How do you drink when there's blood in the water?

[burningdaylight]

Who| Luke and anyone ever!
What| Newcomer Luke is struggling to come to terms with this new way of life imposed on him and is feeling pretty overwhelmed.
Where| All over the Capitol. He's taking a particular interest in the shops because, holy shit, supplies!
When| October 20, at least a few hours before curfew.
Warnings/Notes| Spoilers for all of TWDG s2 appear here and there so I'm tucking this under a cut.

[Something’s wrong.

 

Luke doesn’t know when he first notices his chest rising and falling and senses his pulse, soft and quivering, in his throat. And there’s no raw, tearing pain of water flooding his lungs, no knifing gulps of air while struggling with busted ribs. He probes his side cautiously as he sits up, staring wide-eyed about the room. He’s okay. His leg’s okay too, he realizes, even though he sees the bloodied, ragged hole torn through his pant leg, he pokes his finger through it, and knows it’s impossible for him to have recovered so soon. Even if someone had dragged him out of the lake and patched him up with the best of supplies.

Then the rest of his memory catches up and it all comes crashing over him – Nick and Pete and Carlos and Sarah and Alvin and Rebecca – and it sucks the air out of him, his eyes stinging, the room spinning on its own axis. But before he’s had any time to sort out his thoughts strangers – peacekeepers - are crowding him, not caring for his questions and unmoved by the defiance in the set of his jaw. They speak of punishments and then of ritualistic slaughter like it’s an honour. They tell him of districts and a Capitol and a new life imposed on him, one shock leading to the next until a communicator and a map are suddenly being pressed into his hands and he’s being showed out, his head feeling thick and heavy and aching fiercely.

This can’t be real – this can’t be right. But here he is, alive and wandering the streets of the Capitol, staring helplessly through windows at the shops stocked with fresh food and clothes and reeling as he takes in the glitz and glamour of it all. The luxuries of a bygone era. It’s so bright and so clean and his hands are almost trembling when he’s able to snatch some fruit – something unrotten for the first time in months – and bite into it greedily. Juice dribbles down his chin and it’s good, it’s so mindlessly good a gaping pit in his stomach opens and he doesn’t – can’t - stop at one apple. All he can taste is the blessed sweetness and tanginess and he almost forgets that all this comes at the price of blood.

There’s almost always a catch.]

Comments

[smarterthanthem]

Luke?

[The voice comes from behind him while he's staring up at some storefront, all goggle-eyed in wonder at the glamour and opulence that is the Capitol, eating away at an apple.

It's taken a couple minutes for Clementine to make the decision to approach him, after making sure it really was him. It's been six months for her since she met that group of people, six months since she was taken away to Panem to take part in their Hunger Games. A long time from her perspective.

But she remembers him, hard not to when their first introduction had been him and Pete saving her life, then Luke dropping her on her butt thinking she was bit by a Walker. He'd gotten better after though, he'd been nice.]

Is that you?

[burningdaylight]

[Last thing Luke needs right about now is a jump-scare and he realizes just how dangerously distracted he was when he starts slightly at the sound of her voice. Lost in some unfamiliar settlement, he hadn’t expected anyone to know him by name much less to hear someone familiar so soon. He places her voice in an instant and feels his chest tighten viciously when he turns and finds her there, coatless. Breathing. Alive.]

Clementine...!

[Luke stares, his lips parting to say something more. But nothing comes for a moment while he struggles to reconcile what his last memory of her with what he’s seeing now. He shakes his head helplessly, torn between relief and a deep, wrenching worry.]

[smarterthanthem]

Luke!

[She runs the short distance left between them, looking distinctly different in a light purple dress with leggings underneath, dug out of the acceptable pile of clothing the D6 stylists have given her. The hat is still there though, sitting battered, dirty and proud on top of her head, quelling any doubt at all that it was her. It's the only part of her that's dirty though.

Clementine stops right in front of Luke, the shock evident on her young face.]

I can't believe... it's you! I never expected -- when did you get here?!

[burningdaylight]

[One look at her face and his brows go up, his expression softening, full of apology.] Jesus, Clem... for a moment there I wasn’t sure if--

['--you made it.' He lets out a breath, just shaking his head a second time. Breathing and breathing and collecting himself.] It doesn’t matter. I’m jus’... jus' glad you’re alright.

[But something about the phrasing of her question puts a furrow between his brows - and the longer he considers the situation the less things add up. Healthy and clean, she's in the best shape he’s ever seen her and in different clothes than he remembers, but they both are. Neither of them are dressed appropriately for the winter and yet it’s strangely comfortable here, as if they hadn’t been shivering fiercely on their long trek north what felt like only hours before.]

To be honest, I don’t know… [He wishes he knew where the hell here even was in relation to the lake and to Wellington. It’s an incredibly densely populated area from what he's seen and the bounty of readily accessible foods and materials makes Carver’s compound seem like an empty closet in comparison. It’s as if this place was entirely passed over by the infection. The idea alone is hard enough to wrap his head around.]

Hell, I was hopin’ you might have a better idea.

[Broken ribs took close to a month to heal in his experience. That’s time, so much missing time he can’t explain, so many blanks in his memory, and it bothers him.]

Look... [He wets his lips, looking left and right, his voice dropping low] ...all I know is nothin’s been makin’ a lick a’ sense since I woke up. But if this place is what people say it is, we can't be gettin' too comfortable. It ain't safe, alright?

[smarterthanthem]

[If she was real? Or -- but he's changed the subject. The last she remembered Luke he had been back at the house while she'd gone out with Nick and Pete,.That hadn't been going well... but Luke wouldn't know that they'd run into trouble then, right? It had just happened when the Capitol took her away.

It's bizarre to think about, a memory that was six months ago for her might be just hours ago for Luke.]

Yeah, I have a pretty good idea.

[The expression on Clementine's face is plenty serious before she looks at the apple he was eating, struck by an idea. Going for food doesn't look suspicious and a crowded restaurant means less chance of being overheard by the Capitol's microphones.]

It's not. Come on, I know a good place for burgers, we can go there and talk. I can explain everything for you there.

[She almost said ice-cream before remembering her own misadventures with dairy and other rich foods in her first weeks in the Capitol. It'd be pretty bad to have Luke throw up on top of everything else, this is going to be bad enough for him to hear without making him sick.

Certain Luke wouldn't object to the idea of a fresh-cooked burger she's already turning away, beckoning him to follow.]

[burningdaylight]

[The look on her face gives him pause. There's a reason why she’s insisting on explaining the situation elsewhere and all he can do is defer to her knowledge. Better her bringing him up to speed than anyone else.]

Yeah… [He pulls in a slow, steadying breath, letting it out through his nose. There isn’t much deliberation on his part.] Yeah. Alright.

[He has another look around before moving to join her, keeping at her side.] We’re talkin’… real burgers?

[smarterthanthem]

Real burgers.

[This she can talk about without worrying. Clementine looks up at Luke with a reassuring smile, the best she can manage.]

Real beef, real bread and vegetables and all the ketchup you want. And fries.

[Luckily they're not far away from the place, it'll take about five minutes walk to get there. There is one question she belatedly remembers to ask though, one she's pretty sure she'll get a yes to considering he had that apple unless he stole it]

They gave you a bank card, right? With all the other stuff?

[aintyourdad]

Might wanna slow down a little there. [ Joel's voice is easy, calm, unhurried. He doesn't recognize this guy specifically, but he knows the look, knows the actions of someone who's been without for a while.

Knows the temptation to just eat everything in sight, all too well. ]

You'll make yourself sick.

[burningdaylight]

[To Luke’s credit, he had tried and damn hard to pace himself - but all hope was lost after that second bite. Peaches or pineapple from the can was about as good as it has been in weeks and those were rare and typically drenched in syrup.]

Right. [He looks to the apple core in his hand, huffing a very faint, breathless chuckle.] Might be a little late for that.

[Then he’s glancing up and taking in Joel’s rugged appearance. Nothing about the man's tone or body language is triggering any instinctive alarms but it never hurts to remain cautious.]

[aintyourdad]

[ Joel shrugs and nods a little. The guy looks a little like someone from his world - that might be why he spoke up. Not just in the way he was eating that apple, but just... in general. The quiet air of paranoia, the slightly underfed and ragged look - it's like looking at someone back in the Zone, back home. ]

Honestly, you'll be sick the first few days no matter how much you pace yourself. I know I was.

[burningdaylight]

[It's a remark he can take in a number of ways and he reaches up to scratch at his jaw consideringly, mindful not to make any sudden movements. Just because he had found himself unarmed didn't mean others were and he'd rather not create a situation.]

You been here long? [A patch of old, crusted blood flakes off behind his fingernail. He lets his hand drop back to his side.] If you don' mind me askin'.

[aintyourdad]

Six months or so, I guess. [ He shrugs a little. He wishes he had a gun, sometimes, out in public like this with so many strangers around. It makes him jumpy, feeling like he's being watched - which he probably is. All the tributes are. ]

It happens after every arena, too. Not sure why, but I'm always sick a few days when I get back.

[burningdaylight]

Huh.

[He shifts his weight, unsure what to make of this either. Unsure in what ways Panem and this Capitol have developed and evolved in the span of six months. But one thing's for certain: this place has been here for some time. It could never have been built, nevermind have reached this level of sophistication, in half a year. How this place isn't splashed with some sort of shit and walker guts is beyond him.]

So where are we, exactly? I mean, them 'peacekeepers' never bothered to explain that part. [And they weren't very cooperative, either.] Today's the first time I ever heard a' this place. [But he hadn't heard of Wellington either until Kenny had mentioned it over dinner.]

[fuckitall]

[Nick is used to moving from one place to another – or rather, he’s used to running for those finite moments of safety before something chases him and his group off to another place. But now, there’s no room to run and his safety doesn’t mean shit for these people. He wanders about the Capitol, adverting the gaze of its oddly dressed citizens – although he knows that he’s the strange one to them. When a group of people are together, it’s easy for one with the slightest amount of deviance to stand out. And Nick feels just like that right now as he lowers his cap and keeps his gaze to the floor, glancing up every now and then only to make sure he doesn’t bump into anyone.

Once he got over the fact that none of this crap about the Games is just another nightmare, he immediately wonders how the hell he’s even alive, because he remembers being bitten. He was infected. No, he still is infected. If he dies here, he could infect another person in theory but…as sick as all this is, and as lonely as he feels right now, he can’t bring himself to even finish that line of thought. This is all messed up.
In that moment of helplessness, he forgets to watch where he’s going as he bumps shoulders with another.]

Sorry, I - [He looks up, fully expecting a person as annoyed as they are dressed but the look in his eyes quickly change from a hard, defensive shield to that of one mixed with disbelief and hope at the same time.] …Luke?

[burningdaylight]

[Up until he’s bumped Luke isn’t paying much attention either, frowning while he fiddles with the communicator in the middle of the sidewalk and puzzles endlessly over the fact that it actually works. But it’s hearing his name in a voice he’s known for twenty years that quickens his pulse in his throat and he glances up sharply from the map on his screen, blinking. Then he's staring long, brows lifting, his mouth hanging open uselessly.]

Holy shit... [He manages, looking Nick up and down and feeling his chest pull open from the inside. The dead just didn't come back to life. Not as people. Never as people. But against all logic his best friend is standing before him now, still breathing and looking back with grey-blue eyes and not ones glazed over and blank with mindless hunger –-

And Luke shakes his head, lips pinching tightly as he reaches for him and pulls him close.]

[fuckitall]

[Nick doesn't even hesitate putting his arms around Luke to hug him. People are looking, but they can go to hell. Even though he hadn't been here long, the obvious fact that he's under the eye of tyranny in some other form of a new city was enough for him to feel alone. But all that washes away the moment he feels Luke's warmth.]

Fuck, you're really here. [He breathes out, running a hand down his eyes that were sure going to water otherwise. This isn't a dream. It still doesn't make a lick of sense, but it's the best thing that has happened to him so far.]

[burningdaylight]

[Nick’s going to pass through his arms. He’s going to fade away and then Luke will stand there realizing it’s all just the figment of his tired and guilt-ridden mind coming apart at the seams. He’s losing it, he’s finally losing it, and this is how it begins. But Nick’s all flesh and bone and warm against him and nothing adds up. Luke can feel him breathing, can hear the soft sound of it, and his brow knits, his eyes stinging wetly, closing.]

Yeah. Guess I am.

[He says into Nick’s shoulder, the steady calm in his own voice surprising him. He can’t begin to understand what forces have brought them together again. And maybe he never will. All he knows is that he has to take this chance he has been given to make things right, to lead and to protect in the way he should have the first time. He wouldn't lose Nick again --]

Wish I knew where the hell here even is. [-- but he's the first to pull away.] I mean, fuck -- what's the last thing you remember? [Jane had said she had put him down and Luke had no reason to question it, much less with Clem by her side.]

[fuckitall]

[Nick takes in the moment like he always does whenever they hug. It means a lot more than he'd like to admit to anyone but Luke himself. It's not much of a secret that affection wasn't common in his house and the apocalypse gave little time for such things. As pathetic as he believes it is, he'll take what he can get.]

Beats me. Never heard of a place like this in my life. [He adjusts his cap - the one bit of garment of his that hasn't changed - so he could meet Luke's eyes now. Looks like they're on the same level of confusion, but the fact that Luke's here helps Nick to actually give a damn about the situation now. Their situation.

Speaking of life... Shit, that's just about where he's still lost. He remembers not getting far, blood spilling out faster than his legs could've moved before he managed to trap himself on a fence. That was when it happened, and Nick moves his hand to where the scar remains at his neck before answering.]

I got bitten. [He says as firmly as he's able to without going white. It's the only thing he's been certain about since he got here.] I was right outside were you and Sarah were and... [he moves his shirt collar to expose the now scarred area where the lurker got him.]

Here I am, I guess. [He shrugs to cover up the scar again and looks at Luke helplessly, knowing that his answer created more questions for himself.] Still me.

[burningdaylight]

[Luke’s gaze settles heavily over the scar that's bared to him and he feels a sharp stab of guilt when their eyes meet again.]

Sure seems like it. [He rests a hand on his hip and tiredly scrubs his face with the other, completely lost.] Now don’t get me wrong, Nick, I am so glad you’re here with me right now. But nothin’ about this is right… and whatever’s goin’ on here we can’t be gettin’ too cozy.

[They needed to figure out the lay of the land and know it inside out. They needed a plan and the time to execute it properly. He licks his lips, thinking.]

Let’s get some food in us and rest for the night. There ain't much we can do right now and we need to figure out exactly what we’re dealin’ with. For all we know the others might be here with us.

Tagging in in prose, hope you don't mind?

[celebrityskinned]

Venus knows full well that if she were to just leave well enough alone, the Avoxes would continue stocking the District Five larder with more fruits than her inadequate knowledge and vocabulary could name. She could take the easy route and just tell them to bring her something sweet, something healthy, something juicy. She could lie back and have the tongueless slaves that everyone in the Capitol uses pop grapes into her mouth.

But she shops anyway. She loves strawberries and passion fruit and mangoes, and she misses the apples that used to sit in an idle pyramid in a bowl on the kitchen, placed there by someone dead in a past Arena.

And while she's there, she sees a man, obviously not a Capitol citizen because those people never look starved and dirty and uncomfortable in their new clothing, shoving apples and oranges into his face as if hunger were a sidekick to the desperate fear that starvation were coming.

She goes to the cashier and tells them to put everything the man eats on her credit card, then she approaches, pushing her sunglasses up so he can see her eyes - and the disfiguring burn that's cast across her face like a sunbeam.

"Hey, hey-" She reaches a hand forward but doesn't touch him. "Slow down. It's no good if you make yourself sick."

Not at all! I'm all good. If you need more to work with just let me know!

[burningdaylight]

Stumbling in from a world where briskly washing up with a rag drenched in cold lake water and relieving oneself in the woods was an unfortunate reality for most everyone in their struggle from day to day, it’s been a while since he’s been made to feel this self-conscious. Well, barring when Clementine had stumbled upon him and Jane up on the observation deck. God -- it feels like a lifetime ago when he had had that precious moment to appreciate the warmth and the reassurance of touch, of human company, soaking it in like dying plant in the rain. But it had come at a terrible cost. So many good things do, he's learning.

That's just the way it is.

Luke looks up at the stranger, panting softly, lifting a hand to swipe away a bit of juice dribbling down his chin. It’s certainly not the best first impression he could have made, but between his hair being in knots and the haunted paleness to his face he’s not so sure he could have done all that much better if he had paced himself.

“Yeah.” He considers the scar tissue blotching her cheek, brows knitting in quiet sympathy before he looks to the single half-bitten apple left in his hand. “…Guess I was a hungrier than I thought.”

He tries at a chuckle after a moment and what comes is a small, breathless one, a sorry thing.

[celebrityskinned]

Venus smiles and half-laughs, as if trying to give a boost to his own chuckle. It makes the situation no less awkward. "It's okay, you're not the only Tribute who gets here and sees food for the first time in like, a year."

She leans back, resting her hip against the edge of one of the crates of fruit, her basket of groceries swinging gently in front of her knees. She came to the Capitol as if it were a slightly more developed version of her previous life. Sometimes she forgets how deprived other people are when they get here, how they're like she was as a teenager.

"Maybe hold off until dinner? Believe me, it's going to be a feast. Always is, here."

[burningdaylight]

Being addressed as a ‘tribute’ has a way of twisting up Luke’s insides and reminding him of sharply drawn boundaries in this strange new settlement he has found himself dragged into. His expression settles from slight sheepishness into something more neutral as he tries and fails to read the tone of her lattermost remark. It’s far too soon to tell whether he might find a potential ally or an enemy in her.

“Oh.” A feast held in celebration of glorified mass murder he muses grimly, managing a gentle, easy smile. He folds his arms lightly across his chest, a hand curling around his bicep. “Well that’s great, thank you. I’ll, uh, see what I can do.”

He's not sure his stomach could take anything remotely fancy. Not this soon, anyway.

[celebrityskinned]

Something about him reminds her of a kicked dog, digging through a trash can. Someone at the counter makes a gesture as if asking if they should come forward now and tally up the costs, but Venus shoots a glare at them that's made all the more frightening by the scar across half her face.

She doesn't know if she should back off or stay here, doesn't know if her company is upsetting or might be useful. She might as well ask.

"You, um, need someone to show you around a little? I've been here two years now. I know all the cool places."

cw: messy ref to zombie bite

[burningdaylight]

Luke’s eyebrows go up. “…Two years?”

That’s about when it began.

He remembers lazing on a well-worn loveseat after joining Nick to drink away the disappointment of his latest breakup, sliding into a warm, hazy place and almost content while basking in the muted glow of the television. He remembers absently watching a newswoman reporting live near the scene of a crime, a grisly late-night murder in the park. No one had thought much at the time of the drunkard stumbling out of the trees until he had snatched a fistful of her hair and dragged her backwards, tearing a chunk of flesh out of her screaming throat. Too-bright blood spraying onto the lens. He remembers shots cracking out and sirens wailing all through the night, ever closer to home. Then channels had died, one by one. Desperate messages had crackled over the radio on repeat, warning people to stay inside and to block off doors and windows while he had been speeding to the farm and to his parents who got cut off mid-call, every nerve in his body a live wire. Hands clammy and white-knuckled around the wheel.

“Ain’t no way a place like this could have held up this long.” He says lowly, convinced. “Not with what’s goin’ on out there.”