-03-29 07:26 (UTC)

"Don't be sorry, El." Rochelle responded immediately, squeezing his shoulder. "This...this is some bullshit. Some straight up bullshit. I don't want to lose either of you, either. We'll just...We'll find Nick, and we'll talk it all over, alright? We'll figure something out. All three of us." She nodded her head firmly, wiping the tears off her face as she straightened. Okay, she had to keep it together. For Ellis, and for herself.

"And you're allowed to be upset, okay? No one ever accused you of being some kind of stone cold statue, and now? Would be a real bad time to start. We have every single right to be upset." She pressed her lips together, feeling anger stir where there had been grief. These weren't zombies that she could just shoot, but it felt like it was similar--Just as hopeless, just as impossible to really solve.

So much for being survivor.

The assurance that as a group, they would find a way out of this mess and finally be safe was enough to stop any leftover tears from falling. Jesus Christ, he shouldn't have been so weak, he could have done more in the Arena then and maybe keep Nick alive somehow.

"If ya believe it so. But I ain't gonna let this get to me, an' one by one, we're gonna win an' be safe. No safe houses, no Infected, we'll finally get the break we freakin' deserve." Yes he was pumping himself up but he also wanted to get Rochelle as motivated.

If El had to make the same choices Nick had to make in his tenure, then he would gladly do them if it meant the people he cared about got ahead. Not just the people he met in the Arena, but these two.

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