When in doubt, act petty and childish [Open]

[earthborn]

Who| Shepard, and probably Pruna, Sandy, Duck, and Pillow Fort, and OPEN
What| Pillow Fort!
Where| PILLOW FORT IN THE TRIBUTE CENTER LOBBY
When| Last week or so of the Arena
Warnings/Notes| Pillow Fort, harsh language, possible description of drug use and/or arena doings, Pillow Fort

It took an enterprising mind to understand the subtleties of this art-form. There had to be balance, and tension, or your structure would collapse. Even the most durable of available materials was squishy at best, and you always ended up wanting another inch of length on the roof, another few grams before supports collapsed, or bent. And nothing, nothing would just stand there and hold itself up.

In the end, they’d resorted to thumbtacks, hammered with a shoe or pressed in, to hold up the bedsheets against the walls. Even so, it was better not to lean too close to the stolen couch cushions on the opposite side, or the whole left wing might come down with a series of pops and pings. Well, it was probably fine, it wasn’t as if this were some kind of permanent arrangement, after all.

What? What is she doing? No, not doing, it’s all done.

Shepard has built, with a little help, a pillow fort.

Well, it’s more than just a fort, it’s a castle, an edifice! It took up nearly the whole of the Tribute Center Lobby with a riot of bedsheets, pillowcases, safety pins and couch cushions. Calling it a mere hidey-hole would not do justice to the thing. It’s art. It’s filled with pillows and snacks and safe dark places closed in away from prying eyes. Oh, and Shepard too. She’s an adult, after all, and this is what grown-ups do.

It’s got a door big enough for anyone to crawl right in, and a boldly written sign that reads “Abandon Hope All Who Enter Here” with “bring snacks” scribbled along a corner.

Comments

[polyturtle]

Hey, they didn't call him a ninja turtle for nothing.

"Hey, Shepard. He's doing all right, still." The popcorn bounded off his head and landed on the floor. "Is this pillow building your doing, or do you know who made it?"

[earthborn]

"Yeah, this is my fault. Welcome to Shepardtown, population: us, and... A whole lot of candy wrappers and shit," Not literal shit, unless Pruna's duck was hanging around still, "Garrus is probably around here somewhere too. Sit down a while, take a break from candid camera."

[polyturtle]

"Aw man, I should have brought some food." At this, Don slowly knelt down into seiza. "I might still, but...night just yet. When I do, though, anything you want me to bring?"

[earthborn]

"No, but I'm glad you're here. I've got a couple questions, and I wanna run somethin' past you," she passed him a bag of chips into which she had made a few well-intentioned inroads. If she'd had to presence of mind to acknowledge what had happened since her return from the Arena, she might've thanked him for another warning he gave her.

As it stood, she was content to ignore that little wrinkle, and hand him the damn chips, "You've been here longer than most people. Yeah?"

[polyturtle]

"Sure." He listened as he took the chips proffered. "Yeah. I think alongside Wyatt and Eliot, we've been here the longest."

It was always mind-boggling to him. As if it was some kind of badge of pride, when he full and well knew it wasn't.

[earthborn]

"So, the mentors," She'd always wondered a few things about that lot. It seemed like there should have been more, for one thing, but the farther you looked back, the fewer there were. That was normal mathematics, but then there was the chilling tendency of the foreign victors to vanish, or turn up tortured and voiceless.

"Do they actually do much mentoring? Or is it just a...rest on your laurels thing, more or less."

[polyturtle]

"It...really..." After a moment, Don sighed, munching on a chip. "To be honest, in my own experience? I haven't seen many Mentors working with their Tributes. Especially the native-born Mentors. And not too many people are really keen to listen to the Mentors that do get involved, in any case."

[earthborn]

"Hm," she didn't offer an opinion, "What about the regular tributes? Nobody's ready to step up to the plate? Even after this long?"

[polyturtle]

"I've seen one or two training themselves, but..." Don trailed off. "I guess its a bit difficult to get others to train when you know what to expect. It doesn't make things any less difficult, for those who don't train, anyhow."

[earthborn]

"They lose confidence in the ones doing the training..." She'd heard that story before, and knows what to do about it, "Thanks, Don. You drink?"

[polyturtle]

"Not really," Don replied. "Unless its coffee."

[earthborn]

"Well, it's a good time to start."

Truer words have never been said, but when Shepard set the bottle between them it was an invitation rather than a challenge. That pleasant, fuzzy numbness was a lie, but it was a damned nice one. And like everything else, it came with its own punishment, so she counted the price worth paying.

If someone else didn't, then what did she care? Fuck 'em, more for me.

[polyturtle]

As much as Don didn't really want to impair himself, he didn't want to turn Shepard down, either. So he nodded as way of thanks, and took a swig of the drink.

The sour line his mouth made as he swallowed pretty much said it all. Don wasn't at all a heavyweight at drinking. He was barely even a minimumweight at it; he very obviously didn't drink, and it showed.

"...Nnmmph." Nevertheless, he managed to get what he had taken down. "Yeah."