thecapitol | Boom boom boom

Entry tags:

Boom boom boom

Who| ALL people who call the Tribute center home, and anyone who might have been there on business.
What| Lock down
Where| Around the Capitol, and in the Tribute Center.
When| Feel free to tag in if you died any time in the first 3 weeks. (So if you die tomorrow, you can feel free to back tag in, if you like)
Warnings/Notes| Use this post both for threads before, around the city, and after the Peacekeepers and Avoxes gather everyone. More information about the state of the city after this will come tomorrow in the Deathroll. If your tribute character is out and about, they should expect Peacekeepers to escort them back within 15-20 minutes (and you can feel free to handwave the peacekeepers)

The people lurking around the docks, wearing plain clothes, rough clothes, might stand out among the Capitol Citizens if 'District chic' wasn't a style that came and went on a regular basis. As it was, they barely stood out, people trying too hard to look like they didn't belong and that they did, at the same time.

Sorta like everyone else around them. It was hard to act suspicious in the Capitol.

It was a bit strange, people getting on the Shore to Shore boat dressed like that. Not normally what anyone would consider club wear, but 'normal' was not highly regarded around these parts.

However, it wasn't long after the boat had left the dock that it made it's grand exit.

In an explosion that sent a fireball high into the night sky, lighting up the bay, and sending high waves lapping at the shore, the boat was obliterated. Rescue operation were swift, but there just wasn't much left to rescue.

Siren's filled the city, automated voices urging people from every street corner to return home, lock the doors, stay inside. And for the Tributes wandering the city, it was more then automated urging. Those in the Tribute training center were gather up by Avoxes, and brought down to the common room, the elevator refusing to work for anyone who wasn't in the process of gathering up Tributes, Mentors, Stylist...anyone lingering in the building.

Those Tributes not already at home found themselves flanked by Peacekeepers and escorted back, deposited in the same common room, and told to wait.

Eventually, hours later, everyone was cleared and the elevator opened, although the front doors still refused to allow anyone out without a special clearance no one was being offered. A recorded voice told them emergency alert instructions would be available for them in the morning. And then their doors locked behind them for the night.

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Ariadne had just wanted to get out a little. She meant nothing by it, just a little bit of research so she could figure out exactly what kinds of buildings she should be sketching out in order to perhaps get recognised for her abilities. It wasn't the same level of creativity that she was used to, but even now, the memories of the job were starting to fade. The need to build dreams wasn't quite there any more.

But it had all been cut abruptly short by a really unfortunate siren screaming out through the city, and then she'd found herself none too kindly escorted back to a common room. She made no secret of not liking the way they were treating her - one Peacekeeper had taken to gripping her arm until they made it there, only letting go once they got in and there was no chance of escape. She kept her remarks to herself, however, glad they let her keep her pencils and sketchbook so as least to amuse herself until further notice.

Pursing her mouth and rubbing the spot on her arm where the Peacekeeper had been holding her, Ariadne slowly moved into the room, taking a seat somewhere comfortable and settling herself in.

He'd woken up disoriented with a headache, which wasn't necessarily something unfamiliar to him. The only problem was that it shouldn't have happened here, but sure enough, the last thing he remembers clearly is falling, and then a sudden surge, and him hoping he'd break his neck when he hit the ground.

That's not the last thing he remembers, but the rest is just impressions, just enough to prove that his hopes were totally shattered. A few faces, cold and bright lights and a sort of pain that shouldn't exist, and then he really can't remember anything else before waking up here.

He was so completely fucked.

It wasn't enough for them to mess around and somehow accomplish what even he couldn't; then they had to toy with him and bring it back, and now this entire rotten country saw him tearing up inside the arena. He couldn't even escape by being boring anymore.

He's been avoiding people a lot more than usual, turning his head away whenever he sees anyone, and especially steering clear from anyone he remembers from the flashes. Especially the ones from back home. He was very, very good at making himself difficult to find when he had a mind for it, even in unfamiliar locations.

And then of course they had to bring everyone into one big room and lock them all inside. He should be paying attention, trying to figure out what happened to get the people in charge so scared, but he's spending all his time trying to stay away from people instead, hanging back from the crowd and trying to tune out the television. It's a lot harder when there's nowhere else to go, but that doesn't stop him from trying to meander around the room anyway to avoid the people he especially doesn't want to talk to, even if it means bumping into other people instead.

Katurian was crouched in the corner of the common area. Vomiting.

He monopolized the only trash can, his hands gripping the plastic rim up around his face as he struggled for air (cough wheeze c-c-cough gasp gasp gasp wheeze) and control. His eyes were sunken-in and dark like bruised fruit. His skin was the color of an eggshell.

Draco was managing to stay remarkably quiet where he sat on one side of a couch, eyeing everyone else around him. It wasn't a judging stare (except that it sort of was), but mere observation. He hadn't complained nearly as much as most of the others, perhaps because he had only just come back from that latest death. And he'd be damned if that hadn't pissed him off. Howard was number one on his shitlist now, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't thinking of good ways to kill off the other boy first chance he got.

His cheek was propped up in one hand, and though he hardly exuded a welcoming feel, he could have been far less inviting.

Since her death in the arena, Eponine hadn't been back to the training centre much. She didn't want to see herself; the clips of her wandering through the snow in in just two pieces of damp fabric which did little to conceal anything were being replayed repeatedly, and it made her sick to the stomach to see herself in such a manner. And seeing Howard's reaction after her death, too, was horrible. She'd seen how he'd tried to resuscitate her afterwards too, but of course, he hadn't realised her neck was broken. And the stares and the comments from the Capitol people were too much to bear. So Eponine had done what comes naturally to her; she had retreated into the back alleys and looming doorways and dosed off there. She'd tried to prize up storm drain covers and get down into the darkness. She'd crawled into the middle of a bush and just sat and cried.

It was whilst she was crying that the Peacekeepers had come and grabbed her, and forced her back to the Training Centre. Of course she had heard the sirens, but Eponine had chosen to ignore them, burying her head between her knees instead. How the Peacekeepers had found her was beyond Eponine. She had presumed she was invisible. But she definitely wasn't. She was pulled out from the bush, and held firmly on the upper arms by the Peacekeepers as they frogmarched her back, and pushed her into the Common Room.

Eponine stumbled as they pushed her, but saved herself. She looked round quickly at the other occupants, before retreating to a corner, where she sat on the floor, her knees pulled up to her chest, hoping against hope that they weren't going to be made to watch the death reel again.

There was one face he did recognize that he wasn't opposed to talking to, not when compared to all the other people he's avoiding. He didn't want to make a scene, draw more attention to her, though, so he waited to slip away from the rest of the room and gently approach her.

He crouched down to something closer to her height, not directly in front of her but off to the side-- he didn't want to look like he was trapping her in. Of course, once he actually got there, he had to try to think of something to say; 'hey, looks like your plan worked!' didn't seem like it'd go over too well.

"...Hey."

Yeah, that was so much better. Good work, Banner.

Eponine looked up at Bruce when he spoke, and gave him a quick flash of a smile.

"Hey there, Monsieur."

She returned to silence for a minute, before she stated, simply,
"You were killed. I'm sorry, Monsieur."

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair as he thought of how much easier this would have been if he had just gone through with it when he had the chance instead of flashing his big problems all over the camera.

"Don't be. I kinda wish it had happened earlier. I think you had the right idea of it."

And then he glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the people, watching to see if any Peacekeepers were near, before he continued.

"Though I don't think this is what you had in mind to come back to."

"I am beginning to wish I hadn't come back. All they seem to show on this television thing is me in - well, I suppose you've seen. I look like a common night girl. I had forgotten they would watch. It is not nice to see Howard crying for me in such a way... Though he has my coat, M'sieur. That is good at least."

She smiles wanly. " Why do they force us here? It was almost as if I was arrested, the way they forced me back. I just wanted food and cake - and you know they have put Javert in my floor. I have heard from M'sieur Beetee - he thought to comfort me, but Javert will arrest me. What is happening?"

Neeshka had not been pleased to be dragged back in here, especially since she'd almost-- almost!-- gotten her hands on a really fat-looking wallet when the peacekeepers had swooped down on her. She'd been half-certain they'd caught her at it, the whole way back to the training center, at least until she spotted a dozen other Tributes down here, too.

That helped her relax a bit.

About the only one in there just then who wasn't someone she either very much didn't want to talk to, or else looked totally forbidding, was one burly guy with glasses. So she sidled over and asked, sidelong, tail flicking behind her, "So what's going on? Why'd they haul us all back?"

He glanced at the tail-- he'd seen weirder, and it seemed like it wasn't unusual in this place, but he'd always been sick of people acting like they never noticed his own little problem, so he made a point of not looking away guiltily when he turned his attention to her.

He toyed with one leg of his glasses as he looked around the room for the Peacekeepers. Talking freely was probably impossible, but he could at least try and hide it a little. "They're not telling us. It's probably something big-- they've never done this before?"

He frowns in sympathy, though he's never forgot they're watching, not since he first woke up here without the other guy. "Yeah, well, if you hadn't, you'd still be there on camera and freezing, right?"

He's got no idea who this Javert guy is, besides a name that was announced in the arena, but she seems to, and he can figure out some of the context.

"I don't think any of us have the power to do stuff like that here," he says, a little hint of irony that no one's around to catch, "so you're safe from him, at least. I think something's gone down."

"He put me in prison in Paris - two months I spent in that hell hole because of him."
She spits at the floor, a sudden action, but it shows a flash of temper that Eponine generally conceals.

"I hate that man. And he hates me - I had not even done anything when he arrested me, though he says for robbery and assault and night walking besides, I'll bet. And now I must live with him."

She looks straight at Bruce now. "I am fed up, Monsieur. I am fed up of comments from these people and dying and now being locked in. Monsieur, I am FED UP. What are we supposed to have done? Most people have only just died!"

Woah, that escalated. Not that he can blame her for that, if all that's true, but it caught him by surprise.

"Hey, maybe..." But he doesn't think they'd be able to arrange another housing option, and he doesn't really think the people in charge would care at all, actually, so the suggestion he was going to make dies away. He looks behind him at the crowd after her outburst, automatically shushing her when he turns back.

"I know, I know, but listen-- you probably shouldn't say stuff like that too loudly. I don't know if people explained..." From the way she's talking, she seems sort of out of date... "that they can maybe listen in? Sort of like the television, but everywhere?"

"I do not understand how they can do that - and I do not care if they know what I think. They will not get rid of me now - I have heard men say they will sponsor me now because of what I did."

She sounds disgusted with herself as she says that, but it's true. She'ss been told over and over that she needs to entertain people, and her little strip show seems to have done the trick. She's had nothing but praise from the citizens, and even Beetee and Wiress had said nothing negative to her. Though, they had hugged her, hard. That was nice. She might not be up to speed on the magic of televisions and listening devices, but she at least knows how to play up to public affability.

"They can know over and over that I do not like what they do. I did not mind it here, but when those Peacekeepers took my arms, I feared they were going to clamp on irons again, and on my feet. EIGHT weeks, Monsieur, I have worn irons, and my hands and feet are just healed, though you cannot tell after the Capitol have finished with me. I don't want to wear irons again. I do not want to be locked in. I am FED UP. I just want - I want food, and a bed and a dress. Shoes, just a pair of shoes. That is all. We all should have that. We should NOT be treated like criminals -"

She catches herself and laughs. There's a slight note of hysteria to her voice. "Fancy, I sound almost like M'sieur Marius and his friend rallying us to fight."

"No, we shouldn't, but that's because these are really bad people," he says, firmly and careful, wanting her to understand-- he doesn't want her to ever forget that, none of them could ever forget that. No matter what people did to help them, they were still kidnapping people to fight death matches-- even if they brought them back to life afterwards. "It can be very dangerous if they think you're making trouble. They have jails here, too."

He's not sure if they do-- or, not the ball-and-chain type, anyway.

"And trying to get everyone to fight them will make them think we're making trouble."

Effie sank down on the couch next to him, marking off a little check next to his name on her tablet with her finger tip.

She looked more worried than Effie had yet to manage in so far as Draco had known her.

"I can't believe this is happening."

"Me? No - I do not ask the people to fight. Who am I to ask that? I do not know how to do such a thing. I wonder, though, if these men are so bad, why everyone goes along? I am not scared."

Foolhardy, though. She IS foolhardy. Eponine spits again, but she laughs.

"Monsieur, you are okay though? Your death did not scare you?"

Eponine shakes her head and lowers her voice to a whisper, leaning in close to Bruce.
"When we are let out of here, I am running. I am not doing it again. My Papa hid in the sewers in France - and I will do the same here. But I need help to get the grate up. Will you help me? You can come if you'll help. And if you are not scared of rats."

Valeria was not pleased. Obviously she was not the type to be put off by an explosion--not that she knew much about it, and any deaths because of the...accident? Well, it was tragic, surely, but that was no reason to stop her from doing her job, was it? She was only at the Center in the hopes of pinning down one of her Tributes for some trial runs, and now she was stuck?

Well, just because she wasn't allowed at the moment to return to her workshop and get some actual work done was no reason to sit on her behind and do nothing.

"There you are! You, Eponine, my girl, come here!" She snapped her fingers at Eponine as she strode over. With all this time on her hands perhaps she could finally do something with her hair that would actually stick.

Eponine stopped about a foot away from Draco's feet, just out of easy grabbing range. Just in case. She was twisting her hands nervously as she approached Draco. She'd seen the death clip, and her heart had sank.

"Monsieur? I am sorry for what Howard did. I did not ask him to hurt you."

It sounded awkward, stilted even in her flowery French accent. What was it? A plea for forgiveness? She felt guilty; Howard had as good as implicated her in Draco's death and she was cross with him for that.

Eponine looked up when she heard her name called, and immediately groaned when she realised it was Valeria. But still, she got to her feet and went over to the woman reluctantly.

"Madame? What is it? Are you cross with me?"

She was thinking particularly about the arena, though even now, her hair was tangled, and - was that a broken twig? And Eponine had deliberately chosen clothes that covered and hod her body shape. After her little show, she was fed up with the remarks.

"Sometimes being scared isn't a bad thing," is all he says, because it's easier than pretending he knows what everyone's rationale behind it is; he only knows his own, and he's pretty sure it doesn't match up.

"I've got a lot bigger things to be scared of," he admits, and doesn't look over at the television screen. He does, however, check over her shoulder, if not his; turning around again would be suspicious, and there's not much he can do about it if someone is listening in. He doesn't want anything bad to happen to her, not when she's just a little girl and clearly doesn't get the full extent of the problem-- but staying here is just setting her up for more bad things to happen, isn't it?

"...I'll take a look with you." Most likely scenario is they go and see it doesn't work; best case... maybe they find a way out of here. He's not that optimistic, though. "Rats aren't really big enough."

Eva never really has had a heart of stone. She knows it looks suspicious to fraternize with other District's Tributes, but if they're all going to be on lockdown she might as well offer some help to the poor man retching his guts up into a wastebin.

She kneels by his side with a towel she's wet in warm water. She almost reaches over to rub his back, but as she doesn't especially like being touched without warning, she affords him the same courtesy.

She hums Amazing Grace, giving a dramatic pause and a smirk that manages to still be sympathetic on 'wretch like me'. She likes puns.

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Boom boom boom

AROUND TOWN

COMMON ROOM

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