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Post by Deleted on Feb 15, 2016 9:08:28 GMT -7
 it's a revolution, i suppose
It’s warm in the Capitol, but I still instinctively pull my coat closer to me. The streets are different today, more vibrant and bustling than usual. That’s because we’re smack in the middle of the Games, the only thing on the face of Panem that manages to rouse the Capitolites. They’re always looking for entertainment, but nothing will ever come close to the thrill that comes from the Games. Generally, their time can be categorized in two major parts: watching the Games, or waiting for them. But I am not one of them. I am dark blue, gray, black, in their sea of magenta, cyan and yellow. I am different. I am from 3.
There were mixed emotions at first. I heard it first in the halls of school. ”Did you hear? They’re sending someone from this class to the Capitol!” Immediately I knew - it would be me. Everyone else in the District tended to suffer from distractions that kept them from fully immersing themselves in knowledge. I did not. I fixated on the single thing that made sense - code - and went on from there. Still, it was this knowledge that landed me here, in the streets of the Capitol. What enthusiasm I had has since been drained. The people are too celebrated, too on. Never for a single moment has there been time for quiet or dark. Here, their world is dominated by sound and color and feeling. It is too much for me.
I feel my stomach rumble with hunger as I walk down the streets. Unlike in the Districts, I doubt that the Capitolites have ever felt the sensation of hunger. Everywhere I turn, there is more and more food. It’s the backbreaking work of the lower districts, all wasted here. I think back to the cabinets in my apartment. With no Avox to speak of, all of the cooking is my responsibility. It’s hard to gather the raw materials here, so usually I have to scavenge for food in the streets. I’d rather make it myself.
I pass a small cafe and consider going in. The yellow on the walls is far too bright. It burns my eyes. I turn, then continue walking down the street. For the next 10 spots, I make excuses. Too crowded, too loud, too long a wait. Really, if it was my choice, I’d not eat at any of them. The interaction with the Capitolites often verges on insufferable. Finally, I spot what I resign to be my destination. It’s an older shop ran by an older man, more decrepit and dull than any cafe I’ve ever seen in the Capitol. It is near perfect. Upon entering, I find myself one of the only patrons. Even better. I approach the counter and nod at the man standing at the register. He is not wearing large, colorful clothing that glitters. I am grateful. He is more like me than any of the rest of them. ”Just a coffee, please.” I wait for my total but he does not speak. Instead, he points to the display on the front of the register. I understand - he is an Avox. I was right, he is more like me than the rest of them. A servant, a slave. I hand him the money with a neutral expression. I can’t react. He’ll understand. A moment later, my steaming coffee is on the counter. Normally, I’d take it to go, but the atmosphere is unusually inviting. This is a rare, beautiful chance. I take a seat and pop the lid off the cup, waiting for the steam to pour out of the liquid so that it cools from scalding to pleasantly warm. As I wait, I feel the table shift as someone slides into the seat across from me. I glance upwards.
Words: 667 Tags: Open! Notes: My first time using 1st person POV in rp! |
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Post by Deleted on Aug 12, 2016 11:13:18 GMT -7
 Hear the drum pounding out of time
Another protester has crossed the line
To find, the money's on the other side
Atlas went through her usual morning routine. As soon as she opened her eyes as she woke up, she saw her fat, grey cat Master Roshi in her face and pawing at her hair. She threw him down, groggy and tired as all hell. She then opened her door to find her fat, blonde cat Flower Power meowing for her to feed them. What fatties they were, she thought, and then she realized that their fatness was her fault. Whoops. She then gave her cats some of their dry nibble food and some pieces of bread. "Bread makes you fat, you know," she said to the two of them. They just looked at her and turned around to eat their food. She walked to the kitchen of her penthouse and grabbed a little package of mini muffins and some milk to go with it. Her breakfast was probably just as healthy as the cats'. She took her time eating, and once she was done, she went to the bathroom to take a shower.
Her hair was a completely messy tangle, probably from Master Roshi pawing at it, and she tried to comb it out as best as she could. Failing, she went into the shower and shampooed and conditioned the hell out of her bright pink hair. Scrubbing and detangling over and over again was not the way she wanted to start her morning, but she had to do that every day so she got used to it. Atlas then got out and combed her hair, and she was able to glide right through it. Perfect. She only combed it a couple times, as she usually did, and then put on a simple blue shirt and light brown jacket. She then threw on some blue jeans and black combat boots. This was her usual outfit, with different colors and such, but she wasn't one to draw attention to herself. Yes,, she had bright hair, but that was normal for anyone who lived in the Capitol. It was better than dying her skin green or wearing a hideous rainbow dress. She then threw on her black choker, one her mother gave her for her last birthday. Her outfit was finally complete. She grabbed her messenger bag and a book about technology in agriculture as shown from District 9, 10, and 11. She said goodbye to her cats and was ready to go.
Her next thing on her morning to-do list was to grab another book. She had just finished one about how eye color affects the emotions in other people, and that was why so many people in the Capitol wore color contacts. Atlas walked by the bookstore, returned that book, and picked out another. This one was about the gas and coal process on how it powers the Power Plants and Irrigation system in District 5 and 8. She knew that she wasn't going to get to this book for another day or so, as she needed to finish the book she had in her hand. She put the Power Plant book in her backpack, and was off to her last stop of the morning: the small and older cafe. She liked to go here because nobody else really went into the place. She didn't have people photographing her or pointing out that she was the daughter of Caesar Flickerman. That got old really quickly, and part of her routine was avoiding heavily populated areas where people would come up to her. It was more of a bother than anything and she was awkward to begin with, so she really didn't like striking up conversation.
She saw an avox standing at the counter, Olaf. She was a regular here every morning, so the two got to know each other. Of course, he couldn't speak, but they used to write back and forth when she had time on her hands. "Hey Olaf, I'll have the usual," she said, with a smile. He smiled back and nodded. She usually just got a hot chocolate with a shot of vanilla and no whip cream. While he was making it, she put her hands in her pockets and saw a man sitting down. Someone who she hadn't seen in here before. She knew most, if not all, of the people who came in here, but he was new. He didn't really look like he was suppose to be here, and when she meant here, she meant the Capitol.
Atlas grabbed her hot chocolate, thanking Olaf, and took a seat across from the man. "You're new around here, aren't you?" She said, taking a sip of her drink. "So, where you from? 'Cause you're obviously not from around here," Atlas observed. The only normal looking people were politicians or really famous people. She could also see that he was very secretive-looking, which most people in the Capitol didn't carry themselves as if they had a secret.
WORD COUNT: 844
TAG: @konrad
NOTES: Hope this is okay!
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Post by Deleted on Aug 15, 2016 10:36:05 GMT -7
it's a revolution, i suppose
I consider the girl across from me for a moment or two. She was Capitolite - of course she was, with the unnaturally bright pink hair. But, then again, who else in the place wasn’t? She had to have at least some degree of separation from the rest, though, showing up to a coffee shop that was in no way a “posh” dining location, and then sitting with someone like me, in no way a “posh” person either[. Most quitely watch me from the side, attempting to whisper under their breath and failing horrendously. At least she was up front about it - it felt less awkward, maybe.
In no part of my contract had it stated that I was to present myself as a Capitolite, or hide my origins. It was a bit like Peacekeeping, they said. I was to be presented as a service to the Capitol, not as a citizen. ”District 3,” I tell her, my voice further pushing me away from her people. Most of them speak with a high pitch and affected voice. My lower one that likely sounds more monotoned than anything likely confirms my distance. Typically, I would end it there. I have no great care for socialization It drains me. But the contract comes to mind, reminding me of the manner in which I am supposed to present myself. I wouldn’t care for a bullet in the brain, either, fired out of some misunderstanding by some Peacekeeper. They were everywhere. I shift a bit in my seat before speaking. ”I’m a security engineer on assignment here.” No where in the contract stated that I was to refrain from contact with Capitolites, though my personal contract likely does somewhere. I glance down to my coffee cup, lifting it up and taking a drink. It still burns my tongue, but it put something in my hands - a distraction, a barrier between the two of us. Since I’ve already scalded my mouth, I take another drink, trying to immerse myself in the beverage, or, really, anything but the girl./blockquote]
Words: 350
Tags: @atlas
Notes: It’s completely fine! I’m still trying to work out this 1st person POV, so please bear with me as I try to push through this! Also - pardon Konrad. He’s not really an ass, just massively introverted and uncomfortable.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 23, 2016 9:42:20 GMT -7
Atlas knew that he probably wasn't comfortable talking with someone else. She could see his whole embodiment: quiet, distant, uncomfortable to strangers. The Capitol was everything he wasn't. So why was he even here? It couldn't be for the money, no. Maybe he came here to escape from something? Why would someone move to a place where they knew nobody and nobody knew them? To escape, she figured. But the question was, who, or what, was this guy escaping from? That's just a question she wasn't willing to ask. To mysteries, she thought, and took a drink of her hot chocolate.
"Ah, computers, I see? You must be pretty smart then, being from District 3 and all," she said, giving him a wink. She knew that was a stereotype, but she said ti anyways. "I dabble into computers myself, you know. I'm a freelance programmer around . Any contracts I get, I hop out of bed and type my ass off. I mean, that's kind of a crappy way to put things consider we sit down and do our work for the most part, but you know what I mean, I hope." Atlas smiled and took another drink. She knew that she could be a little annoying, but she wanted to see his reaction. "So, how'd you get a gig like this?"
The pink haired girl wondered if he had anybody, family or friends, in the Capitol. She doubted it. He didn't seem like the one to keep company by him. Atlas smirked towards the man. "You know, I usually sit here and read a book, ready to get a call from someone who broke their computer or whatever, but this is a lot more interesting. Books already tell a story, from beginning to end. You, though? You're just a mystery, aren't you?" Atlas was an extremely curious girl, almost too curious for her own good. She loved learning new things, and hated not knowing anything.
WORD COUNT: 329
TAG: @konrad |
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Post by Deleted on Sept 15, 2016 14:31:42 GMT -7
it's a revolution, i suppose
Capitolites program as a hobby. It wasn’t anything I’d ever considered. I understood computers because I had to. It was simply what the people of 3 did, had done, and would do for the extent of the foreseeable future. Security engineering was my path to putting food on the table. Nothing more, nothing less. A way of life. When she asked about my job, I glanced up from my coffee. ”I was a good student in school. Didn’t talk back. I got the slip at work one day saying I was coming here, and then I was on the next train in the day after.” I had never tried to come to the Capitol, never had any particular aims of entering the lavish city. When I had gotten the work order, though, I packed my bags without question. It wasn’t an offer, but more of a command.
I drank my coffee, considering her words. To the girl, I was like some new program, a new attack plan. A brief subject of her fascination before she moved on to the next. Capitolites did not care about those from the Districts. I was told that many times in my Capitol specific training. I was warned they might watch and gossip, but that it would all end quickly when the newest scandal arose.
Finally, I meet the girl’s eyes fully, sitting my drink down for good. ”Well, that depends on how you define a mystery,” I tell her, not caring to elaborate immediately. Of all of the people she could have chosen to interrogate in the Capitol, I am likely the least interesting to her. I have no important family members, no real sum of money, no stories from ridiculous parties. I am a worker from a different, comparatively desolate place. District 3 is gray: the factories, the skies, the streets, the people. All a dismal shade. In 3, I woke up, went to work, came home, ate dinner then slept. Every day, over and over, and that was life. It only began to change when I came here, when I first found the messages… but, of course, nothing interesting about me is anything I can tell her, not that I would want to anyway. ”You’d be better to stick with the books,” I tell her, glancing upwards.
Words:400 Tags: @atlas Notes: |
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Post by Deleted on Oct 5, 2016 19:24:57 GMT -7
Atlas had never really met someone from a different district. It was ironic because that was all her father did. He interview kids from every distinct once a year, and he would interview victors from the districts as well. The pink haired girl never bothered with those affairs. She wasn't a very people-person despite her being charismatic. Atlas liked to talk to people one-on-one, but she wasn't a fan of crowds or groups. In school, she never really fit into a group--probably because people thought she was annoyingly smart. She was prideful for it since she did have a photographic memory, and she didn't feel the need to hide herself being smart.
"That's awesome though! You're a pretty lucky guy, ya know." He was. Not a lot of people from the districts ever got to see the Capitol, much less come here and live in it. She knew most Capitolites shrugged anyone from the District off unless they were victors, but she saw this as an opportunity to make a friend. They were both outcasts, so she thought that they might be able to hang out and program together. Hell, he could probably teach her some things. She knew so much, but not everything can be taught through books.
When he told her to stick with the books, she laughed a little. She knew he was serious, but she didn't take it like that. "Aw, c'mon, lighten up. You can't live to your full potential if you're a Debbie downer all the time." She took another sip of her hot chocolate. She smiled. "Do you have any friends? You look like an independent type of guy." Atlas was probably prying in his personal life, but how was she suppose to make friends if she didn't know anything about him?
WORD COUNT: 304
TAG: @konrad |
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Post by Deleted on Nov 12, 2016 12:12:58 GMT -7
Code is easy to read. People are harder, but it isn’t enough to stop me from trying. The girl obviously isn’t the typical Capitolite. For starters, she’s here in this coffee shop, and she’s with a book. Two degrees of separation from the norm. She wore simple clothing. She programmed. Almost as if she was actively working to NOT be like the rest of everyone. Really, someone couldn’t be that much of an outsider without trying, unless, of course, they were me and from a District. The only thing that marked her as Capitolite was her bright pink hair, a shade that he’d remembered seeing across the Capitol more than once before. Most everyone else avoided me, but she tried to talk.
Thinking in this way, she began to feel like a logic puzzle, a game. One I slowly began to want to figure out before remembering that I was not here to interact with any person. I was here, technically, on assignment, and really here to find information. The only parts in this that Capitolites took were in handing him that information. I slid back in my seat. Couldn’t she do that?
To get much from her, even though she was persistent, it probably meant that I’d at least have to give a little. With her extroverted talkativeness, it wouldn’t have to be much, I figured. When I answer her next question, I try to look at her to seem a bit more genuine, to let her feel like she’s slipped in a bit. ”Here?” I ask, maybe a bit rhetorically. ”Not really. I haven’t been here for very long, only a couple weeks.” Not that I plan to make any friends. Not that I had very many back at home, either. But that is a concept that is probably, like me, entirely foreign to her.
Even though I finally spoke, the conversation still felt horribly lopsided. It was a realization I often had but very rarely did anything about. This time though, I attempt to correct it. ”Why do you program?” I ask her, the curious tone in my voice a legitimate one. Few Capitolites had need to work, so why did she chose to?
She is different, too different to blend in in her standing out. Maybe, just maybe, I wonder if she, somehow, could be a part of the grand puzzle I’m here to solve. Words: 415 Tags: @atlas |
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Post by Deleted on Jan 17, 2017 21:55:14 GMT -7
Normally, on Atlas' usual day, she would ignore most of the people who tried to talk to her. Being an independent programmer meant talking to people once or twice and exchanging emails every once in a while, so it was nice to not have to talk to people. She wasn't interested in anyone in the Capitol, nor did she think she would ever be. They were all the same, dim-witted, fashion-loving knuckleheads. She considered her father one of them too. She loved her father, but she wasn't fascinated by him in the least unlike the rest of the Capitol. He had a knack for talking to people, whereas she liked talking to people who were similar to her. That was the sole reason why she was talking to Mr. District here, because he seemed just as quiet as her. She got lucky that he ended up being a programmer too.
She listened to him speak, and he said that he had only been here a couple of weeks. No wonder he was so quiet and kept to himself. The Capitol could be totally overwhelming, she knew. Just like it would be overwhelming if Atlas had went to District 3. They might have lived in the same country, but those two places were two totally different cultures. From what she read in books, District 3 was a tech-heavy place and there were lots of the same type of buildings. It looked bland more than anything.
He had finally asked a question about her, and she was almost shocked. She had almost given up on the district resident, but nonetheless, she hadn't yet. "Me? Well, because I don't have to talk to people, actually. I know it's ironic coming from me, but I don't like people very much. It's just that you're different and I like that." That wasn't the whole reason that she didn't program. After seeing blueprints of a torture chamber the Capitol had below its city, she wanted to learn more about its secrets, and the best way to do that was through programming.
He seemed like a good guy, but she just needed to open him up a little to get him talking. "I'm Atlas, by the way. If you don't mind me asking, what's yours? I don't want to keep referring to you as 'district dude'," she said, holding her hand out for a handshake.
WORD COUNT: 402
TAG: @konrad
NOTES: So sorry this took so long! |
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Post by Deleted on Feb 4, 2017 18:41:46 GMT -7
For once in my life, I feel like I am actually holding something of a conversation. Most of the time, others talk and I respond wth a nod. Only a small amount of people can draw actual words from me, and even then, I’m still considered quiet. One of the most fascinating things I have found about people is the amount of information they’re willing to give up on themselves, as if they forget that in this world, information and data is worth more than any chunk of gold.
For example, I have already built something of a small profile on the girl. My guess is that she was the “special kid” in school, the type that was too smart for her own good. Her justification for having no friends is her self proclaimed intelligence, and she manages to distance herself from the whole topic with the blanket lie that she hates people. It’s almost painfully noticeable that she doesn’t hate people - why else would she have brought her attention to him? His obvious differences made no matter in the situation. If she hated people, she would have been indiscriminate in her hatred. No, this girl was certainly a Capitolite, no matter how much she was trying to bury that.
When she extends her hand, I watch it for a moment with half weary eyes. Then, I remember that somehow, she seems important, like she could be a breath away from spilling something important. With no more hesitance, I reach out and take it, shaking it once, but firmly. “Konrad.”
With that, I withdraw my hand and add to the mental file I’m building for her. Her first name is more than enough for me to find her online. A young girl with bright pink hair, a programmer, and one with the name Atlas. It certainly narrowed down the criteria.
Before the silence becomes awkward, I force myself again to fill it. “I wasn’t aware that there were many - if any at all, actually - programmers from the Capitol.” My small talk is finally passible, and from the look on her face earlier, any sign of life in the conversation would be enough to drive her forward. I can only hope that it’s enough and that I don’t have to try again.
Words: 400
Tags: @atlas
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Post by Deleted on Feb 11, 2017 11:38:42 GMT -7
Atlas smiled at Konrad. A name she could put with the face. Instead of trying to push her away, he was actually holding a conversation with her. It was a nice change, because it was getting tiring trying to put in effort for someone that didn't want to put in effort themselves. She really did want to get to know the guy, because there weren't many outsiders in the Capitol. She was suppose to be Caesar Flickerman's charismatic and gorgeous daughter--instead she was an awkward and nerdy wreck. It wasn't her fault that she liked books and computers more than being a model. She didn't think that sounded fun for her anyways. She couldn't learn anything from walking.
"Finally, we have a name for our mystery man," she said with a smile and an eyebrow raised. "Nice to meet you Konrad. Welcome to the Capitol, where people will be ten times as annoying as I am if you're not careful." It was true. Sometimes Atlas knew she was annoying, but some of the people she talked to made her want to cut her own ears off. This was especially true when she heard gossip. That was the thing she hated the most. People talking about what a famous person did and how scandalous it was. It was bad enough that they would talk terrible things about a person they didn't know, much less keep going on and on about it for hours.
She then heard Konrad speak about there not being any programmers in the Capitol. "I mean, there are the Gamemakers, who are technically programmers in a sense. There's a lot of code that goes into the games. Not that I'm a fan, but you know, it takes a lot of work, both on the programming and networking side." She had wanted to be a Gamemaker when she was a little kid, but the more she grew, she realized that it definitely wasn't the lifestyle for her. She would rather take a huge pay cut and work with people who needed their computer fixed than help people kill off children. She wasn't a monster. "But yeah, there's a few here and there. Almost everyone here has a tablet and a projector in the Capitol. Then there's holographic advertising boards, websites that need to be made, broken video feeds. Someone needs to fix it. That's probably why they called you in. There's a lot of work to be done and not a lot of us to do it."
WORD COUNT: 422
TAG: @konrad
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