thecapitol | Open!

Who| Firo Prochainezo and you!
What| Dealing with prison life
Where| Detention Center
When| Covering the week before the District 12 mission and the week after
Warnings/Notes| Likely talk of imprisonment, war, and usual Capitol awfulness

Having lived life the way he does, Firo’s not surprised to be in prison. Again. He would, however, be lying if he tried to say he was not incredibly displeased with this turn of events. For one, what was the point in being in this place as opposed to Alcatraz? At least back home he was helping Ennis as part of his imprisonment. The other, even bigger reason is that his friends are now scattered to the winds and he’s unable to do a thing about it.

It really, really sucks.

But what can you do? Though the thought of finally letting go of his control and showing the Capitol just what he thinks of them is tempting, it’s not on the table. Because to risk his neck like this is to risk Ennis’s and he’s not prepared to do that to her. So for now, it seems that quiet acceptance it is.

At their break for meal time, Firo tries to take full advantage of the ambient distractions to keep from thinking too hard about the situation they’re in. Whether they’re friend or stranger, Firo grunts to the person next to him, “I’m surprised they don’t have us doin’ the lockstep. That still happen in prisons where you’re from?”

Not to imply that you look like an expert or anything, buddy, but a guy has to kill time somehow.

[Closed to Eowyn]

There aren't many towering Amazons hanging around Panem, so Eowyn is usually pretty easy to find. Firo's never been more grateful for this fact than he is right now. She sticks right out when the soldiers are let go for their free time, and he makes his way over to her as quickly as he can without prompting suspicious looks from the guards.

When he's nearly at her side, he waves. "Hey." He hesitates, unsure on how to continue. Asking her if she's okay would just be stupid--are any of them okay right now? But he has to say something. "...How're you settlin' in?"

She's tough, he knows. But he also knows that this likely isn't the kind of place someone like her would be used to. Hell, he isn't even used to it.

[ooc: If you’d like a more tailored/specific prompt, just message me or go ahead and make something up!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"And yet." She shakes her head. "I was never killing time. It felt that way, often, but... when Théoden King ailed, I spent years running the court. I helped in the kitchens, spun and wove with the other women, I saw to it that the hall was clean and well-thatched, I mended my clothes and the King's linens. Stood in the shadows and watched with meekly downcast eyes." There's no joy or humour in her smile, only rueful bitterness. "I hated it. Being meek and mild, standing back, being soft and overlooked. But I did it, because it needed doing, and because it was better than sitting and stewing. It was better being forgotten than being useless. Here, I do not even have that choice."

He nods as he listens quietly. "...Yeah, I get it. At least it was somethin'. Sorry." He normally wouldn't apologize about possibly sounding dismissive of someone's activities, but Eowyn is special. And she has a point that makes all too much sense in here.

He lowers his voice. "And you're really not gonna fight if they offer?"

He respects her for it. If anything, he's certain that his decision to go along with their offer is worse than useless--he'll be working against the closest thing to good this world has.

"I will not," she says, and lifts her chin, as if pride can shield her from the consequences of that choice. "There are lengths I will not go to, not even in this hell. This is not our fight, and I am not theirs to order."

A bold assertion. Especially since she doesn't go out of her way to lower her voice, either. So far as she's concerned, the time for subtlety is passing by the day.

Firo moves to rest his hand on her shoulder. "I'm not gonna try to talk you into it, so quiet down, okay? I don't want you gettin' carted away."

He wishes he could say the same things as her and mean them; maybe then he'd feel less like the scum of the earth. Because she's right, this isn't their fight at all.

"Just thought I'd ask. I can't see why they'd trust any of us, but... seems like it's the only thing they've got in mind for us to do."

"It does," she agrees, and seems to visibly settle, albeit back into depression rather than peace. If they only have fighting in mind, and she refuses to fight, then the days are set to continue in this long, interminable stretch, a blank white expanse stretching on for who knows how long. "Will you? If they ask?"

Firo squares his shoulders and looks straight ahead. He doesn't relish having to give this answer, but it's only fair.

"It's not our fight. So that means I have to set aside anything I feel personally and do what's best for my Family."

And nobody else. Nobody else matters. He tries to tell himself that to turn off the guilt, but he can still feel that uneasy clenching in his chest. This is wrong, and he knows it.

"So, yeah. I will fight for 'em if that's what gets me home."

She's quiet for several moments. That isn't what she wants to hear, and it's clear, but she can understand. It might be easier if she couldn't, if she could blame him. As it is, it makes her wonder whether her choice is the right one.

Home. With Faramir, and Éomer, and Elessar and Arwen, with open horizons and her own horses to ride and no-one watching her every second of every day. This is not her world, not her responsibility. Why is she so set on saving it, when she could be putting her energy into returning home?

She reaches out and squeezes Firo's shoulder, taking a deep breath. "Then I wish you all the luck in the world, when it comes to it."

Firo tries very hard not to twitch or fidget as he waits for her to speak. Most of the time, he figures that anyone who wants to judge him can go to hell, but Eowyn's opinion actually means something. He's certain that he'll fall in her esteem for this; he just doesn't want her to start hating him completely.

He relaxes just a little when she touches his shoulder. "...Thanks." There's just as much of apology as gratitude in his forced smile.

Inside, he hopes he's not too lucky. Maybe there's still hope for the Capitol to be defeated and for him to somehow sneak his way home if the Rebellion figures stuff out.

The smile vanishes quickly, replaced by a sober frown. "And you. I know I said I wasn't gonna try to talk you into it and I won't. But... look, I never thought I'd say this, but you need to be careful."

Her instinctive reaction is to scoff. They have taken all they can from me. My life, my love, my freedom, even the work of my hands. What more can they send against me? But she remembers what he said about solitary confinement, and remembers that she still has work that must be done here, work that her King set her to. So she fights down the urge to answer with swagger and bravado, and only shrugs.

"I know," she tells him, and squeezes his arm. "I know. Careful, and patient, and wise. You need not fear for me."

He tilts his head towards her and smiles; there's just a tinge of sadness in the expression. "...You know, that's almost exactly what I used to say to Maiza before I went off and screwed something up."

Hmm. Some of the older man's concern suddenly makes sense to Firo now.

"There's no bein' a hero in a place like this. You just put your head down and do your time--that's what the guys back home always said."

At least his life has prepared him for this kind of place, he reflects, even as he feels himself chafing under the yoke as well.

"I will take you at your word." She smiles, thin and sad, and clasps his arm. "And believe me, I will do my best. I have enough unfinished business to go on. Besides, if I am to be caged, at least it is with a friend by me."

Firo feels a momentary pang of guilt to hear her say that; he's wished so hard that they would get out of here, but what's the point if there's a possibility that she could be left to serve her sentence alone? To entertain the thought of leaving her like that would make him as much a failure as a friend as he is a failure of a capo right now.

He knows wishing won't change anything, but maybe he should stop wishing just to be safe.

After hesitating, he lays his hand over hers. "Good. We've got a pretty good shot at doin' this together, I think."

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fade out?

Yep! Thanks for the thread!