Captain Jack Sparrow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
drinkupmehearties) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-09-05 07:08 pm
drinkupmehearties) wrote in thecapitol2015-09-05 07:08 pm
Entry tags:
Between the daylight and the deep sea
Who| Jack and a few closed prompts.
What| Meeting up with people.
Where| Various places around the Capitol.
When| Sometime after the most recent Crowning.
Warnings/Notes| Alcohol use and NSFW for smut in a thread.
( China -- Library. )
Jack is seated at one of the tables nearest to a window, one leg crossed over the other, ankle-to-knee, paying little mind to the gawking stares of passing Capitolites that notice there's a Tribute in their midst. Next to the faded brown tricorne hat that he'd placed on the table was a stack of books that China had handed him awhile back, ones he'd just recently gotten around to getting through.
He'd taken advantage of the quieter time that the mini-Arena had provided to power through the books, an attempt to keep his thoughts from straying to bad places, knowing that friends and fellow Tributes had been once again out there fighting and killing for their lives. Maybe it was a bad sign that Jack had somehow lucked out on not being reaped for the mini-Arena, an indication that the Capitol was growing increasingly bored with him. Or maybe it was plainly just luck.
Whichever it was, he'd used that time to leaf through the books. Truthfully, most of them weren't particularly interesting or thought-provoking -- there'd been a couple dry biographies of important political figures heavily saturated with propaganda, a few recounting the 'glorious' history of Panem and the Capitol, and one or two books unraveling the lives of a few past Victors in the older Arenas. He'd read them hoping to gain further insight on what sort of madness Capitolites believed to be truth, beyond the scathing 'history lessons' that were routinely given by certain Escorts over the network.
After finally finishing the last book, Jack had dropped a note for China in the D11 Suites to meet up at the library, remembering that she'd been eager to have a discussion once he was done. As he idly waited for her arrival Jack fooled around on his device, occasionally shooting wayward glances towards the door.
( Alain -- The Speakeasy. )
Since the credit lines had been cut, the pressure for Tributes to get a job and earn their own assi had been tenfold. He hadn't been immune to this, as old Sponsor money and generous district staff members sometimes only went so far.
While Jack wasn't particularly keen on needing to be held accountable to someone else, to being pinned down to responsibility and more routine, another part of him disliked the idea of being indebted to other people -- which made him torn between making real attempts to get a job and half-assing it so that he could later say that he'd tried. Thus the pirate enters the bar dressed relatively nicely, wearing a fitted, buttoned jacket and his hat. The Speakeasy was a cozy little night spot with loud music and snugly secluded booths, a place that he'd visited in the past and revisited a few times since. If somehow (miraculously) he landed a job here, it wouldn't be too horrible of a place to work.
He's leaning with both elbows on the counter, patiently waiting for one of the managers that the bartenders had gone to fetch, when he spots Alain. He vaguely recognizes him from various pieces of Arena footage and the Capitol's exposé on him, and sidles closer so the man can hear him over the noisy environment.
"Alain, was it? You're a friend of Roland's, aye?"
( Eowyn -- Stables. )
It's early in the afternoon when Jack strides into the stables, clad in a dark vest fitted over a loose, long-sleeved shirt, the flask that Swann had given him upon his arrival tucked securely away in his back pocket. Eowyn had invited him to check out the stables not too long ago, and even with his general disinterest in horses, the pirate had nonetheless agreed to come and visit. The stunt she'd pulled in the last big Arena -- snagging a wild horse from the middle of a herd and riding the animal until exhaustion forced it to yield -- had definitely still left an impression on him.
And, really, it couldn't hurt to check the place out.
Jack is curiously poking around the stalls when he spots Eowyn, and he wanders over in her direction to greet her with a warm grin. "Afternoon, luv. How's has the day treated you?"
( Swann -- Marina. )
This time Jack is found snoozing on the commons couch in the D8 Suite, passed out after attempting to chase a hangover from the night prior with more booze. An Avox sweeps silently over to him, nudging him to stir awake and gently placing a note in his hand.
Pinching the bridge of his nose and knuckling both eyes, Jack pulls himself to a sitting position and sluggishly turns the paper around a few times until the words come together into coherent sentences -- it's a note from Swann, urging him to get into the car waiting for him outside the Tower, ready to take him somewhere.
Assuming it'd be some type of photoshoot or Sponsor luncheon or guest appearance, Jack complies. It's not until outside the city proper, where glass and steel melt away to reveal a vast lake dotted with boats, that it becomes more readily apparent what this trip could be for. He exits the car, tempering his excitement for the time being and shading a hand over his eyes to peer out at the lake. Another Avox eventually urges him forward, leading him down one of the docks to where Swann is waiting for him.
He greets her with a grin, revealing the metal in his teeth. "So then, what's this about?"
What| Meeting up with people.
Where| Various places around the Capitol.
When| Sometime after the most recent Crowning.
Warnings/Notes| Alcohol use and NSFW for smut in a thread.
( China -- Library. )
Jack is seated at one of the tables nearest to a window, one leg crossed over the other, ankle-to-knee, paying little mind to the gawking stares of passing Capitolites that notice there's a Tribute in their midst. Next to the faded brown tricorne hat that he'd placed on the table was a stack of books that China had handed him awhile back, ones he'd just recently gotten around to getting through.
He'd taken advantage of the quieter time that the mini-Arena had provided to power through the books, an attempt to keep his thoughts from straying to bad places, knowing that friends and fellow Tributes had been once again out there fighting and killing for their lives. Maybe it was a bad sign that Jack had somehow lucked out on not being reaped for the mini-Arena, an indication that the Capitol was growing increasingly bored with him. Or maybe it was plainly just luck.
Whichever it was, he'd used that time to leaf through the books. Truthfully, most of them weren't particularly interesting or thought-provoking -- there'd been a couple dry biographies of important political figures heavily saturated with propaganda, a few recounting the 'glorious' history of Panem and the Capitol, and one or two books unraveling the lives of a few past Victors in the older Arenas. He'd read them hoping to gain further insight on what sort of madness Capitolites believed to be truth, beyond the scathing 'history lessons' that were routinely given by certain Escorts over the network.
After finally finishing the last book, Jack had dropped a note for China in the D11 Suites to meet up at the library, remembering that she'd been eager to have a discussion once he was done. As he idly waited for her arrival Jack fooled around on his device, occasionally shooting wayward glances towards the door.
( Alain -- The Speakeasy. )
Since the credit lines had been cut, the pressure for Tributes to get a job and earn their own assi had been tenfold. He hadn't been immune to this, as old Sponsor money and generous district staff members sometimes only went so far.
While Jack wasn't particularly keen on needing to be held accountable to someone else, to being pinned down to responsibility and more routine, another part of him disliked the idea of being indebted to other people -- which made him torn between making real attempts to get a job and half-assing it so that he could later say that he'd tried. Thus the pirate enters the bar dressed relatively nicely, wearing a fitted, buttoned jacket and his hat. The Speakeasy was a cozy little night spot with loud music and snugly secluded booths, a place that he'd visited in the past and revisited a few times since. If somehow (miraculously) he landed a job here, it wouldn't be too horrible of a place to work.
He's leaning with both elbows on the counter, patiently waiting for one of the managers that the bartenders had gone to fetch, when he spots Alain. He vaguely recognizes him from various pieces of Arena footage and the Capitol's exposé on him, and sidles closer so the man can hear him over the noisy environment.
"Alain, was it? You're a friend of Roland's, aye?"
( Eowyn -- Stables. )
It's early in the afternoon when Jack strides into the stables, clad in a dark vest fitted over a loose, long-sleeved shirt, the flask that Swann had given him upon his arrival tucked securely away in his back pocket. Eowyn had invited him to check out the stables not too long ago, and even with his general disinterest in horses, the pirate had nonetheless agreed to come and visit. The stunt she'd pulled in the last big Arena -- snagging a wild horse from the middle of a herd and riding the animal until exhaustion forced it to yield -- had definitely still left an impression on him.
And, really, it couldn't hurt to check the place out.
Jack is curiously poking around the stalls when he spots Eowyn, and he wanders over in her direction to greet her with a warm grin. "Afternoon, luv. How's has the day treated you?"
( Swann -- Marina. )
This time Jack is found snoozing on the commons couch in the D8 Suite, passed out after attempting to chase a hangover from the night prior with more booze. An Avox sweeps silently over to him, nudging him to stir awake and gently placing a note in his hand.
Pinching the bridge of his nose and knuckling both eyes, Jack pulls himself to a sitting position and sluggishly turns the paper around a few times until the words come together into coherent sentences -- it's a note from Swann, urging him to get into the car waiting for him outside the Tower, ready to take him somewhere.
Assuming it'd be some type of photoshoot or Sponsor luncheon or guest appearance, Jack complies. It's not until outside the city proper, where glass and steel melt away to reveal a vast lake dotted with boats, that it becomes more readily apparent what this trip could be for. He exits the car, tempering his excitement for the time being and shading a hand over his eyes to peer out at the lake. Another Avox eventually urges him forward, leading him down one of the docks to where Swann is waiting for him.
He greets her with a grin, revealing the metal in his teeth. "So then, what's this about?"
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