thecapitol | Thicker Than Blood Start

Thicker Than Blood Start

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.

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Whatever he had been expecting, this wasn't it. Courfeyrac stopped dead in his tracks, knees locking for a split second before it really and truly hit him that he was actually face to face with five of his sisters. His expression twisted into something that definitely looked painful, worry punctuating his face at every possible angle. Staggering, he approached them, almost afraid that if he ran to them they might disappear or be dragged away from him. He didn't care which of them he embraced first, he just wanted to collapse against them and soak in their familiar reassurances. "Damnit! Why did they bring you here?!"

When she saw him, Bernadette's hand came up to cover her mouth, slow and trembling. He had nearly crossed the room before she fully registered that it was him - that, whatever outlandish clothes he was wearing, it was her brother, and he was here, and he was alive--!

"My dear, your language--!" she said, because she didn't know what else to say. The admonishment was half a sob, and before the words were out of her mouth she was reaching for him. She didn't much care how much of him she got into her arms, how many of her sisters she had to share him with, so long she was touching him-- so long as she knew he was real and whole. "My God-- where have you been?"

Edited 2014-04-14 20:39 (UTC)

It was a dream, they had said. Well, it was unlike any dream that Apolline had ever experienced. Even with her terrific imagination, that she prided herself on sometimes, she couldn't possibly come up with something like this. So she waited with her sisters, wondering what it could possibly be. But what she wasn't ready for was to see their brother.

"Hell," she whispered with a half sob, not catching her own language in time. Let them scold her for it later, she wasted no time in flinging herself at her not-as-dead-as-she-remembered brother. It would be a wreck, with the five of them scrambling to get to him, but she was going to cling to him however she could.

Everything was happening so quickly for Jeanne-Marie, and just when she had finally been accustomed to the fact that several of her sisters were to be her companions in her odd (more than usual, at least) dream, little Dominique had suddenly sprung out.

She released a gasp of half-disbelief, half-glee as she was drawn into the hug, as it was not particularly difficult to drag her with her small, unimposing stature. And then, abruptly, she smiled. They told her that he had gone away, that she was never to see him again! And yet here he was. It was an unlikely occurrence, all in all, but maybe dreams were like that: they make everything possible.

She jumped giddily—as much as she could jump, anyway, what with being sandwiched between sisters and brother. "It is so good to see you!"

"This is cruel dream," Élodie says, swooping in behind her sisters like some matriarchal shadow. Her voice is husky as always from that sickness she developed as a youngster, but heavier, now, with a sort of mourning for her dear little brother, the news of whose death has been disseminated across the family a few months ago. "Oh, Dominique."

She joins in the hug and uses it as a chance to lightly snap her finger across Apolline's ear. "No agitating Bernadette. We will all be amiable for the duration of this dream. No petty squabbles."

There will be no distractions when they're able to relive the fantasy of their little brother alive.

"But is it truly a dream?" Etiennette's words were muffled by the slender hand held over her mouth. Everything in Panem had been fantastic, but this? This was too much too believe. And yet, it was all real-- It had to be. One could never dream so vividly.

The peculiar dress they had shoved her into swished slightly as she moved around the periphery of the gaggle, finally settling behind Dominique and running her fingers through the loose curls near the back of his head. "We certainly seem to be real. You seem to be real, and that I should not believe even if I would like to."

"It isn't a dream," he said automatically, sinking against them with his full weight. "And it is really me. I do not know what I can say to convince you of any of this, but you must believe me. I would not lie to you, not about something so grave as this."

He wanted to hold them all, kiss them all, let himself feel powerless and mothered, if only for the moment. But he couldn't let that happen. He couldn't show weakness where everyone could see. Instead, he stretched his arms wide around them all as a collective and kissed each of their foreheads in succession and tried to look brave while he offered his sincerest apologies.

"I don't know what to say, my sisters. I never expected I would see you again." Not even in the afterlife. Not even then. "... I hope it is not too difficult for you to see me."

Bernadette found one of his hands and clasped it between her own, pulling it up to her mouth for a kiss. Still real. "God be praised," she whispered against it. And then, louder, to her brother: "Difficult? Dominique, it is everything I have prayed for!"

Or, well, maybe not everything. To embrace her little brother again, she'd prayed for that, and for the rest of his immortal soul, of course, and for forgiveness for his transgressions, and to be with him again at the end of time. She could not vouch for any of the latter prayers having been answered, not without word from someone of a more angelic nature than any she'd seen here so far, but none of that seemed so important in this moment.

"You are in such a beautiful place," she added, though, with hope-- what little she'd seen had been infinitely better than the circumstances under which he'd died. "I don't know if it's a dream, but it is beautiful."

Apolline hardly even paid attention to the short lecture directed at her. Petty squabbles or not, their brother was here... He was right in front of them and hugging them back and nothing could mess this up. Apolline pointedly ignored Elodie's comment and instead focused on everything positive that she could.

"The only thing difficult about this will be if we must leave you," she assured him quietly, her trembling lips pressed firmly together to fight off any threatening tears. "Are you doing well here, Dominique?"

"Leave?" Jean-Marie's eyes widened considerably at Apolline. She wanted then to inch closer towards Dominique and cling to his arm, but her other sisters were in the way, so she settled instead with wringing her hands. "Why must we leave then, if it is not a dream? I do like it here."

And was it not what everyone else wanted? To be together again, just like before? "Perhaps this is a miracle!"

"Hush, let him explain." Elodie reaches over and rubs Jean-Marie's shoulder, comforting her in the way their own mother used to do in the years when the poor woman was still alive. She backs away so that the others may get in all the physical contact that their mourning has sewn into them.

"I'm afraid I don't understand any of this place. I'm sure your other sisters are no better off, Dominique. Are we to believe this is Heaven?"

She leaned against their brother, as her sisters spoke, letting the feeling of his form supporting hers settle tangibly. The more she could remember of this feeling, even if it turned out to be a dream, the better, to Etiennette's mind. "Yes, explain it to us, Dominique. And tell us how you came to be here. We were told that you--"

She couldn't help it. At the attempted recount, her voice hitched in her throat, choked by a small burst of pathos in the form of a sob. Lifting her head from his shoulder, she returned to combing through his hair. It was a something she had done when he was a child, but now it was far more for her benefit than for his. "You know what we were told, of course."

He could imagine what they'd been told and it made him feel sick. His decisions had been a lot easier to live with when he didn't have his sisters on his mind, and now that he had them before him he was overcome with a strange feeling akin to regret. It wasn't entirely authentic, however. He still believed in the cause he'd died for, he'd still lay his life down again when the time came, but seeing his sisters crying... it made him feel like a monster.

"Etiennette, please," he said quietly, feeling like a little boy again, feeling useless and weak in the presence of his sobbing sister. "Please do not cry. You are breaking my heart, all of you. I won't say a word until you have stopped." It was unfair of him, perhaps, to think of his own feelings, but he simply couldn't stand to let the Capitol take control of the situation and win at this game of emotional blackmail.

"This place is not Heaven. Do not be fooled by the beauty or the well-mannered people. This place is more akin to Hell, and you've all been brought here to torment me." It wasn't really Hell, but it was closer than anything else he'd experienced in the afterlife. He looked to Bernadette, knowing full well what must be going through her mind. "This is a world without God. Praying will not spare my soul, Bernadette. Praying will not spare anyone here."

Immediately, he regretted the chilling warning, though he couldn't quite muster the will to be his cheerful self just then. Instead, he reached for Apolline and Jean-Marie, wishing for nothing more than to hold them close to him as he muttered under his breath, "God, why couldn't they just leave you alone?"

Bernadette's face fell. Some of the happy flush left her cheeks. "Have we," she began, and could not quite finish. Her hands twisted in the fabric of her skirt, the strange smooth material they'd put her in. "Dominique-- My dear, there is no place where God is not present. You know that." Chiding, like he'd spoken too loud in church; but with a fearful edge to it. She could not stop herself inching closer, with a glance over her shoulder at the bright array around them. "Even here. Even in Hell."

This was a dream. That's what they'd told him. Which meant it wasn't, they were lying, he was somewhere strange and he could feel their eyes on him. Watching.

Joseph sat where he'd been led, his previous attempts to get up and pace had been thwarted so he sat on the edge of a chair, his thumbnail falling victim to his teeth as his leg twitched and jostled in small movements--an old nervous habit from before the world had turned on him. He didn't make eye contact, his gaze practically glued to the floor in front of him as he waited. For someone, they wouldn't tell him who.

Both Joan and Sherlock had been noting the strange behavior, wondering what they were working up to. It couldn't be good. None of the things that the Capitol got all aflutter about were good. They were just varying degrees of sadistic. Some new carrot, some new stick, to get the Tributes to jump through some new flaming hoop.

When they brought the Tributes to a restaurant for breakfast, it was clear that there was something going on at the tower, in their suites. Joan and Sherlock bandied theories back and forth: booby traps. District pets. Some new aspect of inter-district competition. Reassigning districts.

None of them felt right.

So Joan was surprised when the common area was full of people, more surprised when the Tributes around her reacted in recognition. They'd brought over people the Tributes knew. People they're close to. For the sake of drama? For the leverage? For the...

She saw him.

The color drained from her face.

No. No no no...

She moved to him, slowly, not wanting to believe he was there, that the Capitol would do this, not to her but to him.

It was him. It was her father.

She crouched in front of him, meeting his eyes.

"Dad?"

Edited (Tenses! *shakes fist*) 2014-04-15 20:45 (UTC)

At first he thought it was one of them coming over to him, to feed him more lies, more than likely.

But she was gentle and concerned, at least she appeared that way, but he didn't know her. At least he was pretty sure, she seemed to know him which was both suspicious and confusing, he just couldn't decide which feeling was stronger.

But at least she seemed nice instead of impatient like the others.

He pulled his hand away from his mouth and stilled his fidgeting a little, his eyes moving to meet hers. "What's going on? They're lying to me, are you going to as well? They keep saying I'm dreaming but I'm not. I know I'm not." There was conviction in his voice, even though he was keeping his volume low--as though afraid they'd be listened in on. They probably were.

He didn't recognize her.

It was always a coin toss, even in the best of circumstances back home, when he came to one of the shelters she was volunteering with. Of course this place would confuse him. Especially since, if Joan were to guess, he's off his meds. And it didn't seem likely that they'd give him meds here.

And they're confusing him more by lying to him. How dare they.

"You're right, it's not a dream. You're also right that the people who brought you here can't be trusted. But I promise you, I will never lie to you."

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Thicker Than Blood Start

District 11

open to the sisters ;A;

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Joseph Li for Joan | OTA

Re: Joseph Li for Joan | OTA

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