thecapitol | apology pie

Entry tags:

apology pie

Who| Susannah and OPEN
What| Susannah wakes up after exploding herself.
Where| D10 and elsewhere
When| Early morning to afternoon, Wednesday of Week Seven
Warnings/Notes| References to arena things

Susannah knows before she even opens her eyes that she's back in the capitol. It's not just that she's lying on a soft fluffy bed--it's because she can hear Orc snoring loudly in the room next to hers. Boy sounds like he's sawing lumber, honestly. She could roll over and try to get back to sleep anyway, but that almost seems like a waste of time. She's alive. She's out of the arena. And the way she figures it, she probably owes about half a dozen people apology pie.

So she opens her eyes and sits up in bed and part of her is disappointed that Eddie isn't sitting by the bed, waiting for her to wake up--but she knows by now that a lot of the whole mentor deal involves working long nights and he's probably only just crawling into his own bed.

Somebody put a white paper bag, tied with blue ribbons, on her bedtable. A gift? Mighty peculiar, that. She looks inside anyway. There's a shirt with the word RIZA! written on it, some kind of perfume, a pendant that (rather worryingly) had the writing on the unfound door on it, some kind of toy figure of her (with a real working wheelchair), and a pair of flying disks modeled after her chakrams from the arena. Oh, and six envelopes, each containing 100 assi in paper money, each with a name written on a slip inside, indicating this was her payment for their deaths.

She supposed they didn't want her refusing the money like she had when they'd tried to give it in person after the last arena.

Well, now she had her list of people to apologize to, at least. She should probably check to see which of them made it back--and maybe get started on that pie.

--

Susannah's apology pies are stacked in a bag on her lap as she directs her wheelchair around the training center. She's definitely looking for the certain people--that's probably obvious by looking at her--but she's perfectly fine with talking to anyone else who strikes up a conversation with her.

[OOC: If you're one of the people Susannah ended up killing in the arena (Harley, Ian, Starkiller, Zelos, Guy, Some, Elementary Sherlock) then congratulations! You get pie! Hope you like pecan! If you're a D10 tribute who's already back, you can bug her while she's making the pies. Everyone else, just feel free to suppose Suze has crossed your path on her PieQuest.]

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Ever since Starkiller had been killed, he'd thrown himself into training and hadn't looked back. He'd come to terms with it- he wasn't even angry about it anymore. It was easy to let things go with his connection to the Force severed. While he missed it, he was beginning to see the good in it. What he thought had been clarity had actually been a cloud of hatred fueling his judgments and without that, suddenly everything true was clear.

He knows he showed weakness in the arena and he can't actually bring himself to be angry about it anymore. If he had come upon someone in his situation, he would have killed them without a second thought. Obviously he should expect the same out of everyone else. But just because he's accepted it and stopped feeling angry over it doesn't mean he's going to let himself grow rusty. No, he intends to enter next arena as skilled as ever.

At the moment, he's sparring with the only person he can truly call an ally right now, but out the corner of his eye he sees her. It takes him a moment, but recognition flashes over his face and he signals for their sparring match to stop. "Hold on," he says. He can tell from her mannerisms that she's looking for someone and he can't help but feel like it must be him.

"It looks like we're finally going to meet the one who killed me," he says, and his voice is casual, though whether it's forced or not is anyone's guess. The truth is, he feels slightly threatened, not knowing whether she's here to gloat or not. "Come on."

And then he starts heading her way.

Ian didn't really blame people for killing in the arenas. The way he saw it, it's why they were there. It's what people wanted to see. He didn't kill, because he was determined to at least fight them that far. Keep hold of some little bit of himself. That it was weird to hold on to not killing though before he had been brought here he had joined the army had crossed his mind. But he didn't care.

Still not blaming people didn't mean he wanted to see them, so when he spotted the woman who had killed him he turned around, planning to walk a different way.

The improvement in attitude obviously doesn't go unnoticed. Hans hasn't known Starkiller long, but he'd known him enough to expect a certain sort of behaviour. Unfortunately, his enlightenment doesn't come with the added benefit of easing up on training. It feels like they're down here every day. Hans can't deny the benefits of practice, but he can't help being more inclined to explore the capitol and meet more people to add to his ever increasing list of allies.

For the first time in forever, it feels like he might one up Starkiller in this fight. Perhaps because he'd been distracted, but it doesn't stop Hans from exhaling in annoyance as he stops the fight. He slumps his shoulders in defeat, casting a very unprincely look of annoyance at Starkiller's back before perking up with curiosity and tailing after him.

He'll remain silent for the moment, remaining a few steps behind Starkiller and doing nothing more than giving Susannah a few reserved glances, as if waiting for the other man to make the first move for once instead of charging forward and being charming. While he waits, his attention will fall quite pointedly to the pies in her lap.

The Capitol itself is still a very new experience to Sherlock, and he explores it with appropriate fervor. Most of the time he's with Watson-- it feels wrong, being away from her for extended periods-- but there are points at which he strikes out on his own. Today he's got his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat as he wanders-- until he sees Susannah, and stops short.

He's not really sure what to say, which is a first, for him. He settles on the obvious.

"You're looking mobile," he says, because he is an ass of the highest caliber.

They're in a bag, Hans. You are literally peering over this lady's lap to look into the pie bag. You are the classiest of princes.

Susannah's just going to address your friend instead, since he's the guy she came for.

"Hey. I'm guessin' you're Mr Starkiller, right? I'm--well, there's no good way to say this. I'm the woman who killed you. "

It was kill or be killed in the Arena, and he knows that. Killing for the sake of saving the world, or for the sake of saving one person, it's all the same when it came down to it. Of course, it's different being on the receiving end, and he didn't think he'd be able to look at chakrams the same way again, but live and let live.

So when he sees Susannah wheel herself in, he stills for a moment at his station before cracking a smile. "Well, if it isn't Miss Chakrams of Doom!"

"What are you making?"

Lyle has already stolen and donned a pair of pants today, so he looks as though the stylists thought it was a good idea to pair a blood red velveteen v-neck with a pair of over-sized and ill-fitting jeans. Because the stylists are going to be embarrassed about the state of him before Lyle gets tired of sneaking around to avoid wearing things made from skin.

He pulls a chair out from the dining table and swings it around, straddling it backward and resting his chin on top of his folded arms, giving her a look that's all big brown eyes and guilelessness.

Starkiller is used to the way Hans stares at food, but he thinks now is not really the time to stare so intently in any way towards the woman. He gives him a subtle elbow to the side. "Stop staring."

He resists the urge to raise an eyebrow- Mr. Starkiller has such an odd ring to it, but he isn't going to say anything about it. Instead, he'll give a curt nod. "I know who you are," he says. "I saw you for a moment before I died." His voice is toneless. "What I'm wanting to know is what exactly you're doing here."

Hans practically has a sixth sense for pastry, alright. He unfortunately hasn't quite trained himself to dodge those rude elbows. He hadn't expected Starkiller to do it when they have company! He'll give him a put upon look, so he's officially stopped staring. Instead, he's going to glance between them like he has a front row seat at Wimbledon and this is the final match. He has nothing to add to the conversation, of course, it's almost like he's just here for comedic relief.

But he's so hungry.

When Sigma dared to wander outside of his room, it was usually to take his daily walk before he slipped back into the confined solitude of his room. Upon returning from the park today, however, something stops Sigma in his tracks before he can wish himself forgotten - a rather sinfully delicious smell. Hit like a truck with nostalgia, Sigma was too busy recalling his mother's homemade pies she would often bake before the world had ended for him to realize he's wandered right into the kitchen. Once there he freezes in his tracks, as if he has caught himself sleepwalking, and is content to quietly observe the baker in question.

In a sudden and uninvited memory, Sigma recalls what Eva had told him after Eponine had fallen ill and feels his stomach clench. 'Some legless bitch slashed her thigh.' To calm himself down, Sigma assures himself he has no reason to jump to conclusions. After all... could this really be the same person? She seemed happily occupied in her task, and not at all the violent monster Sigma had built up in his head that would hurt his little girl.

Shyly, Sigma lingered there like a curious child, watching her bake, hoping he wasn't making a sound.

When Carlos comes out of his room, he's startled to see someone making use of the kitchen.

"I didn't think anyone else used the kitchen up here," he says, walking towards the table. "It's so easy to get any kind of food you like from the kitchens, so really, the only people who cook are the ones who really want to."

Sadly, the woman is going to roll on after him. "'Scuse me? Is it all right if I talk to you for a moment? I don't bite, usually, at least not out of the Arena."

"It helps that I'm not crawlin' through fiery wreckage," she replies, looking up at him steadily. "Sorry I exploded us," she says, "without your permission, 't least. But at the time I didn't think we'd make it out and the grenade was quick and less painful than more of the liquid nitrogen."

She smiles back tentatively. "Mrs Dean, actually. Susannah to my friends. I guess you'd be Mr Zelos Wilder, right? At least, I've already found the others I hadn't recognized." She produces a pie from the bag. "Sorry for killing you in the Arena. I tried to make it quick as I could."

She's holding the pie out for him. Obviously, she means for him to take it.

"Apology pie," she answers, as she stirs the sugar and syrup mixture. She looks over her shoulder--the voice isn't a familiar a familiar one and as it turns out neither is the face it's coming from. "You're new," she observes. "At least, I don't think you were here before the arena."

The pies had made it clear enough that she'd meant to apologize, but the sentiment makes Sherlock awkward anyway. He looks down at his feet, then the wheels of her chair.

"It was an act of desperation, not calculated murder. I'm familiar enough with the concept to appreciate the difference."

Ian frowned and turned, his jaw set stubbornly. He figured she would just keep on coming after him if he didn't, and he did not have the patience or time for that. At least this way she could say whatever she wished to say and be done with it.

He nodded, and stood silently waiting.

"Suzie Q!"

Harley appears from seemingly no where, clad in her doctors jacket, glasses and a smart looking blouse and skirt combo. She almost looks respectable if you didn't know her better.

"Looking to have a pie fight? Custard is the traditional ammunition for those, but I bet pecan would do more damage." She jokes with a grin.

It's no accident Some has made himself easy to find. He wasn't looking for her in particular, but when he saw her, he stopped, just leaving the elevator on the ground floor.

His first reaction came from somewhere deeper than thought - the caught breath, the way he drew himself up straight the way he very rarely did. With his hat, he was taller than the door frame behind him. He chastised himself the very next instant, and slouched the fear back out of his posture. She had done him a kindness, after all. Moreso than Pruna, and he'd forgiven her more or less instantly.

Heart still pounding, he lifted a hand in greeting, stepping out of the way of a small knot of stylists towards the side of the hall.

"...Does that actually work?"

Lyle? Hold a grudge over being shoved through a skylight? Perish the thought!

"I got dropped into the arena about a week in," he said breezily instead of thinking too hard about the skylight. "Found a friend, ran around for a few weeks, was sufficiently entertaining to get brought back after I died, been getting information and rifling through people's drawers since."

He shrugged. "So yeah, pretty new. Lyle Norg, occasionally known as Chemical King. How do you do."

Susannah takes a pie out of the bag. "To give you this. It's an apology--sort of. I mean, I mostly just killed you because you were there and I could do it quick and it would bring us all that much closer to the end of the damn arena. It wasn't anything personal and I guess I'd like to keep it that way if I can?"

Susannah's chopping pecans when she finally notices him. "Oh hey," she says. "You're... Sigma, right? Sorry, I really ought to know the people I live with better than this, but the first time I was here I was kinda in a bad place and didn't leave my room all that much--and after the last arena I was kind of busy visitin' my man down in Dee Three most of the time." And then on the District Tour she'd been mostly busy missing people to be very talkative to anybody. "I'm Susannah. Susannah Dean."

"My momma cooked," Susannah says, pouring syrup mixture into one of the pie crusts, "even after we moved up to New York City and she could afford to have someone do the cookin' she'd still cook. Also, you can't order apology pie from the kitchens." She glances up at Carlos. "Did we meet before arena last? I think I'd remember you if we had." Or the hair, at least. It was very nice hair.

All Starkiller can do is stare at her for a long moment, honestly caught off guard by her motivations here. After a moment, he gives Hans a nudge. "Take it," he says. He wants to focus on the conversation, Hans can do the pie holding for the moment. That's what friends do, right? They hold each other's pies when things are getting serious?

He takes in a breath. "I see," he says, maybe a little confusion in his tone. "Where I come from, you don't usually give pies to people you kill. Granted, you don't usually come back to life, either." He lets the rest of his breath out in a sigh. "I don't hold it against you. I was angry at first, but after thinking about it I realized if I were in your position, I would have done the same thing."

Starkiller has come a long way in a short amount of time. Without the dark side, he's found it so much easier to let things go. "So if your intention is to avoid gaining an enemy, you've succeeded."

Hans can hardly help raising an eyebrow as well when she presents Starkiller with the pie. It had seemed a likely outcome with how she'd introduced herself, but it's still odd enough to earn surprise. He's curious to see how Starkiller reacts, so he barely acknowledges the pie as it's pressed into his hands.

As it happens, Starkiller seems so much less volatile when presented with desserts. His first encounters with Hans had involved having them thrown at his face, and he certainly didn't kill him. He hadn't at all expected him to respond with such ease, so logically he's sated by desserts.

Still, he can't help lighting up almost gleefully at the compliant reaction. He smiles briefly at Susannah before fixing a wider smile on Starkiller. "This is wonderful!" He proclaims. "We should definitely eat this pie to celebrate."

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