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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It's safe to say that Bro's landed somewhere amongst the 'accepting' spectrum of reactions. Really, it's that he doesn't give a fuck that he's here. Hell, it's a downright welcome change to the blackness that is death. As a guardian, he'd never "qualified" for the dream bubbles or some shit like that, so he'd been the real dead. The dead that ain't got a chance of coming back.

He'd known that, he'd accepted that.

But even those who accept death aren't gonna look a gift life in the mouth, yo. Yes, he finds this a little weird, but he's not going to question it when he's pretty sure that whatever powers that be could just as easily flip the switch and engulf him in the darkness of death again.

So he's there, cooperating, kinda wishing he had Lil Cal or something for familiarity's sake alone. Everything is so clean, so colorful. It's a little sickening for somebody used to the dorito stained apartment of ye olden days.

After a while, he lets out an impatient sigh, drumming his fingers against the seat he's sitting in. He'd been told Dave would be there eventually, which is the only reason he's sitting still for even a moment. Otherwise, he'd be up and exploring already. "Something exciting can happen any time now, yo. You know, more exciting than being brought back from the fuckin' dead, anyway. Not sure how you'll top that, but hey."

Dave hasn't quite been here long enough to learn the turns and tricks of the capitol. He's been pretty damn oblivious to the whisperings for the most part, so he'd been pretty sure it had all been building up to this breakfast. It might not be the fanciest spread, but anything that isn't instant or alchemized is pretty damn good to him. Still, he's no morning person and he's no social person, so he kind of just resigns himself to eating in silence and straying toward the end of the pack of strangers as they head back for their "meeting". Whatever they're talking about, he hopes they can wrap it up quick enough and get the hell out of the suite so he can nap in peace. He's regretting staying up into the wee hours of the morning immensely at this point.

What he doesn't expect, when he rounds lazily into the suite, is to see someone familiar. Not just anyone familiar, either. Probably the most and least familiar person in the world to him. The guy who raised him and taught him everything he knows and then went and died and missed his important character development.

He seizes up briefly, freezing in the spot and staring through his shades in bewilderment, hunching up as a stylist gives his shoulder a nudge and spitting out the first thing he can even think to say. "This is fucking sick." He doesn't mean it to sound so abrasive, not to Bro anyway. It's the Capitol he has a big damn problem with. But he inhales, exhales and tries to get the hell over it when he moves closer to him. "Sup, Crypt Keeper. You look fresh."

Fortunately for Dave, Bro doesn't notice him while he has his little moment of frozen bewilderment. He's too busy picking at the food they've laid out, wondering why the hell there isn't something more simple. Like doritos, or pizza. All this fancy-ass shit isn't really his cup of tea.

When Dave speaks, Bro looks his way. A brow is raised at his first remark, wondering just what the hell kind of greeting that's supposed to be. Are you trying to give him manpain? You're gonna hurt his feelings there, kiddo.

He scoffs at Dave's next statement, and ends up tossing the shrimp he'd been examining over his shoulder. "That's because I've bathed in the plush asses of my enemies. It keeps me young and pretty, to be fuckin' honest." Most people bathe in the blood of his enemies, but nah. He prefers something more intimate. Yeah.

Bro raises his shades, making a point to squint heavily at Dave. "Somethin's different about you. You get a haircut?"

Tell him about it, Bro. Dave has found he can get his hands on most food, but it's usually a more expensive, lavish style than he's familiar with. They really put the supreme in cheese supreme, but sometimes he just wants something simple. Fat chance of there being anything simple at a shindig like this, but the spread looks better than what he had for breakfast. Actually. It doesn't look too appealing, mostly because he feels a little like he's going to lose all of his breakfast all over his shoes. Don't even talk to him about manpain, asshole. Dying was the easy way out of having to face feelings.

"That explains the smell." He observes. Not that there is a smell, of course. Everything here smells like roses and flowers, it's like they're trying to cover up the smell of bullshit every time they talk. Something isn't right about this and every part of him just wants to walk away from the situation. Maybe it'll hurt Bro's feelings, if he has them, but it'd suck a whole lot less than the inevitable fuckeryfest they want to spiral this into.

He can't help straightening up a little under the scrutiny, only to sag his shoulders in a half-assed attempt to maintain his cool. Of course he looks different, it's been a damn long time since they saw one another in the flesh. Bro hasn't changed a bit, though in Dave's opinion he didn't ever change over the thirteen years they spent together. Dave isn't so lucky, hormones probably hit him like a freight train. He feels taller, is he taller? He never bothered to find a tape measure, but he hasn't answered the question.

"It was a sixteenth birthday present." He lifts his shoulders in a shrug, moving his arms to fold them loosely. Cool, cool cool cool. He can do this. "It's been a while since you kicked the bucket."

Dave's remark actually has him lifting his arm to sniff his armpit- he isn't the king of legendary showers for nothing, and the seed of doubt has been firmly planted. Of course he smells wonderful, though. They wanted to clean him up real good for this, so he got to take a legendary shower in a Capitol shower. There were so many settings his head had almost exploded. So he smells fucking awesome, thank you.

"I smell better than you, kid," he shoots back, leaning back so he can prop his feet on the table in front of him. He's used to Dave smelling like cheetos and teenager, he really doesn't know what he actually smells like. He doesn't care enough to get a closer whiff.

It's the latter comment that really gets to him, though. The surprise doesn't show on his face, at least, but he's floored by the fact that it's been three years since his death. "Well goddamn." Bro honestly doesn't know how to feel about that, all things considered. Mostly he just feels like he's probably missed a lot, like the loser who comes in late for class or something. After a moment, he stands up and strides over to Dave.

He's definitely taller, Bro'll give him that. Other signs show the three year difference, but it's pretty remarkable how much he looks the same. "Sucks to be you- I'm still taller, bitch." Because what else are you gonna say when you feel awkward and shitty for dying?

The fact that a single comment has Bro sniffing himself like that is telling of his insecurities, but Dave can hardly notice it. He's thinking too hard on everything else. The fact that Bro is here, in the flesh, sniffing his armpit and it's a little bit like old times and nothing like them at all at the same time. It's a hard line of thinking for a young Dave to process.

"I smell great." He immediately defends. "I have a new cologne. It's French. It's." He doesn't know French.. What did he eat for breakfast again? "Omelet du fromage."

Yeah, that sounds right, but the victory doesn't last long. He's tensing up again when Bro strides over. He's really larger than life to Dave now. He always held him up at hero status, then he died like one. Having him walk right up to him like this is something he never thought he'd experience before. "Who the fuck are you? The ghost of Christmas obvious? You're still ancient compared to me, man." Were. Whatever. "Hey, if you can fit through the door frame, do you wanna blow this popsicle stand?" The quirk of his brow indicates that being alone would be much, much better right now.

Bro gives Dave an unimpressed look. "So you rubbed a fucking omelette under your pits." That sounds fucking gross and he gives Dave's hair a ruffle before pushing him backwards by the side of the head.

"And hey, making ghost jokes is one of those 'too soon' things, yo. Don't be so damn insensitive." Yeah, he really doesn't fucking care. It's not like he died for no reason, he did it to protect Dave's ass. Even if it was a feathery Dave. But whatever, that's beside the point.

"But yeah. Let's bail, I'm bored of this place. Please tell me there's something more exciting than this?" Because so far he isn't very impressed with what he's seen. "Where the shit are we, anyway? They told me jack shit. Then again, they offered me a shower. I don't look a gift shower in the mouth." Showers are his weakness right along with plush asses- the only thing that would make either of them better is to pair the two.

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Thicker Than Blood Start

Bro Strider for Dave - OTA

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