thecapitol | In here it feels like Battle Royale meets the Truman Show [OPEN]

Entry tags:

In here it feels like Battle Royale meets the Truman Show [OPEN]

WHO| Everyone not in the mini-arena
WHAT| Not all the tributes are in this little event, but that doesn't mean they can't see what's going on.
WHEN| During the mini-arena
WHERE| Tesserae
WARNINGS| They're watching the arena, there may be talk of gore/dismemberment/death.

Tesserae is always at its liveliest when there is an arena full of tributes to mame. Mini-arenas unsurprisingly bring in more, mostly due to the fact that there are tributes that aren't in this arena and some tend to gravitate towards Tesserae to watch the proceedings.

Today was showing to be good for business with many people, citizens and tributes alike where in watching or making an obvious attempt to not watch while occasionally sneaking glances.

Anyone who comes in can see there's always space at the bar and the tables never seem to be occupied for too long before moving to somewhere else to get a better view of the expected carnage.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She shouldn't be here. As soon as she found out about the arena and what it would entail, Terezi knew she should have just locked herself in her room and waited for it to be over. She can still remember the last special arena--the feel of the water closing over her head, the burning in her lungs that demanded air, the frantic struggle to reach the surface, all the while knowing that she can't. It's just cruel that there would be a sinking ship in the very next one.

What's crueler is how they've taken all the people she cares about the most. It feels like they're taunting her personally.

Fraysong, Dave, Meulin... Those are the first names that stick out to her, striking one after another like a blow to the gut. Others follow (Albert, Sigma, Bro, Cecil, Carlos, Nepeta, Eponine...) that she recognizes, and it registers that she doesn't want them to die, either. None of them deserve it, regardless of how kind or shitty they've been lately.

But here she is because her curiosity outweighs her terror. Not knowing is always worse than knowing because that's the ignorance that paranoia feeds upon. It's not going to stop her from digging her nails into the table while she's listening to the arena broadcast, but at least it's better than self-imposed isolation.

When the scenes get too difficult to keep her attention, she starts shredding a napkin into little pieces of approximately the same size and sliding the little squares into carefully arranged shapes. The systematic destruction and reconstruction gets her mind off the inevitable deaths of her friends for a little while, if nothing else.

She isn't the only one who probably really shouldn't be here. This is the last thing he wants to watch, but he feels he owes it to the Disciple since he can't be there with her. He spots Terezi's familiar horns across the crowd and it hits him that, as far as he knows, everyone she's close to is in the arena. Of course she's here.

Maybe this is an opportunity? They may not ever be really close, but they'll never be close at all if he doesn't reach out. Stop worrying so much about messing up. He sits down next to her and just watches her shred her paper for a few moments.

"Hello."

It's apparent how deep in thought she is that she doesn't even notice Signless sit down. When he speaks, she jerks a little. Her head snaps up, and she's a little wide-eyed as she stares blindly. The little bits of shredded napkin are left forgotten on the table.

"What?" Not the most eloquent greeting, but there's a lot on her mind. And she honestly didn't expect Signless to approach her of his own accord. She visibly fumbles for a moment, trying to root herself in her surroundings again. "Did... you need something?"

Edited 2014-08-06 02:12 (UTC)

This is exactly why he needs to make more of an effort to connect with her, he thinks, so she doesn't think he only comes to her when he needs something. Sure, that's a part of their relationship by its very nature, but it shouldn't be all there is.

"No, no. I just saw you sitting alone and thought you might like some company." This can't be fun to watch all alone, he doesn't say. The last thing either of them need is a reminder when they already know full-well what's going on on the screens.

"I'm sorry to have startled you."

"Oh." Her attention drops back down to the table uncertainly. She didn't really expect Signless to just want to keep her company. She's not sure if she wants company at all, given her current state. But he's already here, and she's not going to tell him to go away.

"It's ok. I just...didn't expect you to be here." Where she expected him to be, she's not sure of that, either. With Karkat maybe? Meulin was in the arena, and that couldn't be easy. It certainly isn't for her.

"You would think they'd pick something more original. Something better than a boat." It's not actually that unoriginal, but the idea of so many people drowning has her on edge. She could have handled anything else. Anything at all--except that sinking boat.

"You would think."

Something happens on screen -- he doesn't quite catch it -- and there's a roar from the more enthusiastic parts of the crowd.

"I think they just chose something that was sure to provide the kind of show they wanted. It's certainly a little lazy."

That, and he's fairly certain this is a Capitol joke. A while ago when Karkat was having one of his film binges he'd roped the Signless into watching a strikingly similar film about doomed love on a sinking ship. If this wasn't at least in some way inspired by that he'd be very surprised.

Terezi is resisting the urge to turn her head towards the screen--or pay attention to it at all. It's hard. Every shout, every cheer, draws her attention like a gunshot. She tries to focus instead on the troll sitting in front of her. But her attention is pulled nonetheless.

"I don't know how they don't get bored of this. Or maybe that's the point. They have to do stupid cliche stuff just to keep them interested." Terezi isn't even sure what she's saying anymore. She doesn't much care if it makes any sense. But then she quiets a little more, and her red gaze seems like it might bore a hole through the table if she could.

"But they're going to come back." It should be clear that she's not talking about the same 'they' anymore. It comes out like she's not sure who she's trying to convince. Him or herself. "I just..." She stops before finishing that thought, her head lifting up just a bit, like she realized who she was talking to again and she's not sure if she wants to continue.

"They are," he affirms, and it's clear which 'they' he means too. It isn't as though it's something he knows for sure and he certainly can't promise it, but it's easier to act like it's something that's certain. Acknowledging how up to chance everything is here is just one more way to sink back into the rut of hopelessness he's already crawled out of once and doesn't want to go back to.

"You just?"

The agreement doesn't do much to further convince her. Honestly, there's not much that could, short of witnessing them come back herself. It's unsettling, how little certainty there is from day to day for them.

It's the probing that draws her up short, though. Of course he doesn't let her half a sentence slide. Of course he has to ask about it. She clasps her hands together, her frown deepening. Her knuckles are pale from the force of her grip. Can she tell him? She doesn't know. She's never been very open with him, and she doesn't know if she even knows how to be.

In the end, she can't do it. She can't force the words out, so she just shakes her head and leaves them bottled up and pressing against her chest. "It's nothing," she finally mutters, her brow furrowing. Maybe that will be enough to get him to drop it.

Nope. Sorry, Terezi, but at this point he's too dedicated to getting this relationship onto more stable ground to give up that easily. It's a risk to push when he knows it might just make things worse, but on the other hand that push might be what she needs. It's worth a try.

"It's very obviously not nothing." His voice is low, and he's thankful to the overenthusiastic crowd because at least they might make their conversation less likely to be monitored.

"Please. This is never going to really work if you can't at least on some level be open with me."

He presses and there's a moment when she tenses more, her shoulders pulling up and forward defensively. He frown deepens a little, but she doesn't snap at him. That little bit of guilt that twists in her gut tells her that he's right. She hasn't been very fair to him. She can't expect to keep this relationship afloat if she keeps shutting him out. She can't expect him to talk to her if she won't do the same.

Her head stays bowed and her shoulders hunched, but her voices comes out quietly, just barely audible above the din of the crowd. "I... I don't want them to drown. It's..." She struggles with the words, trying to get them out. "I did. And it's the worst... They're on that boat and I don't want them to...go through that."

Edited 2014-09-21 21:37 (UTC)

Poor thing. No wonder she's in such a state: not only is it painful to see the people she cares about have to suffer, but it's just reminding her of her own trauma.

"Hopefully they won't have to." It sounds morbid when you really think about it: hopefully they won't drown, hopefully something else will kill them first. There are so many other ways to die. Or maybe, maybe they'll be incredibly lucky and win, but he's learned to stop daring to hope for that.

"I'm sorry. I know that it's hard to watch and and be unable to do anything when all you want is to keep them safe. But no matter what happens, you can be here for them afterward."

"It's not enough." It's never going to be enough. Just being here to pick up the pieces when they come back scarred and broken and a shadow of the people they were before. It wears over time, and it's only a matter of times before there won't be any pieces left to pick up.

"They shouldn't be in there at all. How is this supposed to be entertaining for anyone? How are they getting enjoyment out of watching this?" Her voice rises a little, a tone of desperation in it. She shouldn't be saying things like this so loudly, but she already feels frayed from being on the outside looking in. She's not sure how much she can take before she snaps.

He could make guesses, could analyze Capitol psychology, could even relate it to how highbloods could enjoy killing lowbloods like it was a right they were owed. It's the same in a lot of ways and he feels that acutely when he allows himself to think about it.

"I don't know," he says instead, and it's equally true. He can't understand anyone watching this and feeling anything other than revulsion.

"And... I know it's not enough. Nothing we can do individually will ever be enough." Because 'enough' would mean being free, would mean the end of the Games, would mean to an extent the end of Panem. He can't say that here and he can't pretend that any one of the tributes who wants to work toward it could do it all by themselves.

"But if we all do the smaller things we can do, those smaller things will build on each other."

The lack of a reasoning for this torture doesn't help Terezi's state of mind. She can't understand it. No one can understand it except the people who aren't a part of it. The people who have never been in those arenas and never will be, yet they cheer at the carnage from the outside in the safety of these clubs and their houses...

It's a good thing that Signless keeps going because it draws Terezi back out of the spiral of her thoughts.

"I don't know how it's ever going to be enough," she says quietly, knowing well enough how defeatist it sounds. "But there's nothing else we can do." Except give up, and she knows that she can't let herself think like that again.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

In here it feels like Battle Royale meets the Truman Show [OPEN]

open!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject