president_evil (
president_evil) wrote in
thecapitol2014-02-04 07:28 am
Entry tags:
Don't be ashamed, the body has needs.
WHO| Wesker and OTA
WHAT| Dinner and a show.
WHERE| The Training Center Restaurant.
WHEN| Week 3ish
Warning/Notes| It's Wesker, consider yourself warned.
He didn't need it. Not traditionally speaking. The virus was a perfect, internal engine, humming in his veins. The chains of sleep, thirst, and hunger all but broken. (All but.) The Capitol even saw to his more - unconventional needs.
But it was a habit Wesker still occasionally enjoyed. The tactile experience of it - the taste and the smell. The weight of the knife in his hand, the thrust and tear. The color, a bright splash of red against a pale golden plate.
A feast for his senses, if not his body.
Seated at the best table, away from the central flow of traffic where he was less likely to be disturbed, he dined. Cutting into a steak so rare it wept a puddle of ruby as he cut into it. Bleeding out in time to the screams coming from the monitor set into the walls.
The Games, as ever, never far away.
WHAT| Dinner and a show.
WHERE| The Training Center Restaurant.
WHEN| Week 3ish
Warning/Notes| It's Wesker, consider yourself warned.
He didn't need it. Not traditionally speaking. The virus was a perfect, internal engine, humming in his veins. The chains of sleep, thirst, and hunger all but broken. (All but.) The Capitol even saw to his more - unconventional needs.
But it was a habit Wesker still occasionally enjoyed. The tactile experience of it - the taste and the smell. The weight of the knife in his hand, the thrust and tear. The color, a bright splash of red against a pale golden plate.
A feast for his senses, if not his body.
Seated at the best table, away from the central flow of traffic where he was less likely to be disturbed, he dined. Cutting into a steak so rare it wept a puddle of ruby as he cut into it. Bleeding out in time to the screams coming from the monitor set into the walls.
The Games, as ever, never far away.

no subject
"Certainly, I can understand the challenge. But I have found that a soldier's heart is the same, wherever he hails from." And a slave's heart, but that was another thing.
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He can't help but smile at Maximus' other comments. "I think that may be the first time someone has even implied that I'm a soldier. I suppose it isn't too far off, I just haven't thought of myself in those terms before. Is that how you handle having so many tributes to look after?"
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"If you view your tributes as your men, and your responsibility. I imagine it did not feel the same, when every charge was a child, and none returned."
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"No, I felt just as responsible for all of the kids I lost." He takes it fairly personally, but there wasn't anything to be done for it. At least, nothing he didn't already do.
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"The majority of the tributes, though we have all choice and life stripped from us, can at least face the arena as adults." The majority. Not all. "Unlike you. Unlike our predecessors."
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Finnick was starting to feel bad, this conversation wasn't going any better than the one he just left. Maybe he should just stop trying to eat here, he was certainly not going to touch his own food at this rate.
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"Well. The original sentiment still stands. We will train them the best we can." He looked up. "With as much honour as is allowed us."
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"It's all we can do. But for what it's worth, I think you're one of the best victors we've had in a long time."
He could go on, but he wasn't sure how much Maximus would appreciate the praise.
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"When I am a gladiator, Wesker a Monster, and Enjolras a philosopher?"
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He said it with total certainty. The certainty of someone who had been through more mentoring than most.
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"Then I am glad to rank highly by that measure, and hope to continue to do so."
no subject