I'm just a stranger in a strange land

[atouchofka]

Who| Alain and OPEN
What| Alain arrives, in a rather desperate state
Where| D7 suite and around the Tribute Centre
When| Just before the Binding plot (slightly backdated)
Warnings/Notes| TBD

One moment, he was riding hell for leather in the gathering darkness, hunched low in his saddle, a bullet-graze in his thigh and his heart in his mouth. The next, he woke up in a strange room, alone, with the pulsing pain gone from his leg and the horse vanished out from under him. His heart, though, was still pounding, and although he put up no fight when he was led to the suite, he wasted no time in leaving it again. His gun was gone. That was bad. Worse, more frightening, was that the two guards who had taken him here had given him no echo of the Touch. They were cold and dead as automata, without any sense of personality. And all that might have frightened him, but for the fact that there was a more pressing issue at hand.

He had to get out. He had to get back. Blood pounding in his ears, he cast around for a weapon, and, finding none, decided not to linger and search - a gunslinger is his own weapon, Cort's voice echoed in his memory. Instead, swallowing, he set out into the strange new land, walking fast, taking in all that he could around him. The place was foreign, reminded him of nothing more than the old broken-down machines of his world, but shiny and new. And confining. Too confining. He had to get back.

In short order, he was thoroughly lost, fighting down uncharacteristic panic. He tried to reach out with the Touch, but found nothing, not even the sense of the Touch itself. That was horrifying, but he had no time to be horrified. Is this the Clearing? he thought at one point, desperately. Am I dead? But if he was dead, then who would bring the message through? If he was dead, then the gunslingers were dead, too, and Gilead's last hope with them. He couldn't be dead. It was unthinkable.

Unconsciously massaging his forehead, where a sharp knot of pain was gathering, he took a deep breath and cast around for someone to ask. The next person he saw, he approached, ignoring that dull sense of emptiness where the Touch ought to have sensed their mind. "Cry pardon..." he began, and cleared his throat.

Comments

[atouchofka]

"Then I fear you'll not have a victor," Alain says gravely. "He is my d... my di... my commander. And my friend. If only one of us can win, it will be him." It isn't what she wants to hear. He doesn't need to be sensitive to know that. But she should have the truth from the start, in such a matter as this, and he's known for many years that he's ready to die for Roland's sake.

[conifer]

"I see." She says it quietly, disappointed and trying to conceal her own frustration. She hopes that he won't be this forthright with Jason, knowing how badly he'd react to such an admission. "In that case, can I make a request of you." She looks across at him, a grave expression in her eyes. "Please get to know the other Tributes here in District Seven. If you're determined not to win yourself, at least you can help one of them to win."

[atouchofka]

Alain nods, seeing the disappointment and frustration in her expression as easily as if she weren't even trying to hide them. He would feel bad for her, if he weren't too exhausted and frustrated to have the energy for it. "I'll keep an eye to it," he promises. "But it's Roland I fight for. I cry pardon, but that comes before anything this place lays on my shoulders. While he lives, I fight for him."

[conifer]

"That's a very noble sentiment." It's one that she wishes she had, sometimes: a sense of loyalty to something beyond herself and her own. But then, she knew she wouldn't have lived through her Games if she'd put the one who deserved that of her above her own survival. "Just be careful that it doesn't get you into too much trouble."

[atouchofka]

Alain is quiet for several long moments before answering. At last, he says in a low voice, "Trouble's relative, isn't it? I don't expect to live past tomorrow, in my own place. I didn't expect to see Roland alive and aged so far, either. I watched thirteen men I was in command of shot down this morning, was riding back to warn Ro' we were outnumbered fifty to one. Hard to be frightened of trouble ahead, when that's all in account."

[conifer]

Emily closes her eyes, sighing deeply. She was getting the distinct feeling that this one was going to be a thorn in her side. She points over to the corner, where an Avox stands in wait. "That's what they do to people here who cause them too much trouble. Trust me, it's a fate worse than death."

[atouchofka]

"I believe you," Alain says quietly. He doesn't need his Touch to see the empty look in the Avox's eyes, or the slackness of her face. He wonders, if he could quest out towards her, what he would find; silence and deadness, or the little voice inside, screaming. With an effort, he turns his eyes back to Emily. "I've no intent to cause trouble, s...ir, believe me. Just to find my friend, and fight at his side as I ever have."

[conifer]

"I guess that's about as much as I can ask from you." She doesn't sound too happy about it. For the first time she actually finds herself agreeing with Jason's position about fraternisation between Districts, as it would certainly cost them any chance of winning here. She'd just have to hope that Roland fell early in the Games, so Alain would concentrate his efforts on a District Seven win. "And you don't have to call me 'sir'. It's just Emily."

[atouchofka]

"Sir isn't what I meant to say," Alain said quietly. "The words won't come out right. Nothing of the High Speech." It's a small thing, in the grand scheme of things. But on top of everything else - losing the Touch, failing his mission, finding himself somewhere so strange - it seems almost too much to bear, as if this place is systematically stripping away everything that makes him who he is. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. Remember your father's face, maggot! Cort's voice snaps in his mind. Don't let this place take it from you.

He remembers his father's face. Remembers it very well. It helps to calm him, ground him again. "Emily. I cry pardon. If I could tell you aught else, or do aught more suited to the place, I would. But you don't know what you ask."

[conifer]

"No, it-- it's all right." The frustration in her tone has turned to weariness, and she finds she can't help pitying him a little. "I forget sometimes, that you all have homes and cultures and priorities of your own. For now just concentrate on settling in, all right?"

[atouchofka]

Alain hesitates a moment, closing his eyes. He hates to do this, to have pushed her into a place where she sounds so bedamned tired. But what else can he do?

"Aye," he says, and nods. "Thank..." Thankee doesn't come out properly. He gapes around it rather comically for a moment before adding "...you. Thank you."

[conifer]

"That's okay. It's what I'm here for." She hesitates, looking at him very seriously before continuing. "Have you met Jason yet? Your Escort, Jason Compson the Fourth."

[atouchofka]

"Not yet." Alain twists his hands in his lap, raising his eyebrows. "Who is he? I mean, besides 'Escort', for that means nothing to me, I'm afraid."

[conifer]

"He's a Capitolite - that is, he's from this city," the way she gestures to the Capitol out the window implies that she feels she's as set apart from it as Alain is. "The Escort job's changed a lot since my Games, they used to pick the names of the Tributes from the reaping bowls, and accompany the Victors on their District tour. They're all about making the Tributes presentable and palatable to Capitol society. Jason's ours, and he's ... not the easiest person to get along with. Even if you don't intend on winning, it's wise to at least pretend to listen to everything he's saying and keeping the peace with him."

[atouchofka]

Alain listens, and listens with a certain quiet intensity. Not all of what she says makes sense immediately, but it pulls several of the pieces together. There are plenty of questions he could ask - what the Games are for, what this District tour is, whether he's right in the guesses he's starting to make about both her and the Games. But they feel like questions that will answer themselves in their own time. They don't need answering now.

Instead, he says slowly, "I'll remember it, and say thankya. Bite my tongue and smile along with him, is what you mean to say?" Hardly a new game to him, and one he thinks he can play a while, if he has to.

[conifer]

"Yes, that's it precisely. For the most part he's all bark and no bite, but when he does bite..." She remembered Cole trapped in the closet, remembered him beating on Avoxes. "He's not worth riling up. He's got a lot of views about Districters and offworlders that you just have to take with a pinch of salt."

[atouchofka]

"I know the kind." Alain nods, frowning a little. He's known too many men like that in his time, men who'll whip themselves into a frenzy inside their own heads and spend their lives like live grenades. Once a man's talked about something long enough, it's a fair bet if he ever acts on it, it'll be ten times more explosive for the time it's spent ticking away in words and thoughts. "I'll keep my head down."

[conifer]

"I appreciate that." She looks relieved knowing they're on the same page there, reflecting on how much harder her job would be with stubborn Tributes. If she was partnered with any other Escort than Jason, it wouldn't be half so bad.

"Have you got any other questions? I'm happy to help any way I can. Otherwise I'll let you explore the training centre a little."

[atouchofka]

"Too many to ask," Alain admits after a moment, and shakes his head. Rubbing that tight knot of pain between his eyes, he gives her a little nod and gets to his feet. "If Roland's here, I'd seek him out. Where should I start looking?"

[conifer]

"He's in District Four, they have a suite a few floors down from here. Take the elevator to floor 4." She points toward the main door out of the suite. "If he's not there, someone in there should know where to find him."

[atouchofka]

"Elevator?" Alain repeats, uncomprehending, but he turns to leave. He'll figure it out. "Thank you, Emily." With a tight little smile, he turns back long enough to tap his throat in salute. "I'll remember your help."