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.

Threaded | Flat

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

A hard drink is what she needs after a day like today. Having to cull her trip to the manor early and risk infection all to return to rough up the man who shared her partner's name. Russian women need strong drinks, so when she rattles off liquors with high content values, she doesn't care who all hears.

In her peripheral she recognizes someone. What better way to enjoy a drink than to enjoy it in good company? Gathering her glasses onto a tray to take with herself (yes, there are multiple), she makes her way over with ease.

"Do you mind?"

After everything that's happening, Kankri can't help wanting some kind of security. And Shepard is good at providing that, in her frank, no-nonsense kind of way.

Also, pillow forts were always nice, though you'd never get Kankri to admit that he finds comfort in something so childish.

So he crawls inside and makes himself comfortable, nodding hello to Shepard.

"I didn't really see anyone while I was in the Arena. Have you been doing well, Jane?"

And he holds out a bag full of donut holes to her. He doesn't feel up to cooking right now, but it feels customary to have some kind of food with her, after their breakfasts in the D5 commons.

It's major deja vu when Starkiller sees the blanket fort. He remembers the first time he saw it, he had judged Shepard a lot- he'd been stupid then. Too cocky, too judgmental. He's come a long way since then- but the biggest difference here is that he can't talk anymore- so even if he did want to judge her, he can't.

But he doesn't, and he wouldn't if he could.

He knows he ought to move along, that as an avox he has no place here- but he can abuse loopholes in order to check in on Shepard. His job is to help, they never specified that he can't help with things like this. So Starkiller leaves for a while, gathering up a few things.

When he returns, he's holding a few more blankets and pillows, as well as a small bag of various snacks from the kitchens. Part of his job is to serve people food, after all. A part of him is afraid he'll get punished for this, but he's trying hard as he can to ignore it. It's his way of trying to make up for the last time the pillow fort was there, as well as to check in on her. He hasn't seen her in a while.

With the supplies in hand, he peeks his head into the fort.

This place was, well, as comfortable as it was possible to get behind enemy lines. Oh, and this was definitely behind enemy lines, but the atmosphere and the promise of a conversation that was actually safe from government ears? That was worth the moment of displaced comfort.

So, he sits at the bar, drinking an odd drink that's in a martini glass. He has no idea what it is, but he thinks it was meant to look like a shield and with him having fought with a shield the entire arena, so he supposes it makes sense that when he sat down they sat this in front of him. And he's far too polite to decline something given to him like this. He'll just get a beer when he's done with it.

Edited 2014-07-08 05:13 (UTC)

He doesn't immediately search for her or seek her out. A kismesis must be at the top of their game to properly tear down their partner and step the fuck over. Weakness is death, it is injury, it's a way to, quite frankly, get dumped for being too pathetic and not enough of a challenge. But he doesn't have it in him. He doesn't have the energy for tearing into her right now. He's dizzy with drugs, adrenaline high because finally capitol was letting their fucking honesty show and he warned everyone, and he's dragging along in things (Mituna, Mituna, his moirail, his beloved) he can't deal with at all.

And, yeah, maybe he's a little annoyed over catching certain recaps ( "So is it true you're hatedating the Initiate?" "No, I'm not."), a little bitter, and a little thinking she was dodging before they'd even begun. But fuck that. He doesn't care. Not at all. No. He doesn't at all have the voices of the Capitolite talk show narrators snickering away in his head.

He arrives hours after the announcement and then he spends a fair bit more wandering, fucking around, not thinking. He's certainly not looking for her or even expecting her really. So when he sees her face, even in all how much shit he feels and looks, his face and mood manage to sour more.

It was his turn to sneak in on her. He walked towards the entrance of the pillow fort, making sure his footsteps were purposeful and just a bit noisy. It was similar to those moments during which he had met her. There would be a distraction, then he could sneak in and make the kill. (If it wasn't broken, don't fix it.)

After a few moments, anyone inside would hear nothing - just dead silence.

In those few moments of silence, Thane would make his way inside with all of the effort and grace that he had on the job. He had gotten into the fort previously, so it would be a shame for him to not get it right this time.

He was careful not to make a sound, except perhaps the rustle of blankets as they fell behind him once he was inside.

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