thecapitol | To the leader, the pariah, the victor, the messiah

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.

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There were a lot of things on Terezi's mind when she finally got back to the Capitol. It's been a harrowing arena for her. She needs to check on Fraysong, and find out if her fears were realized about Xanthous. She needs to check on Dave, who practically deserves a punch in the teeth--right after she assures herself that he's still alive. She needs to find Meulin and to make sure that she's okay. She should probably check on Carlos, given how she ditched him like that. She needs to find out who that new tribute was, the one who killed Fraysong.

All these thoughts are spinning about in her head when the news hits. It's not the initial broadcast, it's a repeat; but it tells her everything that she needs to hear. And everything else stops mattering for a little while.

District 3 is gone. The people she represents. Even if she never asked for it, she had a responsibility to them, and now they're just... gone. Dead.

It's difficult to breathe for a moment as the shock and realization seeps into her. She had warned Albert that they might retaliate on the district, but she hadn't imagined something like this. Even growing up in a society that condoned murder, she couldn't fathom this widespread destruction. Even Alternia wouldn't have gone this far, and that was saying something.

When Terezi finally ventures out of her room, she still looks a little dazed. But there are others living here too, and she's composed enough not to fall apart in front of anyone. She takes a seat near the table and frowns at the tea, a little lost in thought. For once, there's no trace of a smile or a laugh in her. She's not brazen enough to joke about this. The deaths of those people don't deserve to be made into a joke. They deserve retribution.

Eponine had collapsed on the sofa when Jessica had asked her to come back. Her drip, still dribbling nutrients into her, was next to her: she had no idea how to disconnect it. But Eponine had no intention of moving further for the moment anyway. She doubted she could stand. She hoped everyone else was sensible enough to wear a gas mask. She'd killed enough people without killing more from tuberculosis.

Love or hate Eponine, though, she was sorry for what she had caused. She twisted the Capitol cuff, loose now on her skeletal wrist, about without stopping, until it began to chafe her skin. She was so sorry, so shocked at what had happened. Glumly, she looked at the tea as Albert placed it down.

"When do you think they'll come for us? I don't think they'll want us to die quickly. They'll show people, to shut them up."

She's quiet when she enters the Third District's floor. It feels oddly like intruding really, like she doesn't belong in this sort of mourning. It's a blow to her, the sudden loss, but these people met them. Spoke to them, held a hand or just smiled, it didn't matter because they weren't just faceless people to those in this room. After Signless and Karkat, she's a little emotionally exhausted, but she couldn't just leave her moirail to face this alone.

So she's silent as she steps around the various tributes and finds Terezi, looking at a cup. Her hand is gentle on her shoulder, no words just yet. Let Terezi talk first.

"I can pour it for you, if you like."

Albert's voice is soft and weary, at its core sympathetic despite the coldness to it. There's a little bit of that same numbness to everyone in the district 3 suites tonight. Who can blame them?

"Or make something else if you like. I don't know what helps for Trolls, only Humans."

"I don't think they will, but if they do I don't intent to let them have their way." He sits down nearby, apparently unaffected by any worry of his catching consumption from Eponine or anyone else.

"How are you feeling? Physically, I mean." Obviously they're all doing terribly on an emotional level so there's no real point in asking about that.

"Put a mask on, Sir." She said tiredly. But then she caught herself and laughed.
"You 'll be better dead from this than anything else."

For a moment, she just laughed , her harsh, grating laughter loud in the quiet.

"Me? Tired , Sir. My legs shake to walk. It aches all over. And they can't let me lose weight or I'll die."

Hence the drip on top of normal food. Already dangerously underweight before the TB, Eponine 's losing weight fast.

"This is my fault , you know?" She added quietly.

"I've been vaccinated." He looks at her for a moment, remembering the century she's from and the education she may not have had to know that word. "I'm immune, I can't catch it." But her laugh is both good and painful to hear and so he lets her finish her little chortle before continuing their conversation.

"We should order you something fattening to eat, maybe. A cake or a... deep fried twinkie." He wrinkles his nose, Jet having made him try one when they went to a state fair together a lifetime ago. It was disgusting, but if she needed to gain weight then that would do it. Just smelling it had made Albert feel 10 pounds heavier.

At the last, he shakes his head, keeping his voice very low and gentle despite just how far he's had it with the Capitol. "No, it's the fault of those who dropped the bombs. Who brought us here against our will and continue to torment us. They'll try to place the blame on us, but we're not the ones who gave the order."

"But we shouted back to them. God, I threatened all sorts for Ian. He didn't deserve to come here. Me, I am scum. It don't matter what they do to me. But he? He was a good boy."

She twisted her capitol cuff about and about until it grazed her and drew blood. It hurt and she gasped, but the physical pain helped the emotional and she began to twist it again.

"What is twilnie?" She means twinkie. "They feed me milkshakes , Sir, and porridge and scramble eggs."

"Yes we shouted, and we have every right to shout because what they're doing is wrong." He slams his fist down on the arm of his chair then has to take a moment to pause and collect himself. That sort of attitude isn't helping now, no matter how he'd love to go straight to the President and make him pay. An order like that, it has to come from the top.

Instead, he reaches out with his gloved hand - he's not sure why he's wearing them, his hands are back to flesh and blood this side of the arena, but it's probably better given that she's bleeding now - and places it over Eponine's wrist. "You'll only hurt yourself more, stop that. And a twinkie is a sort of a cream filled cake. Milkshakes work too, though."

"They're not coming for us." Terezi is keeping a wide berth between her and Eponine. She's not yet aware of the pandemic that's struck the Capitol while she's been in the arena, but she knows a sick person when she smells one. The last thing she ever wants or needs is to get sick, regardless of what exactly she has.

"If they planned on doing anything to us, they would have already done it. If that reporter was right, they already made their move. A week ago, when they destroyed the district." Our district, she wants to say. But it feels crass, when it belongs more to some people on this floor than to others. She barely knew those people, even if she did want to help them.

"Besides, we're in the public eye. We have fans," Terezi adds a little bitterly. "They can't expect to neatly hush it up if they annihilate all of us, too."

"Don't care." His hand trapped hers though.
"I have hurt so many people, Monsieur. All of those people, dea d." Eponine shook her head.
"We have to do something! We can't just wait to see what happens. We need to go to District Three and see and we need to hide."

"Fans ! Pah! My fans were the children, the girls who love men who don't see them, and who have bad days. The Capitol has killed my fans , and leaves only torturers who like to see bad things happen to me." Eponine coughed into her sleeve, turning it over in an effort to hide the blood.
"What do you think will happen to us ?"

Ian had only just got out of the arena and to the Reagan house when he heard. He came back to the district 3 suite because he wanted to see everyone, even if they were ill.

The tea was welcome, although it a dash of something stronger would have improved it. "I think this needs more than just tea."

"A cup of tea will help." Ian was equally stunned, but British and if there was one thing he knew it was that tea was good in a crisis. Whether or not Terezi wanted one, he still poured a cup and held it out to her.

Ian hadn't seen Eponine for a while and was shocked at how thin and ill she looked. Although he went over to her, he kept his distance, fearing she still hated him for getting the other Ian captured and tortured. "They won't come for us," he said quietly. "They don't need to."

"I care. Don't make things harder on yourself, or on Jessica. She and Eddie are from the District, meaning all of their family is gone. They'll need us for support. Your actions cause reactions in those around you. Remember that."

He lets out a quiet breath, nodding. "I agree, but running off without a thought out plan is dangerous, and I'm not sure about hiding. Where would we even go to do that that the Capitol cannot reach us?"

Plus he's not leaving without Jet. It's out of the question.

Silently, Albert pulls a small bottle from his pocket. He's keeping the alcohol away from the younger tributes and from Jessica, as he's afraid she'll drink herself to death if she gets her hands on it, but Ian's right and Albert's own mug already has a generous shot of the whisky-like substance in it. He adds one to Ian's as well.

"It needs more than this too, but it's what we have for now." He raises his mug in a small mock toast and sips at the poor imitation of a hot toddy. A moment later he sets the mug down lightly and looks at Ian, face drawn.

"About the arena... I'm sorry for what happened. We're not normally so aggressive and you hadn't done anything." he rubs a hand over his face, palm brushing the light snowy stubble on his chin. They must have shaved him when he arrived back in the Capitol but a day in bed still produces a little silver on his face.

"It's just a cut - God, I deserve my whole head chopped off for what I have done!" Eponine snapped. She tried to snatch her hand away from Albert's.

"They won't want me anyway - all of this is my fault. I shouted about Ian. I called them stupid and threatened - well, how could I have done any of it? All I wanted to do was have him once more so I could say goodbye, you know? I didn't think... they must hate me. I'd hate me. But don't you see?"

It was her turn to clasp at Albert. "Don't you see that that is why I must save them from being executed by the Capitol as well? When they come for us... or them. Perhaps not us. They might just split us up in different Districts. Or perhaps they're lying to scare us? THAT'S why we must go and see!"

"That's more than you deserve." She shot back at Ian with a snort. The snort turned into a cough and she hid her face in the sofa back so she could wipe away the blood. But she was quiet then, twisting her cuff around and around her wrist - that stupid cuff that marked her as a troublemaker and that lay blame, at least part of it, on her. She felt stupid. It wasn't what Ian deserved. It wasn't his fault that the Capitol had stolen the other Ian and tortured him instead... they had killed a whole District because she mouthed off.

After a minute, she sighed. "No... no, it's not. It's more than I deserve. I am sorry, Sir."

Speaking of people who need punches in the teeth, Dave meanders into the District Three suites with the air of someone not sure he's supposed to be there. He'd bickered with Elsa over her outburst and he'd been looking for a way to cool off by wandering around the tower alone. He feels awful, in a lot of ways. It's not like he's unfamiliar with mass destruction, but this feels more real than the virtual reality he's been experiencing for years back home. The reality of people dying and not coming back is grim, particularly when people are so adamant that it's the fault of tributes and rebellion.

It's heavy. Heavier and more heartfelt than any Nic Cage film he's been forced to sit through. Until now, he hadn't been keeping up with the news, but he knows Terezi is in District Three. The least he could do is check on her now, since he didn't have the heart to watch over her when she was in the Arena without him. He doesn't step too far into the room, not wanting to harsh people's mourning by loafing around, he just calls out to Terezi from a distance.

"Hey." He cocks his head toward the door, trying to coax her out. "You got a minute?"

"All you did was speak." He snaps back, close to the end of his rope as it is. "All I did was speak! All anyone did-"

He has to take a second to calm himself. It will do no good to cause a scene.

"Save who, Eponine? The District is already gone. We're all that's left if what we've been told is true. If they wanted us dead, we'd be dead by now. I don't see what they gain by lying, either." He chews his bottom lip for a moment, settling back to hold her hands instead of her fingers digging into his arms. "I do agree we should see somehow, though. Find out what really has happened."

"jESSICA!" She shouts."Jessica and Eddie - you are not so stupid to see that they alone are left, are you? They are the only ones left! Why not kill them so it is all done?"

She shakes her head in frustration. "I am not used to being listened to. In Paris, I could say as I like and nobody listened. But here, always they pry. I have had so many in trouble for me because I forget, I am so stupid. But perhaps there is a chance - I have seen it and heard it in Paris, that when some men are executed, the living rise back. Surely they know this here in this clever place? Perhaps it is just a lie to scare us to be quiet?"

"Thanks." Ian smiled and raised his mug as well and sipped from it. The kick from the alcohol was just the thing.

He shook his head at Albert's apology. "It's the arena, it has that affect on people. He'd done the same sort of thing himself, on other occasions. "I needn't have bothered protecting Susan, as it turned out, as she's the one who killed me."

He looked worried at her cough, but he couldn't do anything to help and didn't particularly want to catch it, so he stayed where he was. "It's more than any of us deserve. No one should be hurt as an example to others."

"Yeah, well." Eponine snorted a laugh. "Do you not notice, Sir, or they always hurt another. YOU hurt Ian and now he is dead. Pah. This place is wicked and I don't care who hears it. What more can they do to us?"

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