Thicker Than Blood Start

[gamemakers]

For Tributes with keen eyes, they'll notice that Peacekeeper presence seems increased and yet infinitely more ineffective in the last few weeks. Peacekeepers seem harried, as do the Stylists, and most of the Escorts titter and plot without alerting the Tributes as to what, exactly, is so exciting. They simply say that this weekend they'll know.

And so it happens that on the weekend in question, the Tributes are woken by their Escorts early and brought to a restaurant for a hearty breakfast. The restaurant is nothing spectacular, although they seem to be trying to make an impression on the television cameras that float around. The sleepy, cranky meal goes by and then the Tributes are led back to their Suites for a mandatory meeting.

Sitting on couches and the floor, in chairs and on windowsills, standing off to the side - people from the Tributes' homes are waiting to greet them in each District Suite. Some are confused, some accepting, some frightened and some elated to see their beloved. Either way, it should be an eventful reunion.

Comments

District 10

[etcircenses]

(for Bunnymund, but anyone's free to react to this guy)

[asshole_spider]

One of District 10's more eye-catching new arrivals was the dark-skinned man with dreadlocks, wearing an orange dashiki over knee-length khakis and a pair of green-lensed sunglasses. His clothes, however, weren't nearly so eye-catching as the eight enormous spider legs sticking out of his back.

He'd been using the upper ones to prod one of the other surprise guests, someone hiding deep inside a robe and cowl, in an effort to get a good look at the tentacles they had been using in turn to slap the legs away. He looked up when the Tributes arrived, and nearly lost his sunglasses to the next slap.

"Ah, old friend!" he said, white teeth bared in a dazzling grin. "I think this indicates that I still am not the one always getting us into trouble."

[bringinghopewithme]

Of all the loved ones of his the Capitol could have caught -

If Bunny had a god to thank for things, he would be thanking that one right now that they caught Anansi.

If it'd been North? The Cossack would have caught on to the ways of this awful place, and might have been too outraged to contain himself long enough to think clearly, or do lasting damage. The thought of Tooth, having memories of this place to keep for her own, is too awful for him to even consider. Sandy, without his sand? No. This place has nothing for him.

But they didn't find the other Guardians. They didn't grab them and bring them here. Instead, they got Anansi.

They got Anansi. The story-keeper, who hasn't just seen empires rise and fall, but knows how, and why, and how to spin the cautionary tale afterwards.

The spider, who knows how to set a trap and wait at it for longer than Bunny has been alive.

The spider, who knows how to surprise his audience - and his prey - every damn time.

"Ay, mate!"

Bunny's laugh is hearty as he spreads his arms to embrace his old pal, thumping Anansi on the back between the spider-legs and keeping a companionable arm hooked over his shoulders.

"Boy did you get lucky this time, you eight-legged bounce. Wait until I show you around, mate. You're gonna be amazed. Absolutely astonished."

His grin has the intensity that it used to have back when they hung out like this all the time. Back before he was a Guardian, when the order of the day was to find someone too full of themselves, and turn their hubris - with Anansi's help - into a funny story to bring back to the kits.

The Capitol might not recognize it. But Anansi can't miss it.

[asshole_spider]

Anansi thumps Bunny on the back as well, letting his friend tug him away from the tentacled stranger and into a conference.

"Oh really?" he asks, lowering his glasses to get a good look at the grin on Bunny's face. He hasn't seen that look in a very long time; it promises many things that the two of them will find more entertaining than the fools who think themselves clever enough to catch a spider. His wording though, that promises secrets and powerful people who don't want them unearthed, and he delights in working contrary to them as well.

"Then perhaps you ought to show me around this fantastical little dream world of yours, then. I do love to be astonished."

Chameleon - for lyle but open for anyone

[chamthulhu]

Cham was annoyed at how patronizing his kidnappers were. "Elaborate dream," his sorry butt. Power suppression, creepy people trying to explain things off as "it's all in your head," armored stormtroopers...

Standard evil empire abduction situation. He hadn't figured out the point of it yet but he knew it for what it was. The Legion got into enough trouble, so often, that different types of trouble were categorized, memorized, and easily recognized.

Still, he kept his mouth shut from the moment he woke up in this place, at least until he got a better grasp on the situation. Not that he had a mouth to keep shut (nor did he have butt that could be sorry) at the moment. They'd suppressed his powers, leaving him in his (very huggable, in his opinion) natural form. Perhaps out of fear he'd scare other people they'd given him clothing to cover up with. (Why was it always a sackcloth and not a colorful floral muumuu or something? A sporty hoodie/skirt combination?)

So he watched and waited and worried about the loss of his powers. Power suppression always left him feeling naked, which was a strange feeling for him since being naked was his default state, even when he'd transformed some clothing. Not that he wasn't formidable like this - he could probably choke out the spider guy that kept poking him in less than a minute if he wanted to (and oh was he tempted since spider-guy couldn't keep his hands to himself.)

But the mention of meeting "family" had him behaving for now. Reep Daggle had only one family and if any of them had been yanked into this place before him, they might be in trouble. He wasn't going to risk adding to it.

Sure enough, one Lyle Norg was ushered in through the door, leaving him to splutter out a sound that was clearly the Durlan equivalent of a snicker of not-surprise. He waved a face tentacle.

"Of course it's you," he said in Durlan. (He could manage Interlac in this form but Durlan was just a lot easier on the facetacles.) "This whole thing is clearly trouble and I was sitting here thinking 'hmmm, which one of us is most likely to be neck deep in the middle of it?' and there you are."

Naturally he'd be the one in the middle of it before anyone else even showed up.

Re: Chameleon - for lyle but open for anyone

[atippleoftransparency]

"In my defense, Brainy technically showed up first," Lyle answered breezily, sauntering toward his friend and pretending that he wasn't working feverishly to figure out what was going on here. It couldn't be that they were just adding this many more people to the the death matches, could it? This had to be something else.

Something else he could figure out later, because he needed to get Cham into the "we are supervillains" loop post-haste.

"Speaking of, how's Gim doing with his sentient I.T. department and master poisoner missing?"

Re: Chameleon - for lyle but open for anyone

[chamthulhu]

Masterful.

Which was precisely why Lyle led the Espionage squad. One sentence and he already had a coded warning, a head count of who was here, and a whiff of the front Lyle was putting up. Master poisoner? Interesting. But maybe faking evil or villainy was a survival tactic here for whatever reason.

Cham followed his cue and dove right in.

"Still large and in charge. I'm still amazed you haven't wrung the job out of him yet by poisoning his wheat-grass smoothies - but then they're already poison so he'd probably be immune."

Lyle never wanted to be Legion leader again, so that was the return code for We're under surveillance, copy, give me direction.

"But he hasn't noticed you missing because none of us have."

Timeline manipulation? Lyle was talking like they should have noticed some Legion-nappings.

Re: Chameleon - for lyle but open for anyone

[atippleoftransparency]

Okay. Could be time manipulation or there could be some sort of cloning thing going on. Brainy'd opined that clones were highly unlikely, but Lyle wasn't going to dismiss the theory out of hand.

"Really? Huh, you should have noticed us missing, we've been here for over two standard months. When did you last see me?"

Lyle remembered that they'd been inside time and on planet on a leave day, discussing Reep and Ayla's upcoming anniversary. That was still an acceptable conversation for supervillains, so Reep shouldn't have to think too hard about wording it.

Re: Chameleon - for lyle but open for anyone

[chamthulhu]

"Inside space-time, planetside on that little place with the gondolas? You were helping me figure out an anniversary present for Ayla that wouldn't lead to electrocution."

That sounded nice and evil right?

"I left you alone for five minutes. Five minutes, Lyle."

Re: Chameleon - for lyle but open for anyone

[atippleoftransparency]

"That's what I last remember, too," Lyle said, frowning. Seemed like it might be timeline manipulation; which wasn't promising vis-à-vis a rescue. Either that, or the Capitol had abducted Cham at the same time and kept him on ice until now. Still not the best situation.

"You of all sentients know how much trouble I can get myself into with five unsupervised minutes," he answered instead. "And I still say you can't go wrong with jewelry. What's the story they gave you? Are you here for their 'game'?"

[youbarium]

Carlos saw the hooded figure the moment he was ushered into the D10 rooms. His eyes went wide -- damn, he hadn't been expecting to see one here, and he was out of the habit of immediately averting his eyes. He knew he had clearly seen the hooded figure, and the hooded figure had probably perceived that.

"Sorry," Carlos muttered, lowering his glance to the floor, moving it to the walls, the table, the cabinets -- anything to avoid looking directly at the hooded figure.

i am so sorry

[chamthulhu]

With Lyle having dropped hints about the fake evil thing, Cham had decided to run with it to make sure his cover wasn't blown. That meant coming up with an evil persona. The best possible fake back story was one not that different from the truth: himself but as a religious leader with a touch of evil, instead of himself, someone who'd given up being a religious figure to be a superhero.

That was why the hooded figure probably ruined the intimidation factor by the way he picked up drink with his face tentacles and started sipping on the straw with one of them.

"For what? Eyeballing this magnificent bod?" He gestured down at himself with a green many-limbed flourish. "I don't mind an oggle now and again as long as you don't mind if I do the same back."

Some eyebrow tentacles became visible at the front of his hood and they waggled in an exaggerated fashion like oversized eyebrows.

"Any chance you wanna bear my unholy offspring? You'll probably survive."

don't be, this is gold.

[youbarium]

Carlos, to his credit, still didn't look at Cham; his eyes merely widened as he gazed at an invisible spot on the wall.

None of the hooded figures had ever spoken with him before. They'd all just sort of -- hummed, or given off static. Certainly none of them had ever propositioned him before. He had to take a moment to process his response. How did you respond to that?

"No, thank you," replied Carlos, guessing it was best to be polite but unable to keep his face from flushing. "I'm not planning on having children soon at all, and even if I were, this place is far from ideal for raising a child. So, no."

A beat. "Sorry."

Really, it wasn't Cham's strange physiology that put him off. It wasn't. It was the forward-ness, and the fact that bearing and raising unholy offspring would be entirely impractical.

[chamthulhu]

"No need to apologize. Cultists aren't any fun unless they're into you, anyway, right? And you can look at me, you know. I don't bite. I do occasionally strangle, but I'm trying to be on my best behavior right now so my buddy Lyle doesn't get into any trouble."

See? Just another visiting "family" member, tentacled horror aside.

[youbarium]

Slowly, cautiously, fighting a year's worth of conditioning, Carlos turned his head to look at Cham. His eyes widened behind his glasses -- this was the strangest being Carlos had seen in months, and his face was a mix of trepidation and fascination.

He tried to cover this up by adjusting his glasses. Staring was rude, after all, if you didn't have permission to stare in a scientific context.

"They brought you here for Lyle?" he asked.

Doc Holliday, For Wyatt

[imyerdaisy]

"Well this is a far cry from how I imagined Dodge," Holliday said, the drawl sounding smug as he watched Wyatt walk in. He'd already managed to get his hands on some whiskey, which was good - for whatever strange dream this was, it seemed his imagination was fit enough to offer a decent year. "But then again, dreams are often the illustrators of the strange."

The smile flickered over his lips.

"Marshal Wyatt Earp, I do believe. It's a pleasure, though why I should dream of you, of all people, I could not begin to guess."

Re: Doc Holliday, For Wyatt

[the_marshal]

Given the last little surprise the Capitol had so kindly thought to spring on them, Wyatt had being preparing himself throughout the strange breakfast. Readying himself, he'd thought, for whatever new twist they were laying out.

When he first saw the group of strange faces waiting on the other end of the herding, he assumed it was merely a new batch of tributes. More than they usually went for in one go, certainly, but it still wasn't anything to set off the warning bells.

It wasn't until those around him began to greet one another, until he heard the fast intake of several breaths, saw the tears start on more than one face that he put it together. Reunions.

These were all people that his fellow tributes knew; that he, turning at the drawled sound of his name, knew.

There was no gasp from him, no tears, but still more than enough surprise to keep the audience happy.

"Holliday," he blinked. "Doctor John Henry Holliday."

An echo of the memory for so long ago, (two years, amere two years, against the lifetime that it felt). Shaking bloodied hands as Bill and Bat carried Sam from the Doc's office.

"Afraid ya missed yer stop, Doc." He stuck out his hand again, habit more than anything. The moment too strange for much else. (Why him? Why not Bat? Why not one of his brothers, if they'd wanted to twist the knife?) "Ya should'a got off the line a long ways back."

[imyerdaisy]

He took the hand easily, shaking with a firm but simple grace, the half smile still flickering on his lips as if he was constantly amused with himself and the world around him.

"Well isn't that always just the case," He said smoothly. "Never did think I could travel quite this far, especially when I don't remember stepping on the train. But a familiar face always makes a nice welcome party."

[the_marshal]

"...Son of a bitch," Wyatt muttered, more to himself than to Doc as their hands met, as they shook. "Ya really are here."

He'd wondered for a moment, if it weren't a dream - his, rather than the one Doc claimed to be having. Something brought on by the arenas, all that weight, and then aching relief of his victory.

It would be a fine trick to finally get free only to be so damaged as to never enough it.

But the good Doc was warm and steady. Every bit as real as he.

Retrieving his hand, he went for a second glass.

If the man was really here, the least he could do was share.

"Anybody come with ya?" he asked, pouring himself a finger of whiskey - than another for good measure. "Bat, Charlie, any'a them fellas I was with..." He knew that sounded funny to the ear, but it couldn't be helped. "Ya see any of them durin' that long ride?"

[imyerdaisy]

"I've seen many a weird and wondrous thing on this little journey of mine, but nothing that I could call natural or familiar 'till I saw you," Holliday said with a shrug as he raised his own glass to his lips. "Well. That and this particularly poignant glass of whiskey, which is as firm a friend as any I'm like to make."

He took a long drink and then set the glass down to pour himself another.

"You seem quite a little more familiar with this particular venue than I do myself."

Sigma and Diana + OTA

[futilecycle]

Though one had recently concluded, Sigma had come to believe it was the start of their next Arena. Openings usually made for early mornings, and so when they were escorted into a restaurant instead of a hovercraft, Sigma became quickly concerned. There was something not right, and suspicion settled deep and thick in the pit of his stomach. He picked at his food quietly, in no mood to enjoy anything.

With the media attention and peacekeepers about, Sigma had expected, at the very least, a terrible surprise; his paranoid theories settled on the resurrection of Tributes that had been killed before, as they had done with Some. With all that had happened, the Doctor was unsure if he could handle a chilly reunion with his boy, and the thought of losing him again broke his heart. He was still contemplating this as he stepped out of the tower's elevator.

Indeed, someone stood by the window, waiting for him. It was not Kyle.

Sigma froze in the doorway, only halfway out of the lift, in complete shock. When the peacekeeper behind him roughly forced him forward, the Doctor did not even feel it. At first her silhouette, back to the sun, made Sigma believe they had brought Luna. Light caught in her bright red hair, pulled into braids - and then she moved, and it became apparent to Sigma, even only by the clothes she wore, the way she stood, the expression on her freckled face, that she was not the digital copy he had made. The woman before him was the genuine article, his lover long dead.

His mouth became dry and his blood ran cold, the corners of his vision bled black. There was an acute, sharp pain in his chest of painful longing and love and Sigma steeled himself to hide his anguish. Diana would not recognize him. Here she was as young as last he had seen her - when they had parted for good, separated by a loop in time he was thrown out from. He was not the young man she had once loved and Sigma stood coldly at a distance, hoping he could hide behind his age and she would think this all a terrible dream.

Re: Sigma and Diana + OTA

[tributevisitors]

Diana feels selfish that she enjoys standing there in the corner, looking at the veins on the back of her hand and trying to ignore all the people around her. You'd think that being the cause of the extinction of humanity would make someone want to savor every moment surrounded by other people, to see the beauty in crowds and clamor, and yet all it does is make her feel like an impostor. Ungrateful.

She wants to imagine she's not here, and just soak in the sun on her back and have some blessed silence. She breathes deep through her nose and tries to tune out the sounds of sobbing, of fighting, of joyful reunions - such human feelings from people who aren't sitting here moping. Maybe this is penance. Maybe this supposed dream is bound to have too many people in it as a way of punishing her, of her brain processing guilt.

She raises her eyes. And they widen.

"Sigma?" She hadn't expected to see him again. Immediately she stands up from were she's been sitting on the windowsill, a wrinkle knitting into her brow as she approaches. Her heart, the one that was vast and wide to begin with, swells.

cw: mentions of dismemberment and eye horror

[futilecycle]

Whatever hope he'd had of resisting her ends at the sound of her voice and Sigma is drawn forward against his better judgment. Where his heart had hurt it now breaks, his natural glare fractures as the distance closes. Decades had passed (if only for him) since their relationship had ended, but his powers reunited them a mere two years ago, before he was trapped in Panem. The last he had seen of the woman before him was her swollen, stained face warped in horror before the trap clinched on him, plunging metal through his eye, tearing muscle from bone and rending the skin along his shoulder. Then four months lost in pain and thick sedation, his brief bouts of consciousness filled with assurances that there was someone at his side. He'd lost more than an eye and an arm that day and would have lost himself if not for the hand laid on his forehead.

He's taken that hand before he can stop himself, maintaining silence while he finds his strength. This is a tragedy in and of itself, he knows. He'd brought her here with his own irresponsible tongue and for that he will never forgive himself. But oh, would he make the same sacrifice twice - Sigma's stare wanders, falls to his cybernetic arm unmarred by the weathering of time, a young man's hand closing affectionately over his lover's freckled palm. She's warm.

His eye spills over with tears. He shudders to speak a name he hasn't said aloud in decades.

"…Diana…?"

There is less than a shadow of resemblance between him and his younger self. He wonders how she'd known.

Re: cw: mentions of dismemberment and eye horror

[tributevisitors]

She can't help but, when she takes his hands in hers, look over the cybernetic modification, the flesh that looks too natural, that jars unpleasantly with her memory still so full of blood and ripped muscle and snapped bone. She tells herself it's merely her nursing background that leads her to run her thumbs over his fingernails, feeling for the signs of poor health or malnutrition.

Except that they did this so many times as lovers, and she's not looking for his health so much as the confirmation that he is real, he is here, and he remembers her (in all her shame and all her humanity).

"Y-yes. It's me." She ceased stammering from nerves around other people a long time ago, and yet sometimes it emerges, as if it's been penned up and jailbroken by emotions too strong. "I thought I'd never see you again."

She reaches up and in the midst of the action decides against wiping away his tear, and instead feels the leathery wrinkled skin of his aged face.

[futilecycle]

Sigma's heart flutters as she runs her fingers across his, the familiarity is paralyzing. He almost laughs when Diana says she'd missed him and a pained smile breaks across his face. She had no idea - even Akane had known from the start that the timeline (as it was, unperturbed by gods) was doomed, for not in all of the millions of universes would Sigma have exchanged Diana for the world. But her words give him pause nonetheless - for all of his sympathy and faith in the human race, he was remarkably blind to what hid beneath the surface. It had never occurred to him in the 45 years he had spent waiting to meet her that Diana could miss the 'version' of the man that saved her life. He feels suddenly less frustrated with himself, less disgusted for growing into Zero and becoming everything he hated: at the very least, he had grown into the man Diana loved. He closes his eye as her fingers caress his face, comforted by this idea.

"So did I," he sighs. He understands, now, why Akane said nothing to Tenmyouji when they were reunited: words were not enough. But he is not as strong as his partner, and Sigma expresses what the other surely already knows. "It's... it is wonderful to see you well." He hesitates, he speaks out of turn. "...I love you, Diana. I will always-..."

It becomes difficult to speak. When he finally does open his eye it takes all of his restraint to keep himself from embracing her. He knows the cameras are on them, making a public spectacle of them on television. He wonders if there are even some who are revolted by the steep difference in their age, if the Capitol's intentions have backfired. Still, thinking of nothing but the two of them, Sigma lifts his hand to brush the skin beneath Diana's chin gently, pressing up against her jaw to lift her lips. Then he stops, waiting for her permission.