Roland Deschain (
ka_sera_sera) wrote in
thecapitol2015-12-01 10:05 pm
Entry tags:
[open]
Who| Roland Deschain and anyone in the detainment center
What| tiny freakout and moping, mostly
Where| the Detainment Center
When| soon after the D12 battle
Warnings/Notes| nothing I'm aware of.
A.
It isn't the nights that are hard. They're a pain in the ass, but he's slept alone all through those damned arenas. Thought he'd have a break from that once he was brought back from that latest, and there was a break, for a little while. A familiar warmth and a familiar body near to his. A little while is better than he could have asked, probably. Besides, he's dealt with the nightmares on his own for a whole lifetime, hasn't he? It's time to get back into that habit again, that's all. For a while. But his mind will not allow him that illusion, not without an amendment: with luck. With luck, it'll only last a little while.
No, it's these mealtimes that are hard. For the brief time the Signless had been here with him this is where they'd made up for those nights spent alone, and be damned to anyone who wanted to whine about the display. But now, with Alain in that rebellious district, the Psiionic and Karkat, and now Signless taken there too - it's good, isn't it? It's good. They're safe.
The corner of a napkin bends up under his fingers, flattens under his hand against the table. Then that corner is pinched together, and the mechanical finger doing the pinching gives a twitch. Roland scowls down at it for a moment, sighs loud and heavily, then raises his other hand to trace the raised outline of the necklace that's barely visible underneath his shirt. It's a gesture he hates, was well sick of making by the end of that last arena and thought he was done with. It makes him feel sour, feeling the thing under his fingers. He does it anyway.
B.
They didn't waste time. It did take a little, presumably to go through what they know about him and find the perfect leverage - but now that the person with which they held him here is freed, they'd have to find something else. Of course. Roland's thinking dazedly about that, about how he'd known there'd been something coming, he'd been expecting that much, and then he turns a corner and there's a peacekeeper there. His mind is slow, focused on what he'd been shown back in that room, and it is in fact so taken up with this image that his body is caught up in it too.
Roland realizes that the moment he'd run into that peacekeeper his hands had dipped toward his hips, reaching for smooth sandalwood grips which haven't sat there for a very long time. He forces himself to raise his hands before they get down there, forces them open in a gesture of peace. Open and unarmed. He forces himself, too, to speak, knowing it ought to be done quickly.
"Cry your pardon, s-sa, sa- sir." It's good, probably, that he's made that habit of speaking his own world's words even though he knows the Capitol's machines will turn his tongue to their own. He wouldn't have thought to throw that stutter in himself, not in this state. If he needs to seem cowed now, that stutter probably helps.
"I meant nothing by it, just paying too little attention." He shakes his head, needing the extra moment to compose his expression into whatever it's supposed to be. It's a moment he doesn't usually need, but it isn't as if these people will wait until he's really able to stay on his guard. That's not what being on guard means.
C.
(Something else? Feel free to write something up yourself or contact me so I can set up a starter that works better.)
What| tiny freakout and moping, mostly
Where| the Detainment Center
When| soon after the D12 battle
Warnings/Notes| nothing I'm aware of.
A.
It isn't the nights that are hard. They're a pain in the ass, but he's slept alone all through those damned arenas. Thought he'd have a break from that once he was brought back from that latest, and there was a break, for a little while. A familiar warmth and a familiar body near to his. A little while is better than he could have asked, probably. Besides, he's dealt with the nightmares on his own for a whole lifetime, hasn't he? It's time to get back into that habit again, that's all. For a while. But his mind will not allow him that illusion, not without an amendment: with luck. With luck, it'll only last a little while.
No, it's these mealtimes that are hard. For the brief time the Signless had been here with him this is where they'd made up for those nights spent alone, and be damned to anyone who wanted to whine about the display. But now, with Alain in that rebellious district, the Psiionic and Karkat, and now Signless taken there too - it's good, isn't it? It's good. They're safe.
The corner of a napkin bends up under his fingers, flattens under his hand against the table. Then that corner is pinched together, and the mechanical finger doing the pinching gives a twitch. Roland scowls down at it for a moment, sighs loud and heavily, then raises his other hand to trace the raised outline of the necklace that's barely visible underneath his shirt. It's a gesture he hates, was well sick of making by the end of that last arena and thought he was done with. It makes him feel sour, feeling the thing under his fingers. He does it anyway.
B.
They didn't waste time. It did take a little, presumably to go through what they know about him and find the perfect leverage - but now that the person with which they held him here is freed, they'd have to find something else. Of course. Roland's thinking dazedly about that, about how he'd known there'd been something coming, he'd been expecting that much, and then he turns a corner and there's a peacekeeper there. His mind is slow, focused on what he'd been shown back in that room, and it is in fact so taken up with this image that his body is caught up in it too.
Roland realizes that the moment he'd run into that peacekeeper his hands had dipped toward his hips, reaching for smooth sandalwood grips which haven't sat there for a very long time. He forces himself to raise his hands before they get down there, forces them open in a gesture of peace. Open and unarmed. He forces himself, too, to speak, knowing it ought to be done quickly.
"Cry your pardon, s-sa, sa- sir." It's good, probably, that he's made that habit of speaking his own world's words even though he knows the Capitol's machines will turn his tongue to their own. He wouldn't have thought to throw that stutter in himself, not in this state. If he needs to seem cowed now, that stutter probably helps.
"I meant nothing by it, just paying too little attention." He shakes his head, needing the extra moment to compose his expression into whatever it's supposed to be. It's a moment he doesn't usually need, but it isn't as if these people will wait until he's really able to stay on his guard. That's not what being on guard means.
C.
(Something else? Feel free to write something up yourself or contact me so I can set up a starter that works better.)

no subject
Roland collects himself, squeezes Firo's hand, blinks hard a couple times and raises his head to try and look into Firo's face.
"And if you didn't want to tell me that story, you need not." He's teasing, very quietly teasing, eyes warm and voice with a little affection in it. "Sounds like that story has- ah, what is it Karkat always says? It's got plotholes you could drive a, ah... a four wheeled something through."
Roland shakes his head, trying to shake out thoughts of Karkat, gone and lost to him somewhere in the far away mystery which is district thirteen. There's been too much dwelling on things he can't change tonight.
"Your Ennis sounds like a fair fighter, though. Quite a woman."
no subject
It sounds even less pleasant out loud than it did in his head. He squeezes Roland's hand back, unsure of what else to do. Is he even doing this part right?
Whether he needed to tell it or not (or wanted to--he's not even sure what he wants), he watches Roland's face with some small hope that maybe this is helping.
He jumps at the accusation--or, at least, what he interprets as an accusation. "P-plot holes? I know it's a little weird, but it's all true!" He's not creative enough to lie like this. And he'd certainly make himself look a bit cooler if he were lying.
"...But, yeah, she definitely is. Almost took my head off."
no subject
Wouldn't cost him anything too serious, in any case. It would only make him tired. More than he is already. "You've earned more trust from me than that, Firo. I only meant you're not telling me the whole story. You need not, if it's one you don't yet care to tell. Best not to force those kinds of things, and there's no point in telling one if you're going to half-ass it."
no subject
"No, no, of course not." He even smiles a little to hear that trust affirmed.
"It's just a long story--shouldn't subject you to it if you're not prepared. And there was a lot goin' on that even I don't understand. What d'you think is missin', huh? It's got a happy ending and everything, at least for some of us."
no subject
He tries to move his mind over what Firo's said, dig through the words in his thorough, painstaking way, and finds the work slow, the gears of his mind rusting to a standstill as soon as he starts trying to turn them. There was shame in his voice just now when he'd said as much, though it did not occur to him to avoid saying it at all. The fact of the weakness in his mind is not one he likes, but it is a fact, nonetheless.
He shakes his head, trying to find something to focus on. "Happy endings, hmm? Is that the point of a story in your world, the end? Not the story itself?"
no subject
Not anywhere soon, at least. Part of him is more than a little honored to hear this, part of him relieved just to know that maybe there's something they can do to keep Roland somewhat okay.
He shakes his head to brush off the apology. "You don't have to. It was just a question." Not a very important one, either. The story is what it is.
He thinks on the question that was just returned to him. "...I guess not. I don't think people'd bother goin' to the movies if they just showed the end. But if it goes on too long, then people want you to cut to the chase. How about yours?"
His brow is guarded now, eyes carefully on Roland in case trying to answer this question gets a bad reaction. Memories seem to be part of the problem here, so he's wary of Roland having to dive into his.
no subject
And on that question Roland's eyes do go a little distant, although the places his mind is going now are perfectly safe ones. They're only far away and very, very long ago. "In mine, the length was as much the point as the story itself. I remember the wind of some storm or another against the castle walls, and my mother's voice. When we were older too, on some long journey or gathered around the camp's fire, we'd tell them, see who could tell one the finest. Life takes us all on very long journeys. Stories ought to reflect that."
"At least, back in the days of my home," he adds, blinking himself back into the here and now. "And maybe here too, if the arenas are any indication of these people's minds."
no subject
"'Cause they last so long?" Lasted, maybe, but Firo has a feeling these people would scurry back to their traditions like mice to cheese if they were given half a chance. "They did seem a lot more like a radio series than just a movie."
The reference will go over Roland's head, Firo imagines, but that just means it's further proof that he isn't a figment of the guy's imagination, right?
He sticks an elbow at Roland's side. "You're gonna hafta tell me one a' these stories one day. Show me how it's done."
It's an honest request, because Firo loves a good story. But it's also a not-so-veiled plea to Roland to take care of himself and stick around. There's only so much of that that's in the man's power, of course, but Firo figures it doesn't hurt to ask.
no subject
A day which they don't have, in this place. A day which will be theirs, someday.
"I'll tell you... maybe of Tim Stoutheart. A couple of his tales. As a boy, he always was one of my favorites. And your, hm. Your radio series. Different thing from a movie? And both were used in your home?"
no subject
"A whole day?" His eyes almost bug out in surprise, but, hey, he's not complaining if someone wants to hang out that long.
"Yeah. Radio's just the sound, no movin' pictures. Lotta people have a radio right in their house--for a movie, you gotta go out. A radio show's done in shorter parts, but there's more of 'em. A movie's usually one part that'll last a couple hours.
"Usually about the same stuff, though. Some cowboy or whatever with a catchy name--actually, your Stoutheart guy would probably fit right in with his."
no subject
Those darn kids and their dagnabbed newfangled storytelling.
Roland moves on, voice quieter, hardly realizing he's just been complaining. Very seldom does his mouth work without some forethought going into what comes out, but it does happen, on occasion. For instance, when he is very tired. "I wonder if those guards will be looking for me today. I think not. They'll let me stew. I hope they don't. If they don't, you can stay, and I might be able to rest."
no subject
Firo can feel the amused smile playing at his lips. "Probably. You act like one too, once you get to know you." Maybe a little more thoughtful than the typical macho sheriff, but he's pretty much there.
"I think if you tried to pitch that to people in a movie, you'd get a whole lotta people askin' for their money back." It sounds appealing, though, he thinks. Why not savor something nice while it lasts? This thought doesn't last, though, before it's replaced with something a bit more sobering.
Rest. Firo's not sure if that's a good thing--Roland looks like he needs it and badly--or a bad thing--what would he dream about after all that? But it's what Roland says he wants, so Firo decides he should do his best to make it happen.
He's in the middle of squaring his shoulders when he realizes, sheepish, that Roland can feel him doing it when they're like this. "You want me to stand guard?"
no subject
"Mm," he nods, then raises a hand to press briefly at Firo's back, trying to keep him from standing. "Sit. You'll hear anyone coming. Sit, Firo, sit and stay a while with me."