thecapitol | open spectator log because why not

Who| Anyone who wants to spectate but doesn't want to make a million logs
What| Spectations, spectactling, spectalary. Gathering together to cross fingers and watch the mini arena.
Where| The Commons
When| All through the mini-arena. However many hours people feel the need to watch.
Warnings/Notes| Watching your friends die, kind of a huge bummer.

In one of the many tasteful bursts of helpfulness the Capitolites are prone to having, the commons are full of bowls of snacks and drinks. Popcorn or many varieties, candy and drinks are spread across the table, as if it's a delightful addition to the decorum right now. In another bout of helpfulness, there's also over a dozen tissue boxes spread across the room, nested between couches and chairs. Basically, it's all super tasteful.

It's probably a little sickening watching the Arena on the screens in the common room, but it's hard not to keep a close eye on your friends. Surely some people will opt to keep their viewing in private, but perhaps others are inclined to gravitate toward other people while this shit goes all the way down.

As far as parties go, this one is a real stinker.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Now you're just changing the conversation!" Because Howard totally wasn't taking refuge in turning his upset onto Orc. "I did what I thought was best. What else am I supposed to do? Sorry I can't psychically tell that someone who's moaning in pain and not getting better doesn't want to come back to the Capitol?"

As much as it felt wrong, the way Howard was arguing it was hard to disagree with.

"Just admit you screwed up so we can move on." Orc pressed. "It's not the worst thing we've done."

He could have said the worse thing "You've" done but Orc didn't want to start running down a list of things that Howard had done that was morally questionable. So including himself made it easier to swallow. Together they had done plenty of awful things.

"Fine, fine! I tried to do my best and it's never good enough." That's the closest Orc will likely get today. Howard folds his arms and huddles into himself. He glares daggers at Orc and swallows back a rather cutting comment he could make about which of them has done worse.

"Don't pout." He grumbled taking a seat on the floor and still only being about an inch lower then Howard.

"That wasn't your best. I've seen your best. You're better then...whatever the games is turning you into." He tried to explain in his simple sort of way.

"You're better then me. You use, you don't get used."

There was no malice or accusation in the statement that Howard was, and should be a user. If anything this was supposed to be encouragement.

"The Games isn't turning me into anything. It's just ripping pieces out." He's getting smaller, not shifting but shrinking. That's how it feels, anyway.

He forgot Orc's penchant for blunt, brutal honesty. It sends a shiver up his spine.

"I already told you I'm sorry for yelling at you. I already talked to R. I don't know what you want from me."

Orc meanwhile was taking it to heart. If Howard felt like he was being ripped to bits then Orc would have to put those pieces back together.

"I want you to stop running. From me and everything else you don't wanna deal with. It doesn't work, you're the one who taught me that." All the drinking in the world couldn't help Orc outrun his problems.

"I'm not running." Howard scrunches up the corners of his mouth. "Got nowhere to go."

He looks at Orc's beady eyes with his own, rimmed with exhaustion and frustration, older than any fifteen year-old's should be. "What, you saying I should do talk therapy or something?"

Actually that was a better idea then whatever Orc had been pawing at so he decided to go with it.

"Well why not? You gotta try something. And it's not like no one can relate to what you're going through." Orc actually sounded more confident with that proposal. He was starting to think maybe he actually knew what he was doing for a change.

"That's a dumb idea." Howard bristles and pouts and scowls and just generally looks unpleasant. "Talking about my feelings isn't going to keep people from getting killed in the Arena. Or get my petition out of here approved."

Orc's craggy features broke into a frown and he loomed closer at Howard as if that would help him get his point across.

"Is it a dumb idea because I think you should do it? Or is it a dumb idea because you don't wanna do it?"

"It's about making you feel better, not saving other peoples lives. It's about saving you."

"You're not dumb. It has nothing to do with you being behind it. It's just dumb because can you imagine talking yourself out of all this?"

Honestly, Orc sounds like he's been hitting that Bible again. Or reading inspirational posters. The thought almost makes Howard laugh, but he knows it would be a cruel sound, so he doesn't.

"Are you gonna talk therapy your way out of your problems?"

"I already am." He gestured to the crowd around them.

"People help me here. They talk to me and make me think about the stuff I did. What I'm doing."

People like Shephard, Ian, Eponine and Wyatt. Even Diana.

"You have people here that care about you. You need to learn how to do that again. They can show you how."

"That's not the same as seeing a shrink." And to tell the truth, it makes Howard uneasy, to think that Orc's making connections with other people. As if he's about to become superfluous. He holds onto the armrest of the chair as if it's a life preserver.

"I know how to care about me. I'm petitioning out after all."

"And what if you don't get out?"

Because that was a very real possibility.

"Will you be able to stay standing if they force you into another arena? And another? How many more will you be able to take doing things this way?"

open spectator log because why not

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