steve rogers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
decommission) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-08-25 03:42 pm
decommission) wrote in thecapitol2015-08-25 03:42 pm
we'll put it together (open)
Who| Steve Rogers (AU) and (OPEN)
What| Wandering around after his arrival
Where| Training Center (roof and d9 apartments)
When| Mid-late Tuesday
Warnings/Notes| None yet. Will edit if necessary!
THE ROOF
He needs air. After bolting out of the sub-levels and briefly heading into the streets above (almost as bad as the basement, everything outside is too quick and unfamiliar) he finds himself on the rooftop of the Training Center, standing near the railing. There's a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead, his gaze fixed on the city below. Just a few hours ago he was sitting in a small, humid apartment, barely listening to the music on a tinny radio of Peggy's and wondering how much longer he'd even be there. Now - the scene from earlier replays in his head over and over as his mind struggles to process and reconcile his current situation into reality - none of the information properly sinking in yet, none of the names or places or sights prickling any sense of familiarity.
Like everything about his past couple of weeks, it's a work in progress.
A hand runs through his hair and he sucks in a deep breath before abandoning the railing for the rest of the garden, eventually stopping in front of a marble statue carved in some amorphous shape. He reaches out, running his hand over the smooth surface. He might as well be sleep-walking right now, holding his hand there for so long, until his mouth starts twisting.
"I'm not killing for anyone."
The amorphous marble blob, understandably, doesn't respond. He has the sudden urge to laugh, feels it threaten to bubble in his throat - but there's nothing funny about any of this.
DISTRICT 9 APARTMENTS
When he finally takes the elevator back down to the apartments, it's out of hunger. There's a very obvious communal kitchen and dining space when he first enters, but first he runs a slow check of the rest of the floor for a concrete count on rooms and exits. Once he makes it back to the common area and the kitchen his demeanor is one of intense concentration - though on what would be anyone's guess. He doesn't actually take anything, seeming to prefer poking around at the cabinets instead.
Should any footsteps approach from behind, he won't turn around - instead his stomach gives a greeting for him in the form of a loud growl.
THE CAPITOL
For the rest of the day he can be found moving through the streets, shoulders hunched and hands shoved in his pockets. His pace isn't leisurely, he's not someone looking to be stopped. When he does stop, it's at a bar where he finds a seat at a stool shoved up against the wall, not ordering anything and slow to strike up conversation with the workers. There's something rigid about his posture when he actually does get to finding the person he's looking for and the talking part: some sort of abbreviated job interview for a barbacking position set up by the Escort that had accosted him in the Training Center.
For someone his size, that tense sort of demeanor comes off vaguely aggressive and when the conversation is over the bartender appears somewhat relieved to return to what he was doing. Steve lingers at the bar - you look like you could use this had been what the man said a bit nervously when their business was done, sliding over a glass full of some amber liquid. Steve had nodded his thanks, waiting to give a suspicious glance at it once the bartender's back was turned. He leaves the glass there, and if anyone sits next to him with an eye for it he'll eventually jerk his chin toward the drink without making eye contact.
"Haven't touched it." His tone is more neutral than friendly, but it's clear that he's offering the drink up for free.
What| Wandering around after his arrival
Where| Training Center (roof and d9 apartments)
When| Mid-late Tuesday
Warnings/Notes| None yet. Will edit if necessary!
THE ROOF
He needs air. After bolting out of the sub-levels and briefly heading into the streets above (almost as bad as the basement, everything outside is too quick and unfamiliar) he finds himself on the rooftop of the Training Center, standing near the railing. There's a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead, his gaze fixed on the city below. Just a few hours ago he was sitting in a small, humid apartment, barely listening to the music on a tinny radio of Peggy's and wondering how much longer he'd even be there. Now - the scene from earlier replays in his head over and over as his mind struggles to process and reconcile his current situation into reality - none of the information properly sinking in yet, none of the names or places or sights prickling any sense of familiarity.
Like everything about his past couple of weeks, it's a work in progress.
A hand runs through his hair and he sucks in a deep breath before abandoning the railing for the rest of the garden, eventually stopping in front of a marble statue carved in some amorphous shape. He reaches out, running his hand over the smooth surface. He might as well be sleep-walking right now, holding his hand there for so long, until his mouth starts twisting.
"I'm not killing for anyone."
The amorphous marble blob, understandably, doesn't respond. He has the sudden urge to laugh, feels it threaten to bubble in his throat - but there's nothing funny about any of this.
DISTRICT 9 APARTMENTS
When he finally takes the elevator back down to the apartments, it's out of hunger. There's a very obvious communal kitchen and dining space when he first enters, but first he runs a slow check of the rest of the floor for a concrete count on rooms and exits. Once he makes it back to the common area and the kitchen his demeanor is one of intense concentration - though on what would be anyone's guess. He doesn't actually take anything, seeming to prefer poking around at the cabinets instead.
Should any footsteps approach from behind, he won't turn around - instead his stomach gives a greeting for him in the form of a loud growl.
THE CAPITOL
For the rest of the day he can be found moving through the streets, shoulders hunched and hands shoved in his pockets. His pace isn't leisurely, he's not someone looking to be stopped. When he does stop, it's at a bar where he finds a seat at a stool shoved up against the wall, not ordering anything and slow to strike up conversation with the workers. There's something rigid about his posture when he actually does get to finding the person he's looking for and the talking part: some sort of abbreviated job interview for a barbacking position set up by the Escort that had accosted him in the Training Center.
For someone his size, that tense sort of demeanor comes off vaguely aggressive and when the conversation is over the bartender appears somewhat relieved to return to what he was doing. Steve lingers at the bar - you look like you could use this had been what the man said a bit nervously when their business was done, sliding over a glass full of some amber liquid. Steve had nodded his thanks, waiting to give a suspicious glance at it once the bartender's back was turned. He leaves the glass there, and if anyone sits next to him with an eye for it he'll eventually jerk his chin toward the drink without making eye contact.
"Haven't touched it." His tone is more neutral than friendly, but it's clear that he's offering the drink up for free.
no subject
"You've been here a while." Seems a reasonable assumption, and he frowns. "What's your name?"
no subject
And what a year it's been. He should be approaching puberty by now, but he's forever twelve as long as he's in the arenas. He notices that the man hasn't taken a seat yet; he seems more nervous than most new people, but who knows where he's coming from?
Aang gets to his feet. It doesn't feel respectful to sit while continuing the conversation.
"I'm Aang." He clasps his hands and bows in respect. He knows it's not the traditional greeting for the Capitol, but he prefers it. "What's your name?"
no subject
"Steve. Steve Rogers." Steven Grant Rogers. Only been two weeks since he's remembered his name, but there's nothing to betray that in his tone or expression when he speaks it so plainly (they might as well have been foreign words the first time he heard the name).
He glances around the rooftop. "We're all kept here?"
no subject
Aang's first instinct is to comment on that, to mention that he already knows a Steve Rogers, and is this man sure he's not the same? But he obviously doesn't recognize Aang, and he seems even more fragile than Aang had last seen him (which is difficult). That means he's either a different version coming from a worse place, or he's fresh from whatever horrors the Capitol inflicted on him as punishment and he doesn't remember the people he knew.
Either way, it doesn't seem like a very good (or kind) idea to slam him with the knowledge of Aang's previous experiences with him, so he keeps his mouth shut (for once).
"Yeah, we all live in the Tribute Center, but we can walk around the city if we want." Aang reaches for Steve's arm, intending to drag him to the edge so he can point out places of interest, but he hesitates before making contact, remembering the way Steve reacted to unsolicited touch last time (and the way Bucky always reacted to it). "Is it okay if I touch you?"
no subject
"Yes." His tone is flat through the lie, and he's already turning to look at the city skyline. It's not quite D.C. or even New York out here, he's gathered that much already.
no subject
"I can show you some pretty cool spots you could go to. You'll need to get a job like the rest of us before you'll have any money to spend, but there are free museums and parks and stuff like that."
no subject
"Thought I had a job in the Arena." Killing. His tone has a bitter edge, deflecting away from the boy's offer to show him some of the sights. He hasn't gotten over how wrong this entire situation is, and the idea of strolling through a park or museum is extremely low on his priority list. But there's something too earnest about Aang's offer for him to outright reject it.
no subject
Aang doesn't let go of the sleeve. It's partially because Steve doesn't seem to mind it, but it's mostly because he just misses physical proximity and he finds himself clinging to whatever source he can find.
"There are parks over there." Aang points out at the skyline towards patch of green, tiny among the skyscrapers. "I like to go there when I need to go someplace quiet. It's not the same as real nature because all the animals and plants are made by the Capitol, but at least you can pretend."
no subject
"Is everything here fake?"
The people on the streets looked... barely like people.
no subject
Aang nudges his finger against the back of Steve's hand. It's a small enough gesture that he hopes it won't upset the man, but it's enough to hopefully be reassuring. "But that's why you make friends. They remind you what's real when you forget."
no subject
"Yeah, they do." His voice betrays the stiffness he's trying to keep out of his body language. There's a pause before he continues. "What were you doing up here?" Alone.
no subject
"I was meditating. It's easier up here when there's not a lot of people. What were you doing? Exploring?"
no subject
"Something like that." His hand moves to rub at the back of his neck, his shoulders starting to loosen. "The guys in uniforms told me I'm supposed to be in District 9." Whatever that means.