thecapitol | Too long I've been out here on my own [OPEN]

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Too long I've been out here on my own [OPEN]

Who| Edea Lee and all of you lovely people!
What| A Peacekeeper prodigy returns to the Capitol and gets reacquainted
Where| All over the Capitol
When| All this week
Warnings/Notes| None so far!

Prompt A - Open

Edea patrols the Capitol for most of her first week back in it, not in the typical, featureless Peacekeeper uniform but nevertheless recognizable in her manner and dress as military at a glance. It'll be her one chance to do it before the official news comes out; she wants to see what things are like on the ground, without her position coloring things. Not that the Peacekeepers here aren't still going to be intimidated by her anyway - her father's a legend and she's a prodigy, of course they'll know her - but a little intimidation's good for them. A lot of intimidation is better, honestly, but baby steps.

She's all over the city, those first days. With the Capitolites she says hello and does her best to make them feel nice and comfortable; the Peacekeepers she asks casual but pointed questions of, and sometimes accompanies for a bit on their patrols in part for the entertainment value of seeing them sweat; the Tributes she attempts to put at ease, but knows that for a lot of them she'll probably fail. That's all right.

Any fights she sees she breaks up immediately; any episodes of Peacekeeper bullying she puts down the instant she gets there, whether with harsh words or a harsh hit. The more people associate her with safety and assistance, the better, right? That's what she's here for in any case.

Prompt B - Justine

It never goes amiss talking to someone who knows the situation firsthand. The Capitol's like a pressure cooker, and Edea can easily see it's starting to boil over. She's not too broken up about it, but she's still got a job to do, and hopefully to do well. And the linchpin of this whole disaster waiting to happen is the Tributes; anyone can see they're the focus, between their own resentment and the way the Capitol's affixed so much of its politics to how they're perceived.

Who better to ask than their doctor? She's met Justine once or twice, through acquaintances in the Capitol nightlife, but doesn't really know the woman beyond her name. Still, she saunters in as comfortably as if they're old friends. She's sure Justine has been told that she's coming to the Capitol and the reason for her presence here, although it's not been publicly announced yet.

"Hope you don't mind that I didn't make an appointment, but I'm not exactly a patient. Mind if I pick your brain a little while? From what I hear, it sounds like our imports are quite a handful."

Prompt C - Cyrus

This man, Cyrus Reagan, Edea's never met. But she knows of him. Of course she does, everyone knows who the Reagans are. Cyrus has a reputation among the Capitol bureaucracy about as luminous as she has among the Peacekeepers, and now he's working on trying to keep the Tributes happy. That by itself just speaks to how badly the Capitol's bitten off more than it can chew in the Neverending Quell. Tributes and Victors have always been celebrated, always a focus, but they've never been a security threat to be appeased or neutralized before.

It'll be interesting to get his perspective on the situation. And she knows she's expected to make the visit, besides; Peacekeepers are expected to pay at least lip service to the officials calling the shots wherever they are, but especially here. And making his acquaintance could prove illuminating down the road in any case. Besides, Edea's a friendly girl, and her job is to make friends here.

So she smiles nice and bright as she shows herself into his office, closing the door behind her and settling into the chair across from him like she owns it. "Hey there! You'd be Cyrus, correct? I'm Edea Lee." She can't help that proud hint in her posture as she says her name; she's proud of being a Lee, of being heir to her father's legacy. "They tell me you were briefed on my arrival and my new position, so I figured there would be no need for formalities."

She crosses her legs and leans in, her eyes fixed on his. "So. The situation with the Tributes being what it is lately, it seems to me you're a good person to talk to on how to proceed with my job, considering how much they're in the public consciousness these days. Care to share your notes?"

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Nothing soothes first-week-on-the-job jitters like a good shopping trip. It's a known fact. So Porrim has taken it upon herself to find a new work wardrobe--her old things simply won't do. She's traipsing down the street, arms laden with glossy white shopping bags full of gorgeous new things, carefree as can be, when she realizes that the person in front of her is wearing some killer boots. She doesn't even look up the rest of the way when she calls out; it's like she's in a trance. She needs those boots.

"Sorry," she calls lightly, reaching out to tap the woman on the shoulder. "I just have to tell you, your boots are gorgeous."

It's her. His angel of fate and she's walking down the street right in front of him. Was she also brought to this strange realm? Or-- or is she a native of this place? He wishes he had D's Journal still, so that he could check the picture, so that he could verify that the woman is his angel of fate, that he's not just imagining things, but they took the book.

He opens his mouth to call to her--and then shuts it almost as quickly. For the first time in his (admittedly short) memory, Ringabel finds himself completely tongue-tied.

Edea's always happy to talk fashion, and it's been a while since she was somewhere that people would be interested, so her smile is genuine when she turns to face the other woman.

"Thanks," she says brightly, resting a hand on her hip as she cocks it to the side. "I had them made custom, but I've hardly even gotten to wear them yet. Always good to know I'm still on the cutting edge of fashion."

She looks the stranger up and down and whistles softly. "You're looking pretty good yourself, you know. What's your name, cutie?"

Edea's used to being stared at, and so it hardly registers with her anymore. She doesn't ignore it, though, because the wrong kind of stares can mean trouble. So while it's a few moments before she realizes that Ringabel is there, she does still realize that he is, and she turns to look at him.

All the color drains from her face, and she stares at him wide-eyed, as if she's seen a ghost. Because she has. Alternis is dead and has been dead for two years. To see her best and oldest friend here, looking just as she last remembers him, is cruel and unnerving in equal measure.

She can't even find the words to say to him, and so she watches him in tortured silence, refusing to take her eyes from him - as if he might disappear otherwise.

Edited 2014-10-07 23:17 (UTC)

The girl turns around, and Porrim's eyes go a little wide behind her round sunglasses, because oh no. Not only is she hot, but Porrim knows exactly who she is. Fuck. Fuck her and her inability to resist a pretty face. Or a pretty pair of shoes. This is a problem.

She smiles. "Of course." Edea Lee has always been a fashionista, everybody knows that. "Welcome back to the Capitol, by the way."

And then the younger woman is actually complimenting her, and even though she's used to being complimented, it still throws her off her guard. "Well, thank you, that's so sweet. I'm Porrim. Maryam," she adds, holding out her hand.

It's no surprise that this woman knows her. Everyone who knows anything about who's who in the Capitol knows her, even if she's been away on duty. Edea just smiles and takes Porrim's hand to shake, then beckons her new friend to come walk the beat with her. Edea's always been this way: making up for extreme youth with extreme confidence,

"It's good to be back," she replies. "Don't get me wrong, my duty is its own reward, but they just don't have much in the way of good taste out in the Districts, poor things." She laughs as if the poor state of the Districts makes her amused instead of furious.

"So tell me, Porrim, what's going on lately? What's the newest gossip? How do you like the new Tributes?"

Porrim falls into stride alongside Edea easily, carefully smoothing over any internal flusterment. After all, she has an image to maintain, and she's never been one to be shy. "I'm sure they don't," she snorts, adjusting some of her bags over to her other arm. "Not that we can blame them for that."

The woman hums softly at Edea's questions. "Well, you missed quite a stir during the Arena, I'm sure you heard. Blackouts everywhere. Vandalism, the whole nine yards. But now that the Arena's over, things appear to have calmed down. Ooh," she remembers suddenly, "one of my coworkers--I'm an escort, you see--was caught slinking out of .infinity the other night wearing nothing but a lacy red thong." She rolls her eyes, but it's clear that such gossip is positively titillating.

"As far as the new Tributes go, well, they're certainly a change from how things used to be. And some of them are rather stunning, I have to say."

"Oh, yes, I heard," Edea replies with a wry smile. "They wanted me back here to deal with all that fallout you citizens have on your hands. So, stunning as in beautiful to behold, or as in you are simply speechless from how awful they are?"

Porrim returns her smile. "A little of both, truth be told. Some of them--" She lets out a sigh. "So good-looking."

Not that she can necessarily vouch for their personalities, but she does hold a good deal of sympathy for them nonetheless. "Not that it's professional of me to say so."

Their eyes meet and he feels it, a spark, a real Thundaga-to-the-heart epiphany. He knows her. They've met, even if he doesn't remember it. This is her, this is the girl from his book, the girl called Edea. He's been preparing himself for this moment for days! Practicing exactly what he'll say to her, what eloquent words will win her heart.

His mouth opens. "Hello," he manages to croak out.

Concise, but friendly. Surely it would work.

Justine still has visible bandaging on her arm, but the rest is hidden by her clothes--a white dress, as usual. She looks up when someone walks into her office (without an appointment, but she doesn't really care about that since the paperwork was getting dull anyway) and gives Edea a bright smile.

"Edea! Of course, of course, just take a seat. Forgive my not standing to greet you--standing up and sitting down is still somewhat of a hassle."

"As hard as their Stylists work, they should be attractive, shouldn't they? It'd be an insult to their profession if you didn't think they were cute." Edea grins. "So - Escort, you said? Which District? As impeccable as you look, I'd think you could be a Stylist yourself."

She glances over at the shopping bags. "I can help you carry those, you know. And I'll be happy to show you back to wherever you're taking them. I don't actually have any official duties for the next few days, so I've got time to kill."

"Not at all, I don't expect anyone to stand at attention for me unless they're under my command. I heard about your injury." Edea closes the door behind her. As she takes a seat she leans forward, resting her elbows on Justine's desk to survey her with a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry to hear it still pains you. I heard it was one of the Tributes? If you wouldn't find the memory too difficult to bear, I'd appreciate your full account of the attack. We're going to be keeping a close eye on all violent and unpredictable elements, but the more we know the more prepared we can be."

"Exactly." Porrim laughs, waving a hand. Not that she's denying it--she knows she looks good. "Funny you should say that. I was an assistant stylist for the past some-odd years. But to be honest, it sucked the fun out of the whole thing for me. Escorting is a far better gig for me personally."

She glances down at her bags. "Oh! If you'd like--that's so nice of you." Her tone is more than a little flirty, even if she feels vaguely like a cradle-robber for that fact. "I was actually headed back to my flat."

"My full account? Well, I'm afraid it's somewhat blurred at this point, but I'll do my best."

Justine puts her work down to look off to the side and rub her temple gently.

"Let's see... Shaggy Rogers had an appointment with me. We were talking while I was getting his history. I think we were discussing his dog from home." She had been offering to take him to a kennel to see other dogs. She had been intending to pull him closer to her. "Then the power went out. It was very confusing--we were stumbling around, trying to find out what had happened for a while before..." She folds her hands together, digging her nails into her palms. "A tribute by the name of Eridan Ampora broke into my office. He was clearly targeting me, but Shaggy came between us. I panicked and tried to find something to fight with. I found a syringe full of paralytics, but by the time I did, Shaggy was already dead and Eridan attacked me. There was a struggle, and everything seemed to go so fast..." Digging her nails further into her palm. "But I was eventually able to give him the shot. I was afraid that he would metabolize it faster than a human, so I ran. And now we're here."

[I AM SO SORRY FOR BEING SO LATE]

People barging into Cyrus' office is something he's just had to get used to in recent weeks. About half of the people with access to his time actually knock, and he hasn't even bothered putting in the request for a secretary. He's prepared to say something pointed, something stern, in reply-- before that introduction.

The directness is-- god, it's a relief. Capitol politicians know they're expected to talk in full doublespeak when they want something, and the Tributes think they're expected to; to receive a greeting and a request in the same sentence wins Cyrus' favor immediately. Even the use of his first name over his title doesn't bother him as much as it usually does.

Moreover, he knows who she is. This, at least, they'd bothered to brief him on. She's no Hsiang Jiao, he notes immediately, and no Wallander - in fact, he's not sure how she could be less like either, based entirely on those first sentences out of her mouth.

He replies with cautious optimism, and friendliness that is professional, but genuine. After the last-- week? month?-- he's disinclined to match her excitement just yet.

"Well-- I have a lot of notes, Ms. Lee," he says, with a smile that pulls at just the corner of his mouth. "I'm not sure what would be most useful to a Peacekeeper. If it's information on individual Tributes you're looking for, I'm afraid most of what I can offer you is... anecdotal, at best."

He raises his eyebrows, an invitation-- Tell me what you're looking for.

Jesus. This is just - it's surreal. It's awful. Her brain is picking every inch of the man apart and noting every single way in which he's not Alternis, and yet she can't shake it. Get it together, Edea, she tells herself. This is just some stupid bureaucratic stunt. Hell, someone probably thought this would be a great little housewarming gift.

She'd really like to know who that person is so she can burn their house down.

In the meantime, she forces a smile. "Hello, yourself." She doesn't sound half as enthusiastic as she knows she should. Oh well. "And who are you?" The question comes out with a hint of accusation, and her eyes are sharp and unforgiving as she watches him.

"Thank you, Justine." Edea nods along, wearing her very best expression of concern and empathy. It's not even insincere. "Can you tell me about Eridan Ampora? He's already in our database as a troublemaker, but I'd like to hear your evaluation, having encountered him in so...distressing a fashion. You may have insights that our profiles lack. Do you have any idea why it was that he targeted you specifically?"

"Anecdotes are just what I need, Cyrus." She deliberately uses his first name. Addressing people that way serves as an equalizer - encouraging those under her in the social strata to open up, telling those few above her that she isn't going to play the typical games. "I have enough dry, dull reports on every single Tribute to make my eyes pop out from rolling so hard, and they all tell me precisely none of what I need to know. I need personal insights into the Tributes, and you're in a great position to give me just that. Even if you don't know all of them, it's your job to deal with every issue that crops up with them. Who's loud but ineffective? Who's too quiet? Who goes with the flow? Who tries to game our pettiest politics to their advantage? Who do they rally around when push comes to shove? Who do they get up in arms about when they're harmed?"

She leans back in her seat. "I haven't had time to watch the Games, and I'm not likely to get the time to catch up on my backlog anytime soon. Besides, plenty of the really important stuff never gets shown to the public. And I really don't feel like going through miles of political red tape for a crumb of intrigue, I go to plenty of parties already and I don't have time for more. I'm not here to play the bureaucrat, I'm here because things need to be done and done reliably. The faster I can cut through the dross and find what I need, the better I can do my job. And part of my job is managing these people so we don't get yet another crisis on our hands to be stomped on. Using intimidation to keep them in line can't solve every single problem that crops up. I need to know where to push and where to loosen the reins. I need to know who and what I'm dealing with."

She shrugs and gives him a smile. "Sorry, I suppose I made a bit of a speech. You know our troops, they like a good inspirational piece before they go on duty, and it ends up becoming habit after a while. But seriously, you're in a fantastic position to help me out, and the better informed I am the more safe I can help to make the Capitol. Everyone wins."

In spite of himself, Cyrus finds that that optimism is becoming... a little less cautious. The open admission that she doesn't watch the Games-- that's something he's chosen not to admit to the majority of the people he works with. That there's someone else in the Capitol not caught up in the spectacle--!

He finds his smile settling more solidly into place, and decides not to stop it.

"Well, Ms. Lee-- as someone here to play the bureaucrat, I'll certainly do what I can." Ha ha. He's already running through his mental dossier, trying to think of where to begin. What impression to give her. How to convey the enormity of their pile of recent crises, as it applies to the Tributes; how to make clear the complexity of this question.

In the end, he decides to start carefully. She has his full attention, that's clear-- he's set what he was working on aside, and his hands are on the desk in front of him as he addresses her, his tablet beside him. "...Have you spoken with many Tributes personally, since your arrival?" he asks.

Not many, is his guess, but he won't make assumptions. (The caution in his tone-- his unwillingness to make a blanket statement-- is telling.)

"Eridan Ampora..." Justine leans back and rubs her temples, closing her eyes and allowing herself to look tired momentarily. "He's a troll. Supposedly high on their totem pole, and carries around this sense of entitlement. He thinks he's better than everyone else, overestimates his own importance and capability... I don't know why he targeted me specifically, but he resents the Capitol. Maybe he considered me a representative of the Capitol, or he hoped to send a message with my death. I have a medical file on him, if you don't already have it. I've added a preliminary psychological evaluation, but it may be a good idea to ask someone a little more removed from the situation to evaluate him."

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Too long I've been out here on my own [OPEN]

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warning for some Bravely Default spoilers by association in this thread

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Re: warning for some Bravely Default spoilers by association in this thread

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