NOW THERE'S A FUCKING GLADIATOR (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gladiayyygirl) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-07-30 09:41 pm
gladiayyygirl) wrote in thecapitol2014-07-30 09:41 pm
Entry tags:
Temptation greets you like your naughty mate
Who| Gannicus & open to all
What| Gannicus is going to show everyone in the Capitol how a true Celt drinks. And then he's going to show everyone how a true Celt deals with the hangover.
Where| Every bar within stumbling distance, then back to the D9 suites, then the training room the next day.
When| Pretty much every day during and after the mini arena. Feel free to set a time in your tag-in!
Warnings/Notes| Terrible language, including the linked yt video in the first prompt!
i. Early Evenings - Central Commons bar
The Capitol has many, many interesting bars but Gannicus is yet to visit them all. It will take him years, he thinks, and isn't that the best way to spend your captivity? In the early evening he limits himself to the bar in the tribute centre, where he lines up glass after crystal-cut glass of pink and orange fizzes laced with what he is promised is the most fashionable alcohol in town. With their powers combined, Gannicus can easily forget the fact that he isn't meant to be here. There's a rebellion he's supposed to be a part of, thousands of years and millions of miles away. But he's powerless to return, and a haze of alcohol makes that easier to deal with.
He's missing a shirt, as usual, but seems to be in remarkably high spirits. He'll raise a glass in cheer of any and every fellow Tribute that passes by, and may even be tempted to teach them the traditional song of his people...
ii. Late evening - Capitol Bars
He's been out and about in the bars that are closest to the Tribute centre now that the bartenders recognise him now. With a wink and a smile they coax him in to trying ever more spectacularly potent cocktails - we have just the thing for you tonight, have you tried this one? And so on and so forth.
He gets through every drink every time, surprising no-one. He drinks, he sings, he laughs and tells stories about the great (and not so great) men he has killed in his times and the scars they gave him in repayment. Gannicus thinks he knows what these people want now: they want bloody and glory and entertainment and as long as they keep supplying him with wine he is quite happy to pretend that he was fine with that. It was a familiar tune. It was just how it worked.
iii. Early hours of the morning - Tribute Centre
On unstable legs Gannicus weaves his way through the Tribute tower in an attempt to find wherever the hell it was somebody had moved the District Nine apartments. He could swear blind that they weren't where they were when he left. Walking like Bambi on ice and with the rooms and corridors feeling like they are spinning faster at every wrong turn, Gannicus traces a hand along a wall as he walks if only to anchor himself somehow.
"Apologies," He mutters slowly as he accidentally shoulders in to yet another concerned Avox, before stumbling past and fumbling his way through another door in to a room that definitely isn't the one he's looking for.
iv. Midmorning - D9 Common Area
He finds his home suite eventually but apparently doesn't make it as far as his own room. The next morning Gannicus can be found sprawled across the couches, legs akimbo and still mysteriously missing his shirt. There's no snoring, no talking in his sleep; having solidly passed out, Gannicus has finally hit the 'dead' stage of 'dead drunk'.
v. Afternoon - Training Room
One of Gannicus's (few) redeeming features is at least he works just as hard as he plays. After a morning of sprawling in the District Nine suites he finally pulls himself in to enough of a semblance of a human being again to stumble down in to the training room. Once there, he works a tireless routine around the different sets of weaponry, pushing and testing himself on each to his utmost limits. He sweats hard and works harder, but it's nothing he isn't used to. Compared to training in the ludus - beneath a baking sun and with the lash at his back - this was nothing. This was child's play.
Not that it stops him from sipping from a pitcher (actually a flower vase, liberated from the District Nine rooms) of something that smelled suspiciously like red wine every half hour or so.
What| Gannicus is going to show everyone in the Capitol how a true Celt drinks. And then he's going to show everyone how a true Celt deals with the hangover.
Where| Every bar within stumbling distance, then back to the D9 suites, then the training room the next day.
When| Pretty much every day during and after the mini arena. Feel free to set a time in your tag-in!
Warnings/Notes| Terrible language, including the linked yt video in the first prompt!
i. Early Evenings - Central Commons bar
The Capitol has many, many interesting bars but Gannicus is yet to visit them all. It will take him years, he thinks, and isn't that the best way to spend your captivity? In the early evening he limits himself to the bar in the tribute centre, where he lines up glass after crystal-cut glass of pink and orange fizzes laced with what he is promised is the most fashionable alcohol in town. With their powers combined, Gannicus can easily forget the fact that he isn't meant to be here. There's a rebellion he's supposed to be a part of, thousands of years and millions of miles away. But he's powerless to return, and a haze of alcohol makes that easier to deal with.
He's missing a shirt, as usual, but seems to be in remarkably high spirits. He'll raise a glass in cheer of any and every fellow Tribute that passes by, and may even be tempted to teach them the traditional song of his people...
ii. Late evening - Capitol Bars
He's been out and about in the bars that are closest to the Tribute centre now that the bartenders recognise him now. With a wink and a smile they coax him in to trying ever more spectacularly potent cocktails - we have just the thing for you tonight, have you tried this one? And so on and so forth.
He gets through every drink every time, surprising no-one. He drinks, he sings, he laughs and tells stories about the great (and not so great) men he has killed in his times and the scars they gave him in repayment. Gannicus thinks he knows what these people want now: they want bloody and glory and entertainment and as long as they keep supplying him with wine he is quite happy to pretend that he was fine with that. It was a familiar tune. It was just how it worked.
iii. Early hours of the morning - Tribute Centre
On unstable legs Gannicus weaves his way through the Tribute tower in an attempt to find wherever the hell it was somebody had moved the District Nine apartments. He could swear blind that they weren't where they were when he left. Walking like Bambi on ice and with the rooms and corridors feeling like they are spinning faster at every wrong turn, Gannicus traces a hand along a wall as he walks if only to anchor himself somehow.
"Apologies," He mutters slowly as he accidentally shoulders in to yet another concerned Avox, before stumbling past and fumbling his way through another door in to a room that definitely isn't the one he's looking for.
iv. Midmorning - D9 Common Area
He finds his home suite eventually but apparently doesn't make it as far as his own room. The next morning Gannicus can be found sprawled across the couches, legs akimbo and still mysteriously missing his shirt. There's no snoring, no talking in his sleep; having solidly passed out, Gannicus has finally hit the 'dead' stage of 'dead drunk'.
v. Afternoon - Training Room
One of Gannicus's (few) redeeming features is at least he works just as hard as he plays. After a morning of sprawling in the District Nine suites he finally pulls himself in to enough of a semblance of a human being again to stumble down in to the training room. Once there, he works a tireless routine around the different sets of weaponry, pushing and testing himself on each to his utmost limits. He sweats hard and works harder, but it's nothing he isn't used to. Compared to training in the ludus - beneath a baking sun and with the lash at his back - this was nothing. This was child's play.
Not that it stops him from sipping from a pitcher (actually a flower vase, liberated from the District Nine rooms) of something that smelled suspiciously like red wine every half hour or so.
III!
Having a drunk man stumble into your room? Well...its surprising in that in that after two years only now had that happened. Only now.
"Eh..." Closing his journal, making sure it was safe, he stood up. "Hey there, you need some help?"
no subject
"No," Was his quick, defensive reply. Then, after a pause and a slump of his shoulder, he admits:
"Fuck... yes. Yes, I fucking do." He throws up his hands, nearly losing his balance in the process. "In what direction do I go to find more wine in this fucking maze?"
no subject
"Well..." He already looked quite drunk to begin with, but on the other hand, Don wasn't exactly going to try and argue with him unless he actually caused a problem. "There's some cooking sherry and wine in the kitchen. Otherwise you have to go to the bar in the main lobby."
no subject
Gannicus held on tightly to the one word he definitely knew and pointed a finger at Donatello as if to say Bingo.
"You had me at wine." He spread his arms expansively wide; with that one word the monstrously inhuman form of the creature before him had been transformed in to a messenger sent by the gods themselves.
"Lead on!"
no subject
"This way, then." To the kitchen. "So...how much have you had to drink tonight? Just curious."
no subject
"Do not ask," He shrugged easily. "They present me fucking tiny glasses, I do not know their number." He gestured with his hands - very small glasses, like a shot glass, before guessing haphazardly.
"Many. Let us say they numbered 'many'."
no subject
"Shot glasses, huh." He walked into the kitchen, carefully taking out the wine from its place. "So...do you need a glass, or...?"
no subject
"Yes! That fucking word - yes, that is what they called it. A shot, but not of iron..."
What a time to be alive. Gannicus shook his head and the world drunkenly spinned as it tried to keep up.
"I need no cup - merely find me a jug and my mouth shall do the rest."
no subject
He would be nearby, to make sure he didn't throw up everywhere.