thecapitol | (no subject)

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(no subject)

Who| Donatello and Oscar
What| Meditation and spiritual guidance
Where| A private room in Fontem Springs
When| The week/several days before the Crowning
Warnings/Notes| None yet! Possible intense spiritual stuff

The room was small, dimly lit, and with a small, steaming pool to the side, cold melted snow trickling down gently on the side of the rock wall it was adjacent to, to mix in with it. There was quiet music echoing through the room, played with one instrument.

And Don. He sat, cross-legged, on the edge of the pool, his eyes closed. This room was the closest thing to privacy, to zen, to a spiritual place that he felt the Capitol had. Plus, as usual, it was a cheap room, as everyone was preparing for the Crowning. Of course, the turtle had a thought that he might go in the pool later, once Oscar had left.

But for now, he meditated. And waited.

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Oscar wasn't quite sure how she felt about talking things over with a giant turtle, but he seemed intelligent and reasonable, which was more than she could say for some. So it couldn't hurt to at least try to talk with him regarding her worries about the upcoming Arena. He had been here a while, supposedly. He'd been through all of that. Maybe he could help - giant talking turtle aside.

It took her a bit to find Fontem Springs - she'd not explored much outside the Tribute complex yet, but she wasn't afraid to ask around, and thus she did eventually find it. And knocked, twice.

Don's head quietly went up at the sound. Surely that was Oscar. The Peacekeepers wouldn't be politely knocking on the door to come in.

"Come in," he spoke, his voice level.

She entered, and offered a polite nod to the... giant turtle. She'd seen him of course, but always on video before, and while years of court training kept her surprise from showing on her face, it was still rather odd to be in the presence of something so obviously not human.

"Thank you for being willing to talk with me" she said. "I am probably over thinking everything, but having not been here for long, I can not help but worry about the upcoming events."

"Of course. Come sit down."

It might surprise Oscar that he was actually shorter than her. Though, maybe that did not matter.

"No, I can understand why you would be worried. Its a game of death we're all in, regardless of our origin."

Donatello's height might have surprised her if she'd really thought much past the talking turtle thing, but her mind was mostly still hung up on that. Instead she focused on what she did get - taking the offered seat, and sitting forward, elbows resting on her knees.

"I suppose it would be more unusual to find people not concerned by it."

She shook her head slightly.

"I worry though about the long term affects. Of killing and dying over and over again. It seems one could get... numb"

"Not everyone is," Don replied quietly as he brought his hands to his chin. "Some people seem to even enjoy it. I suppose some people might see the dying part as a mere setback to being brought here. It really depends on where you come from, what your circumstances are, I guess."

He paused at that.

"Regardless, though, I can see what you mean. And for some, that numbness, that disregard is the only way to continue through the situation we're in right now."

Oscar gave an involuntary shudder. What kind of place would someone have to come from to make dying and coming back over and over seem like an acceptable cost to being here?

"And you?" she asked quietly. "How do you deal with it?"

"I..." Don is quiet before he responds, carefully. "I deal with it. As best as I can. That's the only way. I'm not sure whether the alternative would be good for me."

"Considering the possible alternatives for not dealing, I think that is wise." Oscar's tone was wry, though her expression was still grave. She clasped her hands together in her lap and stared down at them. "I am a soldier and a commander. I have killed men before, and if I was home, I would likely be called on to do so again. And yet, here I am called on to do so, and the idea fills me with dread."

She shook her head and sighed. "Murder is a sin, and here I am unable to even seek confession"

"I know." Don was quiet after a moment. "But this place..."

How did he explain it? Oscar might or might not understand the concept of dystopia, due to her different time. How did he explain...

"There's a saying. 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do'. In our case, we have to do it, not because most of us necessarily want to. And generally, isn't sin a result of want, due to our own free will? Is it considered a sin when you are forced by circumstance against your will?"

"I am familiar with the phrase," Oscar said, with a tiny twitch of a smile. "And you make a good point. But even if it isn't sin to kill in this case, it is still..." she paused for a moment, seeking the right words. "It's wrong. Maybe not sinful, but wrong. And to have to do so over and over and over again..." She shook her head and shrugged. "I think that's what troubles me the most. The idea this may never end."

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