thecapitol | (no subject)

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Who| Éowyn and OPEN
What| Éowyn just arrived and is really rather confused and angry about this.
Where| Around and about in the Tribute Center
When| After the Arena
Warnings/Notes| Nothing springs to mind

After the guards left her, Éowyn stayed in the suite for a long time. There wasn't much choice. Fear and rage and wonder and horror were warring in her, roiling into such a wild storm that she half-feared she might burst from it, and she didn't trust herself enough to leave. She needed the time to sit there, to let it wash over her, to hammer that maelstrom of emotion into something colder and harder and more manageable. It had been hard enough to stand there while they explained her predicament; hard enough not to let those waves of hopelessness drag her down.

All this time. All that blood, all that loss, and she was back where she had so long been; a gilded cage, where she was to play the part set out for her. She would almost have preferred a dungeon to this luxurious palace which she was no less imprisoned. At least iron bars and shackles would have been honest. At least there she would have known what to expect, and not had to feel so thoroughly unmoored. It could hardly have been more than an hour since she had been sleeping beside her husband, all fear banished for the time being, in their own room, in their own lands. Now she felt herself adrift, and part of her thought that, if someone said the wrong word to her now, if the wrong thing were to happen, she might simply break like dry straw.

But even with that fear, there was only so long she could stay still and alone in such a vast, alien room. She didn't expect escape to be easy - from the near-casual way they had handled her arrival, she doubted she was the first, or even the hundredth, to come into this place so strangely - but she was damned if she would stay sitting there like some fainting maiden awaiting rescue. At the very least, she could find out more. Maybe someone who might tell her more about this place and its barbaric Games, or some open space to lessen the stifling claustrophobia that was starting to set in.

So when she had steeled herself appropriately for what might await, she arose and left that place without a backwards glance. She took the strange objects they had given her, hoping that someone might be able to explain them a little better to her, and headed out into the hallway. It was an effort to hold back her astonishment at the wonders she saw... doors that opened by themselves, witch-lights ensconced on the walls and ceilings, strange moving pictures on the walls. It was an effort, but she did it nonetheless, schooling her face into a mask of empty disinterest and holding herself tall. Confidence was hard to muster when you were trying to fumble your way through a world so strange, harder still without a knife at your side or a friend at your back. But she was Éowyn of Éorl's line. She was the doom of the Witch-King, the Lady of Ithilien, sister to the King. She would not quail.

It was with that stony resolve in mind that she set out to find someone - anyone - who might aid her. When she did see someone, she swept over to them, hailing them with a graceful lift of her hand. "A moment, if you would?"

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"What?"

Jason probably catches Éowyn's eye because he looks like a native to this place, watching the Games in the Tribute Commons with a notepad and a pen that he periodically sticks behind his ear, where it competes for space with the hook of his eyeglasses.

Everything about his posture, with his feet up on one of the coffeetables, radiates of someone who doesn't bother to impress others because something inherent to him does it for him - in Jason's case, it's neither wealth nor reputation but the fact that he's a Capitol-born citizen of Panem, and that places him on an irrefutable pedestal over these offworlders and District brats. He has an electric cigarette hanging from his mouth, and he looks bored by the Games except when a Tribute named Nick appears, in which case Jason jots down notes that seem almost written in code for all their shorthand.

He looks over at Éowyn, then scrunches up his brow with vexation. He doesn't recognize her face, but he knows he's due to get some new Tributes, and God knows he just might kill for one with some basic manners. He flips through his notepad looking for the names of descriptions of his new crop and finds nothing, then looks back to Éowyn.

"You one of mine? Did someone send you my way?"

Are all those here so ill-mannered? Éowyn almost snapped in response, but she knew well enough that to let herself be angry would be a fatal error. She needed information, not enemies, and she had been raised better than to answer rudeness with rudeness. Instead, she put on a polite smile and hid her scorn. Still, there was something in the set of her jaw, the tilt of her chin, which hinted at her disdain.

"I know not, sir, for I know neither who you are nor what you mean by yours. Nor was I sent here. I do but wander." Clasping her hands behind her back, she looked up for a moment at the screen, frowning a little at what she saw there. It made no sense, and not only because she didn't understand the technology. Was this entertainment? Education? Example? She was sharp enough to guess that it was some kind of projection of the Games she was supposedly doomed to, but why it was shown in this way, and why he would watch it, she struggled more to grasp.

Tearing her attention away from the screen and back to him, she drew herself up to her full, fairly imposing height and cleared her throat. "Éowyn, they call me, of the house of Éorl. I am a stranger here, and do but seek the guidance denied me by our hosts. What is this place? How came I here? Where is my husband?"

Edited (wrong icon oops) 2015-03-22 00:48 (UTC)

China glided through the halls, clearly in no hurry, and so she stopped easily when approached. She smoothed the sleeve--too sheer to hide the twisting tattoos on her arms beneath--of her dress and turned to the woman. "Certainly, dear."

She studied the face quickly. It wasn't one she knew, which would have led her to assume that the woman was a new arrival if China didn't so dislike jumping to conclusions. "Do you need any help?"

Megan had been taking Swann up on her offers of all-you-can-eat ice cream sundaes, and after having popped into the District 8 suites to help herself to something sweet, the pink-haired mutant fairy was strolling through the lobby of the center, licking her ice cream with delicate, deliberate swirls of her tongue. She'd hardly paid any mind to Éowyn, being that she was solely fixated on avoiding her mentor and escort and the lecture that would go with her decision to binge on sugary dairy products, so it took her a moment or two to realize that the woman was addressing her. Sheepishly she smiled at her.

"Huh?" She blinked, black eyes sparkling. All of her was sparkling, really. Such is the nature of fairies. "Oh hullo! I didn't see you there!"

"Perhaps." Éowyn wasn't particularly fond of being anyone's dear, but that was a trifle compared to the situation she found herself in, and she certainly wasn't going to quibble over it. Instead, she smiled, glad to have found someone willing to speak with her, and inclined her head a little in gratitude. "I fear I am a stranger. What can you tell me of this place? For the men who brought me hence were... brusque." Was the polite way of putting it.

"Ah." And, now that Éowyn got a full look at the girl, she took an involuntary half-step back. The pink hair, she had been willing to assume was merely a part of the strangeness of this place. The black eyes, on the other hand... well, they were probably just another part of it too, but they were unquestionably disquieting.

Clearing her throat, she pushed her hair back with both hands and made a valiant attempt at regaining her composure. "Sorry. 'Twas not my intent to disturb you. I do but seek a guide, for this place is strange indeed to me."

At least this one knew how to be polite; China knew many Tributes didn't mind expressing their displeasure rather loudly. "Ah. Yes, they sometimes lack a gentle touch with new arrivals. I hope it doesn't leave you thinking ill of us."

Not that China cared all that much, beyond the necessity to maintain her facade.

"If you've been brought here, you are to participate in the Arena, as I'm sure they told you." She paused, then smiled with warmth inappropriate in a chat about a bloody battle. "It's a great honor."

"We still have some time until the next Arena, so, until then, these are your accomodations." Arms sweeping outward, she gestures to the building around them.

"An honour? So they told me." Éowyn couldn't quite help the heat that crept into her voice. "I fear I do not see the honour in playing out some false war, against those I bear no ill-will. What manner of place is this, to make such sport of battle?" Of course, she knew that some people enjoyed watching fighting. When she had been a girl, she had loved to see the men training, thrilled to sparring and hunts. Even now, there was a kind of second-hand excitement in seeing such things, something that called out to the wildness of her blood and made her long for the song of steel.

But such things were acts, and they were to a purpose. The idea of watching others kill and die, for no reason other than their own misfortune... that turned her stomach. As did the fact that this woman, too, called it an honour. Was she truly so blind as to believe it, or was this only another part of the web woven around them? As if calling it an honour enough times would make it so.

"If it is an honour," she said gravely after a moment, smoothing the acerbic edge from her voice as best she could, "then it is one I should fain leave to one more glad of it. I have had my fill of fighting. I have a home, and a duty, and a husband waiting."

There it was. China liked to know where people stood, so she listened more attentively than what might expect from a Capitolite. She kept her smile carefully blank. "You're very well spoken."

The expression on her face didn't change at all, but a shift in her attitude was suggested by the way her hand rose to her hip. "Unfortunately for you, such an honor is bestowed upon you and you do not choose it."

The hand moved again, now held out flat as if she were offering a gift. "You may not have asked for my advice, but I'm going to offer it anyway: the best thing for you to do is to cooperate."

It would have been satisfying - more than satisfying - to slap the woman's hand away and curse her until the sky was black with it. But Éowyn could, unfortunately, see the wisdom in what she was told. Co-operation might well be her only chance to escape. Given the apparent bloodthirsty nature of her captors, it might very well be the only chance she had to live that long. Still, she ground her teeth a little, and the effort of maintaining a diplomatically blank expression was almost too much to bear.

"And if I am victorious?" she said tautly, after a moment. "May I then be freed, to return to my own lands and my own kin? For I have no taste to be a songbird in a cage. The blood of Éorl runs pure in my veins, and it cries out to open skies and free air."

China shrugged. "That depends. Currently, our technology doesn't allow such a thing, but if it were to reach that level you as a Victor would be allowed the privilege."

So was the official party line. China had her doubts, personally, but she wasn't going to risk her position or (relatively) good standing in the Capitol sharing that with someone she hardly knew.

"If not, then you can enjoy our hospitality until it is possible. Perhaps nurture your budding career as a poet."

It was intriguing, the way this woman spoke.

That was too much. Drawing herself up to her full height, Éowyn fixed the woman in front of her with the full force of her glare. It probably wasn't her fault - she was only the bearer of the news, surely, not its originator - but that didn't seem to matter to Éowyn, whose rage was pulsing like a heartbeat inside her.

"You mean to tell me," she said, her voice cold and sharp as the knife she dearly wished she had at her belt, "that you have drawn me from my land, from my people, from my life... and with no way to return me? That I am expected to stay here, wherever here is, in meek and mannered steadiness, to rise only to perform and shed my blood? To die in such a place, so far from home, that you and your ilk may laugh and cheer at the display?" Her fists flexed at her sides, her chiselled features hard as stone. "Is there no heart to this place, no humanity to you at all, that you would look me in the eye and mock me so? I had thought that the Shadow perished, but it seems to me it lives on in your heart, if nowhere else!"

China listened carefully, inclining her head. Then she nodded. "That is exactly what I am telling you. To the first bit, at least. And I would use less strong language."

Could China blame her for reacting in such a way? Of course not. But she didn't sympathize; she had little sympathy for anyone, really. Capitol or off-worlder, child or adult, other people meant little to her.

For a moment, she decided to let that side of herself show. The sweet smile still didn't drop. "I try not to use my heart at all, dear. It gets in the way, you see. Please, do try to keep your poise, for your sake."

There was little doubt that this woman could have struck China down where she stood. What would follow after that, though, would hardly be pleasant. Capitol justice was swift and horribly biased--just the way she liked it.

"You speak of poise, of the strength of my language? I do but speak the truth." Éowyn's voice dripped with disdain now, although the steel behind it was no less evident. "Or is honesty esteemed as low as justice in this place? You mistake anger for wildness, fact for insult, emptiness for grace. If all the natives of this place are so blind to their own hypocrisy, I cannot wonder at its callow cruelty, but I fear for those born to it."

So much for civility. But, really, how could she remain gentle and meek in the face of such infuriating blindness and selfishness? How could anyone? She refrained from striking the other woman, thanks to the years of practice that life at Théoden's court had granted her, but that didn't mean her hand didn't itch to slap that saccharine smile off the woman's face. It was true that she chafed against the need to stay calm, but it was also true that she didn't want to face any punishment that might make her escape harder. She had her limits.

Instead, she took a moment to steady herself, then looked down her nose at the other woman, her voice all ice and steel. "Thank you, my lady, for your counsel and your grace. I only pray that some day you be honoured as I have been."

China decided her best response was to ramp up the sugar. "You are sweet to have such hopes for me."

Of course she wouldn't want to set foot in the Arena, but it wouldn't do to admit that. Both for purposes of maintaining her own unflappability and for the Capitol's image.

She folded her hands in front of her, just barely letting out a sigh. "I've learned to be gracious in my long life, so I'll offer you some more advice: talk of that sort will not earn you Sponsors."

Éowyn smiled. At least, she showed her teeth. "Then perhaps you will show a little more grace yet, and tell me why I should care to be sponsored, in a place where wealth seems scarcely lacking."

Of course, she realised when the words were halfway out of her mouth, she had no idea what wealth might even mean in this place, relatively speaking. Nothing in this building made sense to her. Nothing, that was, except the other woman's poisonous sweetness, which was almost reassuring for its familiarity. A silver tongue and a cold heart. Here stands Gríma Wormtongue in a woman's flesh. It wasn't a comforting thought, but it gave a solidity to things which was at least better than reeling wildly at every turn.

China dipped her head. "Certainly. You are a guest and, as such, will want for nothing." Again, she waved her fingers at the luxury that surrounded them.

China never knew the scarcity and poverty that plagued the Districts, but she had heard of them. She knew enough to feel that the accomodations in the Tower were something non-Capitolites should be very thankful for.

"Until the Arena, that is. Then you will have to rely on Sponsors' goodwill to send you the resources you cannot carve out of the land yourself."

Want for nothing but freedom, you mean. But Éowyn kept that thought to herself. She had made her position quite clear, and there was no sense in muddying the waters with another argument, or forcing herself into a still greater rage. Swallowing back the hate in her throat, she said almost calmly, "I am a daughter of Éorl, and a shieldmaiden of the Riddermark. In war, in poverty, in desperate need, my people have ever rallied with strength and pride. I will not now beg for scraps from the tables of those who would laugh at my execution."

She sighed again, tossing her hair back. "You make it sounds as though we truss you up and send you to the chopping block, which certainly will not happen if you hold your tongue."

And there were more punishments, but she wasn't certain listing them would have any effect on this one except to make her even angrier.

"I hope your strength and pride will serve you well, then, as your family name does you nothing here. The Sponsors are watching and judging you for your merits."

Or slavish gratitude. Or looks. Or entertainment value. Merits was a nicer way of putting it.

"I care nothing for their judgement, or yours. I will not bow to the whims of those so cowardly that even in shedding blood, they will force others to do their dirty work." Had she been less well-bred, Éowyn might have spat; as it was, she merely glared. It was, in fairness, a remarkably powerful glare. "At least an executioner has the strength to wield his own blade, and the stomach to wash the blood off his own hands afterwards. Why should I give a moment's thought to the opinions of those without even so little to recommend them?"

Had she been thinking a little more clearly, she might have chosen her words more carefully. She was, after all, at the mercy of these people, and even with the kind of fire that burnt in her, she knew the value of patience. And yet she couldn't bring herself to regret her open scorn. If it brought her suffering, at least she would have come by it honestly. She was coming to believe that was more than could be said of anything else in this land.

Arya had just left the training area, somewhere she's spent a lot of time since returning from the Arena, both to become stronger for the next one - she's determined to win - and because she hasn't found a better substitute for her frustration and rage than repeatedly whacking at a training dummy. She's on her way back to the District Ten suites, sweaty and dishevelled and trying to regain her breath, when she nearly bumps into Éowyn, stopping just short as she addresses her and skidding to a halt. There's something in the way that she carries herself that reminds her of the ladies back in Westeros, and that makes her a little homesick, but resentful at the same time, knowing that was the mould she'd been expected to fit in.

"What is it?"

Blood was just so messy, but China refrained from saying that out loud. "I will not force you to accept anyone's aid." She couldn't really, even if this woman were one of her own Tributes.

"I'm simply offering you advice. You may remain stubborn if you wish, it is of no consequence to me. However, after your first Arena, you may wish you had reconsidered."

"Memories can be long here." Okay, not all of them. China frowned on the good chunk of the Capitol who were too easily distracted or too wasted by hedonistic pursuits. But the ones in power? They remembered. "I would advise caution in your words and your actions."

The smile on her face slowly grew. "Then again, if you can show such fire fighting your fellow Tributes in the Arena, you may find yourself with something of a following indeed."

[ooc: I am so, so sorry for how awful China is.]

Ill-spoken. But Éowyn was not yet so bitter as to hold a little rudeness against someone who was so clearly still a child. Rather, she felt a curious kind of nostalgia for that tone. There had been a time, before Théoden's court had drummed a sense of diplomacy into her, when she would have answered the same way.

She smiled, a taut, rueful thing, and pushed her hair back with one hand. "Do you know this place? For I fear I am a stranger, and all that I see is..." She hesitated, lost for words. How could she properly express that feeling, that wild mix of confusion and wonder and rage and fear? What words were there to describe a prison so hateful, and yet so full of miracles? Sighing, she closed her eyes for a moment and began again. "I am lost, child. Aye, lost and far from home, with many questions and few answers. And if you could help me, answer some of my confusion, I should be glad indeed of it."

"Caution." Éowyn's smile was harsh and bitter. "Caution is ever counselled by those whose hearts are filled with fear. Yet where is your caution in dealing so with me? I have no weapon, but I have little indeed to lose, and if you drove me to it, I could strike you down here and now, and scarce break a sweat. Where then is your caution?"

A rash threat, and an empty one, and she could almost hear her husband's quiet sigh in the back of her mind. But her patience was sorely tried, and even if she wouldn't attack this thrice-damned woman directly, for fear of still greater confinement, China didn't have to know that. "Your people have taken from me my freedom, my kin, my home, my standing, and my dignity. What more should I fear losing? Pain and death are nothing to me, who has faced both a thousand times ere now. Advise caution all you will, my lady, but I counsel you to follow your own advice. A caged wolf will still bite."

She finally allowed a slight frown to grow. Outright threats were just so distasteful.

But, well, if that was they way they had to play it...

It would probably sound like a non sequitur, and that was how she wanted it. "Have you, by chance, encountered any of our rather terse little servants here? You'd recognize them by their uniforms."

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i hope this is cool c:

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but of course! :3

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