thecapitol | A Reputation For Breaking Hearts

Entry tags:

A Reputation For Breaking Hearts | OPEN

Who| Shepard and Open
What| Shepard makes her rounds (and perhaps meets a few new friends)
Where| Various spots around the Capitol, including the Reagan Mansion
When| Both before and after the end of the Contagion plot
Warnings/Notes| Possible Spoilers for Mass Effect, cussing, and ect

1: The Quarantine, soon after the broadcast about D13
The Reagan Mansion was a beautiful, sprawling masterpiece, like the architect had been a schizophrenic genius. What had really happened was that the place had once been a singular house, grand and glorious, and every part of the family to follow that original parcel had added onto it. Some hid the seams better than others. It made for an interesting walk, nonetheless, and Shepard walked along, seemingly unbothered, looking for friends, for allies, for those she knew.

People she trusted.

After all, she had something in her hand to muffle the Capitol's ears, and something good to say into that silence.

2:The Speakeasy, after Quarantine ends
What it called for, what everything usually called for, was a drink. And the nice thing about this place, hole-in-the-wall that it tried to be, was that it didn't ask too many questions before just serving your damn booze. Shepard could comfortably find a dark and shady place to hunch over her beer and not be bothered.

Or maybe she wanted to be bothered. Wouldn't be the first time she's asked someone to meet her in a bar, or been asked the same. Regardless of whether or not you've been invited, maybe you just like to drink-- or to buy drinks for clearly uninterested women. Or maybe you just need a hobby. Either way, that is Commander Shepard, and this is currently her favorite barstool in the Capitol.

3: The Traditional Post-Arena Blanket Fort, anytime vaguely after Shepard exits from the arena
The really wonderful thing about growing up was that nobody could tell you, with any legitimacy, that you were doing it wrong. When Shepard had been a child, enclosed spaces with two or more ways out had been the nearest thing to security that she'd ever had. It meant warmth and security without being trapped. It still meant that, still gave her a way to relax, somewhere in the back of her mind. Stupid. The whole idea was pure sentiment; but it was all she really had.

Well that, and an elaborate series of couches, mattresses, cushions, sheets all pinned, tucked, taped, tied or simply draped over one another. with her pile of snackfoods, Shepard was the Pillow Fort, the boss, CEO, Queen if she was feeling dramatic. It didn't matter... The Tribute Center ground floor Lobby had no titled ruler and only one rule:

Do Not Fuck With The Pillow Fort.

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Sandy was finally recovering from the announcement when she spied the pillow fortress taking up most of the lobby.

With Duck in arm she made her way to the entrance and sent him in first. The young waterfowl waddled his way inside carelessly.

Meanwhile Sandy circled around the side and squeezed in through a crack between two sofa cushions.

Joel wouldn't have come to this place - the plague is effectively over, for one thing, and for another, well. He's used to the tribute tower, and a place like this? Just makes him uncomfortable.

What gets him here, though, is Shepard's message. Lighthearted, innocuous - and not like her at all. Which means something is going on, something he probably needs to hear. So, despite his discomfort at the opulent surroundings, here he is. Approaching Shepard in a garden of some kind, like a goddamn clandestine spy meeting.

"What the hell is this all about?" he asks without preamble.

Don was...doing better. After that break, after letting it sink in, he really was. It wasn't a comfort, what happened, of course. But even in the horror, there was a relief of sorts. Maybe it was a selfish relief, in a way, but it was better than no relief at this point.

But he needed to stop. He needed to empty his mind, and control his emotions again. And so he was in one of the wooded areas, sitting cross-legged, eyes closed. He was in meditation, for the first time in some time. He had to clear himself out, and figure out what he could do, now that he was in a more...stable frame of mind.

He wasn't sure how long he'd stay out there just sitting. But he'd stay out there as long as necessary.

Shepard was lying on her back in the gloom, thinking about nothing much at all and focusing on the heartbeat-pulse of her scars-- they ached. The duck was what gave her away, waddling around, wedging it's breast through crackling chip-bags and over Shepard's extended shins. Shepard sighed; it couldn't have been Pruna, it had to be...

"Hey," she said, without moving, and did not smile, "Got a minute to talk?"

A place like this, opulent, clean, rife with the many embellishments that came with time, money, and a sense of style that brought to mind harpsichords and Machiavellian politics? It was old, no, it was antique... and that meant out-of-date. Shepard doesn't get up from the cute little garden-chair she was sitting in when he cam striding through the flowerbeds, but she's about to.

"Thanks for coming," she can't afford to look standoffish, not if this is gonna work, but that doesn't stop the twist of sarcasm through her tone, "This is going to seem pretty stupid, but I need you to trust me. Think you can handle that?"

The news of District 3 is still hanging over her when Terezi decides a walk might do her good. Not necessarily the fresh air, but the moving about is more needed. She can't sit in the suite commons forever.

Heading downstairs, she tries to avoid talking to anyone. Being out and about doesn't mean that she has to be sociable. But she stops dead when coming into the main commons and finding... a pillow fort? Her brow furrows, but there's a bit of amusement. It's strange and a bit familiar, and certainly an eye-sore for any of the Capitolites. Unprofessionalism and rule-breaking are in short supply right now.

Heading over to the fort, she wanders around the outside as far as she can before crawling into the structure to find out if the architect is home.

Of the many skills Shepard had that exemplified her as a warrior, meditation was one she had never mastered. Thane had tried, of course, as had Samara, and even Kelly. Chakwas had recommended it once-- but only once. Mordin, wise man, had suggested a more pharmaceutical intervention. She'd ignored it, of course, but at least the good Professor was practical enough to know a lost cause when he met one.

Still, she recognized the pose, legs crossed, arms loose, palms up. There wasn't much else to compare; none of the light show of Samara's Asari meditation-biotics although she supposed Donatello could be adopting as straight a spine as his spine would go. She was gentle enough, sat down next to him on the grass and only after a few minutes of waiting did she reach over and give him a shove. Two fingers against his shoulder.

"Hey Don. Got a minute to talk?"

Joel raises his eyebrows at her, looking skeptical. "Yeah, it does sound stupid, almost as stupid as your message. Would I be here if I didn't trust you?"

Because come on, Joel is just paranoid enough that he wouldn't have come here at the behest of just anyone.

She considered very closely the notion of just clocking him. If she hadn't been so acutely aware of the half-dozen cameras that were no-doubt focused in on them right now, she might've. You're a goddamn asshole, sir, but you're a damned lucky one.

So, with no further preamble, Shepard stood up and put her arms around him. Maybe if she just got on with it she could avoid making this, officially, the most awkward hug possible.

"I've got a jammer in my pocket. They can see us but they can't hear so hug me back, dammit," It was tight and fierce, and she didn't really expect him to hug him back, not at first anyways, "I've got news from an inside source; the people they brought in, your-- our families are alive. They moved 'em to D5, and according to the records they're probably still just holding them."

Joel had fallen apart like a rookie over the image of his 'Sarah' in the arena. She expected a great deal from her people, and she pushed them to their limits, but never beyond. And Joel? You are one of hers, now.

Edited 2014-07-03 03:45 (UTC)

The Queen is of course on her throne, legs propped up from knee to ankles on a pile of pillows supporting a tablet with her toes. On the screen a grizzled, artfully bloodied action hero dodges bullets and drives a musclecar through an increasingly improbably obstacle course of explosions, enemy fire, and exciting special effects set-pieces.

And yes, she has popcorn.

"Hey, close the curtain--" the nice thing about trolls is that they have distinctive profiles. There's no hiding those Pyrope horns, "...Oh. Hey, welcome back tot he land of the living."

There hadn't been a fort when Albert had left the training center that afternoon but there certainly is one now, taking up the entire floor from the entryway to the elevators to the point where one would either have to crawl through it or walk around the perimeter of the room to get back upstairs.

It's a development he doesn't particularly care for, but he's not so cruel as to simply walk through what clearly took some effort to build. Instead he paces back and forth at the front a few times, then sighs heavily (almost theatrically) and starts the trek around the outer edge to the elevators. Like hell was he going to crawl through the blanketed tunnels with his ass in the air like a child.

Yeah, the hug is both unexpected and, in fact, awkward as hell. He almost - almost - jerks away from it, it's so surprising. Needless to say, Joel is not a physically affectionate man. But he stops himself, and as he listens to Shepard, his arms go around her middle. He can't say he knows what a jammer is, but whatever.

Alive. Tess. Alive. Her words hit him like a sack of bricks and for a moment he can't breathe. How is it possible? He almost wants to ask, but he already saw her for himself. How was that possible?

Somehow, he manages not to shove Shepard away, not to glare daggers at her. After a moment, he realizes his fingers are digging into her, and he loosens his grip. His whole body is thrumming with tension.

"What the hell kinda game are you playin'?" he asks, baffled. "How do you know this? Why would they -"

Thane's method of monitoring the situation was, more or less, a very literal approach. He remained in the background, as he preferred, and watched as the chaos unfolded. He wasn't much for interfering with things, but he knew that he could step in should things get out of hand or go a little crazy. It was only a matter of time this would happen, especially with the recent broadcast.

He knew that she was coming, though. So he stayed near his room, so she would know where to find him - so they could talk. Presumably about the recent events and how to proceed with the current situation.

"This isn't a game, Joel, you're smart enough to figure out why I can't tell you how I got the intel."

Poor guy. Still he's... surprisingly strong, even when he's practically trembling with tension. Jane has to remind herself that this isn't the time.

"I trust it, though. It's weeks old, but it sounds right, and as near as I can tell, it costs them too much to bring people here just to kill them. So they don't," As bad as the Capitol could get, they weren't Reapers, no matter how hard they tried. It's all so damn unprofessinal, delivering her report in a near-mumble next to his ear, but it's the information that counts, not the fact that she can smell his soap, "Snow's dying and he's bankrupting the whole goddamn country over it, and over us. You better not cry on my nice shirt, Joel. I really appreciate that I get to put my hands on you for this, but there are limits."

How could you not be curious about a pillow fort? Mindy was walking by and there it was, standing there in all its glory. Naturally, Mindy thought this was something set up by Sandy, or maybe Clementine.

Imagine her surprise when she saw Shepard of all people.

"Oh, hey. I didn't think this was your style..."

Lyle had been busy, what with the whole "being a biochemist during a pandemic" thing going on. But Shepherd wasn't back in Tribute Tower yet, even if she would be soon, so he hustled his butt out to the Reagan place to investigate the too-innocuous invitation she'd sent.

"You're right," he greeted her when he finally, finally found her at this stupidly-huge house. "The architecture is definitely worth the trip."

He gave her a cheeky smile. "But if you think I'm climbing on it for training, you got another thing coming."

All right, Shepherd. He came out here. Why was he really out here?

All those years of heavy lifting, of not pulling his punches, yeah, he's a tough, strong guy. And he's nowhere near tears. He's closer to anger than anything else.

"Why tell me this?" he asks gruffly, pressing his face into her neck, his beard scratching over her skin. It should look authentic, right?

"Because you're a friend, God dammit," She wasn't exactly weak herself, it was just... Damn you, Joel, "And I take care of my own. Besides, we can't get them out of there, if we don't even know to ask."

Don had sensed someone coming, felt them sit nearby. However, he didn't realize who was sitting next to him until he felt the fingers pierce the calm and quiet. His head quickly turned to face the interloper.

"Shepard." He looked up and around. "Sure. What's up?"

Christ. Get Tess out. Of where, though? Joel barely even knows the geography of this place - and he knows none of them would be allowed to leave the Capitol unsupervised - probably especially after what happened with District 3.

But if Tess is alive somewhere, doesn't he owe it to her to at least try? After everything they went through, all those years, after - goddammit.

Tess. Alive. Shit. He convulsively gives Shepard another squeeze.

"What do we do?" he asks, because - honestly? He has no fucking idea how to proceed. None whatsoever.

Oh now he takes orders. Well isn't that just great.

"Right now just keep laying low. If they're in five-- I don't know. Maybe on a District visit, I'll keep an eye out," She has to breath because the next step is the hardest, the waiting game. She squeezed him back, more as a protective gesture than anything, then realized what she was doing and let it go, "When we move, it's gonna have to be fast, and I won't be able to give much warning. You follow my lead and I promise you, I'll do everything in my power to see them safe."

When Commander Shepard makes a promise, it's in very nearly the same tone as when she makes a threat-- and Shepard makes about as many idle threats as she does idle promises.

"You okay?"

In his world, he'd be gone like a shot to get Tess back from wherever she was being kept. But this place is way more advanced than his world. He wouldn't even get to the city gates before they shot him dead - or worse.

And he has Ellie to think of, too, still in the arena.

He pulls back to look at her, frowning a little. "I'm fine. Will they even allow district visits, after -?" After what happened to 3. Do they really want tributes running around the districts, enflaming the masses? Somehow, he doubts it.

"Christ, and I thought Colorado was bad," he finds himself muttering.

"You should see Omega," She can be as dry about it as she likes, but even Omega had the good sense to maintain a quarantine buffer around plague zones.

Still, it's...a little strange to be standing here like this, looking at him from less than an arm's length away, and Shepard finds herself unconsciously ducking her head and-- no, no there's really nowhere to look.

Oh, this is just fucking ridiculous.

"I don't know if they will, but until we have more support from outside, information is the only weapon we got. You still trust me?"

"I made contact with a friend, they gave me some interesting news," She stressed friend very slightly, eyes intent, "And a li'l present to go with it, so that we can't be overheard talking about it. I hate eavesdroppers."

Her smile was even more grim than usual.

"Just a few things I thought you might wanna know."

"You don't have to keep askin' that," he says quietly, tucking a finger under her chin so she can't look away for a moment.

"Let me know. Whatever you hear, whenever - I have to keep Ellie safe, but. That's my partner they've got." And if they've touched a hair on Tess's head, they'll pay for it in blood. All of them.

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A Reputation For Breaking Hearts | OPEN

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