thecapitol | A dream I dreamed // OPEN

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A dream I dreamed // OPEN

Who: The Disciple & Anyone
What: Exploring the center from the elevator doors
Where:Training Center Elevator/Any Floor
When: Today, anytime
Warnings: Probably tears.

Too many hands had touched her this morning for comfort. A woman used to living alone and running if people came too close was not suited to strange aliens manhandling her or others insisting that her clothing be changed. Her hissing and tearing at the clothing they pressed at her just got hurt scared looks and she felt a pang. No stronger than grubs, these creatures with their clothes and devices held out pleadingly. Eventually guilt and a sense of inevitability made her take the clothes she was offered and let them pull the knots from her hair.

They called themselves humans when she asked. Humans. Aliens. Was she merely a creature to them, to be kept for their amusement, killing and playing their games. Hardly. She pulled on the only thing she had managed to save from their hands, a long skin and fur cape, and held it closed over the clothing. As much as she liked the leather and fur that adorned her outfit, she almost wanted to tear it off.

The Disciple did, at least, want to find out where she was being kept beyond these rooms. A way out was probably too much to ask at this point, given that they had subdued her before. Their words and explanations flew over her head, things she didn't know of or understand. They at least managed to explain the elevator to her and when she asked if she was to merely stay here, they encouraged her to go look around. Technology she didn't quite understand swept her up and down until her stomach was queasy and at each new floor, she surveyed the area from the elevator doors and occasionally stepped off to explore.

She's not as silent as she hopes with new clothes to adjust to and the ding that precedes her at every floor makes any hope of a silent entry impossible.

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He normally ignores the elevator, but hearing it come by several times gets Cuthbert's attention. As does the troll riding in it.

"Miss Nepeta? Gan, what did they do to you? You look... nice."

He approaches with the comfortable gait of someone who knows who he's talking to.

Given that half the interaction with humans had been forcing her into things and places, she skitters backwards automatically. She's wide-eyed and more than a little on edge. What did she expect from venturing forth into places really?

She steels herself with the knowledge of her own stupidity and pulls herself up to her full not so impressive height.

"I'm not Nepeta. Who are you? Who's Nepeta?" Her old skill at conversation has definitely fallen off.

"Whoa... hold! Cry pardon for the mistake you look a great deal like a friend."

He backs off immediately, he doesn't have guns to defend himself and if this stranger doesn't understand how violence is looked down on in the tribute tower he doesn't want to start something.

Not to mention that Nepeta was a bit more than a friend and if this woman had anything to do with her it wouldn't be good to upset her.

It wasn't unusual for people to flit in and out of the District 12 suites during the day, coming and going from other floors or the training center or shopping in the Capitol. The Signless glanced away from the television at the 'ding' of the elevator, expecting to see Effie, maybe, or Pruna, and did an immediate double-take. That had to be Nepeta. He was just seeing her because he missed her and they did look so similar and...

"Meulin?"

Edited 2013-09-02 05:56 (UTC)

When he backs off, she tries to calm the adrenaline that had sent her running. If he was going to be friendly, she should at least try as well. She lowers hands automatically raised to defend.

"Another troll." That's the only thing that could look like her. She runs through it in her head. Would this human know of blood colors? Maybe. If they killed here. But would the Nepeta be alive? Best to try to figure out all the basics of who she looked like and if they were a threat. Another troll could be friend or foe here.

"What color was she? More yellow than mine?" She nicks a finger with a sharp fang and shows him the bright green blood, "Or bluer? Purple?"

The voice was achingly familiar. She stopped in her tracks halfway out of the elevator and dug her nails into the fur that wrapped around her shoulders. Maybe this was really all one of her nightmares. She'd thought those ones in particular were past her. The ones where he was alive and then she had to see him die again. What an inventive mind she had, to think up a whole other race and a game and imprisonment--but not so inventive that they didn't look like hornless trolls and the dream didn't end in watching him die all over again.

She doesn't know what to say. What should she say? If this is all real then she's simply standing here silently staring into space and what kind of impression would that make on a Signless back from the dead. But she doesn't know what to believe and he's dead so he can't be calling her name.

She can't move from this spot. The elevator dings at her stupidly to move or at least let the doors close, but she can't move. It doesn't feel like a dream so maybe that's why she's starting to cry. Does she ever cry in those dreams.

Edited 2013-09-02 06:40 (UTC)

As the elevator pinged on floor twelve a little girl stormed into the lift, sat on the floor and began attacking the shoes on her feet. She seemed to be having trouble with the laces. Soon though she had pulled them both off and thrown them savagely into a corner.

Then she seemed to realise she wasn't alone. She wrinkled her nose, "You do be looking like that other alien troll, but bigger." Like stupid troll and Signless were.

Disciple had barely any time to react to the sudden storming in of a young human. Any instinct to see her rushing in as an attack were stalled by the sight of the girl wrestling with footwear. She could definitely relate to the hatred of things being strapped on your feet. Definitely. Yet, she couldn't quite relax enough to enjoy the camaraderie that mutual hatred of these ridiculous shoes might bring.

But a blunt girl, she could deal with. Given she had been a bit of a blunt girl herself as a wiggler.

"I'm an adult. You probably met a wiggler."

"I did be meeting lots of wriggler alien trolls and lots of adults." Pruna told her wriggling her nose, "This one did be looking just like you but littler, does she be being your sister?"

His mood is high. Perhaps on par with the moment he learned he was going to be Highblood, was the Highblood in the future. It's not often he feels so, but now, rocking on heels in wait for the elevator open up to the second floor, to his moirail, he does.

At least, he did until the door opened. It opens to neither his moirail nor the floor he wants, but to another troll. He freezes at the sight of her.

"Who the motherfuck are you all to be?" He blurts, but considering the pattern of things, and the cat-ear-like horns on her head, he's already got a guess. He's got no weapon, the capitol allows it nowhere but the arena and the training center, but he's got horns, claws, and teeth. His body is tense to spring. Just in motherfucking case. It's not as if the peacekeepers could really stop him if they fought.

Disciple wrinkles her nose a bit herself and shook her head sharply. She doesn't know what a sister is but if it's something human then obviously it has nothing to do with her.

"Apparently I look like someone." She doesn't say that she thinks all humans probably think they look alike. One scary alien is much like the next--and considering her own problem with differentiating between them, she's sure they feel the same way.

The horns remind her of someone but she can't quite place it in the moment between the elevator opening to him and the moment he speaks. Her eyes widen, all the adrenaline rushes to her body. A troll she doesn't know is a threat, automatically, and her whole body tenses.

She reaches to her throat to pull at the clasp of her fur cape in case he turns violent. She doesn't need it weighing her down. The space is tiny. She'd have to claw her way out. This is the last thing she needs.

"Meulin." Her title would only make her more of a target.

She's older than him. He's sure of it. Even if she's smaller, she looks matured. And he'd seen the other cat-troll to be able to compare. So when she gives her name over her title, he's taken aback just a little.

"KUR--" He stops himself before it slips out in whole, and starts again to emphasise his title, "Initiate Fraysong."

She gave her name but she's tense. His back is to the wall and she too is prepared for strife. His eyes are narrowed.

"DO YOU GOT RECOLLECTION OF ME?" He asks, because he certainly doesn't know her.

She narrows her eyes. Does he not know her? Maybe without her usual clothes she's not as recognizable. Or simply word of her and Signless--and all the rest--had faded from memory. It had been so many sweeps. Would those who were born when he died even know of him. Why is she questioning her own lack of notoriety when it's to her advantage.

"No." Short, simple, she doesn't know him. Though the idea that he's familiar is still nagging at her brain. She's seen him somewhere.

She doesn't know him. But every troll who's come here-- save her younger, the Neophyte's, and mutant's, who all know each other-- had connection to someone or other somehow. He doesn't imagine the capitol throwing off that pattern now.

"The Neophyte, then? THE ORPHANER?" He eyes her carefully, watching for every twitch or change in expression. "...What of the Helmsman, or psiioniic?"

"Yes you do be." She nodded. "I have no been properly meeting her yet, and I did no never be seeing you before."

Her eyes widen at the last names, though she tries not to react. The connection might give her away where her appearance might not. Why would he know of him? Is he here? She forces her heartbeat to slow with deep breaths and raises an eyebrow.

"Why are you asking?"

"I don't know who that is though." It seems silly to keep denying a connection where people were obviously going to make one. Coincidences apparently didn't exist to them. She pulled the cape tight over her chest and backed herself against the corner of the elevator. If this wiggler needed to go somewhere, she wouldn't stop her.

"You can use the machine." She nodded at the panel.

"Yes." Pruna skipped over and pressed the basement button. "Do you be being new then? Do you be being a tribute? I do no be thinking there do be any alien troll mentors or stylists."

One the one hand, he wants to run to her. He wants to throw his arms around her and shoosh her and comfort her, because she should never, ever cry. On the other hand, the last time he met someone he cared about here, they rejected him. Maybe she hates him too. She should hate him, because it's his fault she's here, because he couldn't keep his damn mouth shut and apparently someone knew the best way to get to him was through her.

Still, just as it had with the Psiioniic, the need to help wins out. He stands, closing the distance between them, and reaches out to touch her cheek. He has no idea what to say, because nothing he can say can fix this, but he can be here for her. If she wants him.

Edited 2013-09-02 22:56 (UTC)

If her nightmares could be so real...What sort of mind did she have anymore? Had she really broken so much. Stupid thoughts war in her mind until the touch of his hand on her cheek stilled her mind. The tears still fell.

"You're dead. What kind of fucked up place would bring you back from the dead just to--" She knew they killed. She'd paid that much attention. Would they really make her watch him die again? Her mouth got away from her, words pouring from her as she started to feel her breath come fast. Hyperventilating, a part of her mind told her, but the need to reconcile the situation and the lack of company had her thinking aloud.

"It's just a nightmare right? I haven't had sopor in sweeps, I'm just dreaming. Hallucinating maybe or something wrong with that herdbeast I caught. I watched--I--It's all a nightmare, I'll wake up in the cave again. " Her breath catches, "Or I've been caught and it's all voodoo'd."

He catches the widening of her eyes and a grin flickers on his face. His arms spread wide.

"WHY ALL WOULD A MOTHERFUCKER ASK, SISTER? Trying to figure on for who the fuck you all up align with. WHETHER A SISTER IS ALL TO BE FRIEND OR MOTHERFUCKING FOE SO TO SPEAK ON IT." He feels no shame in saying it up front. It would come out sooner or later. "And figure it to be my motherfucking business at to know what all that particular troll deems worth association."

"I think I'm a tribute." Disciple thinks that's what they called her. It sounded right anyways. The button Pruna presses is one she hadn't pressed yet so she's curious to see where it ends up.

"And I just woke up here."

She narrows her eyes purposefully and keeps her fingers at the clasp of her cape. She's not going to turn her back on him, even to run. But she'll answer for now.

"Psiionic was an ally. I haven't seen him in sweeps." So many sweeps, "Is that enough of an answer for you."

He looks her over, silent for a moment. Was an ally. It could mean two different things of course, that she knew him.

"FOR NOW," He says. "...You're one of the Signless's lot ain't you. LOT OF MOTHERFUCKING GOOD IT'LL DO YOU HERE. But that all being the case I want it up and motherfucking understood. I WANT AT YOU TO GET COMPREHENSION UNTO WHAT I SPEAK." He looks her dead on. Indigo-grey to olive green.

"...If you do anything what to harm my moirail I WILL FLAY YOU ALIVE, AND UPON REMOVAL OF YOUR LAST BIT OF FLESH, TEAR YOUR SORRY CORPSE TO SHREDS whether we are within an arena or not. BUT IF YOU ARE INDEED AN ALLY AS YOU SO SAY AT TO I, then I figure at it won't be a problem. PERHAPS HE WILL EVEN FIND FOR YOU HIMSELF LATER."

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A dream I dreamed // OPEN

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