Rose Lalonde ☼ tentacleTherapist (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wickedgoogly) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-06-18 12:03 am
wickedgoogly) wrote in thecapitol2015-06-18 12:03 am
Entry tags:
[open] 'cause if this is the life
Who| Rose and OPEN
What| Rose returns from the arena and adapts to life in the Capitol.
Where| Training Center and the city; various prompts.
When| The weekend of week three on into week four.
Warnings/Notes| Brief mentions of avoxing and brainwashing, nothing else expected.
After her death in the arena via painful lightning strike, Rose eventually revives in time to be hauled off for a sit-down and explanation of how exactly she fucked up, and how she's not allowed to again or else. They show her videos and pictures of two people she's never met, men older than her, who lost a tongue or his own free will for pulling stunts like hers. She is lucky, they tell her, to be let off with only a warning, as if the images won't haunt her for time to come.
Afterwards she's returned to the tower, and sent to the District 5 suites she'll be living in. She only barely looks over her new room before retreating to the showers. Wrapped in towels, for she doesn't trust there not to be cameras, she sits under the cascade of hot water until her fingers turn pruney, and then a little longer after.
A. District 5
It's after clean, dry, and dressed in new clothes that she finally gives her new living quarters a proper look. Her room is comfortable enough, and no one thinks to mention that it used to belong to a recently avoxed traitor. The thought of personalizing it occurs to her, but she holds back yet, not ready to engage with the idea of making a home out of a glorified holding cell.
The rest of the suite isn't so bad, with its kitchenette and common area for sitting in. She sits there from time to time, either to watch the games with an expression tight and unreadable, or with the TV off to engage a hobby. (She likes reading, and it's only so long before she picks up knitting materials.)
B. Out in the Capitol
She doesn't stick in the tower for long. Back in the arena she only heard of what lay outside, and so she sets to seeing the Capitol for herself. She strides along streets, gawking plainly at the buildings and extravagantly fashioned people, and pokes her head into shops.
Some she lingers in longer, like bookstores with their many offerings, or a singular craft store. Merlyn did promise a shopping trip when she first met him, and while she's not so sure of their standing after her violent end, she'd rather not discard the opportunity if it still stands. Still, she admires the selection, and leaves with some nonthreatening wooden knitting needles and a couple skeins of yarn.
A music store eventually becomes host to a show as, requesting to test one of their wares, Rose settles into an impromptu violin solo. It's all improvised and it shows, starting from curious tests for tuning, slipping into short melodies, then progressing steadily into an aggressive torrent of sound. She skitters up and down scales, plays notes short and harsh, then drags out others like agony made to sing. There's no direction but the feelings of the moment, and as a result it ends rather abruptly as the tide of feeling breaks. She lowers the instrument, breathing hard, and soon after asks if the credit card she's been given will be sufficient to purchase the instrument. She's told yes, and one afternoon can be seen walking back to the tower with the black case at her side.
At other times she stops into sandwich shops of cafes for snacks, either in afternoons after the classes they send her to or on the free days of the weekends.
C. Training Center Roof
It's in the evening that she ventures up to the roof to take in the view of the city and the various plant life set about. It's nice up here, cooler than she expected in the June evening, but pleasing for that reason.
She's brought her violin, and it's up here that she sets to playing it properly in short, sweet pieces.
D. Training Floor
It's only so long before she goes down to see the floor for which the center has been named. Here there are the many weapons and stations set up for learning, and while she could try her hand at something new, she mostly sticks to the teaching areas. Edible plants, trap-making, fire-starting: these are important skills, ones she wishes she'd known more of during the arena, and she is studious and attentive to each.
Eventually she does try weapons. With knitting needles not on offer, she takes instead a pair of stilettos - the knives, not the shoes - and practices against a shapeless dummy with them instead. She feels rather silly facing a featureless, immobile target, but she refuses to face the humanoid ones. Still, she ends up mostly poking at the thing, unable to motivate herself to practice serious attacks.
What| Rose returns from the arena and adapts to life in the Capitol.
Where| Training Center and the city; various prompts.
When| The weekend of week three on into week four.
Warnings/Notes| Brief mentions of avoxing and brainwashing, nothing else expected.
After her death in the arena via painful lightning strike, Rose eventually revives in time to be hauled off for a sit-down and explanation of how exactly she fucked up, and how she's not allowed to again or else. They show her videos and pictures of two people she's never met, men older than her, who lost a tongue or his own free will for pulling stunts like hers. She is lucky, they tell her, to be let off with only a warning, as if the images won't haunt her for time to come.
Afterwards she's returned to the tower, and sent to the District 5 suites she'll be living in. She only barely looks over her new room before retreating to the showers. Wrapped in towels, for she doesn't trust there not to be cameras, she sits under the cascade of hot water until her fingers turn pruney, and then a little longer after.
A. District 5
It's after clean, dry, and dressed in new clothes that she finally gives her new living quarters a proper look. Her room is comfortable enough, and no one thinks to mention that it used to belong to a recently avoxed traitor. The thought of personalizing it occurs to her, but she holds back yet, not ready to engage with the idea of making a home out of a glorified holding cell.
The rest of the suite isn't so bad, with its kitchenette and common area for sitting in. She sits there from time to time, either to watch the games with an expression tight and unreadable, or with the TV off to engage a hobby. (She likes reading, and it's only so long before she picks up knitting materials.)
B. Out in the Capitol
She doesn't stick in the tower for long. Back in the arena she only heard of what lay outside, and so she sets to seeing the Capitol for herself. She strides along streets, gawking plainly at the buildings and extravagantly fashioned people, and pokes her head into shops.
Some she lingers in longer, like bookstores with their many offerings, or a singular craft store. Merlyn did promise a shopping trip when she first met him, and while she's not so sure of their standing after her violent end, she'd rather not discard the opportunity if it still stands. Still, she admires the selection, and leaves with some nonthreatening wooden knitting needles and a couple skeins of yarn.
A music store eventually becomes host to a show as, requesting to test one of their wares, Rose settles into an impromptu violin solo. It's all improvised and it shows, starting from curious tests for tuning, slipping into short melodies, then progressing steadily into an aggressive torrent of sound. She skitters up and down scales, plays notes short and harsh, then drags out others like agony made to sing. There's no direction but the feelings of the moment, and as a result it ends rather abruptly as the tide of feeling breaks. She lowers the instrument, breathing hard, and soon after asks if the credit card she's been given will be sufficient to purchase the instrument. She's told yes, and one afternoon can be seen walking back to the tower with the black case at her side.
At other times she stops into sandwich shops of cafes for snacks, either in afternoons after the classes they send her to or on the free days of the weekends.
C. Training Center Roof
It's in the evening that she ventures up to the roof to take in the view of the city and the various plant life set about. It's nice up here, cooler than she expected in the June evening, but pleasing for that reason.
She's brought her violin, and it's up here that she sets to playing it properly in short, sweet pieces.
D. Training Floor
It's only so long before she goes down to see the floor for which the center has been named. Here there are the many weapons and stations set up for learning, and while she could try her hand at something new, she mostly sticks to the teaching areas. Edible plants, trap-making, fire-starting: these are important skills, ones she wishes she'd known more of during the arena, and she is studious and attentive to each.
Eventually she does try weapons. With knitting needles not on offer, she takes instead a pair of stilettos - the knives, not the shoes - and practices against a shapeless dummy with them instead. She feels rather silly facing a featureless, immobile target, but she refuses to face the humanoid ones. Still, she ends up mostly poking at the thing, unable to motivate herself to practice serious attacks.
no subject
She takes the ID with hesitance, like it might disintegrate under her touch, then holds it close to scrutinize. MARYAM it reads, print solid and clear. Alternate version, she says. Her hand trembles, but she hands (half thrusts) it back to her.
She hears not here to make excuses and takes a clunky brush-off that she shouldn't be asking about something so important to why she's sitting here.
"I suppose this is my hint from the universe that I should give up on trying to understand anything," she quips in a tight tone, less at the father subject than the prior one. "Kanaya never mentioned a Porrim, but that must be yet another thing relegated to the future I didn't get."
It feels like a shitty consolation prize, the kind that looks cheaply made and falls apart in your hands two days later. Sorry you can't live your own life. Sorry you can't get to know her in person. Here, why don't you settle for the sister of her shitty Capitol knock-off?
She'd like to set something on fire again, but she knows that's the last thing she's allowed.
no subject
Porrim sits forward, bracing her hands on her knees as if to begin standing up. "If you'd like, I can let you alone."
no subject
"Do what you want," she says simply. "I think I'm going to head out for some fresh air." To get away from this.
She stands and brushes her skirt straight, waiting only for some sign of acknowledgement or, more cynically, permission.
no subject
"All right," she agrees pleasantly. "You've got your credit card, I assume? That ought to take care of anything you might need while you're out."
no subject
"I'll see you another time."
She doesn't imagine she has much choice.
Turning on her heel, she heads for the door. She has no more goal in mind than a walk for now.
no subject