NOW THERE'S A FUCKING GLADIATOR (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gladiayyygirl) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-07-30 09:41 pm
gladiayyygirl) wrote in thecapitol2014-07-30 09:41 pm
Entry tags:
Temptation greets you like your naughty mate
Who| Gannicus & open to all
What| Gannicus is going to show everyone in the Capitol how a true Celt drinks. And then he's going to show everyone how a true Celt deals with the hangover.
Where| Every bar within stumbling distance, then back to the D9 suites, then the training room the next day.
When| Pretty much every day during and after the mini arena. Feel free to set a time in your tag-in!
Warnings/Notes| Terrible language, including the linked yt video in the first prompt!
i. Early Evenings - Central Commons bar
The Capitol has many, many interesting bars but Gannicus is yet to visit them all. It will take him years, he thinks, and isn't that the best way to spend your captivity? In the early evening he limits himself to the bar in the tribute centre, where he lines up glass after crystal-cut glass of pink and orange fizzes laced with what he is promised is the most fashionable alcohol in town. With their powers combined, Gannicus can easily forget the fact that he isn't meant to be here. There's a rebellion he's supposed to be a part of, thousands of years and millions of miles away. But he's powerless to return, and a haze of alcohol makes that easier to deal with.
He's missing a shirt, as usual, but seems to be in remarkably high spirits. He'll raise a glass in cheer of any and every fellow Tribute that passes by, and may even be tempted to teach them the traditional song of his people...
ii. Late evening - Capitol Bars
He's been out and about in the bars that are closest to the Tribute centre now that the bartenders recognise him now. With a wink and a smile they coax him in to trying ever more spectacularly potent cocktails - we have just the thing for you tonight, have you tried this one? And so on and so forth.
He gets through every drink every time, surprising no-one. He drinks, he sings, he laughs and tells stories about the great (and not so great) men he has killed in his times and the scars they gave him in repayment. Gannicus thinks he knows what these people want now: they want bloody and glory and entertainment and as long as they keep supplying him with wine he is quite happy to pretend that he was fine with that. It was a familiar tune. It was just how it worked.
iii. Early hours of the morning - Tribute Centre
On unstable legs Gannicus weaves his way through the Tribute tower in an attempt to find wherever the hell it was somebody had moved the District Nine apartments. He could swear blind that they weren't where they were when he left. Walking like Bambi on ice and with the rooms and corridors feeling like they are spinning faster at every wrong turn, Gannicus traces a hand along a wall as he walks if only to anchor himself somehow.
"Apologies," He mutters slowly as he accidentally shoulders in to yet another concerned Avox, before stumbling past and fumbling his way through another door in to a room that definitely isn't the one he's looking for.
iv. Midmorning - D9 Common Area
He finds his home suite eventually but apparently doesn't make it as far as his own room. The next morning Gannicus can be found sprawled across the couches, legs akimbo and still mysteriously missing his shirt. There's no snoring, no talking in his sleep; having solidly passed out, Gannicus has finally hit the 'dead' stage of 'dead drunk'.
v. Afternoon - Training Room
One of Gannicus's (few) redeeming features is at least he works just as hard as he plays. After a morning of sprawling in the District Nine suites he finally pulls himself in to enough of a semblance of a human being again to stumble down in to the training room. Once there, he works a tireless routine around the different sets of weaponry, pushing and testing himself on each to his utmost limits. He sweats hard and works harder, but it's nothing he isn't used to. Compared to training in the ludus - beneath a baking sun and with the lash at his back - this was nothing. This was child's play.
Not that it stops him from sipping from a pitcher (actually a flower vase, liberated from the District Nine rooms) of something that smelled suspiciously like red wine every half hour or so.
What| Gannicus is going to show everyone in the Capitol how a true Celt drinks. And then he's going to show everyone how a true Celt deals with the hangover.
Where| Every bar within stumbling distance, then back to the D9 suites, then the training room the next day.
When| Pretty much every day during and after the mini arena. Feel free to set a time in your tag-in!
Warnings/Notes| Terrible language, including the linked yt video in the first prompt!
i. Early Evenings - Central Commons bar
The Capitol has many, many interesting bars but Gannicus is yet to visit them all. It will take him years, he thinks, and isn't that the best way to spend your captivity? In the early evening he limits himself to the bar in the tribute centre, where he lines up glass after crystal-cut glass of pink and orange fizzes laced with what he is promised is the most fashionable alcohol in town. With their powers combined, Gannicus can easily forget the fact that he isn't meant to be here. There's a rebellion he's supposed to be a part of, thousands of years and millions of miles away. But he's powerless to return, and a haze of alcohol makes that easier to deal with.
He's missing a shirt, as usual, but seems to be in remarkably high spirits. He'll raise a glass in cheer of any and every fellow Tribute that passes by, and may even be tempted to teach them the traditional song of his people...
ii. Late evening - Capitol Bars
He's been out and about in the bars that are closest to the Tribute centre now that the bartenders recognise him now. With a wink and a smile they coax him in to trying ever more spectacularly potent cocktails - we have just the thing for you tonight, have you tried this one? And so on and so forth.
He gets through every drink every time, surprising no-one. He drinks, he sings, he laughs and tells stories about the great (and not so great) men he has killed in his times and the scars they gave him in repayment. Gannicus thinks he knows what these people want now: they want bloody and glory and entertainment and as long as they keep supplying him with wine he is quite happy to pretend that he was fine with that. It was a familiar tune. It was just how it worked.
iii. Early hours of the morning - Tribute Centre
On unstable legs Gannicus weaves his way through the Tribute tower in an attempt to find wherever the hell it was somebody had moved the District Nine apartments. He could swear blind that they weren't where they were when he left. Walking like Bambi on ice and with the rooms and corridors feeling like they are spinning faster at every wrong turn, Gannicus traces a hand along a wall as he walks if only to anchor himself somehow.
"Apologies," He mutters slowly as he accidentally shoulders in to yet another concerned Avox, before stumbling past and fumbling his way through another door in to a room that definitely isn't the one he's looking for.
iv. Midmorning - D9 Common Area
He finds his home suite eventually but apparently doesn't make it as far as his own room. The next morning Gannicus can be found sprawled across the couches, legs akimbo and still mysteriously missing his shirt. There's no snoring, no talking in his sleep; having solidly passed out, Gannicus has finally hit the 'dead' stage of 'dead drunk'.
v. Afternoon - Training Room
One of Gannicus's (few) redeeming features is at least he works just as hard as he plays. After a morning of sprawling in the District Nine suites he finally pulls himself in to enough of a semblance of a human being again to stumble down in to the training room. Once there, he works a tireless routine around the different sets of weaponry, pushing and testing himself on each to his utmost limits. He sweats hard and works harder, but it's nothing he isn't used to. Compared to training in the ludus - beneath a baking sun and with the lash at his back - this was nothing. This was child's play.
Not that it stops him from sipping from a pitcher (actually a flower vase, liberated from the District Nine rooms) of something that smelled suspiciously like red wine every half hour or so.
no subject
"Many a worthy man have laid claim to title of doctore, but never have I known such as small in stature as you stand now," He drunkenly rambled as if Mindy hadn't said a single word. He pliantly followed her lead, trusting her to lead him to somewhere that might potentially have something he can drink.
"You know the word, do you not? 'Doctore'?"
no subject
"If you mean doctor, no, that's not me," she said. "I'm not much of a mender. I tend to break things, rip them apart, dismember them, that kind of shit. Doctoring, not so much."
Unless Doctor meant mentor, in which case? She could talk a bit about that.
no subject
He turns a little, trying to suddenly hold Mindy at arms length as he solemnly informs her:
"I have seen your victory, Mindy Macready. You are fucking doctore of District Nine."
He leans forward again, still a picture of drunken sincerity.
"Small of stature, but of deadly purpose."
no subject
Ah well. Past was past.
"What do people usually say in this situation. Oh yeah. 'My reputation preceded me.' Something like that. But yeah, right on all counts there. And right now my deadly purpose is to get you inside so you don't puke all over the floor and gte the Peacemaker's panties in a bunch."
no subject
"I do not part with stomach so easily," He reassured her, words booming along the corridor despite the fact that most of the tower would be asleep at this hour. Gannicus eyed the bottle in her hand. "You seem to be of a mood for drink yourself, Mindy Macready..."
no subject
"Good, you're an expert at this then," she said, looking around anxiously in case somebody was going to stick their head out and be pissed off. "Yeah, well. Let's say I'm burning the midnight oil, and I need to stay up a bit, minus the caffeine."
Only one of the reasons, actually.
no subject
He makes a half-hearted attempt to liberate the bottle from her hand, asking as he did:
"What task is it, that seizes mind?"
no subject
"Some work that I need to do," she said with a crafty grin. "If you relax your hands, we can share the bottle though. Don't usually get to drink with decent company."
The last time she HAD was with Carlos, after all.
no subject
"You would share?" Touched, he pressed a hand against his bare chest and slackened the arm around her shoulder so he could stand back to smile down at her reverently. "Mindy Macready, you stand benevolent fucking goddess."
no subject
"I don't know anyone who'd be stupid enough to turn down a drink and talk with a gladiator," Mindy replied, and meant it. In her line of work it was rare to find someone who really knew what it was like to get down and dirty, and even rarer someone who wouldn't try to bemoan her lost childhood.
"We'll have a glass of water somewhere too. Hangovers are no joke, as I learned from experience. By all means, keep the compliments coming!"
A goddess, her! Maybe that crazy one with all the heads, or that one that hunted. That would be a pretty cool comparison.