thecapitol | It ain't cracker barrel but it'll do

Entry tags:

It ain't cracker barrel but it'll do

Who| Ellis and YOU
What| Ellis is hungry and finds the kitchen
Where| The kitchen
When| Presently
Warnings/Notes| Nah

Some people, after showing up at a place and being told that they would have to go off and kill people in an arena, would be in shock. Maybe even upset. Some might even try and rebel, or at least cause a scene. Especially when the signs were everywhere- the small arena that had happened so recently, the people watching in excitement as other people died.

But not Ellis. Of course for a while he'd wandered around confused and wondering when he would get the results of his American Idol audition- because obviously that was the thing in front of the Gamemakers. He'd be a star, he just knew it. He didn't pay much attention to what was going on beyond that.

Until he found the kitchen.

It happened by chance, as he wandered around the building. When he made his way into it, he wasn't expecting much. Back home, most of the stores and houses had been raided, or all of the food had spoiled. He hadn't expected to find much. So when he opened a cabinet and found food- lots and lots of food, his mouth dropped open.

"Ho. ly. Shiiit."

His words were enunciated dramatically, his tone full of awe. He hadn't ever seen so much food. Or, well. He had! Before the zombie apocalypse and stuff. But even then, nothing quite like this. A quick jog over to the fridge showed that yes, it too was full of food.

"I'm in heaven," he said, and it sounded like he might be about to cry. "I ain't got rescued, I died and went to heaven. Oh my god."

What happened next was a blur to Ellis. It was a flurry of food, an explosion of taste. Within a half hour, he had pasta cooking, he had some soup heating in a separate pot. He had some hot pockets cooking in the microwave. Several packs of cookies open and half eaten.

Anyone who happened to find him at that moment would see him reaching into a box of cereal, before cramming a handful of it into his mouth. He seemed, for the moment, to have forgotten about all of the things he had cooking on the stove or in the microwave, as he let out what sounded like the most content groan as he chewed his mouth of cereal.

"Mffmg thsishthe besht," he said through his mouthful, his eyes closed in bliss as he crammed more into his mouth.

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Azula met his greeting with a look of utter disgust and disdain. This was her latest tribute?

She suddenly found herself almost wishing Hans had lost so at least she would have the comfort of his sucking up to balance out this...walking garbage disposal.

"Ellis, I don't know if you know who I am yet. But I assure you that if you ever speak to me or any of the Sponsors I am trying to win over with your mouth full like that again, I will beat you soundly around the head with a wooden practice sword till it breaks."

Excellent introduction.

It took Ellis a moment to register the fact that someone was speaking. Hearing over the sound of intense crunching wasn't the easiest thing to do, after all. But in the end, he did manage to realize someone was there and speaking, just in time to hear the warning.

His chewing paused.

Ellis looked at her for a moment, his expression confused, before it dawned on him. If this was where the military had taken him and he was being talked to like that, then that obviously meant this was someone in charge.

There was a blur of flying cereal and limbs as Ellis moved to stand up, hastily putting the cereal down- it fell over and spilled all over the counter. Good going Ellis. Regardless, he turned to face her and quickly raised his hand in a salute. "Sorry, sir!" he said, a moment later remembering that she was, in fact, a woman. "Er- I mean, ma'am!"

He was speaking in a loud, soldier-esque voice. "I was just tryin' to fatten myself up, si- ma'am! Gotta be ready for them front lines 'n shit!" Wait, you're probably not supposed to curse in fro- ah who cared. "Permission to keep eatin', ma'am?"

She was surprised by this sudden sharp change in posture and the respect he projected. It was a pleasant surprise in the least.

She considered his request with an appraising glare and then nodded "Very well, if you can continue to eat without looking like slob, focus on my questions and answer only when you do not have food in your mouth. Then you may continue gourging yourself."

As for herself she moved gracefully over to one of the cupboards where an Avox had been working diligently despite the chaos happening nearby. "Bring me some fruit juice and warm sweet bread." The silent worker sprang to life immediately abandoning their project to comply with her demand while she returned to Ellis.

Could he eat without being a slob? Uhhh. He guessed he could try? So he gave her a nod as she turned to head towards the avox. He took the opportunity to wipe his hands on his pants, figuring he ought to look presentable, y'know, with clean hands. His pants didn't matter so much, right? Of course not.

Oh- he supposed he ought to get the food off the stove, right? Yeah, he should do that. So as she asked for her juice from the avox- which Ellis didn't know you could do, but hey. He could get himself stuff, he wasn't lazy!! But it was nice to know for the future.

He'd be taking his soup off the stove, when she turned back to him. "So, uh, what kinda questions did'ja have, anyways?" he asked over his shoulder, "-ma'am?" Can't forget to be respectful.

As the Avox saw to her demands Azula took a moment to size him up with her eyes, picking him apart like she was undoing all the screws and looking at his insides to what kept him ticking.

"How much training do you have in combat?" She started as the Avox set her juice and sweet bread on the counter in front of her.

At that question, Ellis grinned. He put the pot of soup on the counter and turned back to her, puffing up a little confidently. "Well, obviously since I survived the zombie apocalypse, I'm pa-retty dang good in combat, if I do say so m'self," he said.

Azula looked decidedly unimpressed at that.

"Zombies are one thing. But it is much more difficult to combat with thinking, breathing human beings. Let alone human beings with combat training and weapons. At the moment there is only one undead human among the tributes and he has still proven to be more capable then some of the tributes. So do not underestimate him."

"Yeah, but zombies are human bein's!" he said, confusion in his tone as his eyebrows knit together. "Or... well, they were. Once. Y'know, 'fore the infection spread and then they kinda started actin' like rabid dogs. But still, they ain't... not human, anyways."

"And are ya tellin' me they're keepin' a zombie here? Why ain't anybody killed it yet?"

Already this was becoming tiresome. She was thankful for the fine wine the Capitol kept on staff.

"His brain still works, just not as well as most people." She explained "He can still think, make choices. And he apparently feels terribly about his biological needs. He tries to avoid biting or eating anyone but eventually the arena drives him to it if he isn't killed off quick enough."

Another sip of her wine.

"Also when in the Capitol he wears a muzzle. He can't hurt you. But as you can see now things are very different here then what you're used to."

This basically killed all of Ellis's perceptions of zombies dead. How was he supposed to cope with the idea of a sentient, still working kind of zombie? Especially one that felt guilty? That just wasn't right. No zombie should know how awful they are!

But despite all that, Ellis couldn't help but let out a laugh at the last part. "A muzzle?" Oh man... "That's the funniest shit I ever heard! Wow, I gotta see that. A zombie wearin' a muzzle- hahaha, wow..." He actually had to wipe a tear away, completely distracted by the subject at hand.

That allowed Azula a moment to enjoy her drink gazing thoughtfully into the liquid while Ellis appreciated the simple pleasures of life. To think there may be something of value in such a creature like him.

"There are many different creatures that are not human here. But they will all try to kill you given the chance. You are to make allies when necessary but never forget that only one tribute can win the arena. And that tribute has to be you or your death will be painful and most likely? Horrific."

Well, that was a little sobering. Sort of. In the sense he stopped laughing, though every now and then he'd remember it and break into a grin as he tried to maintain his seriousness.

"If we gotta kill each other, are you sure makin' allies is actually a good idea? Er- I mean, not to question your intelligence or anything, ma'am. I'm sure you're real good at this. But it just seems... I dunno. Wrong to kill your friends?"

She held up a finger and waggled it in a correcting way. "I never said friends. I said allies. And in the case of the games allies are tools for survival. To be used and then abandoned when they no longer have a purpose. Outside of that the only people you should really trust are your mentors." She paused and added "Such as myself." In case he was so simple he'd forgotten already.

"Even the other tributes in our district may turn on you given the right incentive."

There are similarities in their coping mechanisms, even if Ellis isn't entirely aware that he's coping yet. These past few days, Dave feels like he's had nothing but apple juice. They get it in all different varieties here, the fancy, murky stuff that's fresh, the ones they sell at high end places in every kind of apple. From granny smith to pink lady and sometimes everything in between at ones. Dave has found he vastly prefers the fakey-fake juice that's more sugar than actual apple. If that's a metaphor for something, for once he doesn't want to hear it.

When he approaches the kitchens for the millionth time, empty glass in hand, the smell is overpowering. He's nervous about approaching at first, god knows how many people are in there if there's that much noise and smell. He pokes his head in, wondering how quickly he can enter and exit, surprised to see the source is just one guy.

"Diabetes is kind of the slow way out, wouldn't you say?" He raises a brow over his shades, rounding toward the fridge for more sweet, sweet apple juice like a hypocrite. "I mean, you're gonna lose a leg first, and I don't think that excuses you from being launched into the battledome."

Ellis had yet to discover the apple juice, but the second he does, the two of them could surely bond over it. Because for real, who likes the kind actually made from apples? Nah, man, it's the sugary sweet shit all the way.

As it was, Ellis was crunching away on his cereal, oblivious to the world of apple juice awaiting him. He almost doesn't notice Dave over the passionate crunching of his cereal, but he catches sight of him out the corner of his eye and stops chewing so that he can hear what he's saying. It makes him laugh, before he decide to cram another mouthful in, and then- oh shoot, is that something burning? He must've put the hot pockets in the microwave too long. Spend a while in the zombie apocalypse and suddenly you forget how to make a simple little meal. Sigh.

"Naw, man," he says, hastily moving to set the cereal on the counter so he can pull the microwave door open. Well, they aren't too bad looking. They might just be a little hard. "Ain't no diabetes to be seen here! I think I'm immune to that shit, y'know? I mean, I'm immune to a lot'a shit." Like the zombie virus, but he figured that went without saying since they were both obviously rescued from the zombie apocalypse. "Whatcha mean battledome, anyway?"

There’s probably a lot they could bond over, later. Right now Dave isn’t sure if Ellis is crazy stupid or crazy crazy, there’s no other explanation for it. Granted, he’d been stuffing his face when he arrived too. Food that hasn’t been alchemized tastes so goddamn good, the components aren’t inferior food stuffs. They’re real. Real milk. Real butter. He feels a deep connection to Paula Deen. But he’s not the crazy one, Ellis is. He doesn’t know he’s from circumstances that prevented him from indulging like this, but he can say for sure he’ll regret not easing back into real food. Real milk fucking hurts when you haven’t had it for so long.

He’s just going to watch him like he’s the most absolutely fascinating thing in the world right now- dang those hot pockets smell good. He’s crazy, without a doubt, but the guy has some good taste. Dave can barely remember half of the things he’s gone without, he’s getting awful ideas watching this guy.

“I don’t think you can be immune to diabetes, bro. It’s not like a cold or some shit. Unless you’re magic or something, don’t let me harsh your buzz then O glorious immunity wizard.” He rolls his eyes behind his shades. “What do you mean what do I mean battledome? They’ve been shoving it in our faces since we got here, dumbass. It’s like never ending midterms with all the warnings we got.”

The definite answer is that he's crazily stupid. But that's the fun of Ellis, Dave. Spend a few days around him and you might be crazily stupid, too. He'll show you the world. The redneck world, that is. You ever shot paintball guns from a roller coaster? Well one day you just might if you spend enough time with Ellis.

Also stop watching him eat, it makes him uncomfortable. Sort of. He still manages to eat a few more handfuls before he seems to grow bored of the box of cereal- it helps that just as Dave starts noticing the hot pockets, he remembers them by smelling them. He moves over to the microwave and opens it up. He can't stop himself from taking a good, long inhale, letting out a satisfied "Ahhh" as he lets it out.

It's around that point that Dave speaks again, and he throws a look at him over his shoulder. "Aw man, I wish I was magic. Nah, man. I think I just got good health genes, or somethin'- 'cept with all this food, they feel a bit tighter." Hahaha, he made a gene/jean joke. He's so hilarious. "And I guess they have- I dunno, I wasn't payin' much attention, y'know? Too busy worryin' about the results of the singin' competition."

He takes out the hot pockets from the microwave and puts them on a plate. "Oh hey, I forgot I made two. Ya want one?"

"Way to savor that buddy."

Mindy had popped in to get a snack and came upon a guy that was literally stuffing himself with whatever shit he could fit in his mouth. Usually people who did that were coming from a pretty decimated world, kind of like Ellie's post fucked up kind of world.

"Weren't you cooking something?"

The look on his face as she pointed out the food he was cooking was one of mild horror, his mouth falling open and a bit of cereal falling out. "Shit!" he let out, spewing crumbs. He put the cereal on the counter and hurried over to the stove- his pasta now resembled a pot of mush.

"Oh, dangit. Well- I guess I could still eat it..."

He turned to her. "Ya want some?" Because obviously he needed to share.

Mindy made a face when she saw what he was offering. "Uh, nah, no thanks. I mean, not that soggy shit anyway. I'll make us both a decent bowl though. Last I remember, I was pretty good at it."

She was already getting the ingredients out, ticking them off in her hand. "Haven't seen you yet, so I'm guessing you're new huh?"

Ellis deflated a little as she declined his pasta- mostly the fact she called it soggy shit. It was soggy shit, but it was soggy shit he made. That made it edible in his book!! Though he seemed to perk up a little at the offer to make them both a bowl.

Because even though his feelings were hurt, it was nice to not have to eat mushy pasta, at least.

At her question, he gave a nod, quickly seeming to forget the whole pasta thing entirely. "Sure am!" he said, "Just got here today, as a matter a fact! Name's Ellis. What about you?"

Honestly, Mindy WAS hungry, and she couldn't stand to eat food that could be easily fixed. She was already heating up a pot on the stove, shifting attention to the meat and what seasoning they had.

"Ellis. Huh. Mindy, Mindy Macready. You already get the low down on this place, what you're expected to do and all that?"

"Mm?" he asked, thinking back for a moment before it dawned on him. "Oh. Yeah, I guess so. But I figured all that shit'd start after findin' out the winner of the singin' competition, won't it?"

"Singing competition? What the fuck are you talking about? You don't think people here are just singing right now, do you?"

Was there some kind of slang she wasn't familiar with?"

"Whatcha mean what am I talkin' about?" he asked, as if it was the most obvious thing, giving her a perplexed look. "Yannow, when you got up in front of all a them people?"

"Dude, I really think your signals might have been crossed somewhere. What exactly did they tell you when they brought you here?"

The confusion intensifies.

"I ain't got any signals goin' on anywhere, I ain't a robot... But ya know, how when they put you in front of the guys and tell you to impress 'em?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "That thing."

Good god, that was the simplest metaphor, was this fucker kidding?

"This ain't a singing competition. You just got assigned a district. You're here to compete in the games, as in, surviving this big arena, where everything from the flora and fauna and tributes try to kill you. When that happens, you get brought back, and that game goes on until someone wins, we celebrate, a little time passes amd then we do that shit again. Got it?"

Her mistake was metaphoring at him in the first place.

Ellis looks downright depressed that it was, in fact, not a singing competition that he had been auditioning for. Did that mean he hadn't impressed anyone? Nah of course not. His singing voice was like an angelic choir.

Sort of.

In his mind.

"I... uh. I think I got it? It don't sound too different from what I'm used to, to be real honest." Aside from the whole coming back thing. "So like, do we come back as angels or somethin'? That'd be pretty awesome..."

"What, in your world you constantly compete in games where you kill people? Even my world isn't that bad, if only because there are some cops that can do their job."

Besides, its not as if things had descended into chaos. Yet.

"Yeah, come on man. Do I look or sound like an angel to you?"

"Hey." Diana's stood in the doorway, arms folded, hip cocked slightly.

Her pretty lips are frowning slightly as she takes in the mess. "I hope you're planning on finishing all that food."

She starts walking into the room. "Because if you're not, you'd better pass them off to me."

Food was rare in a zombie apocalypse.

Even rarer were women. Pretty ones. Sure there were female zombies, but who wanted to date a zombie? Not Ellis. Unless Zoey turned into a zombie, then he might sort of consider it for a few minutes.

But here is a pretty woman who isn't a zombie standing in front of him, wanting his food.

He hastily swallows his mouthful of cereal and stands up, puffing himself up slightly. "You can have all'a my food if ya want it..." he says, trying to sound all confident and stuff. He extends the box of cereal, his mouth splitting into a grin.

Her lips quickly turn from a frown to a smug smirk.

"Now there's a sentence I like."

She crosses the room confidently and dips a slender hand into the box for her own generous fistful of cereal.

Even better was a woman who wasn't afraid to eat, and judging by that handful of cereal, she obviously wasn't afraid to. "Hehe... I hope ya like it. It's pretty good, I mean. I got some noodles cookin' too, I-"

Oh, the noodles.

He hurries over to the pot and flipped the stove off, staring down dejectedly at what now looked like white mush. "Well. I did have some noodles cookin'. Eh, who needs 'em anyway?"

He catches her attention again at the mention of noodles but as the girl chews on the cereal, irritation appears on her face at his next words.

"Me. I need them."

With little regard to proper eating manners, she stuffs the rest of the cereal into her mouth and moves him out of her way by gently pushing his shoulder with a slender hand. "Move over."

Mixing in half a bottle of soy sauce she begins transferring the mush into a bowl.

"Well... okay." He wasn't gonna question a woman when it came to cooking. He watches as she pours the soy sauce into it, raising an eyebrow. "Yannow, I once heard that if ya drank a whole bottle of that stuff, you'd die." And so that means she's halfway to dyin'. "I dunno why, somethin' about a lotta salt?"

She raises her eyebrows skeptically as she eats some of the now flavored mush with a spoon. "Really, you're gonna worry about being poisoned by salt in a place like this?"

Her holds a spoonful out to him. "Just try it."

"I ain't worried!" he said quickly, shaking his head. "No, no, it just came to mind is all, since that was a lotta soy sauce. But no, I ain't worried. I trust your judgment!"

He trusts it so much, in fact, that he doesn't hesitate to lean in and take the spoonful. Hmm. Not an entirely pleasant consistency, considering it's still pasta mush, but still.

"Not bad!" he says, swallowing it. "You ever considered bein' a chef? I betcha could work somewhere asian, since ya know how to use soy sauce like that."

"And make food for other people all day? No thanks."

She hoists herself up to perch on the kitchen counter and eat.

"Besides, I'm not very picky about food, so I'd have no problem sending out something that's burnt or taste too bitter."

"Well you're sharin' with me, doesn't that count as makin' food for other people?" he asks, letting out a small laugh. "But hey, I ain't very picky myself. You kinda gotta not be, when you're fightin' in a zombie apocalypse. Most'a the food is gone or rotten, so you gotta do whatcha gotta do."

A small shrug as she eats. Spooning generous mouthfuls as she listens to him.

She leans out to tap his nose with the spoon she'd just licked clean of soy sauce, as if scolding him. "You'd think you'd be better about wasting food then."

Well that certainly is quite a motherfucking introduction to walk in to. Was this another new one for their district? It better damn be if he's gonna be eating every single thing in here.

He eyes Ellis up and down before calling to get his attention. "HEY! The Elixirs make all to be mine, got it? SAME AT FOR ANYTHING AS WHAT BE ALTERNIAN WRITTEN. Touch my food and your maker will be all at to meeting a motherfucker for permanent stay."

He snatches up one of the forgotten cookies packets, eating them with no more grace than Ellis, but a suspicious eye to go with it.

If the Initiate ever expected Ellis to listen to a word that came from his mouth, he was sadly mistaken. Not because Ellis was impolite or something- no, usually he listened to what everyone had to say. But when he turned around and caught sight of him, he was instantly tripping over himself trying to back up.

"Whoa!"

The box of cereal tumbled from his hands, spilling all across the floor as it hit the ground. Ellis didn't notice, he was too busy hastily reaching into a drawer to grab the first sharp object he could reach in order to defend himself with. His eyes never left the troll in front of him the entire time.

"Y'all are talkin' now!" he said. In his mind, this was a zombie. A... really mutated one. Shit, he wondered what special powers it might've had. He raised up whatever he grabbed from the drawer, readying himself for the offense.

Only it was a spoon.

"Y'all are talkin' now!" He says-- which all alone causes a twitch-- and he intends to fight him with a goddamn spoon. The Initiate stares unimpressed at the spoon, then narrows his eyes at Ellis. He keeps from baring teeth. Barely. He sets down the cookies.

He tilts his head and smiles unkindly. "I AIN'T KNOW WHAT ALL THE FUCK YOU HEARD, BUT THIS MOTHERFUCKER HAS ALWAYS HAD AT FOR SPEECH, YOU KEN?" He snarls. "You've mistaken him for what be another."

He pauses. Then bats the spoon away.

There are times in your life where you make grave mistakes before you even think them through. When your fight or flight instincts fail you in the worst way possible and you do something really stupid. He doesn't know why this thing is yelling at him or getting angry, but Ellis does know that he feels very threatened right now.

It's when the troll bats his spoon away that his feelings solidify and he does the stupid thing.

He punches the troll in the nose.

The punch lands. Indigo meets with Ellis' hands, smearing over flesh. The Initiate tastes blood. And then things happen real fucking fast.

His arm shoots out and his hand wraps around Ellis' throat, hauling him up to eye level with the troll and then slamming him back against them cupboards. His other fist rears back and he roars.

If he punched Ellis like this he could cave the fucker's skull in under a minute. He could squeeze that windpipe to breaking just like that. He could rake this motherfucker's throat open with his claws, instead of the pin pricks what all are being inflicted now, all that hemojuice could get up to a motherfucking flow. His own insticts scream for it; kill, kill, kill, KILL. He squeezes tight, digs his claws in, then-

He drops him. The peacekeepers who appear out of seemingly motherfucking no where don't think at that to be good enough, their tazers ready, and he snarls at them too, taking long strides to get away from the fucker.

He turns around and snarls, "IF YOU EVER, EVER DRAW HIS BLOOD WITHOUT HIS PERMISSION DIRECT AGAIN, HE WILL DRAIN YOU OF EVERY LAST DROP WHAT ALL YOU GOT AND HANG YOUR IMPIOUS ASS WITH YOUR TORN OUT VEINS! Are we motherfucking clear?"

He wipes the indigo carefully away, so as not to disturb his paint.

Edited 2014-04-24 15:39 (UTC)

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It ain't cracker barrel but it'll do

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yay another food lover

be his forever

dianas cool with that

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