Albert Heinrich (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
silberfuchs) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-06-28 01:04 am
silberfuchs) wrote in thecapitol2014-06-28 01:04 am
Entry tags:
To the leader, the pariah, the victor, the messiah
Who| District 3 Tributes, Mentors, and anyone else who has cause to be there
What| Mingling in the wake of Cecil's news broadcast
Where| District 3 Suites common area
When| After Cecil's post, all evening
Warnings/Notes| This is a mingle log and will lend itself to threadhopping, which I hope is ok. Mention of depression. Discussion of mass murder and genocide is probably gonna turn up in here. Other warnings/notes as needed.
He's only been awake for a day.
A solid day of doing nothing but sleep and wallowing in a different illness altogether than had infected the Capitol. A solid day of that ugly beast Depression that, in the wake of murdering so many directly in the arena - two he didn't know, Enjolras, Hilda, Gott, he'd killed her... - sits heavy on his chest and doesn't allow him to do much of anything besides visit the lavatory. Frankly, he'd only turned on the news by accident; he'd been attempting to make the windows that overlooked the Capitol below tint darker and cast his entire room in shadow. It was on just in time to catch Cecil's smooth voice over pirated airwaves, a hard edge to his usually flightly and inane cadence.
District 3 was gone.
And dour as he is, suspicious thoughts weave into his mind. He doesn't believe for a moment that this is because of any plague, as bad as tuberculosis is. It couldn't have spread that fast, not with them quarantining themselves like that if Cecil is to be believed (and it's too serious not to believe.) No. This is another message. Because of Ian, because of his own post, because of Eponine's very public tantrum and Starkiller's blackout in the arena, both of which he's heard mention of by now as the tv switches from program to program in the ticking of minutes and his checks on his phone of old network logs. Jessica was made to behave this way before, why wouldn't they think it would work again?
All those people...
He feels sick, but he can't imagine he's the only one, not after this news.
Gathering his wits, Albert mechanically goes through a shower and dresses himself before stepping into the common area, wary of the Capitol microphones and cameras that may be recording them but needing to discuss, needing to find out where everyone else is both literally and emotionally, and needing to help as best he can. A help which starts with copious amounts of tea, not that he imagines it will be terribly calming in this situation, but any port in a storm.
---
When the other tributes come out to the common area, there is a large tray with a steaming pot of tea and mugs enough for everyone that lives in the D3 suites, including those Albert hasn't met personally. The German has placed himself in a chair and looks gaunt and sleepless despite having slept for quite some time, but his eyes are alert and he responds readily to anyone who comes to talk to him, though he's also ready to approach others if it looks like they're going to do something particularly inadvisable.
Of course, it's hard to tell with his stoic face that he may be thinking of the inadvisable himself.
What| Mingling in the wake of Cecil's news broadcast
Where| District 3 Suites common area
When| After Cecil's post, all evening
Warnings/Notes| This is a mingle log and will lend itself to threadhopping, which I hope is ok. Mention of depression. Discussion of mass murder and genocide is probably gonna turn up in here. Other warnings/notes as needed.
He's only been awake for a day.
A solid day of doing nothing but sleep and wallowing in a different illness altogether than had infected the Capitol. A solid day of that ugly beast Depression that, in the wake of murdering so many directly in the arena - two he didn't know, Enjolras, Hilda, Gott, he'd killed her... - sits heavy on his chest and doesn't allow him to do much of anything besides visit the lavatory. Frankly, he'd only turned on the news by accident; he'd been attempting to make the windows that overlooked the Capitol below tint darker and cast his entire room in shadow. It was on just in time to catch Cecil's smooth voice over pirated airwaves, a hard edge to his usually flightly and inane cadence.
District 3 was gone.
And dour as he is, suspicious thoughts weave into his mind. He doesn't believe for a moment that this is because of any plague, as bad as tuberculosis is. It couldn't have spread that fast, not with them quarantining themselves like that if Cecil is to be believed (and it's too serious not to believe.) No. This is another message. Because of Ian, because of his own post, because of Eponine's very public tantrum and Starkiller's blackout in the arena, both of which he's heard mention of by now as the tv switches from program to program in the ticking of minutes and his checks on his phone of old network logs. Jessica was made to behave this way before, why wouldn't they think it would work again?
All those people...
He feels sick, but he can't imagine he's the only one, not after this news.
Gathering his wits, Albert mechanically goes through a shower and dresses himself before stepping into the common area, wary of the Capitol microphones and cameras that may be recording them but needing to discuss, needing to find out where everyone else is both literally and emotionally, and needing to help as best he can. A help which starts with copious amounts of tea, not that he imagines it will be terribly calming in this situation, but any port in a storm.
---
When the other tributes come out to the common area, there is a large tray with a steaming pot of tea and mugs enough for everyone that lives in the D3 suites, including those Albert hasn't met personally. The German has placed himself in a chair and looks gaunt and sleepless despite having slept for quite some time, but his eyes are alert and he responds readily to anyone who comes to talk to him, though he's also ready to approach others if it looks like they're going to do something particularly inadvisable.
Of course, it's hard to tell with his stoic face that he may be thinking of the inadvisable himself.
no subject
"As for the arena, I'm not sure. As you said, they could split us up, and if we do continue then you're right, we will be at a disadvantage. Even so, there are those in the Capitol that consider themselves fans of us and that love an underdog and would be willing to help. The best we can do is play to that crowd here, perhaps the sympathy card whenever we're brought into interviews." He hates to play that game, as such, but until there's more they can do - sneak of to see the District or something else - they still need to keep their own survival in mind.
no subject
She looks quite uncertain about playing the sympathy card. "You mean, I should stay thin and wear rags and beg for a coin. But I hate it when they look at me with that hateful pity in their eyes. I could punch them for every inch they show me. That is the worst, I think. But if it keeps you alive... I will do it."
no subject
"No, I don't mean dress in rags. Dress however you like, but the sympathy that we garner could very well keep us alive. It's difficult to accept pity, I know, but it's better than being deemed as no longer useful in the eyes of the Capitol and killed outright." He has no doubt they'll do it if it suits them. They killed an entire region of their own citizens, why not the mish-mash of outsiders?
no subject
no subject
"If we're dead, there's nothing more we can do to help, no one to remember the people we're supposed to be fighting for." He sighs a little and runs a hand through his silver hair. "Jessica may say she wants to die, and it does hurt badly, but to die now would kill what hope is left."
He's not sure if that makes sense, but he had to tell her something. He can't let Eponine see how heavy this is weighing on him, not when the rest of the district's members are all in a shambles. "Better to be angry and let that simmer until something can be done to direct it constructively, in the name of those who are gone."
no subject
"I don't want to feel like this any more. I just want everything to go away. I just want just a little happiness. Please."
no subject
"I know, Liebchen. I'm sorry."
no subject
no subject
He reaches out to take her hand, unsure if she wants even that much contact but willing to give it regardless.
no subject
"Thank you, Sir."
no subject
Truth be told, he needs it too.
It's the Capitol's fault for their own actions but he can't help but feel partially at fault for all they've raised a stink as a district collectively. They should have been more careful, more cunning. He knows its hypocritical, but he only really holds that guilt to himself and the Panem government, not to his districtmates at all, especially not Eponine. She hardly knows any better.