Dr. S. Klim (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
futilecycle) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-05-12 03:14 pm
futilecycle) wrote in thecapitol2014-05-12 03:14 pm
Entry tags:
But those sad souvenirs [OPEN]
Who | Sigma, the Initiate, and you.
What | The Capitol breaks Sigma Klim.
When | The day before the Arena.
Where | District 10 Suite and Common Room.
Warnings/Notes | Old man having a nervous breakdown, relationship with significant age difference, mentions of non-Hunger Games death games.
The couple had been conversing quietly, seated on the bed with their foreheads touching and the cat spread contentedly across their laps, when they came for Diana.
When the door to his suite was forced open, Sigma reacted almost immediately, grabbing his lover by the wrist and scrambling for the back of the room - where they were quickly cornered. With a violent lurch, a peacekeeper wrenched Sigma from the young woman's grasp while another secured Diana's cuffs. Diana did not resist, but rather whimpered, and Sigma could see her crumble before his eyes and retreat to a place in her mind he would not be able to pull her from.
Sigma would remember very little of what transpired next: it passed him by in a white-hot rage.
With inhuman strength, Sigma pushed violently backwards against the Peacekeeper that restrained him until they met the wall, where the impact crushed him inside of his own armor. Freed, the Doctor leapt forward like a tormented animal and struck another with all of the strength his metal arms could muster. Before he had the chance to be revolted by his own violence, something cold dug into the metal of his arm- a potent sedative, he knew at once- but his cybernetics purposefully diffused drugs into his bloodstream at a slower rate than the average human. It was for this reason Sigma had the opportunity to start on another of Diana's captors when they thought to prick him instead in the back of the neck, and immediately the world came apart and went white.
It was his own shock that would wake him hours later. Still reeling from the anesthetic and frantic nerves, he turned at once to Diana's side of the bed. Sigma's hand reached down to touch the sheet where he ran it softly across the mattress: it was still slightly warm where she had sat, her legs sprawled across the quilt beneath her... A terrible, inhuman cry pierced the silence; it startled Sigma to discover that the sound had come from his own lips. He collapsed against the bed and wept miserably.
It would be hours before Sigma would leave his room. Wholly broken, the old man sat on the edge of the bed with his forehead resting on fists locked together on his knees, lips turning blue from the shock. His energy spent from crying, he instead trembled in exhaustion. The spiral of guilt wound round and round no matter how hard Sigma tried to pull himself out of it: he thought of the most precious, most beautiful child in the world waking up on a 'sinking ship' with a bomb in her stomach, screaming. He thought of that same young woman, grown and having moved on from her trauma, now being thrown into a cell and tortured when her lover did not do as her keepers pleased. Or worse, soon to be trapped in another game of death with dozens of bloodthirsty Tributes, armed and dangerous, to contend with... or perhaps killed outright, executed in a soundproof room. It was far worse not knowing. Regardless of her fate, if she lived, he knew without doubt she could never, ever be repaired. If she had died, it was Sigma who would never heal.
That day Sigma was a ghost, barely speaking if spoken to and wandering through the day in a nervous haze, jumping at the slightest unexpected movement. He'd locked Nye out of his room when he'd startled him with the jingling of bells and Sigma had responded with terror. Though his despair was genuine, rather than bottle his grief as he usually did, he told himself it would be to his advantage to wear his heart on his sleeve for some time longer.
Through all of his fury and his hate and his anguish, Sigma was hatching a plan.
What | The Capitol breaks Sigma Klim.
When | The day before the Arena.
Where | District 10 Suite and Common Room.
Warnings/Notes | Old man having a nervous breakdown, relationship with significant age difference, mentions of non-Hunger Games death games.
The couple had been conversing quietly, seated on the bed with their foreheads touching and the cat spread contentedly across their laps, when they came for Diana.
When the door to his suite was forced open, Sigma reacted almost immediately, grabbing his lover by the wrist and scrambling for the back of the room - where they were quickly cornered. With a violent lurch, a peacekeeper wrenched Sigma from the young woman's grasp while another secured Diana's cuffs. Diana did not resist, but rather whimpered, and Sigma could see her crumble before his eyes and retreat to a place in her mind he would not be able to pull her from.
Sigma would remember very little of what transpired next: it passed him by in a white-hot rage.
With inhuman strength, Sigma pushed violently backwards against the Peacekeeper that restrained him until they met the wall, where the impact crushed him inside of his own armor. Freed, the Doctor leapt forward like a tormented animal and struck another with all of the strength his metal arms could muster. Before he had the chance to be revolted by his own violence, something cold dug into the metal of his arm- a potent sedative, he knew at once- but his cybernetics purposefully diffused drugs into his bloodstream at a slower rate than the average human. It was for this reason Sigma had the opportunity to start on another of Diana's captors when they thought to prick him instead in the back of the neck, and immediately the world came apart and went white.
It was his own shock that would wake him hours later. Still reeling from the anesthetic and frantic nerves, he turned at once to Diana's side of the bed. Sigma's hand reached down to touch the sheet where he ran it softly across the mattress: it was still slightly warm where she had sat, her legs sprawled across the quilt beneath her... A terrible, inhuman cry pierced the silence; it startled Sigma to discover that the sound had come from his own lips. He collapsed against the bed and wept miserably.
It would be hours before Sigma would leave his room. Wholly broken, the old man sat on the edge of the bed with his forehead resting on fists locked together on his knees, lips turning blue from the shock. His energy spent from crying, he instead trembled in exhaustion. The spiral of guilt wound round and round no matter how hard Sigma tried to pull himself out of it: he thought of the most precious, most beautiful child in the world waking up on a 'sinking ship' with a bomb in her stomach, screaming. He thought of that same young woman, grown and having moved on from her trauma, now being thrown into a cell and tortured when her lover did not do as her keepers pleased. Or worse, soon to be trapped in another game of death with dozens of bloodthirsty Tributes, armed and dangerous, to contend with... or perhaps killed outright, executed in a soundproof room. It was far worse not knowing. Regardless of her fate, if she lived, he knew without doubt she could never, ever be repaired. If she had died, it was Sigma who would never heal.
That day Sigma was a ghost, barely speaking if spoken to and wandering through the day in a nervous haze, jumping at the slightest unexpected movement. He'd locked Nye out of his room when he'd startled him with the jingling of bells and Sigma had responded with terror. Though his despair was genuine, rather than bottle his grief as he usually did, he told himself it would be to his advantage to wear his heart on his sleeve for some time longer.
Through all of his fury and his hate and his anguish, Sigma was hatching a plan.