ab initio

[occasio]

Who| Phi and anyone on the Capitol side!
What| Phi arrives in the Capitol and has a look around.
Where| D4 floor, and around the Capitol.
When| Present time.
Warnings/Notes| None presently



[A: D4 Commons or D4 Rooms]
Phi arrives at her room with the typical Peacekeeper escort. She's half expecting the door to be locked when they leave, but she tries the knob and finds it free to turn. There won't be any damsel in distress in this tower. She can be her own knight.

With that much confirmed, she leaves the door open and turns back to the room. Her first order of business is to check every nook and cranny for something that might be useful. Unfortunately, the room is as barren of any useful tools as a prison cell, though much more luxuriously furnished.

Venturing out into the common rooms, Phi takes inventory of the kitchen and the living space. She gets the impression of being in some kind of high-class hotel suite--and there's a familiarity to it as well. There's a memory sitting in the back of her mind of a space like this, though the furnishings were much different. Likewise, she remembers Sigma being there, but that isn't the case right now.

There are other doors in the hallway that she came from, but those ones don't belong to her. She wonders if anyone is home, or if she might take a peek while the owner is unaware. Pressing an ear to the door, Phi listens close for any movement inside the room.


[B: The Capitol, anywhere]
The world outside is dazzling. After spending several cumulative days in the confines of a lunar base with only eight other people to speak of, the sheer numbers of buildings and people are overwhelming. There's a kaleidoscope of color walking the sidewalks, and it's all that Phi can do not to stare at the people. They look ridiculous, but at least that much is uniform.

She wanders as far as her feet will take her, provided she's not stopped from entering any restricted areas. She's not aware of where those are, but her ability to pick up on the behavior of others is pretty keen. She pauses at various shops, inspecting the window displays with internal curiosity, but not venturing inside. As far as anyone can tell by her expression, she looks bored with virtually everything she sees.

Comments

B

[crabmunicator]

You know what helps take Karkat's mind of things? Books. Books have their own story, their own characters with their own lives and drama and troubles, and not a one of them has to do with him or the things he's going through. That would be why he's in a store, looking over a display stuck near the front window. Kind of staring over it, really. Kind of spaced right the fuck out, because if there's one thing he can't do since the night of the interviews, it's keep his mind anywhere but the swirling morass of bullshit he's been trying to get away from.

Eventually he gives up. He's not going to find something, not when the titles blend into each other, or the summaries slip out of mind almost as soon as he reads them. But it's when he turns, looking to head back outside, that he spots this chick gawking. If not for the bored look, he'd mistake her for a fan.

Being a polite and well-mannered teen in perfect emotional health, he jams up his middle fingers and scowls through the glass. But hey, why let it end there? He's stress-free and in a friendly mood, so he might as well stomp on over to the door, storm out, and yell--

"Hey asshole!"

[occasio]

To her credit, Phi had thought she was doing an admirable job of not staring with her mouth open at the strange grey horned creature. She'd seen a lot of things in her time, but...whatever that was? Wasn't one of them. If she was looking just a little too long, then that wasn't exactly her fault.

When it flips her off and then comes storming out of the shop, Phi takes a step back, though her expression doesn't show her hesitance. If anything, she meets his temper with her own scowl.

"What the hell is your problem?"

[crabmunicator]

If he looked inhuman through the window, he only looks more so now that he's in front of her. Teeth, horns, eyes, and all form an animate expression of his apparent offense.

"Maybe it's the spook-haired phlehm bubble who's been staring at me! Did I somehow fall face-first in dickweed pheromones without realizing it? Have I just left a trail of jackass attracters across from tower to bookstore across the city? One mystery maze for the special tools of Panem, with an exclusive shouty prize at the finish line!"

He gestures out at her. "Who are you, and what's your problem?"

[occasio]

To her credit, Phi completely ignores both questions that the shouting creature poses to her. Normally she doesn't mind giving out her name, but in this case, she doesn't feel obligated to introduce herself to someone who started this conversation by flipping her off. If he wants her name now, he's going to have to work for it.

"Are you an idiot? It's a store. I was looking at the books." She wasn't. Not the whole time. But that had initially been her reason for coming over to look at this shop in particular. She just happened to also catch sight of this guy through the window. Everything had escalated from there.

"Do you always go into a frothing rage when complete strangers happen to look at you?"

B

[furgood]

Meulin bumps into her near the Tower, quite literally. Not very hard or at all deliberate, but enough that Meulin spins around to apologize. She's dressed simply today, golds and greens, her skirt and top, her lips and makeup. But her hair is a fluffy cascade around her and everything is cut for the warm days and not the cooler mornings. She smiles warmly, if apologetically.

"Sorry!"

Then she gets a closer look and vaguely recalls something passing her desk this morning or her neighbors desk or their neighbors. It got difficult to remember where she saw things. The point was, this person resembled a possible new tribute. Her smile softens.

"New here?"

[occasio]

As much as Phi would have liked to say that she was paying attention, there was a whole lot to pay attention to. She bristles at first, expecting someone to snap at her for the collision, but the other women gets an apology out before Phi can wonder if she should do the same.

"It's fine," she returns, relaxing her shoulders. Her expression softens a bit as well--more curious than her resting look of disdain.

The woman asks if she's new, and Phi doesn't see any reason not to confirm it. It's not like she can pretend not to be. She doesn't know a damn thing about this place, save that it's large and flashy and named after Bread.

"You can say that. Who are you?"

[furgood]

Meulin meets the slight curiousity in her gaze with open curiousity in her own. New tributes were fascinating--except when they come from her district. She deliberately doesn't think about that. It's more important to make the girl feel welcomed.

"I'm going to assume you said yes." She smiles wide, pulling out her little dry erase notebook and her marker. In bubbly, curvy handwriting, she writes out her name and hello.

"Can't hear. But if you'd rather not talk that's fine. Just--you might have some questions!"

[quiethumerus]

The room, with it's false-ocean window, is dark and elegently gothic as ever. The ocean window has been turned off for today though, screen gone dark and noise silenced. The only sound is the clicking of his heels.

He doesn't hear her coming, but he's got a sharp eye. He sees the darkness of feet in the lit up crack below the door. He notices the way those feet don't move. He pauses in his packing. He's kept much of his supplies here, but he won't be sleeping over night anymore.

His brother's photograph is set down. His heels are carefully slipped off. His steps are silent then as he walks up to the door and pulls it open. One point to whoever this is-- he has no idea who they are, and therefore are not involved with any business past. He tries to put on a smile and manages simply because he's practised this long, but it in no way reaches his eyes. They are sharp and cold, in perfect contrast to the smile.

[occasio]

For a moment, Phi thinks that she might have heard a noise. It was faint, though, and it's just as easy to think that she only imagined hearing it. She listens closer, trying to make out something. Was there someone in there? She's just about to consider knocking when the door opens. She jumps back immediately.

The man in front of her is smiling, but she knows that expression. It's not any kind of warm greeting, and she supposes it's a little warranted--but not to the degree that she's receiving. She decides to try ignoring it.

"So there was someone in there after all," she remarks, though notably unabashed. If he's expecting an apoplogy for her listening at his door, he'll be waiting a while. Her gaze drifts away from him for a moment, resting on what she can see of the darkened room before coming back to him. "Is this yours?"

[quiethumerus]

Kurloz rarely expects apology that's meant. He's learned better. He merely raises a brow, then proceeds to nod, clear and quick at her question. Yes, this room is indeed his. And it will still be his when he leaves, only instead it will be the office it should have been.

He gestures out at her and then tilts his head. And you are?

One can never be sure, but she can only be a Capitolite or an offworlder and only the latter are allowed up in these parts. Showing Meulin this place had been a trial, one he doubts this girl would pass on her own.

The real question was whether she was one of his. He'd be ecstatic at dressing a girl again, but it's been a long week.

A

[sociopathicwolf]

Derek's on his way back from training, in loose clothing and hair damp where it's pulled back into a bun. There's burn and chemical scars over his hands and up his arms where they disappear into his tee-shirt, but by now he's too used to leaving them bared when he trains to be at all self-conscious about them, even when he runs into someone new.

He raises his eyebrow when he sees her leaning against his own door, and he stops a couple of feet away.

"They tell you this is your floor?"

[occasio]

Phi stands straight when she hears the voice, pulling away from the door but showing no signs of being apologetic. She wasn't doing anything wrong, as far as she's concerned. It's not like she went into the room to look around. She had done as much with the room before this one, but he doesn't need to know that.

"Not in so many words, but they left me there." She gestures towards the room that she assumes is hers now. The door is closed now, but she remembers which one it is. Then she looks back at the one she was just listening against. "Is this one yours?"

[sociopathicwolf]

There's a grunt and a nod at that. She's a new Tribute, then, and Derek's already slotting her into the training time. He'll have to carve out an hour or two to meet with her one on one, figure out where she's at and what she needs and if she's going to listen to him or if he needs to change his strategy - he's not feeling all that charitable at the off worlder Tributes at the moment, but he won't neglect her training because of something she wasn't even there for.

For the most part.

He nods again at her question, not bothering to ask her what she thought she was doing. Most of the Tributes take it upon themselves to explore whatever they can.

"Derek," he introduces. "One of your Mentors. Not a lot of time before the arena now."

a.

[theyoungperish]

Someone is, in fact, home behind the door she picks to listen to. Actually, it's two someones, though one is a dog, and the other a fondly grumbling Mentor. Not that she'd know the last bit. Phi also picked a pretty unlucky time to lean against the door, because Chuck's opening it right as she does so, leash in hand and a bulldog at his feet.

The both of them pause, Chuck's brow furrowing, flicking over her as if trying to place her. Max, at his heel, barks and snuffles closer, wriggling excitedly. Mostly, because it's time for his walk, really.

Well, his walk, and then a run around the track, chasing Chuck's heels as they go faster and faster. It's pretty obvious Chuck does a lot of training and fighting, what with the scratches, the ugly knotted scar peeking out at the collar of his shirt, the older chemical burns up his arms. He's not ashamed of it either, nor of the much newer bite shaped bruise nestled right at the base of neck.

"Can I help you?"

He says, as if he's pretty sure he can't.

[occasio]

As soon as she feels the door opening, Phi steps back quickly to give the person some room. He looks gruffer than the other one who happened to also be home, but she isn't one to base everything on appearances.

"Dunno. Can you?" she responds, as if she hadn't been snooping at his door just a moment ago. As far as she's concerned, he's the one who had an attitude first. "I was checking if anyone was home, after being unceremoniously dropped off on this floor."

[theyoungperish]

It's not a reaction he's unused to, all told. Chuck doesn't move forward, letting her have her space as he waits for an explanation. Both brows lift as soon as she sasses him -- it's not something he gets often -- but his face goes dark as a thundercloud even so. He's not really in the mood to help anybody or take their shit.

His expression clears once she explains more though, and then crosses all over again with irritation. Dammit, they can't even tell him when they're giving him a new Tribute? Fucking Gamemakers.

"Damn, they always do this." He huffs, stepping forward and closing his door behind him. "Name's Chuck, I'm one of your Mentors."

Max, though well trained, takes the time to waddle forward and sniff at Phi. Chuck doesn't bother pulling him back just yet.

D4 rooms

[ka_sera_sera]

And movement is what she gets - movement of the door as it opens. No movement, though, from the man behind it, who may as well be a skinny, six foot statue, all wrinkles and stoicism.

"Be of service to you, s-sa- sa- sir?" This particular wrinkly statue will probably never train himself to avoid using words from his own world, especially not the gender neutral sai, so much more convenient than what the Capitol's machines limit his tongue to. Refuses to avoid it, if he's honest, but that doesn't mean what those machines translate his words into isn't a pain in the ass. He corrects himself right after with a 'miss' that sounds neither embarrassed nor in the least bit awkward. Whoever this is, chances are they know about this particular part of Panem life already.

[occasio]

Phi is quickly coming to the conclusion that most of these rooms are occupied, and their inhabitants have nothing better to do than to be in them. Another door opens, and she steps back quickly, already thinking of what she'll say to the obvious question of 'What are you doing?'.

What she gets instead is some old fart mistaking her for a boy.

Sir? The words I'm a lady, you asshole are halfway to her lips when the man corrects himself. Shamelessly, she might add, from her perspective. As far as she can tell as an English speaker, there's nothing amiss with the linguistics of this place. She scowls at him unhappily. Any apology that he might had gotten is long gone.

"Not really. I was just wondering who lived here." It wasn't like she was trying to sneak into the rooms. He doesn't have anything to complain about, as far as she's concerned. "What can you tell me about this place?"

[ka_sera_sera]

"I can tell you that information is one of the only things here that comes free," he says, eyebrows raised a little at what seemed very much like a demand. "Sometimes not even that."

Roland steps back anyway, though, wordlessly inviting her inside. The room behind him contains a bed, a nightstand, and a closet filled with once-fashionable clothes, many of them now torn and badly cared for. And that is all. Roland has in fact heard of the phrase 'interior decorating', but he utterly refuses to add it to his vocabulary. The Capitol already has too much of that sort of thing.

The only place to sit is the bed, though Roland doesn't. He's not wary around this stranger - no more than he usually is, anyway - but he isn't easy with her, either. "You've just arrived, haven't you? Tell me what you already know, anything that's struck you as odd, and I'll see what I can add."

Even though he'd caught her evesdropping, and even though she'd all but demanded he help her. It takes much more than that to insult Roland Deschain, and he loses nothing by helping a fellow prisoner at least begin to get her bearings.

[allyorfoe]

This whole internet thing is still about fifty steps beyond her, but with help from her more technologically advanced friends (including Shepard teaching her the fine art of trolling), she's figured out how the basics work. Which includes searching for info on any tribute, no matter how new they might be. Of course, Phi's profile is pretty lackluster, but it's got the two important things that Tabris needs: the district and the picture.

So she takes off to the District 4 suites, glancing now and again at the picture of the petite, white-haired girl. Pretty distinctive in Ferelden, but in the Capitol, it was damned subtle. She clucked her tongue, trying to go over what she was going to tell the girl. Of course, the truth was out of the question. Ah yes, I'm your possible father's spy liaison, who passes information from him to rebels for the purposes of overthrowing the established government and he wants me to watch you to make sure you don't die in the crossfire. It really had a ring to it. Unfortunately, the option that was Capitol-approved didn't just the same flare to it. Whatever. She told Sigma she'd keep an eye on the girl, not that she'd buddy up and have girl time and paint their nails or whatever.

Conveniently for Tabris, the girl was right in the suite, looking like Zevran when he was about to do something that would probably get them arrested.

"They've got this whole place wired up with more cameras than you can shake a stick at." The elf informs her cheerfully. "I wouldn't do anything that you wouldn't want the man upstairs to know about. And by that, I mean the head of security." She paused, shoving her phone in her pocket, and then placing a hand on her hip. "You're Phi, right?" No sense in dancing around it.

[occasio]

Phi stands up straight when she hears the newcomer addressing her. The bit about the cameras is something that she honestly could have assumed already, but it's nice to have confirmation on that. Unless these people were idiots, they weren't going to leave her completely unsupervised. Even Sigma had managed to think of that much.

"I don't think checking if my neighbors are home constitutes a crime," Phi returns when the stranger pauses to put her phone away. She expects some kind of argument to follow, which only surprises her more when the woman says her name instead.

Her expression cools considerably in response. It shouldn't be so surprising, but Phi isn't the kind of person to throw her personal information around--not even her name. "Could be. Who are you?"

[allyorfoe]

"I worded that as a question to be polite," Tabris replies cheerfuly, which kind of ruins most of the politeness, but whatever. "I know you're Phi, because no one has any privacy anymore, and if you wanted, you could just look my name up, and you'd learn more about me than I know. Including an impressive selection of fanfic regarding elven culture, let me tell you." She took out her phone for a second, giving it a quick shake to emphasis her point, and then pocketing it again.

"But to save you the trouble, my name is Revas Tabris. Do you wanna sit and talk out in the main area, or just awkwardly stand here?" She placed her hands on her hips, tilting her head at the girl. "I wanted to chat a little. Get to know each other. If you're new, there's a few things that you ought to know, that the Capitol won't tell you." She looked up at a corner, scowling. "Because they're JERKS."

That, clearly, was at these mysterious camera people.

[futilecycle]

There were few times Sigma had met with utter defeat. In the grand scheme of his scripted life, he had usually been capable of predicting tragedy - and even when he reached a failure state he'd been reassured that the door was opened for another incarnation of himself. But just as the day he and thousands more watched Kyle build a snowman in the Arena, when Phi wanders into the crossfire below the forcefield and out of his reach, the master of infinite time feels trapped in his own bones.

It takes him a day and a private session with Tabris to recover from the shock of Phi's arrival. When he does reach out to her, he is harrowed, a husk of the man she had met in a dream. The message he sends to her holo device is a simple one:

"If you have the opportunity, may we arrange to meet?"

At this point there is precious little else he can say.

[occasio]

If nothing else, Phi knows how and when to be discreet. Sigma was something of an authority figure here, as far as she was able to tell. The kind of authority figure that wasn't supposed to mingle with her new status as a Tribute. Still, he messages her sooner than she honestly expected him to--which isn't quite soon enough for her taste. But she'll deal.

The only perceptible reaction to his message is a slight frown pulling at her lips. Her response is almost flippant. "Sure. Got a time and place?"

[futilecycle]

With the rumours swirling around, he figures he will be let off easy for associating with Phi, just as he had been only lightly reprimanded for his dinner with Roland - Roland was an established old 'friend' and even the Doctor was entitled to his guests from time to time.

He is visibly relieved when she agrees. He hesitates to think of the least bizarre restaurant he can before he gives his answer. "There is a quiet place called Below Timberline that I haven't had the opportunity to visit. If you are not afraid of heights, I will reserve a table for 8PM." He thinks he'd be able to hear himself think there, at least. He's imposed his own lifetime ban on visiting the Swift Cut, even if he thinks Phi might enjoy pigging out with her hands. Too many bad memories.