it's never ever too late [open]

Entry tags:

it's never ever too late [open]

WHO| Ariadne and whomever wants to visit her
WHAT| Ariadne is musing to herself on the various occurrences of the Arenas.
WHEN| the night of the closing ceremonies.
WHERE| the training centre rooftop.
WARNINGS/NOTES| none right now.

Ariadne still wasn't entirely sure about all of this. All of this...killing, and maiming, and the fact that they were all brought back. What was she supposed to think of that? About the fact that somewhere out there in the world, someone was more than likely concerned with where she had disappeared off to; about the fact that she had curb-stomped a man to death on the opening day of the second Arena.

It was like everything that the Games were was suddenly rolling up on her, crushing her with implications and accusations that she had changed; that if she hadn't already, she would. There was a lump in her throat as she stared out at the glittering abyss that was known as the Capitol, hot tears barely pricking her eyes and refusing to fall.

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Eliot's eyes widen. "This wasn't your first time in there," he breathes, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Oh, Ariadne. I'm sorry."

Damn it. Until now, it hadn't seemed real that he'd be going back into the Arena. It had been easier when he thought he'd kill a few people, die, and his life would be over.

She looks at him, brows furrowed a little bit. "I thought you'd figured that out already," Ariadne says quietly, not flinching when he touches her. Though, in hindsight, perhaps it was only obvious to her. It wasn't as though she'd made an effort to tell anyone.

It's all irrelevant at this point; now he knows that they die, they come back, they go back in. It all repeats until they either opt out of the Games or win. And she's still not sure she wants to opt out: which is worse, the Arena or the Capitol?

"It doesn't matter. They changed the rules when they brought us all in here."

He shakes his head. "No. You didn't say anything in the Arena and I didn't watch any of the interviews."

He sighs quietly and looks her carefully in the eyes. "You ever thought about why they didn't change the rules until now?"

She nods a little, wondering if it even matters that she's been in the Arena twice now. It certainly helped her with Kaidan; she expects they'll have a slight advantage, but not much of one.

Never having been one to shy away from direct stares, she merely tips her head curiously at him. "Presumably because they couldn't get us in here before now. 74 years without a change, and suddenly all of this."

She pauses, running her fingertips thoughtfully over the railing. "Did you talk to that woman? The one representing the Capitol?"

"I did," he says quietly, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. "That's why I'm asking. Something changed last year. I don't know what yet. But, whatever it is, it has the Capitol scared. Basically, we're damage control."

The only real threat is the cameras, and they're too far away to be able to pick any of this up. The most it looks like is two Tributes chatting. Ariadne tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, mulling her words over. "The last closing ceremonies were interrupted by...tracker jackers. I think that's what they called them. That's why there isn't a big party this time around. Something's happening, and it's out of the Capitol's control."

He nods, taking another sip of his coffee. "It is. I don't know what happened, but something in the Arena last year lit the fuse. There's no disarming this bomb, even if I wanted to. This powder keg's gonna blow."

"Don't say that," she tells him, pursing her lips. She doesn't know if the people she hasn't seen are because of the lack of parties this round, or the fact that they're gone. It might be the former; the latter sounds too paranoid, but she knows that there has to be something happening that no one's telling them about.

"Have you asked your escort, or mentors?"

"Why? Does it scare you?" He sighs quietly. "You realize what it'll mean if it works? We might still be stuck here, but we won't have to go back in the Arena again. We can work on finding out how to reverse whatever process they used to bring us here. On our own terms."

He frowns slightly. "I haven't actually met my mentors yet. And I don't exactly trust my escort or my stylist enough to bring it up with them. I'm not even sure my stylist would have any clue what I'm asking."

She just gives Eliot a sideways sort of stare, very much doubting that it would be that easy for them. "I don't think we'll get the chance. Tributes still left in the Capitol? We'll be treated no better than we ever are. We're expendable."

Ariadne nods slowly at that, folding her hands together against the rail as she stares out at the glittering lights. "The stylists don't know much beyond what they're meant to do. It's not their job. I'm surprised you haven't met your mentors yet. Unless you were dropped straight into the Arena."

"You think we'd have to stay in the city if this works? I know getting there won't be easy. It never is. But it's worth the risk." He's quiet for a moment, looking out over the cityscape. "And we're not expendable. Not to each other, at least. Well, unless we're talkin' about Tate and whoever that guy is that killed me."

Eliot smirks wryly. "That last would about be the way of it. And I hear a lot of the mentors are missing now. Including mine, apparently."

"It all depends on what it is," she murmurs to herself. "With us being given no information, and nothing to go off of, who can really say what's happening here?

"We're expendable to the people who have the power to save us. It doesn't matter how much we'll fight for each other; if they want us dead, they'll have us dead," she points out, brows furrowing tightly at the thought. She knows it for a fact, too - that interrogator confirmed it for her in no uncertain terms. We don't have to bring you back.

An excellent way to keep people in line, if she thinks about it.

"Mine apparently aren't worth the time. I can't say I'm surprised."

Eliot shrugs. "So we find out. People say a lot when they don't think you're listening. Or when they think you're not a threat."

"So we'll just have to save ourselves. There's worse fates than death out there." Not that he expects her to know that yet. She's young and seems sheltered.

"Oh?"

The look on her face suggests she's not sure anyone would ever think he wasn't a threat. It's vaguely amused at the same time, but it's still clear enough.

"You've never been stuck in limbo before," she tells him softly, expecting him to ask the moment the words were out of her mouth.

"District six," Ariadne offers, though she doubts he'd have seen them around, "They're both morphling addicts. It's like...a drug, apparently."

He raised an eyebrow at her expression. "You think I could've gotten a date back home if I always looked like I was about to beat the crap outta someone? I don't fight all of the time. And sometimes people think you're less of a threat if you seem like you're just the dumb muscle."

"No. I haven't. You mean you died sometime before you came here?"

He drank some more coffee. "I'm... not entirely surprised. Going through this as a child? At Momoko's age? And knowing no one would be brought back... As I said, killing takes lot out of a person."

"Most people don't think anyone who spent most of her time in the library would ever get a date either," Ariadne replies to that, a small smirk playing at her lips. Exceptions for everything; no one could look like they wanted to off people all the time, though she wasn't sure she remembered Eliot ever smiling.

"Limbo isn't the same as death. I was trapped in a dream." The explanation sounds strange, even though she's experienced it. Arthur would be so much better at all this, but she finds she doesn't half-mind the fact that she'll have to go into depth on that.

She can't deny that; killing certainly does take a lot out of a person. She's just an architect, so what does she know about killing and death? More than she wanted, really. Her eyes dart away from him, back to the skyline, the glittering lights that - if she squints - could remind her of Paris.

He actually chuckles a bit at her retort. "Well, I'm not most people. I don't find that terribly hard to believe at all."

"Trapped in a dream? You mean similar to a coma?"

Never mind that it took getting out of the library and into a warehouse filled with criminals to get aforementioned date, but she never really thought of Arthur as a criminal anyway. She just shrugs, looking mildly amused.

"No. Not really. Trapped in a coma, you can't wake up. Trapped in a dream, all you need is the right kick."

Eliot looks at her closely for a moment. "I'm going to assume you're not talking about some kind of nightmare. Care to explain?"

He keeps his voice light. While he is genuinely curious, he doesn't want her to feel like she has to tell him anything. Especially considering where they are.

She drops her voice a little, knowing that the nearest camera is still far away, but not wanting to chance anyone but Eliot hearing her. Ariadne has no idea what sort of things she might do to her - with her - if they knew, but she's not taking the risk.

"I used to build dreams back home. It was like architecture, but...out of nothing. No restrictions on what you could do; you could build a city in the clouds, if you were really driven. It's pure creation."

Eliot stares at her, completely intrigued by now. "So would that have been a form of entertainment, then, or..." He pauses for a moment. "And would that mean you could enter someone's dream?"

There were limits to how much she was willing to tell him, and that line was drawn right around where she had stopped. Ariadne offers him a little smile, secretive and perhaps a little coy, before shrugging. "It's a complicated process. I'd probably have to show you for it to make much sense, but without a PASIV, I can't. It's rare to find anyone who does it, though. It's sort of a...an upper-class hobby, if anything."

"It sounds like a potentially... useful hobby. If we could somehow find you a... PASIV, I think you said it was called?"

She nods in confirmation, pursing her lips a little, "I doubt you'll find one here, and even if you could, I doubt you would find anyone with the chemical knowledge to be able to produce the right compounds to keep you under. I couldn't even help with that; it wasn't my job."

He frowns thoughtfully. "So you couldn't to it with a normal sleep?"

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