thecapitol | (no subject)

Who| Everyone, pretty much. Particularly Secret Santa people and those Creuntus is fucking with.
What| Holiday times!
Where| The Tribute Training center
When| The whole week, but Creuntus' gifts arrive today.
Warnings/Notes| none atm. Please add any in thread headers. Also, for secret santa, if you are the giver start a thread with your giftee's name (unless you two have worked something else out between you). You can use the District threads below, or choose a different setting of your own.

Every floor public space is dripping with holiday decorations.

The decorations are themed, ridiculously so. Every surface is covered, and a table sits proudly full of holiday treats and spirits, kept stocked constantly by the avoxes. Cheerful music plays softly throughout the whole building, though luckily for everyone the Capitol doesn't really know what Christmas carols are.

Those with secret santa's have a cheery, passive-aggressive note reminding them not to disappoint anyone and ruin their holiday.

Those that have expressed a want for some object from home will find a box on their bed sometime during the day, with a merry holiday greeting from Cruentus. Inside they will find the object of their desire, or something similar, crafted from their words.

In blown glass. Pretty, decorative, utterly useless.

Bert's guns, Punchy's goggles, Sigma's music box, Maximus' leg, Mindy's knife, Terezi's dragon cane...on and on, as many gifts as Creuntus could find out. Those that were with them when they were pulled are more perfect replicas, those that they have just described obviously have an artistic touch to them.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He barely heard the words of anyone nearby, just focused on picking up a few of the larger shards and smashing them again, like he can't make the pieces small enough. The other gun in the box is still untouched and basically unnoticed.

"A mockery. A sick, shameful display. I won't stand here and be mocked by people who would take away everything I ever loved."

"STOP IT!" Eponine tried to still his hands. " Sir, you will injure yourself and what good will that do? Stop it, I say! Sir, stop. They make a fool of us all, not just you. And you know it will only be worse. Come, at least glass might be used as a weapon anyway. It has injured you!"

He didn't fight once she yelled at him. Something in her tone was enough to remind him that he couldn't keep fighting it. He went slack and just stared at his hand where he was still bleeding.

"You couldn't understand. They might as well have given me my heart in gold."

"At least then you could sell it, Monsieur." That's what she'd do, if someone handed her gold. She'd sell it and find a room for herself, and a dress.

She sighed, and reached to rip at the hem of her dress. When a sizeable length had come away, she tore down, hard, and handed the rag to Cuthbert. Somehow, it hadn't occurred to her to simply ask for a bandage.

"Here. Monsieur, you must wrap your hand."

His replies were wooden and impersonal, like he wasn't even there anymore to answer.

"The Capitol will have something to fix this with. They have an answer for everything, it seems."

Cuthbert didn't pull his hand away, though. He just let Eponine do what she wanted with it.

She bandaged anyway... it wasn't particularly well done, but it would do. It stopped Cuthbert's bleeding a little bit.

"Well, Sir, perhaps I have had enough of the Capitol and their cures, Sir. I do not have all the answers, but I like my answers better."

She tilted her head, considering Cuthbert. "Monsieur, you should have some brandy. Shall I get you a mug?"

He started at her for a moment before her question registered.

"Whiskey. Something that burns as much as my wounds."

In the mean time he sat on floor near his shattered mess and just stared at the multicolored shards silently.

She came back relatively quickly, clutching a mug full to the brim with whiskey, and the bottle as well. She handed the mug over to Cuthbert, and sat down again herself, swigging straight from the bottle.

"It's shit, isn't it, Sir? Here?" She gulped again. "But there's nothing we can do, so we just have to lump it."

This would go a long way to helping, even if the Avoxes had to take it away before he could finish.

"I'm not 'sir'. And we've little choice on what we have to tolerate here, aye?"

He's a little unsteady picking up his glass with his non-dominant hand. But he doesn't manage to spill much.

"Thankee for the drink."

"'S alright." She sips a bit more from her bottle. "That is why you mustn't smash your present. Don't let them see how much it hurts you."

"I cannot abide by that sort of 'gift'. 'Tis better in pieces, even for the cost."

He's drinking his whiskey far too fast, and he ends up coughing.

"Monsieur!" Eponine went to bang him on the back. "Slow. Or you will waste it, and what good that will do, I do not know."

She picked up a fraction of the glass, and ran her finger along it. "It is sharp, Monsieur."

She leaned into him. "We could do some damage with these... perhaps you have been given a proper weapon after all."

He looks between the glass in her hand and his bandaged hand.

"'Tis as good against me as my enemies." Then he laughs, although that may be the alcohol going to his head. "A fitting weapon for one stuck here, aye?"

Blood loss and excessive amounts of alcohol are a good mix, right?

"It is better than nothing, and when the time comes, you shall be glad of a weapon, even if it is glass."
She pushes the glass into a little pile, and takes another swig. "Monsieur, will you be well?" She looks doubtfully at her shoddy bandage work.