[open]

[gluteus]

Who| Maximus and OPEN
What| Maximus just wandering around, basically this is for new CR and ongoing CR and whatever else happens to fall in here. Not really plot specific, just a needed space for some threads.
Where| District 3 suites, Training Centre, the Park, or the Speakeasy
When| Post Wesker's win
Warnings/Notes| Nothing planned that way! Will edit if it comes up.


Maximus did not enjoy the downtime in the Capitol.

It wasn't that he particularly enjoyed the Arenas, either, but being in the Arena was at least vaguely familiar. Survival. Death. It was a cycle he knew and understood.

Unlike the politics. Unlike the gossip and the glamour and the giggling behind hands. Unlike the Avoxes that found their way into his rooms, unlike the women that threw themselves upon him in the street.

He spent almost all of his time either in his suites, training, meandering the park, or looking for Wyatt in the speakeasy. He actively wanted to learn more about his fellow tributes, but did that more by listening and observing than by approaching. He wanted to learn their strength of character. Wanted to know how, deep inside themselves, they felt about their adoptive city and the games that they were forced to compete in.

And the best way to learn that, however slowly it took, was to watch. And to wait.

Eventually everyone laid themselves open.

Comments

[polyturtle]

Donatello Hamato was where he usually was when he wasn't at the spa, taking advantage of the cheap weekday rates: he was training. Still trying to get a handle on those throwing knives. He was getting slightly better at them with each passing day - now, he was actually hitting the targets all the time.

He wasn't sure whether to feel good or horrible about it. It was one more weapon he knew how to kill with. One more way someone could die by his hand. He hated it. But Don knew he couldn't not continue to train, lest the Capitol become suspicious him and his strategy. If they weren't already.

Finally, he took a break, sheathing his knives and sitting down near a set of dumbbells. He began to drink water, letting the coolness quench his thirst.

[gluteus]

He stepped over to Donatello almost as soon as he saw him. He remembered the knife, remembered Donatello going off to his death. He hadn't watched. But he'd seen heard the canon and seen the light in the sky and he'd known it was done.

He hadn't gone back for the knife.

"Donatello." Half to say hello, half to announce his presence.

[polyturtle]

"...Maximus." Don smiled as he looked up to see his ally. "Have you come to train? as well?"

And, perhaps, to talk. He didn't mind it.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard figures there isn't much of a point to actually exercising in the training center. It's not as if he's going to be able to bulk up and get ripped in time for the next Arena, and he's mostly just been trying to put weight on now that he's back in the Capitol. Besides, he's liable to hurt himself; skeletons are never all that sturdy, as the Drybones from Super Mario Brothers can attest, and he more resembles a frame than a full person whenever he's revived.

But he does observe. It's his one weapon, his intelligence. He's always watching and taking notes, seeing what techniques and weapons other Tributes favor, noting weaknesses. Trying to envision the punching bags and targets as just sawdust and padding and cloth, instead of bodies. The whumping noises aren't squishy enough to be human flesh, he tells himself. The Training Center would look gross bloody.

He sits against a wall, on the floor, arms draped lazily over his knees, one thumb rubbing a red spot into his skinny wrist. The man in the Training Area is built, and he attacks the target with the precision of a trained soldier from a bygone time. Howard notices that he rarely misses his target.

He waits until Maximus is winded and sweating before speaking up. He gets to his feet. "Hey. You're...you're Wyatt's friend, right?"

[gluteus]

It takes a lot for Maximus to wear himself down, but he does eventually, wiping the sweat from his brow as a thin young man approaches. He raises an eyebrow before the boy speaks, but once he has done so a slight smile comes to his lips and he nods.

"Yes. You must be the ally from the Mountain," He observed. Wyatt had told him a little about Howard, but not in great detail - the fact that Wyatt had mentioned him at all, however, narrowed the field considerably.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Yeah. He took care of me." Howard doesn't know if Maximus has seen the replays of the Arena, but he spent a good portion of the Games mauled and mutilated, and the Gamemakers got a lot of mileage out of the heroic Wyatt nursing an injured kid back to health. "He told me about you. Said you were good people."

Howard hops up and perches on a box of sparring gloves. His legs dangle over the edge. "Maximus, right? What'd he say about me, except that I bleed an awful lot?"

[orestes]

It was a foolish thing to try and engage someone incapable of actually speaking in conversation. Nevertheless, that didn't stop Enjolras from trying. There were other ways people could communicate, so that was what he would do. Avoxes weren't really permitted to be expressive, but the one he was presently arguing with seemed perturbed to say the least.

"What I am saying is that you, like us, have nothing left to lose. More than any other native of this state, you have a right to be angry. You, who are reduced to servitude for what? Dissension?" The pen and paper he'd laid out for the man in the flowing robes attempting to freshen his tea remained untouched. Enjolras sighed, so many of Rousseau's less optimistic perspectives were proved by this place. "Surely, if nothing else you are frustrated, my friend. And you don't need to do that-- Please do not do that. I am more than capable of preparing my own drink."

[gluteus]

Maximus couldn't help but overhear, stepping through the common room, Enjolras' impassioned voice floating across the room. He couldn't help but step over, drawn partially by the passion and partially by the sentiment.

"They do not understand," Maximus said in a low voice as he came over. "At least, as far as I have ascertained. There is more wounding their minds than their lost tongues."

[orestes]

Nodding sadly, Enjolras waved the fluttering Avox away again gently, and raised his eyes to meet those of the man speaking to him. It was an awful, terrifying concept to be forced to live in an unequal world and have your very means of fighting back stripped from you. But to shy away from contemplating it would be a disservice to those who had, and who would continue to endure such a fate, and so he refused the impulse to turn the conversation to the easier topic of introductions.

"Their government must be truly afraid. Killing someone silences them just as easily. This is about sending a message, rather in the same way as the Games. Do not rebel, we will not even grant you the dignity of death."

[honeyedwords]

Holmes has been spending a decent amount of time in the training center as well, if only because he's started getting the impression that he's being followed whenever he stays out for too long. Not that being in his quarters is much reprieve, since the training center is one of the most heavily surveilled buildings in the whole of the Capitol, but he supposed that if he stayed where he was supposed to be he'd be subject to perhaps a bit less scrutiny.

The whole experience is rather mind-numbing, though, even having brought his bees along, so when he hears someone bustling about in the common area he's quick to get up and investigate.

"Maximus Decimus Meridius," he says, upon seeing the man in question. "Scored eleven by the gamemakers, skilled fighter. Fell to Asha Greyjoy in the last arena while already injured. Pleasure to meet you, I'm Sherlock Holmes. I'm intended to be the District 3 mentor, from now on."

[gluteus]

Maximus hadn't expected to see anyone this early - he was used to rising before much of the suite, and usually took his breakfast alone. So the voice surprised him, slightly, muscles sliding into readiness and he was already half-turned and prepared to fight when he remembered where he was and let the battle reflexes go.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in his new 'Mentor' - probably half his size and obviously not healthy. He shifted on his feet and gave Sherlock a tight, but respectful, nod.

"She has a strong arm," He said in a half respectful, half grudging sort of way. "You are a former victor, then?"

[splendid_roman]

Ian came out of the lift and poked his head into the District 3 common room. Upon seeing Maximus in there and no one else he asked, "Is she here?" not thinking to clarify who 'she' was.

[gluteus]

Maximus had been sitting at the table, slowly and carefully copying out english letters onto a piece of paper, attempted to teach himself to write and read in English now that no one here wrote in Latin. He looked up as he heard the voice.

"...She?" He asked, completely at a loss for who the man was looking for.

[peacekeeperavox]

Darius had only been sent to his room the once, at least. But he still tended to look up whenever Maximus passed him out and about on his duties, watching him with a curious sympathy. Today, he was down in the wide space of the training center, cleaning up the tools he and a dozen others had used to clean the entire floor. It gleamed for now, but soon it would be dull again. Nearly a hundred tributes lived in the Tower now, and this place was built for a quarter that.

[gluteus]

He'd seen Darius around, of course.

He'd never attempted to speak to him, after that night. There was a strange and deep guilt in his chest whenever he saw him, or any of the avoxes that had been sent to his rooms. He did not understand what could happen to a man to make him into such a slave, and he was not sure he wanted to understand.

So he almost didn't stay, when he saw Darius was in the training center. He'd obviously been working for a while, everything was gleaming and clean. He hesitated but then stepped in fully, unable to help himself glancing at he Avox before picking up a perfectly shiny practice sword and giving it a testing swing.

That strange guilt was in his throat and he wondered if he should say something, try to clarify, but it wouldn't come out.

Let me know if this doesn't work....

[president_evil]

Wesker was on his way out, dressed handsomely in another ensemble of midnight black and bloody red, when the elevator paused on the floor for three.

He adjusted the cuffs of his jacket and tucked his arms neatly behind his back, waiting, his expression bland - until the doors parted and Maximus appeared between them.

He said nothing. Didn't have to. The way his mouth twitched, the way he shifted - just a fraction, just enough for Maximus to slink aboard - did all the talking for him.

Come. Have a word. If you dare.

[gluteus]

He knew he would have to see him, at some point.

He'd been preparing himself, knowing the Victory feast would come, knowing he'd have to face Wesker in all his 'glory', and trying to decide how best to meet him.

What he was not prepared for, however, was to watch the elevator doors open and for Wesker to be within them.

He always had hated elevators.

However, he didn't flinch, or back away - his mouth thinning into a tight line as he stepped inside, the tight space forcing him to just brush past him.

He turned, facing the doors as they slammed shut behind him.

[drpsychosomatic]

John had thought he'd found a corner of the park that no-one else went to- through a gap in an elaborately shaped topiary hedge. This time, though, upon stepping through, he found his sanctuary already claimed.

"Oh. Sorry," he mumbled, scrubbing at his hair- it seemed rude, to intrude and try to leave without apologising. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

[gluteus]

Maximus often wandered the park, finding solace in the wilderness away from the massive buildings and thunderous lights - even if it was fabricated, and shallow. It was still better than the deep city. He was used to being left alone, for the most part - his stature and reputation being a large deterrent - save for the women who found those same traits alluring rather than repelling. So it was rare that a man spoke to him at all.

He turned to the voice, and met a face he vaguely recognized. They'd never spoken, but Maximus had seen him around the Tribute's tower, and at the various parties he'd been forced to attend.

"You have not," he assured him with a stiff nod. "I was merely walking. You are a tribute?"

[doc_holi]

Holiday didn't really plan on ever fighting in the arena and she certainly didn't plan on killing anyone. That didn't mean that it wasn't going to have to happen eventually.

So, she had taken to extra training in between her sponsor outings. Really, though. The training was to relieve her left over frustration from the sponsor dates. She hated herself for doing it, but she hated those clients more. It wasn't like she was doing anything intimate with them at least.

Still made her feel sick when they'd touch her in any form imaginable.

So, Holiday was practicing her ability with a spear this time. (She liked changing it up a little every time.) She wasn't bad, she wasn't great, but it was obvious that her emotions were involved. Holiday stopped to catch a breather when she noticed someone else walking in.

"Oh. Hi."

[gluteus]

Maximus was used to mostly being ignored in the training centre, especially by people he didn't know, so was surprised when a woman with a spear adressed him. He looked over at her. She wasn't built like a gladiator, but that meant little here. Most of them weren't.

"Good Evening," he replied with a stiff, short bow of his head.

[big_badass_hero]

Maximus wasn't the only one who hated being out of the arena. If Chris had wanted to deal with Politics he would have become a real cop back home instead of S.T.A.R.S.

Currently the gunner was sitting in the speakeasy, the beer in front of him really untouched as he was... sketching something on a pad of paper. The conversation with Peeta a few days before had him trying to remember all the details of a few sports he actually enjoyed so that he could bring it up with other tributes to see if he could somehow get some friendly competition that didn't involve the arena together.

Though other things had made it to his sketches too... A picture of his sister, his partner... A few of the people he had met while in Panem, and a few he hadn't met yet. They weren't great, but it was clear he had been there a while killing time.

[gluteus]

Maximus went to the speakeasy almost daily - most often to find Wyatt, but on this particular day the other man was notably absent. It didn't mean he wasn't about to sit down and enjoy a beverage, though, and he slid into the bar at the empty seat next to Chris, and ordered a wine. Beer was only with Wyatt - he didn't quite have the taste for it yet, otherwise, and wine was the closet think in Panem to home.

As the bartender went to fetch his drink, Maximus couldn't help but glance over at the array of sketches in front of Chris. A couple of the faces he recognized, but most he did not.

"You draw?" He asked, when he realised he had never seen anyone in the capitol work an actually craft, beyond himself and Wyatt.

[knifewithnoname]

Pruna was testing out different kind of weapons in the training centre. She could fight with a knife, sort of, and she made sure to practice that as much as possible. But she knew she should get used to other weapons, she wouldn't get a choice in the arena after all.

So she was trying a spear today. The thing was easily three times her height but she was trying her best, working out the balance and how to put her feet from the instruction sheet.

She didn't even realise she wasn't alone in this area of the training center.

[gluteus]

He'd watched her for a little while, a slight pang of sadness at the fact that this child was being forced to fight. She couldn't have been more than 10, and here she was, with a spear three times as long as herself...

He finally let out a breath and walked over. "Your best bet in the Arena would be to break it, and use the end. The length and weight will only hinder you, otherwise."