Bunnymund (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bringinghopewithme) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-03-22 07:22 pm
bringinghopewithme) wrote in thecapitol2014-03-22 07:22 pm
I'd like to phone a friend [Open]
WHO| Bunnymund and whoever you are.
WHAT| Bunny tries to get help from below, by contacting a local Earth spirit. His attempts are failing to yield results.
WHEN| As soon as he got out of the Training Center into the city.
WHERE| The park at the center of The Districts shopping center.
WARNINGS| Child-friendly swearing, attempted magic.
A giant rabbit lighting fires in a park draws attention. Which is all the more frustrating for Bunny, since he SHOULDN'T be drawing attention, no matter what he does out in the open like this. Every adult who stares at him with open confusion hammers home just how wrong something has gone, that whoever's in power in this city has the ability to suppress him into as close a state to mortality as he's been in many hundreds of years.
He could grumble about his situation, but that would get in the way of trying to get help. So he ignores the stares and keeps at work. His work, so far, is a hole in the ground, a pawful of pulled grass, moss, and flower petals stolen from various topiary on his way in search of the most natural place he could find in the midst of the city. He strikes a shard of flint he uncovered in the digging of the hole against the metal of his communicator, lighting a fire in the dry moss on a patch of earth he's cleared of grass, and dropping the flower petals onto the heat.
The way he kneels over the smoldering plants has all the look of a ritual, and the words he intones over them in a language that hasn't been used in the Capitol in much longer than 75 years do also.
All his kneeling and chanting isn't yielding much, though, to his frustration. With a growl, he jumps to his feet over the smoking flowers, still looking at the ground. "I know you're there, and I know you can hear me! You might not recognize me, but I'm close enough to being one 'a yours and I need your help. Wake up."
Still nothing. He stamps the ground, impatient, and growls again as no hole opens, no flowers grow, nothing happens except that he garners a few more bewildered looks from the humans who shouldn't be able to see him.
"Strewth."
WHAT| Bunny tries to get help from below, by contacting a local Earth spirit. His attempts are failing to yield results.
WHEN| As soon as he got out of the Training Center into the city.
WHERE| The park at the center of The Districts shopping center.
WARNINGS| Child-friendly swearing, attempted magic.
A giant rabbit lighting fires in a park draws attention. Which is all the more frustrating for Bunny, since he SHOULDN'T be drawing attention, no matter what he does out in the open like this. Every adult who stares at him with open confusion hammers home just how wrong something has gone, that whoever's in power in this city has the ability to suppress him into as close a state to mortality as he's been in many hundreds of years.
He could grumble about his situation, but that would get in the way of trying to get help. So he ignores the stares and keeps at work. His work, so far, is a hole in the ground, a pawful of pulled grass, moss, and flower petals stolen from various topiary on his way in search of the most natural place he could find in the midst of the city. He strikes a shard of flint he uncovered in the digging of the hole against the metal of his communicator, lighting a fire in the dry moss on a patch of earth he's cleared of grass, and dropping the flower petals onto the heat.
The way he kneels over the smoldering plants has all the look of a ritual, and the words he intones over them in a language that hasn't been used in the Capitol in much longer than 75 years do also.
All his kneeling and chanting isn't yielding much, though, to his frustration. With a growl, he jumps to his feet over the smoking flowers, still looking at the ground. "I know you're there, and I know you can hear me! You might not recognize me, but I'm close enough to being one 'a yours and I need your help. Wake up."
Still nothing. He stamps the ground, impatient, and growls again as no hole opens, no flowers grow, nothing happens except that he garners a few more bewildered looks from the humans who shouldn't be able to see him.
"Strewth."
no subject
And he sits back, her question giving him a moment's thought.
"Y'can't really call it being religious, can ya, when yer goddesses pop in occasionally to check on the place, make sure you're still around to do your job? Having a religion means having faith, not Mother Nature for a boss." He shrugs. "Better to say my world's pagan, even if all the people there aren't."
He stokes the fire again. "This place, now - who are the people 'round here prayin' to? I'm not gettin' anyone's attention with the names I know."
no subject
"Well, I wouldn't say the people here have much in the way of religion. As for me, I'm supposedly a follower of Jesus Christ but I think I gave that one up a long time ago." Orphaning herself then spending time in the foster care system kicked a lot of her faith in God away. She fiddles with the pendant around her neck.
no subject
It's not that he doesn't revere the Mothers - it's just that if there are other deities on their level, they're not popping by in person, and consequentially inspiring reverence as they do.
The fiddling gets his attention, as does the admission of her loss of faith. "Why? He was a good kid. Said some sensible things, if I recall."
His followers appropriated Eostre, but there are almost no hard feelings there. He wishes humans hadn't forgotten Eos, knows that her name is still written here and there in books by humans who don't know the whole story, but they kept the spirit of the thing with Easter, and it's better that the kids have their hope and their holiday by any name than not have it at all.
no subject
"I can believe he was a good kid. I just don't know about the watching over people thing." She shrugs. "I don't really want to dump my baggage on you, though."
no subject
He hadn't got his mind on arenas or allies yet, but he'd already made up his mind to watch out for her. Particularly since she has felt unwatched over.
"I can respect that," he said, understanding having baggage and not wanting to dump it on near-strangers.
"I watch over people," he goes on, with all the solemnity and pride that his life's work - the part of his life's work that's not about candy and games, the part that keeps the world safe for children to thrive, not just survive. "I'm a Guardian of Childhood. Nothing's going to stop me getting back to my world, but tell me this - how do they treat their kids, here?"
No one's told him yet that the Hunger Games used to be fought exclusively by children, or that there are children still in it.
no subject
She frowns and averts her eyes as if she's taking responsibility for what the Capitol has done - as if she's complicit in it, somehow. She isn't, and is in fact actively working against it, and the pendant around her neck reminds her that she is taking a spot for someone else who might come in more vulnerable, less capable, and yet she still doesn't know how to filter sorrow.
When she looks back up at him, she's very serious.
"It's better than it was, but there are still kids in the Arena. If you really are a guardian of children, I have a shortlist for you." She's tried her best but the odds have been stacked against her and getting Kankri and Ellie out safe.