thecapitol | [open!]

Who: Julie Grigio and OPEN
What; Getting used to being around myriads of people and generally reacting to a normal life in general. What is normalcy???
Where: The training center, wandering around, WHEREVER U WANT HER.
When; Post-Arena
Warnings/Notes: idk cursing I guess

Julie was thinking how weird it was -- only in retrospect, of course -- that the first time she'd been back in a, moving city after, oh, ten years, she'd needed to take it in alone. It was overwhelming, all of it: people moving without watching their backs, dressed in flashy, overwrought clothes that they hadn't scavenged from shredded corpse two towns back. There were wigs and bright gleaming gems and restaurants that sold food without rot and maggots and, Christ, she could get anything she fucking wanted if only she could figure out what that was.

She still wasn't sure. All of that wishing for what not only she'd lost, but humanity itself -- maybe it was just something simple. Fireworks and making out with Perry under a full moon, veins warm with beer. Then they could go see some stupid action movie where things exploded but not into sparks of color, and there was always a sweeping soundtrack, music that wasn't guarded jealously because it was so hard to find.

Going out and taking it all in was too much. She'd heard about it: culture shock. Had to figure this was something like it. So after that fiasco (where her heart had pounded and she'd felt a little sick from the lights and the natural heat of too many humans in too small a space), she stayed inside. Quieter there. And training, no matter how fucked it seemed, was normal. Keep up the accuracy, always be on your toes. No rest. Don't stop looking behind you.

God, if she could thank dad for all his shitty new-world colloquialisms that stuck in her head.

She was getting more adventurous. Wow, small goddamn victories. Still, she kept thinking... it wouldn't be too far off, getting thrown back in there. Getting to try her hand again at surviving or killing.

She could use the vacation. Besides, she wasn't up for admitting she might've been a little too fascinated with the center's elevator. What? Like she'd ever seen one of those working before. Not that she could remember. There was definitely a childish glee in watching the buttons light up, riding the box from one bumpy floor to another.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Getting used to being afraid of heights is something Venus is still struggling with. She's taken a few hard tumbles in the Training Center that she normally would have teleported right out of, but now she's sporting some bruises on her knees instead. Thankfully, her Stylist is more than happy to work with someone who knows what to ask for, and she's got cover-up several decades better than anything she knew back home (the fact that she doesn't have to match it to cherry-red skin also helps).

"Apparently he's from the 1850's or something." Venus shrugs like it's no big thing that people come from all different times. She's from a universe with magic, aliens, mutants and teenagers who get bitten by radioactive spiders. A little time travel doesn't fuss her at all. "I'm surprised he was able to look at my ankles without going blind. Nice to meet you, Julie. Are you doing the whole District Alliance thing?"

Because Venus is still trying to figure out whether or not that'll be a worthwhile ploy with the audience.

"The what?" The words are out of her mouth before she's even started to process just what Venus had said. The 18 -- okay. Joke. (Look, things are weird even for her. She's almost second-guessing everything on instinct now.)

Still, she laughs. At least she's not dealing with that kind of crap. It also might be because hanging out in the District lounge is comparatively lame to what she could be doing. Which, really, amounted to... riding elevators.

She had to enjoy electricity while it lasted. Julie knew where humanity was gonna end up again. (She hoped it didn't.)

"District Alliance?" She turns an eyebrow up, realizing she must sound idiotic, parroting everything. Is that, like, District solidarity? Because she could probably do better. Nothing personal, twelve.

"Yeah, like, the Victorian era or whatever. I'm surprised that they can apparently reach all over time but most of us are from the 2000's. It's like they get bored with time travel culture clash."

Not that Venus blames them. It must be a little bit of a pain in the ass to get all the people from backwards civilizations up to speed with electricity and televisions and all that. Some of the footage of the old Games had people who couldn't comprehend that they were being watched, and Venus noticed that they didn't put on much a show. You need your audience to at least be slightly aware, or they start picking their wedgies and drooling in their sleep on camera.

"Yeah, you know, not killing your roommates? I think it's kind of dumb, honestly. Holding hard feelings about this place, you know. It's just a job." She brushes hair behind her ear and takes another long slurp of smoothie. "The show must go on."

Oh. Well. Huh. Not a joke.

Considering she's from a place full of zombies -- a world of them -- and suddenly there's an entire damn country without them... okay, so time travel is still way the hell out there, but what else is she supposed to do? Not believing it isn't gonna do her any favors.

"Oh, right. I get it." Somehow she'd been thinking the districts came together, allied themselves, but that seemed kind of backwards to her. Wouldn't really end up with as many deaths if they did that, would they? "I dunno, personally. I mean, I'm not trying to... you know, kill anyone. It's just about staying alive."

"Uhhhhh." Venus stops and takes a long sip of her smoothie. "No offense, but those are kind of um, what's the word. Antithetical."

It's not a word she'd typically use, and just to make sure she didn't get it wrong, she goes on to clarify, "pretty much your strategy for not dying involves killing everyone else. There isn't much else strategy to it. You aren't trying to make friends, you're trying to make fans."

It's so simple it's almost painful to Venus. This is the way reality television works. No one goes in looking for lasting relationships; the Bachelorette never really is satisfied with her chosen beau. You go in looking for a fanbase and a spinoff.

Antithetical? No way she's gonna even ask, so Julie doesn't even ask. She knows the gist -- that what she's thinking is stupid as hell. Even Julie knows it's stupid. R's a damn zombie and he's done a better job at playing this game than she has.

She still hasn't asked who he ate. Probably going to keep it that way.

"I don't want fans," she says with a shrug (even if she realizes that she already has some. Why the hell.) Oh. Great. She's becoming a shrugger, too. Whatever. She's a killer, sure, but not a murderer. She doesn't look for victims. Julie survives, that's it. Survival's what matters. "I won't take it personally if you find me and try to slit my throat, I guess."

"Oh, good. Some of the people here seem like they'd be super grudgey about that sort of thing," Venus says without a hint of irony as if there was no sarcasm at all in what Julie's said. As far as Venus is concerned, it's a fair bet, isn't it?

The elevator goes to the fifth floor. Venus steps out the door and winks at Julie as she goes. "Good luck in the Arena, girlfriend."

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