Are you, are you, coming to the tree?

[etcircenses]

Who| All those on the liberation mission and all those being made to fight against them.
What| The liberation of District 9.
Where| District 9
When| This week.
Warnings/Notes| War, violence, death. Please warn for more in headers.

By now, even the most remote and isolated Districts are well aware of the chaos ravaging Panem. District Nine, golden with wheat and blinding with its expansive blue horizon, is quiet, and yet nothing about it feels safe; the stillness is less like a serene oasis than like tall grass that cannot help but contain lions prowling. An air raid siren was going off an hour ago at the sight of hovercrafts, driving everyone inside. No one is outside working the fields or traveling the dirt roads to the hub of the District, which sits in the center like a spider in its web or the axel of a wheel. Displaced Capitolite and Districter both are hunkered down within the corrugated-metal buildings.

The air is hot, and once outside the hovercrafts one finds that what was previously mistaken for silence is in fact the monotonous hum and whine of insects, too continuous and amorphous to really qualify as actual sound but certainly not the absence of it. The sun glares down from a cloudless sky. The earth was tilled until an hour ago, and many of the fields are only partially plowed. Some still have farm equipment left out. Mills and water towers sit awkwardly at the edge of the fields like sentinels or oversized dominos.

The crops stretch out to the horizon, ranging from waist-height to taller than the average full-grown man, depending on the breed. The sheer variety is astonishing, the quality even moreso; ears of corn are as large as toddlers and the wheat is a flawless golden color, thanks to Capitol technology and genetic modification. There are no pests, as most of the plants have a natural pesticide that is fatal upon ingestion and only removable with sprays available to importers to the Capitol, to prevent theft by the hungry employees.

There are crop circles, many in the Capitol’s logo and a few stamped with the insignias of local Capitol-run businesses. It does not reflect the sentiments of the natives but rather an attempt by those clinging to their echelons to enforce a mindset in vain. The propaganda has largely been repelled from the souls of the people here like bugs to a windshield. Only the rarest bit of graffiti may be spotted saying "All is not lost" and "you are weak" both of which have clear attempts to be scrubbed away.

The war continues, and in the back of everyone's mind is a familiar phrase; may the odds be ever in your favor.

Comments

[atouchofka]

Give me your name first, rises unbidden to Alain's lips, and he bites it back. It's a childish impulse, and it wins him no advantage.

"Alain," he says instead, his voice taut and sharp. "Alain Johns. I fought for District 7, for a time. And you?"

[foundafamily]

Now that’s a name he knows for sure. He’s only heard it a couple times—once at the Crowning, once very recently—but both times it was important. He hesitates just for a moment before giving his own name, as if he wants to just skip over it and get to something else. “Firo Prochainezo.”

“You’re—Roland’s talked about you.”

He recalls the man’s wound and what he said about their encounter. But he also remembers how Roland insisted that he would be able to carry on and not to worry. He’s not sure if he should pass on any of that right now, so he waits a moment to see how Alain will react.

[atouchofka]

"Aye. He would." Alain holds his stance for a second longer, then holsters his gun, raising his hands to show he's put the weapon away. It's more a symbolic gesture than anything practical; he might not be as fast as Roland, but if it comes down to it, he can shoot from the hip the instant Firo looks likely to attack.

"They told me to seek you out," he says after a moment, once he's given their surroundings a quick once-over and assured himself there's nobody close enough to hear. His voice is lower, more urgent. "Firo Prochainezo. There's a message I'm to pass on to you."

[foundafamily]

It could be a trick. This could lead to him getting shot up close or to the Capitol branding him a traitor and taking away his ticket home. The thought barely flickers across Firo's mind; he's already doing his own scan of their surroundings as he moves in closer.

The who and the why are all things he wants to know, but almost certainly not what's important right now. His eyes are still wide with surprise and wariness, but he tries to brush it aside. "I'm listenin'. What is it?"

[atouchofka]

Alain takes a step closer, beckoning for Firo to follow him to cover. No sense having this conversation in the open, where it may be interrupted by the fire's spread or by other soldiers.

"Rebels have been studying the Capitol's movement," he says, as he moves. "We know they took some scientists-" (the word is still unfamiliar to him, and he pronounces it carefully) "-from Three before they bombed it. We've been looking for them. What we found..." He looks over his shoulder again, because this is the bit it's vital not to share too widely. "There's a building without name or number. Well-protected, well-hidden. Whatever's in there, it's important."

[foundafamily]

Firo follows without any more hesitation.

“Important as in ‘it’s gotta go’ or ‘we need it’?”

The last sabotage mission… that didn’t go so well for Eowyn and him. But it was something right? He’s already chafing to be able to do something meaningful again.

[atouchofka]

"We don't know. That's why we need you." Alain hunkers down, his gaze intense. "You, and anyone else you can trust in the Capitol. There's a gathering nearby that you'll be able to attend. We need you to take the chance to break away and investigate. Report back when you can, on the field." He runs a hand back through his hair, pressing his lips together. "It won't be safe, or easy. We can't offer much help, not in the Capitol itself. We can't be sure how well-guarded it is, either. Will you try?"

[foundafamily]

A bitter smile slips onto his face. "Wouldn't've expected much help. So long as you all understand that, before anything, you'll take care of yours and I'll take care of mine. I'll do what I can, but I've gotta think of my people first." They'll throw away their helpers in the Capitol pretty easily he imagines. While Firo doesn't fancy himself that same kind of guy, he does have his priorities; if he doesn't get back to Ennis and his Family, then this whole world can burn.

Back to business. "Anything else you can tell me? What is looks like, what the defenses are gonna be?"

[atouchofka]

"I understand," Alain says, his voice softer and quieter than before. He does understand. How could he not? He, who almost let himself be killed rather than raise a hand to his dinh? He doesn't like it - he's a tactical thinker as well as an emotional one, and he knows first-hand how dangerous it can be to put the safety of your friends above your cause - but he cannot pretend he doesn't kennit. "You do what you have to." Then, back to that sharp, matter-of-fact tone, "I wasn't given as much information as I should like. But I know it's small, by the standards of the city, and unmarked. Nothing to make it seem remarkable - no Peacekeepers stationed there in special depth, at least not visible from the outside, no clear security. I doubt that means it's underdefended, but it's something."

[foundafamily]

That reaction is reassuring, at least, and Firo nods.

He thinks a moment, realizing that the lack of information probably isn't so bad--what would he do with the facts anyway? Firo's not much of a planning person, though he's trying to grow that part of himself. "So we'll recognize it by it bein' the one building that doesn't look like anything special?"

Hiding in plain sight--probably not such a bad idea.

[atouchofka]

Alain nods. "I hope so. And I wish you all the luck in the world, say true." He ought to leave the conversation there. They've been lucky to have this long to themselves, with the fighting raging around them. Even without that danger, he still has to find Altair.

Still, he can't bring himself to leave. Not without asking. Cort would swat him upside the head for this, but Cort isn't here. "...Roland. Is he alright? Did I give him too deep a hurt?"

[foundafamily]

"Thanks." For the luck in part, but mostly he's deeply grateful for the chance to do something.

He half-smiles. What Roland spilled about his relationship with Alain was confusing, but it seems there's no cause to doubt that Alain is a good guy. "Not too deep, I don't think. It was givin' him some trouble when he walks, but I'm gonna bet you know that that's not the kinda thing to keep him down."

[atouchofka]

Alain visibly relaxes. He didn't really expect he'd have killed Roland, but he feels better knowing for sure. Now he can stop worrying, at least about that specific thing. "Thank you," he says, and means it. He even smiles a little, but it fades quickly, and he reaches out to clasp Firo's shoulder. "We should move. If they find us, we're fucked. Good luck, again. Take care."

[foundafamily]

Brief as it is, Firo smiles back. His hands twitch when Alain reaches out--ready to react--but he stills them. This guy seems all right.

He won't disagree with that assessment; he nods as he takes a step back to start off on his way. "You too."