The Signless (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
69problems) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2013-05-16 04:10 pm
69problems) wrote in thecapitol2013-05-16 04:10 pm
Entry tags:
[CLOSED]
Who| The Signless, Peeta, and Cinna (not all at once!)
What| Signless meets his mentor and stylist properly.
Where| District 12 suites; prep center
When| Now-ish probably!
Warnings/Notes| Probably none. If anything comes up I'll add.
The Signless has spent a good deal of time in his room since he died and was brought back to the Capitol. It's not that he's antisocial -- he's quite proud of all the alien acquaintances he's made -- but there's simply so much to take in and a good deal of it he can get to without walking more then ten feet. He spent a good several hours messing with shower combinations once he figured out how it worked, and even though he's used it a few times now, the idea of being able to order any food you like at any time and have it appear immediately still enchants him.
The Capitol doesn't have much of the sort of food trolls recognize, so he's been being adventurous and picking at random. Today that means some sort of shellfish in bright green sauce, which is turning out to be remarkably good even if it may be a little strange to eat it while sitting cross-legged in a pile of blankets and pillows in the middle of the floor.
***
The Signless has been here before, but he's still not necessarily comfortable in the prep center. It's so sterile and, well, alien, far more alien than the rest of the Capitol. He thought the first time they brought him down here and did their very best to remove fourteen solar sweeps of calluses was the last time, but here he is again, because apparently there's someone else who'd like to see him. He hopes they aren't going to try to scrub the bottoms of his feet off, whoever they are.
What| Signless meets his mentor and stylist properly.
Where| District 12 suites; prep center
When| Now-ish probably!
Warnings/Notes| Probably none. If anything comes up I'll add.
The Signless has spent a good deal of time in his room since he died and was brought back to the Capitol. It's not that he's antisocial -- he's quite proud of all the alien acquaintances he's made -- but there's simply so much to take in and a good deal of it he can get to without walking more then ten feet. He spent a good several hours messing with shower combinations once he figured out how it worked, and even though he's used it a few times now, the idea of being able to order any food you like at any time and have it appear immediately still enchants him.
The Capitol doesn't have much of the sort of food trolls recognize, so he's been being adventurous and picking at random. Today that means some sort of shellfish in bright green sauce, which is turning out to be remarkably good even if it may be a little strange to eat it while sitting cross-legged in a pile of blankets and pillows in the middle of the floor.
***
The Signless has been here before, but he's still not necessarily comfortable in the prep center. It's so sterile and, well, alien, far more alien than the rest of the Capitol. He thought the first time they brought him down here and did their very best to remove fourteen solar sweeps of calluses was the last time, but here he is again, because apparently there's someone else who'd like to see him. He hopes they aren't going to try to scrub the bottoms of his feet off, whoever they are.
no subject
He set the bowl of seafood and sauce very deliberately aside.
"I don't ever plan to win. To win requires the knowing murder of other sentient beings, and that's something I absolutely refuse to ever do. I'll provide you with as many amusing deaths--" He wrinkled his nose at the phrase. "--as you like, but I won't ever win, barring some sort of miracle or drastic rule change. I'm sorry. You seem like you mean well, which is why I'm being honest with you."
no subject
"No, it's good to be honest with each other. If you're not honest with me, I can't help you at all," Peeta paused. "And I still want to help. There is another way to win, without killing anyone personally, but do you mean you won't do anything, because in the arena there will be killing?"
no subject
After all, he was from Alternia, a planet where it was kill or be killed. He'd met so many lowbloods who truly believed there was no way to end their enslavement and oppression except through violence because it was the only language their oppressors spoke. He understood that feeling of hopelessness, and it made him sick just thinking about it.
"I'd simply much rather avoid confrontation entirely if possible. Tell me about this other way."
no subject
Do you mean you won't kill? Katniss asked again in the back of his mind, and he answered it like he had then: No, when it comes down to it, I'll do what I have to. I just want to show them... Peeta gave a grim smile.
"Well, that's exactly what I was going to say. To survive, you'll need to avoid confrontation. That means you need to be able to hide and not be seen from everyone around you. But it's not that easy, in fact, that's a lot more difficult because the gamemakers will work on flushing you out so you have no choice," Peeta paused. "Are you against killing animals, too?"
no subject
"I think I could. Animals are less likely to be intelligent on the same level as I am. It's mostly killing other intelligent life that I'm uncomfortable with." He thought back to the last arena, and decided he would have easily killed one or two of those piranhas to keep them from chewing his face off. "I've learned a lot about trapping already, in the training center, since I haven't been touching the weapons. You know, on principle. Do you recommend I practice with some anyway?"
He didn't like the idea, at all, but he had used sickles before on vegetation and for defensive measures against Alternian wildlife. Nothing that had required much finesse, but certainly enough to know they were a sturdy and easy to use choice of blade.
no subject
He wasn't sure if right now was the time to bring up mutts. They weren't really intelligent, in a sense. They couldn't talk to you, you couldn't talk to them and have them not attack you. But there was some kind of intelligence there, something that you didn't see in regular, normal animals. Just thinking about the dogs with their eyes... he clenched his jaw rather then shudder, looking at Signless.
"I think you should. You can use a spear or bow and arrow to catch fish, squirrels, rabbits, any kind of animal. And I know you don't want to kill anyone, but there might be times you'll get in a fight. You're going to need to protect yourself, so learning how to block? That's something you need to know how to do."
no subject
"I'd be alright with defensive fighting, I think, if there really was no other way." Maybe if he'd been able to warn Hyperion away-- no. No, no no, no post-Arena guilt. Stop that. "I'll see what I can do. Karkat may be able to help train me on sickles, since he's an expert with them. Would that be frowned upon? Practicing with someone of another district?"
no subject
Why not learn from your friends? "No, it wouldn't be a problem. The only people who'll see you doing that are the gamemakers and any other tributes, but the gamemakers aren't allowed to reveal anything they see in the training room. So if you have a friend who'll help you out, go ahead and use them. You could always trade knowledge, too; that might be polite to do."
Okay. So he had his non-fighting tribute learning how to use a weapon for defense, so that was a plus. And they both agreed on learning a few things like what plants to eat, and how to trap. No one ever knew what the arena was going to be like until they were in it, so that might be all he could do in that regard, so now it was onto the tough stuff.
"I'm sure you already know about sponsors, right? Even if you don't fight, we need to figure out a way to make you..." What was the right word? Popular? Appealing? "Make you someone that people would want to support. We want people to like you, in some sort of way."
no subject
"And yes, I know about sponsors. One sent me water in the last arena." He still can't quite fathom why. He hadn't done much beyond spend a day with Pruna and fall out of a tree. "I don't know how to be popular, not how people become popular here. And back on Alternia I wasn't... particularly well-liked by most trolls. Mostly for the same reasons. Pacifism isn't considered a good quality."
no subject
He gave a nod. "Water's a good start. What makes someone popular, at least in the Capitol, is being real. Being honest. So we just need to take something that you do, like being a pacifist, and then expand on it. Make that what people remember about you. What did you do back home? What was your life like?"
no subject
"I hope you know you've just opened a very large container of dirt noodles." Oh, troll vernacular. Just awful.
"But I'll try to explain it as concisely and clearly as I can. Some of it I only know secondhand." He took a deep breath, and started talking.
"Back home, I was an outcast. Troll society is based around the hemospectrum, a caste system decided by the colors of our blood. Lowbloods, the warmer tones, are oppressed and abused and forced into all varieties of slavery by the seadwelling royalty and the highblood nobility. Because of my mutant red blood, I was from the moment I hatched even lower than the lowest, so low that no guardian would take me. I would have been killed for my mutation if not for the good will and sacrifice of another troll who rescued me from the caverns and raised me in exile to keep me alive. To my knowledge, I am the only troll with a mother." And he hoped she never, ever was brought here.
"As I grew I saw the injustice around me, the pain my fellow trolls endured simply because of how they were born. And in my dreams I began to remember a life before Alternia, a life I had lived a universe previous, in a society where all trolls were harmonious regardless of blood caste and mutants like me were cared for rather than culled. So I began to preach, even though it meant treason, even though I was risking death by speaking out and drawing attention to my blood. I told my fellow trolls what a life of compassion and harmony could be like, and that they could have that, if only they'd listen and stop fighting. Followers joined me and we traveled all over Alternia, even across the seas, and my message began to spread and take hold."
He takes a very long, very shuddery breath.
"And the rest I know from the Helmsman, who is from my future and lived to see it. At some point in his past and my future I will be captured by the Alternian government and publicly executed for my heresy. That's what's waiting for me if I go back."
no subject
Obviously the look on Peeta's face could be classified as stunned. "I guess I did open a can of dirt noodles," Peeta took a breath, running his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry about... I guess about your future. That can't be an easy thing, knowing about it. I don't think I would handle knowing what happens to me that easily."
He paused. "You're handling this whole thing really well."
no subject
"I always knew my death wasn't likely to be a peaceful one. I guess I'd already come to terms with the idea by the time I was openly speaking against an empire far larger and stronger than I. An execution is pretty unsurprising."
He paused.
"I'm sorry. I know it can't be easy to think of a way to market that."
no subject
But this guy knew all this. He had done what he could to help his people, and expected to die for it anyway. And that made Peeta so, so ashamed of himself.
"No, I think we can work with this. With the help of the other mentors we have, and our stylists, I think we can help you."