thecapitol | (no subject)

Who| Don and OPEN
What| Handling everything that's happened.
Where| Throughout the Capitol
When| Throughout the weeks in between Arenas
Warnings/Notes| Possible violence. Definite confusion and angst.

She was out. Thank shell. Momoko was all right now. At least, for now. At least until they decided to cut her tongue out.

And maggots crawling on her body, her mouth forever open in a scream.

Don sat in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He pushed the disturbing thoughts of Momoko out of his mind, of the others as well. He hated the flashbacks. At least, he was pretty sure they were flashbacks. But he wasn't so sure anymore. Something was too vivid about them. Something was off about them, somehow, from what he recalled of the Arena before his transformation. Or even the few parts afterwards that he was able to bring himself to watch. He couldn't figure out what.

But...perhaps. Perhaps if they could alter people's bodies, what prevented them from altering people's minds? What if they were doing this to warn him? What if the Capitol was onto his and Eliot's strategy? Or...or what if it was the drugs that Bartlett laced the food with? Could they still be messing with his mind? Or...what if it was both?

The turtle rubbed his head and sighed. He really hated not knowing the answers. Or having them just out of reach where he couldn't grab them and gain that eureka moment he so enjoyed back home. Now all he felt was frustration, and fear, and worry.

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"Probably," Wyatt admitted. "But I wasn't exactly gettin' much sleep done anyway."

He paused, and gestured to Don's book with his hat. "Am I interruptin'?"

"Oh, not at all." Quickly Don closed the book. He remembered the page anyhow. "So, uh, what brings you here to the District 9 suites, Wyatt?"

"Well, to be honest," his head dipped, suddenly interested in his dirty, old boots. "I hadn't exactly planned on comin' here,... but now that I am, I wonder-" his palm tapped against the brim of his hat as he looked up again, "-I wonder if you'd open to a talk."

A...talk?

"Sure." Quietly Don moved the book aside. Surely a talk is less depressing than what he was reading ~~at least, that was what he was hoping~~. "You want anything to drink? I can make some coffee or tea..."

"No, no, that's alright," he waved his hat with one hand, urging to the turtle to stay seated. "Don't go troublin' yerself for me. I'll just... take a seat? Iffen ya don't mind?" And he gestured to the open chair near Don, waiting politely - perhaps a bit awkwardly - for an invitation.

"No problem." Don nodded. "Take a seat."

If Wyatt is inclined to glance at the book, speaking of which, it has the words Compendium Tributum in large, gold-leafed letters, hovering over a gold-embossed Capitol mockingjay.

Wyatt crossed the room and took the open seat, resting his hat on his knee.

"I wonder if I might ask about the arena." He took a breath, his eyes passing idly over the book... and pausing as his brow furrowed. After a beat, he looked up and carried on. "It seems, we might have somethin' in common."

Momoko... Ariadne... the island, the ice field...

He wasn't used to having to dance around what he wanted to say, but this place had ears. Hopefully the turtle would understand what he was gettin' at.

"Something in common...?"

He wasn't sure what Wyatt meant. Not at first, at least. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Wyatt and Momoko had been the last two Tributes in the last Arena. And when the time had come-

Light bulb.

"...Oh." There was the ghost of a smile on Don's face. "Well, I...uh, didn't know you turned into a rampaging reptilian monster too. Gamemakers must have edited that part out, huh?"

In other words, he understood.

There was a measured beat, while Wyatt wondered if maybe Don't hadn't understood, but then he saw it. Recognition. Careful encouragement around the corners of the turtle's smile, in his eyes.

Wyatt nodded, cleared his throat. "Must've." Another pause. This one out of discomfort, rather than uncertainty. He didn't often ask for help.

For comfort.

"At any rate, I - was wonderin' how you've been handlin' it."

He didn't regret it - he hoped Don knew that. He was happy Momoko was out and safe. But, while Wyatt wouldn't exactly call himself a God fearin' man,...

What was suicide against murder on his soul?

That was always a question Don was going to ask, in some ways. The blood on his hands...well, he'd already had plenty of it on there, blood that no one would ever know stained his hands, not even his family. He could probably finish an entire gallery of furniture with what's he's spilled overall.

On the other hand, he was hardly a religious turtle. It didn't mean he wasn't a moral turtle - he just didn't concern himself over the state of his soul. ~~Even if he did, he knew he was probably going to Hell by default even without the killing, being an animal and such. Go figure.~~

"I'm fine with it." It was a simple answer, simple and efficient. "I'm not interested in I'd do it over again the same way if I had to."

Even with the killings.

"That simple, huh?"

A beat passed, Wyatt's blue eyes searching Don's face, then his mouth twitched and he shook his head. Bemused. "Wish I had even half yer gumption."

"I...my master would probably call it 'insanity'."

At this, Don rubbed the back of his head.

"But then again...consider where we are."

"That is true," Wyatt nodded slowly, thoughtfully. "Desperate times do call for desperate measures, don't they?"

He wondered if they'd take that into account when he reached the other side.

Iffen he ever did, that was.