thecapitol | Sun Breaks Over the Same Human Race By Whom You Were Erased [Open]

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Sun Breaks Over the Same Human Race By Whom You Were Erased [Open]

WHO| Venus and you!
WHAT| Venus catches her second wind.
WHEN| Week three and onward, until a little past the end of the Arena.
WHERE|
WARNINGS| None.

When she first wakes in her bed, she's afraid to touch her face. She knows, deep down, that they won't have taken away the brand. She knows when she looks in the mirror and catches sight of that sprawling spidery blight, she's going to feel her stomach drop beneath the bed. She knows that the instant she puts her fingertips to her face she'll feel that warped, wrinkled slickness of scar tissue. She knows it'll destroy her all over again.

It takes her nearly half an hour of staring at the ceiling, making a mental list of the people she needs to make sure survived the Arena, before she reaches up and strokes her unblemished cheek. She all but catapults out of bed and stumbles to her dresser, to the mirror on top, where she stares with an uncharacteristic slackjawedness at the way she looks. She looks as if nothing has happened to her besides an unfortunate asymmetrical haircut. No being tied to a chair and mutilated. No nightmares that didn't end just when she left that jail cell.

It's stupid, probably, to care so much about how she looks, but it's difficult for a woman who's traded on her beauty to find purchase in anything but her body when it's mauled and mutilated, when its every corporeal reminder is one of torture and interrogation. And for a moment, just for a moment, she can imagine herself back in a time before so many of the people she loved died.

She can imagine herself renewed.

She returns to the Capitol with fresh energy, no longer curled into herself even though the windows in her have still been blown out. Her architecture no longer sags and creaks. She sings to the coffeemaker, sits on the couch of the District Suite with sodas and milkshakes, practices at the gym as a way to stay strong rather than merely to forget. She's social again, greeting people not out of a defensive way to hide her own pain but out of genuine interest in their lives.

She mourns, but it doesn't reduce her to some barely-functioning binge-drinking tragedy like it has in the past. At some point she realized that she was in love with all of humanity, rather than a handful of people. For the moment, she tries to hold onto that feeling, that hope that she so previously denied herself. For this moment, she makes herself free.

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Hers wasn't the first suite he'd burst into today. He had been on a mission, nearly from when he woke up, to find Cullen and Cole. The fact that this bizarre keep had machines that moved you between floors wasn't helping - though the buttons were labeled, it had taken him a few tries before he realised that you had to actually choose a floor, and it didn't always stop where you wanted it to go, since other people kept calling it, too. So rather than managing to make his way in a coherent fashion, he was just getting off the elevator wherever it stopped and getting off there.

Which was why a slightly wild-eyed, half dressed, dark-haired mage with a fabulous mustache and deep tan skin suddenly burst into the District Five common area.

The fact that nothing was on fire yet was due solely to the fact that he was magic-less again.

"Where is he? Cullen!" Less of a question, more of an exasperated exclamation upon finding yet another completely bizarre room with no sign of Cullen. He darted in further, catching sight of Venus on the couch, and making a beeline for her. "Blonde fellow, scar above his lip, dashingly handsome and apparently able to become invisible. Know him?"

It's been an overwhelming experience, the past several days. Being thrown into some strange metal thing and told to fight to the death - only to, well, be blown up, or near enough as to make no difference, and wake up again in this outrageous place, so different from anything he knows in Thedas -

Cullen is, frankly, still trying to process everything. Still trying to decide if he should even believe this is real. His grasp on reality has been known to be tenuous, in the past. And while he definitely has a headache, he's had worse in terms of pain. It doesn't seem to be the lyrium. Or the Fade. Or demons, if Cole is to be believed.

Cole, and Dorian. Not the Inquisitor, thank the Maker. That's all he can think as he wearily reaches the roof. Thank the Maker, the Inquisitor isn't here. If he could find a proper Chantry, he'd light a candle and say a prayer. As it is, he's here, on this rooftop, needing to get away from all the strange moving images flashing everywhere, and the brightly-lit rooms, and the noises.

He takes a deep breath, tries to imagine himself in Skyhold's garden as he wanders toward the edge. He's never seen buildings so tall before, or so... shiny.

It's quite early when footsteps come a-pattering and gentle knocks can be heard on Venus' door.

When Venus answers the door, Eponine won't be stood there - just in case. In case, because of that last argument over the Network with those stupid Capitol people that threaten both her and her friends. No, instead, she's crouched down near the couch, keen to see what Venus makes of the little present and the hand-written note that went with it.

It's not much, and what is there is wrapped in plain tissue paper, held together with string. When Venus opens it, she'll find a compact mirror and a necklace

The note wrapped about them reads,

'Theyr not stolen I swear. I think you shoud have pretty things to remember that you are thow. Happy Christmas Venus and thank you. '

She's not signed her name, just in case. From her place by the couch, she watches eagerly, hoping to see happiness on Venus' face. It will be something at least, to die and somebody remember her kindly.

Edited 2014-12-30 07:40 (UTC)

Sam hasn't slept since he'd woken up in his bed, after - well, after the arena. Or at least, hasn't slept well, he's grabbed a few winks at a time when his body'd demanded them, but never for very long. He's stopped trying, really, to bother actually going to bed at night. It's not like he doesn't have more than enough things to do, and people to check on, now that the curfew's been lifted.

And with some of them, the curfew wouldn't even have mattered.

It's not too late when he knocks on Venus's door, but enough that he does worry a little bit about waking her. Still, he can't sleep, and he wants to see her, so here he is. "V? It's Sam."

Venus isn't asleep, not fully. She's laying in bed with her eyes closed, feeling own pulse in her upturned palms and her nightly sleeping pills settling in her stomach like stones in the river. With luck, slipping into dreams will be an uneventful process. There'll be no fluttering heartrate as memories of torture replay in her head, no loop of thoughts about all the ways Kankri and Joly and Jet and Albert and Sam could be taken away in their sleep.

Of course, the more she tries not to think about it, the easier it is to sink into the swamp. She counts her breaths, counts every animal in Noah's ark, two by two. She's on jackals (the letter J), heading to koalas (the letter K) when she hears a knock at the door. Her eyes snap open, her quickness getting back to being wide awake a testament to how far from sleep she really was.

"Hello?" She wraps a silk robe around herself, something too embroidered to truly be comfortable, and cracks open the door. Her face is bare, uncharacteristically so when she usually has at least some mascara and lip gloss on even before she gets breakfast. "Sam? What's up, handsome?"

Venus is hardly awake when Dorian bursts in, but his loud entrance rouses her with lightning speed. The magazine that had been resting on her stomach slaps off and onto the floor as she springs to her feet, muscle memory clicking into place before her mind does.

She finds herself face-to-face with someone wholly unfamiliar, practically yelling at her and talking about someone dastardly handsome, with a twirly mustache that would make Errol Flynn jealous.

"Oh. You're new." If he hadn't been, she'd be liable to start chewing him out for startling people like that. Her hands unclench, but her shoulders stay tense. Her voice is low and calm, warm, comforting, as if she's at the front desk of a hotel. "No, but we might be able to look up if he's here?"

He gives her a bit of a look - most people tend to yell at him, after all, or roll their eyes.

"I -- yes. I'm new. Though that implies that there are those that aren't."

He looked around, as if for the first time, frowning at the common room. "I know he's here. I saw him, just before--" Just before they all went boom. He mimed it. "If I'm alive, he must be."

She meets his look with one of her own, one almost reproachful, as if reminding him that she's being nice right now and doesn't have to be.

"No, I'm-" She almost says 'old', but that's not right, that implies youth and it's a sad truth that most of the people who've been here longest are children. "I've been here a while."

So the last he saw of this Cullen was him dying. That means he's a Tribute and was brought at least for the last Arena, at least.

"If he's a Tribute he'll be easy enough to look up. Far as I know he's not on this floor, though."

"If you're able to navigate these at all," he said, waving vaguely at the elevator behind him, "You're one step past me. I am just happy it deposited me somewhere different, this time."

But that's the second time she's said 'look up', and it piques his interest.

"They let us see their records? That would be certainly be incredibly helpful."

He almost didn't realize, he'd been keeping to himself for the most part and while Jet noticed almost everything, when he was actively keeping his head in the sand, he could pass a handful of decorations and take no notice. It was almost Christmas.

Over the last twenty-seven years back home, he'd spent Christmas alone, sending his adopted and abandoned family presents with no sender and no return address. It had been a harsh change from boisterous nights surrounded by them with plenty of laughter and light to make any other dark situation seem easy to overcome. They'd tried to invite him those first few years, but the invitations had tapered away until it had only been Francoise sending them and even those had stopped those last few years leading up to His Voice. He'd done it to himself, it wasn't like he hadn't known that, but it had still hurt.

And still, thinking of Christmas made him think of them and that happiness and when he realized it was nearly that time all over again, it was no different except in one respect: he had zero desire to spend the holidays with them if it was here. As long as his family wasn't stuck in this place, he could pretend they were safe somewhere, even if there was a part of him that knew that wasn't true. Pyunma and Joe had been here with them and they'd never been revived. As for the others...it got complicated and Jet refused to think about the possibilities considering the place he and Albert had been before Panem.

But Family was found in the most unlikely of places and that included here in the Capitol. Just because his team wasn't here and Albert was still in the Arena didn't mean he didn't have people who made the spirit of the holiday worth it.

He found her in the training center, brighter and more beautiful than he'd seen her in a long time and he paused at the entrance a moment just to watch her, a smile growing at the sight. Once she seemed to pause, he made his way over to her, leaning on whatever solid thing was close by.

"Hey there. You're looking good." 'Good' meant 'better than good' but his tone and smile were sincere even if his words fell a little short.

"Did you get one of these?" She pulls her network device out and holds it out to him. "There's a directory in here of the Tributes. We can at least find out which floor he's on."

She takes a seat on the couch, patting it in a gesture for him to join her. Given that he didn't understand the elevator, she expects there'll need to be a little bit of extra time devoted to understanding technology. She grabs a pack of gum from the table and offers him a piece before popping one in her own mouth.

"So," she says as she starts her device up, "what's your name?"

He frowns at the device and then pulls out his own - he'd shoved it into one of the myriad pockets they'd put on him and hadn't looked at it since. He was planning on just sort of waving at someone once he was hungry and demanding they feed him, but now that she was starting it up, his interest was piqued. He took the seat next to her and immediately tried to figure out how she'd just done that, fiddling with his out.

"Dorian, of the house of Pavus," he said, frowning at his network device, and shaking it, before he managed to figure out how to turn it on with a brief 'ah!'.

"I suppose the polite thing to do would be to inquire after yours?"

Usually, when someone knocks on the door, it's an Avox with her daily dose of medicine or her nightly sleeping pill, or it's Kankri checking up on her. When she opens the door and sees no one, it's enough of a surprise to bring her brow up into a tentative quirk.

She sees the gift, and without thinking about why someone would have abandoned it there looks to see if anyone's around. She cranes her neck and sees familiar slender fingers around the edge of the couch, sees a lock of hair as Eponine's face vanishes behind the upholstery again.

"What're you doing behind the couch, kiddo?"

It's not really the first time he's seen her without the brand, but there's still a little flash of surprise, not quite used to it - he'd only ever known her with it. He feelts guilt settle a little bit in his chest, when she opens the door in a robe and no makeup.

"I woke up you," he says, but it's quiet, and he's talking to himself more than her, there. "I just-" -wanted to see you, but he doesn't feel like that's a good reason for waking her up.

"I couldn't sleep. I was thinking about putting on a movie or something, thought you might want to join me, if you weren't already out."

"Nah, I was just settling in for the night. I'm a long way from sleep." She shakes her head. She could tell Sam that he's not the only person in this District with sleeping issues, but she's sure he already knows that. The walls here are thin.

The irony is that people sleep better in the Arena, when they have less time and more danger at every corner. Something about survival hews away neurosis.

"Let me get my bunny slippers." She kicks them on, then slips into the doorway, resting against the frame. "What kind of movie are you thinking about?"

Venus isn't a half-bad teacher. She tilts her device so that Dorian can get a good look at it, hovering over each thing she clicks before she does so. "Venus Dee Milo. You said his name was Cullen? Does he have a last name or a house or something? He sounds like a Gryffindor from the description."

She half-laughs, to let him know she's joking even if he doesn't understand the reference.

Venus comes up to the roof with a magazine under her arm and coffee in a paper cup. Her sunglasses are pushed over her hair rather than hiding her face, and she's humming to herself. She settles into one of the chairs up there and drapes her ankle over her knee, ready to settle in for some suntanning and light reading about what colors are coming in next season.

She looks up when she notices another form drifting towards the edge, and seeing that she doesn't recognize them, assumes they're new. And assumes the worst intent from their wandering, given how many people panic upon arrival.

She clears her throat.

"Don't try and jump, there's a forcefield. It's like sticking your tongue in an electrical socket."

The sound of a voice brings him out of himself and he turns, eyebrows raised at the newcomer. She just threw a lot of strange words at him. Forcefield sounds like barrier, so all well and good. A socket, though?

"What? I mean - no, I wasn't planning to jump," he says, hastily reassuring her. "That seems an extreme way to deal with the situation." His voice is educated, probably sounds British to her ears, though that's not what he would call it. His posture is ramrod-straight, the posture of a soldier. "I was just admiring the view, I suppose. This city is like nothing I've ever seen before."

Eponine sits up, though she doesn't move from her place, disgruntled at having been caught.

"It's not much, you know? Just a Christmas present. It's not stole - you won't get in trouble, I promise. Only, you might if I come close, so I thought if you just had it and didn't see me, you'd be safe. Oh, but I wanted to see if you liked it. It's the first present I've given, proper, all done up and the like."

Venus is too nice to be caught up in any more of Eponine's messes after all. But how nice gift giving feels. How exciting, waiting to see if they like the presents. How nice. Eponine's never imagined it should feel so, and she wants to cling onto these good feelings on what she thinks are her last few days alive.

Dorian isn't a half bad student, either. He's starting to see the logic behind the clicks - some sort of data system, as bizarre as it was. Organized...

"Commander Cullen Rutherford," He said, frowning as he pressed a wrong button and lights flashed and some fast talking Capitol talk show appeared on his device. "And no- his house is associated with Lions, not Griffons. They're extinct."

He gives a slightly bemused smile. "I can't say I've heard of the house of Gryffindor, however. Are you from Thedas?"

"Jet." She leaps off the balance beam with toes pointed until the last moment, but the grace of her leap is nothing to watch compared to the smile on her face. It's freer now for the lack of brand, and the scar tissue in memory seems like ropes that tied not only her beauty up, but her ability to feel joy. She walks over to him and reaches for a hug she doesn't need to ask permission for.

She knew he was alive, of course - it had been a first order of business to find out whom of her allies would never rise again - but she hadn't come and said hi yet. She's learned through her years here that sometimes people need to sort themselves out after a death before allowing another person to waltz up and try to help them pick up the pieces.

"I'm feeling good." She gives him a tight squeeze. "Better than I have been in a long time. I mean, I know that's shallow, but-"

But it doesn't matter. It's true. This Arena she has yet to lose a loved one. She has her face back, so she can condemn those dark months to a part of her life she's stepped out of. She can go out in public to the usual wolf whistles and second-glances, not the scorn that rips up the stitches on her soul keeping the memories from spilling over.

She can make a new life instead of being tangled in the entrails of the old one.

"Happy Holidays, Jet."

Yeah, he’s definitely figured out that district five has its fair share of sleeping issues - if the thin walls hadn’t done it, the enforced curfew’d sure as hell clued him in. It’s another reason he would have felt terrible, if he’d actually woken her when she was finally managing to get some sleep.

But her assurance makes him smile a bit, and it grows when she retrieves her bunny slippers.

“Haven’t had a lot of time to check out Capitol movies, actually. They similar to what we’ve got back at home?” He pauses, remembering that he and Venus aren’t necessarily from the same place, then adds, “For you, anyway, I guess we’ll have to see about mine.”

The glass-eyed pink rabbits look up at him. There's a bow on the ears of one, as if they're supposed to be a matching pair, a Mr. and Mrs. Slipperbunny. Venus glances down at them as she walks and suppresses the slightest giggle.

"They're like what we had back home if Michael Bay and Baz Luhrmann co-directed everything. Glitter, sequins, musical numbers and explosions. It's pretty good brainless stuff that's easy to follow, though."

Maybe if she ever gets out of the Arenas - and she really has no intent to, not at the expense of others - she'll try her hand at acting again. She remembers auditions used to be excruciating, nerve-wracking processes when she was a teenager, but she can't imagine she'd have the fragile ego she did back then. The neediness of her youth, that desperation for validation, has waned with age. It'll never be gone completely but it's there.

She feels something in her chest shudder when she looks at Sam's bedroom door and remembers the last time she was in there, but it doesn't show on her face or her skin. They all live on a floor full of ghosts. They all carry new ones, too, and she wonders about the ones in Sam's head, the one he didn't say was dead but she realized he memorialized in a tattoo.

"Means you can have a conversation in the middle of it without losing track of who's kissing whom or who the evil twin is."

"I didn't think you stole it. Come on in." She gestures to her room, reaching down to grab the gift. "I got something for you, too."

It isn't that Eponine's someone deeply special to her, although Venus feels a pang of guilt that maybe she should be, given the present Eponine's placed on her doorstep. Venus hasn't looked at it quite yet, wrapping her fingers and thus the note around it to keep it out of sight so they can open it together.

Her room is a little messy, but artfully so. The bed has been made without an Avox's help, and a fashionable coat hangs over the back of the chair at her desk, which looks relatively unused.

"Good! Some people get a bit overwhelmed when they first get here." The accent throws her a bit, although he's far from the only Brit who's passed through here. She just was expecting something American, something Midwest football-player cleaned-up-for-a-college-interview.

"It's kind of got a beautiful skyline." She sets her magazine aside and gets up, pushed several inches beyond her usual height by the shoes she's wearing. She gestures with one hand, a bangle around her wrist clacking with another. "That building over there? Once every hour it lights up like the aurora borealis. It's gorgeous."

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Sun Breaks Over the Same Human Race By Whom You Were Erased [Open]

forward dated to just after everyone dies in the arena

let's say after she meets Dorian for the lulz?

Christmas day

forward dated to a few days after the arena

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Christmas Eve

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Re: Christmas day

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Re: Christmas day

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Re: Christmas Eve

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Re: Christmas day

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