Maximus Decimus Meridius (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gluteus) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2013-05-18 01:22 pm
gluteus) wrote in thecapitol2013-05-18 01:22 pm
Entry tags:
[open]
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.
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.
no subject
He opens his mouth to say something, but the weight of shame and frustration smother his sentence partway through. "I don't know how to not..."
Be scared? Shake when frightened? Not project fear, which he knows is blood in the water to people like Aunamee and Alpha? Fix his head so he doesn't startle when people move too fast? All of the above?
He stands at the ready to throw the knife, but keeps it in his hands.