porcelainandsteel: (Still too young)
Sansa Stark ([personal profile] porcelainandsteel) wrote in [community profile] thecapitol2015-08-31 01:13 am

you've always loved the strange birds

Who| Sansa and OPEN
What| Sansa arrives in the Capitol
Where| Around the Tribute Center and the Capitol
When| ...Now?
Warnings/Notes| TBC

She feels lost and unmoored, but that's nothing new. Since her father's death, through all the long protracted nightmare of King's Landing, she's felt that way, out of her depth and swept up in things beyond her control. In that sense, it hardly comes as a surprise for Ser Dontos' boat to become a dream, and to wake up somewhere else entirely.

It's the place itself that shocks her, therefore, at least as much as the fact that she's here. She's never seen or even dreamed of anything like this land, all glass and steel and blinding white, even the guards dressed in something glossy and clean and hard that certainly isn't steel armour. She lets herself be guided without argument, meek and mild as any girl could ever be, and feels oddly bereft when they leave her in her new room without even that dubious company.

When it comes down to it, though, she doesn't stay in the room long - but still long enough to wonder at a few of the strange objects scattered around it: the black mirror on the wall that barely reflects, the lights in the ceiling that have no clear flame. Then, feeling the strangeness of it all well up inside her, she knows she ought to get moving. She has to find out where she is, for one thing, and what the allegiances are of its lords. The Lannisters will be looking for her, she thinks, and if she ends up back in King's Landing, what she endured before will seem like tender mercy.

For the rest of the day, Sansa can be found wandering - first out into District 6's common area, then around the rest of the strange building, and at last out into the streets themselves. Her wonder is written on her face, along with a growing unease; she is so caught up in staring up at the sweeping buildings and foreign towers and strange lights that she may well bump into several people, her ladylike grace and manners momentarily forgotten.

If she does drag her eyes away from the city long enough to focus on its people, she will approach anyone who looks as though they might be friendly, bobbing a curtsey and asking politely if she might have a word.
voiceinthephone: http://nightingails.livejournal.com/131995.html ([HIDE])

[personal profile] voiceinthephone 2015-08-31 12:58 am (UTC)(link)
After watching the horrors of the incoming week, Phillip has been managing as best he could to get District 6 into gear for damage control while Linden's recovering. In a way, doing administrative things for the Tributes brought back some nostalgic feelings into his mind, back when he was a manager at Freddy Fazbear's and nothing more. That said, Freddy's CEO felt like a gracious boss compared to the Capitol. He's pretty sure that the emergence of grey hair is due in fact that he's trying to manage both the execution of Tony Stark and his mentor's torture.

He's got a few open folders, a tablet and a very tall cup of coffee to keep himself from collapsing into a exhaustion when he's bumped into by someone. "Oomph! Uh, sorry about that!" he immediately apologizes to the stranger, thankful nothing spilled other than some coffee on his fingers. "Are you okay?"
voiceinthephone: ([KING OF FREDDY FAZBEAR'S PIZZA])

[personal profile] voiceinthephone 2015-08-31 01:18 am (UTC)(link)
"It's all right," Phillip immediately calmed her nerves with a grin and taking this as a sign that he really should get a backpack for this job. Instead, he guides her over to the kitchen, toaster hopefully fixed from Nux's tinkering, and sets his paperwork down to clean his hands at the sink.

"You look lost, Miss, are you looking for someone?" With such grace and manners, he has to ask instead of assuming she's a Tribute. He was caught offguard by the likes of Temple Stevens, best assume Capitolite until further notice. "The directory's near the elevator if you're looking for someone."
voiceinthephone: hollow-art ([Checking in])

[personal profile] voiceinthephone 2015-08-31 05:18 pm (UTC)(link)
Every word chipped as Phil's perception of her being a Capitolite and culminating in Oh no...she's a Tribute, And from the looks of things, spooked. He knew that feeling well, and sighed out. "Well, welcome to the nation of Panem, Miss. You've been..." Invited seemed like such a lie now because of the horrors that everyone goes through, "You've been summoned to the Capitol. Would you like some tea, Miss...?" Explaining the Tribute part is always the worst because how do you tell someone they're probably going to die in such a service. "Did they tell you which District you were assigned to? The people here can help."
travail: (40-18)

[personal profile] travail 2015-09-01 12:33 am (UTC)(link)
Bucky comes across Sansa's path on the street, outside the Art Museum. As a woman who showed up here looking like she belongs far in the past, Sansa's own appearance and mannerisms catch her attention and she slows in her walk as their paths start to draw closer and catches the girl's eye in between her glancing around at the city. She'll smile a bit at Sansa' curtsy, she never went to etiquette school, her family couldn't afford it, but her mother tried to mimic it and made her learn how to do that much, at least.

"Yeah, sure." There's a kind understanding in her tone, wasn't too long ago that she was fresh out of the Training Center basement. She pauses as a gaggle of young girls and boys in a big group start to approach in the hustle and bustle of the street. So steps closer to Sansa's side to place a light hand on the back of her shoulder to guide her closer to the Art Museum and out of the way of "traffic".

"You just got here, huh?"
voiceinthephone: hollow-art ([Welp we're in trouble])

[personal profile] voiceinthephone 2015-09-02 05:36 am (UTC)(link)
Phillip nodded to the request and, as he'd done with Karkat in the troll's moment of stress, got the kettle going, "Jeyne? All right then, hope you don't mind something sweet, most of the people tend to have extremes when it comes to food and..." Nux isn't allowed near the appliances for a reason.

Wait, she said 6, right? He immediately straightened up, and smiled as he would a guest at Freddy's, welcoming and set, "Well, I'm Phillip Gray, a-and I'm one of the Mentors here in, uh, District 6. I'm sorry if I-" he sees the paperwork and flinches, her arrival report in there, somewhere, "I-I'm not this messy believe me but we've had an incident with my senior mentor, Mr. Lockhearst. I'm guessing the people that brought you here gave you some sort of idea of what you'll be doing. So, tell me a bit about yourself?"
crabmunicator: (060)

[personal profile] crabmunicator 2015-09-03 11:18 am (UTC)(link)
District 6 has been feeling small lately. Phillip is still around, but his victory has taken him from the pool of tributes. He can't afford to be too chummy with Linden in the wake of his torture. And Nux... Nux is an idiot, and Karkat's full opinion would take pages for him to relate. It is, consequently, a bit hard to miss when a new face pokes from a door.

Karkat's got himself sat in a chair when it happens, a notepad propped on one arm and an open book in hand, some paperback thing. He's downright studious, jotting down notes here and there, sometimes a whole sentence - or he was, until just now.

His eyes fix on her as she comes into view. "Hey. Who are you?"

Not rude, but not polite, curious more than anything. There is a couple embracing dramatically on his book cover.

(His job is very serious, you see.)
seestheman: (When tomorrow comes)

[personal profile] seestheman 2015-09-04 05:39 am (UTC)(link)
A lot can be said of Clara's lack of skills as a Mentor for District 10. She's no warrior (not like the girls she's supposed to be teaching), she didn't win through cleverness or strength or fighting prowess. But she is good at playing the sponsorship game and finding people who want to throw their money into helping the Amazons of District 10 (which, she has to admit, is a great moniker for the ladies under her watch and is definitely something she's used to help push their strengths).

Which is why she always keeps on eye on the revolving door of fresh Tributes that the Capitol brings in, partially so she knows who her Tributes are up against, but also so she can be aware if they bring in someone one of them may know. So seeing the surname Stark pop up was a shock. Either this girl's somehow related to Tony (which, considering the events that occurred in the past week, she doubted), or she's related to Arya.

Clara isn't sure which is worse.

She's perched in the lobby, ready to start talking up any potential sponsors who may pop by the Training Center so that she can grab them before any of the other Mentors can when she sees the girl from the file. Holding onto her tablet, she crosses the room, making sure not to sneak up on her. "Hi," she says warmly as she steps into her path, "you're one of the new Tributes, right?"
crabmunicator: (017)

[personal profile] crabmunicator 2015-09-04 05:19 pm (UTC)(link)
Karkat knows that look because he's seen it before, and it's that more than most that stays him from anything drastic. Of course it helps that she holds back. There's been others enough who've made mistaken assumptions or dropped outright insults, which became all the more galling by how stubborn the person held to them. Here, at least, Sansa's earned herself a chance.

"Panem," he says first. "Namely the Capitol, this deliberately decadent and sprawling center of it all, in the political and social sense more than the geographical. But before I get into the meat of that--" Because he intends to, with how important it is--

He points to himself. "I'm a troll. I don't know what your world has that may or may not look like me, but I'm not a qunari, an orc, or whatever version of troll you might know, because my world is wholly and entirely separate from any you've known. Yes, the horns are real, so are the teeth, so is the skin. If you know what aliens are, yes, I am one of relative to you. Got it?"
crabmunicator: (065)

[personal profile] crabmunicator 2015-09-04 06:06 pm (UTC)(link)
His lip curls back, showing more of his jagged overbite. "Ugh, not sir. Don't go all formal on me. I can't be that much older." He waves a hand. "I'm Karkat, and I've taken a lot worse than startled looks from teenagers in my life."

Talk of geography, though, is highly telling. He puts her down to low tech, one of those weird other worlds where they haven't learned much yet or are comparatively back in time or however it works among the many and countless humans.

"It's not across the Narrow Sea, and I don't even know what that is," he explains. "Do you know what a planet is? It's completely separate from yours and whatever was there. They'll stick you in the youth program with the rest of us under-18s soon enough and they'll fill you in on shit then." As much as they ever tell anyone about it, that is. Five hundred year old society, his ass.

"I'm going to say this once: how exactly they bring us here isn't something I know, but when or if they send you back is up to them, and they don't particularly take complaints when they're housing you here of their own will." And here he gives her a look, a bit sharp but definitely serious, and he hopes she can read the implications. It's not safe to speak out, but he can't put it any clearer than he has.
crabmunicator: (051)

[personal profile] crabmunicator 2015-09-04 06:22 pm (UTC)(link)
He keeps his eyes on hers for a moment, but it looks like she does get it, whatever her reasons might be. It's hard to miss her lack of upset, but why that might be isn't his to question. He's been there himself.

With another motion he indicates the chairs. "Yeah, yeah, go ahead. Seriously, there is no need to stand on ceremony with me." His hands go to his things, finally shutting and setting aside his book along with his notepad and pen. "And that's exactly what I mean. Just be glad you're getting to see the Capitol first. I got a Mini-Arena first thing, and if not for one of my asshole friends knocking me out of my stupor I would have been dead in five minutes."

It's not the most graceful of introductions, but if there's one thing she's going to have to learn, it's how the arenas permeate even life between them. That aside, he doesn't know whether she's heard that much yet. That she's in another world might be less important to the Capitolites than the why.
crabmunicator: (067)

[personal profile] crabmunicator 2015-09-04 06:48 pm (UTC)(link)
"Oh, globes." He sinks down and tips his face into a waiting palm. They really didn't, did they? What were they planning on? Were they thinking their Escort would get to her first? God, nothing has run right since Stephen quit.

"Okay, make sure you are as sat down as you're going to get, because this is the heaviest topic there is," he warns past the guard of his hand. Only after does he set his forearms flat against his knees. "A Mini-Arena is a smaller, short-term version of the Arenas, which are death matches in which all us offworlders who are Tributes - i.e. those of us who haven't already won or managed to petition out to become Capitol citizens - are thrown into a special area to survive, fight, and kill our way to victory. Mini-Arenas have their own win conditions that can vary, but the general idea is last person standing wins. Beyond people, there are living creatures, hazardous environments, and whatever other traps and hardships the Gamemakers might think up to make our lives more interesting."

It's heavy enough just to get that out, but Karkat is not one for small, digestible chunks. He goes on.

"I am positive you wouldn't know what a TV is, so think of it like magic: the people of the Capitol get to watch all of us while we struggle, fight, and survive, and that's the entire point of us being here, and the entire point of this tower. Tributes live here along with past victors who serve as mentors to us, Escorts who guide us around and direct our time and help us earn sponsors that will pay our keep here in the Capitol and grant gifts to help survival during the arenas, and Stylists whose job it is to dress us up in the gaudy, sparkling morass called Capitol fashion. There's a floor downstairs dedicated to training up skills for combat and survival. Considering Linden was stupid enough to get himself whipped, it will probably be Phil who introduces you to the whole Mentor guidance thing.

"There's more stuff, like the Districts, and I mentioned the Youth Program which is where they teach us about Panem, and more parties than I can bear to count, but I am pretty sure the steaming heap of knowledge I just dropped is enough to tide you over for now."

He looks tired, not physically so much as the deep fuck this life of living here and dealing with all the bullshit he just laid out for her, but he straightens up just the same.

He flips his hand. "Take however many moments you need to absorb all that, then fire your questions. My book's mediocre enough that I could write the review in my sleep."
Edited 2015-09-04 18:50 (UTC)
voiceinthephone: ([Well...nope])

[personal profile] voiceinthephone 2015-09-06 04:31 am (UTC)(link)
"Of course you may call me that," Phil nodded with a level of respect he holds to everyone he meets, and made a "d'oh!" expression with his face, "Ah oh, right, you're not stupid, don't say that. I forgot to explain, a Mentor is like a teacher or a guide to ensure you survive a-as long as you can in the Arena."

For Phone Guy, that had to be the giant gorrila in the room: the Arena. Because like him, Jeyne had been reaped to participate in the Games. Worse, she seemed to be more lost than the norm, probably unaware of the world outside the Tower.

He then brings out a box of pastries he's bought for the District fridge along with the two mugs, "I'm supposed to teach you about combat and survival out there. I don't want to overwhelm you in any way, but this is a lot to take in." Gray then lets Jeyne fully settle in her chair and her situation.
crabmunicator: (143)

[personal profile] crabmunicator 2015-09-07 06:51 pm (UTC)(link)
He gives her as long as she needs, remarkably patient compared to his normal record, but things like this need it most. Perhaps he saves it up to spend at these times. But once she does speak, he's quick to mutter a damn.

"I knew I forgot something. We revive," he says. "Most of the time. If you're... too boring, I guess, sometimes they don't. But in most cases, if you die, they bring you back. It's like nothing ever happened - scars, bruises, scabs, anything you picked up between getting here and dying, gone. Even if it's from outside the arena."

He leans back in his chair, head turning to look off down the hall. "I'm not sure how many of us there are, though. Tributes are divided into 12 different districts, but I don't keep track of how many are in each. District 6 - that's ours - has been kind of on the small side lately. Lots of tributes have petitioned out in general, lately, and there were three victors in the last mini-arena..." And those who didn't come back, or managed to escape to District 13, whom he can't mention.

"I can't pretend dying is a walk in the park. I've done it five times here, more times back in my own world, and it sucks every time. But you get used to it, as much as anyone can." He didn't look too happy before, but he doesn't even try to hide the sympathy on his face now.

In times past, he might have eschewed it as a weakness, as something for those who aren't tough enough for the card life has handed them, but there's just no place in carrying that around here. Life is hard, plainly hard, and all the suffering and surviving and fighting and dying weighs on him too much even after all the times he's been through it.

"I'll promise you this: so long as you're in my District, I won't do you harm."
Edited 2015-09-07 18:53 (UTC)

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