thecapitol | Funnel Cake Crowning

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Funnel Cake Crowning

Who| Gary Epps and the Signless
What| Signless has won Arena 12 and Gary decides to uphold an old offer to celebrate. Because everyone likes amusement parks, right?
Where| Pier Twelve Carnivale and Arcade
When| Within a few days after the end of Arena 12
Warnings/Notes| Discussion of events from the Arena, being violently ill after riding one too many roller coasters, probably language

The Signless can't say that Gary didn't warn him.

It was only a matter of time before he found the opportunity to take his short troll friend to the amusement park on the pier--rather, a matter of Gary's paltry attention span. It's been months since he made that promise to take him out. Only the announcement of Signless winning the twelfth Arena is able to dredge the memory back, and once he runs into him passing through the Commons, Gary makes it his mission. He instantly drops his plans for the afternoon and tells Signless to put something comfortable on, because they're going to be doing a lot of walking. That is, if Gary gives Signless that much time. Otherwise he's dragged out of the Tribute Center and onto the next bus to the waterfront.

Gary seems quite pleased with himself when the arrive. He steps through the main ticket booth and hops on top of a bench in the middle of the boardwalk, arms spread wide over the backdrop of gravity-defying rides and lines of fried snacks stalls. "This," Gary declares with a flourish, "is an amusement park! No one's ruined the surprise before I found you, have they?"

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In truth, Signless had almost forgotten his promise to let Gary show him the wonders of the boardwalk amusement park. It was an entire arena ago after all and he'd assumed even then that Gary wouldn't actually make good on his... offer? Threat? Both were probably accurate.

Yet here he is, surrounded by loud sounds and flashing lights and the smell of something that's probably food. He turns in a slow circle to take it all in, soft leather boots scuffling across the boardwalk, and then turns back to Gary with an expression that is either awe or pleasant bewilderment.

"I think I would have been surprised anyway. This place certainly is... something. Your descriptions didn't do it justice."

'Threat' is probably the more accurate term, though Gary would argue for something less incriminating. Either way, he's very happy with the Signless's reaction. Gary laughs and squirms a bit on top of his perch, which ends up looking something like a small, improvised jig of excitement.

"Man, no one could! You gotta be in it to know it, right?" He winks and gives an enthusiastic thumbs-up. "Only the best for the Victor, eh? Yeah?"

That's a risky move--Punchy hadn't been too excited about being a Victor, and Gary has to admit that he's sad for Signless, too. If he's anything like Punchy (a stretch), Gary realizes that he's not going to be seeing much of the Signless after this. Not hanging around, maybe at parties if he's not being swarmed by reporters and enthusiastic Capitolites...not in the Arenas, either. This could be the last time they get to really spend time together for a long while. With that in mind, Gary aims to make this special.

With the flashy introduction over with, Gary hops off the bench and ushers Signless to follow. "Come on! Let's get you some chow."

Signless is indeed a little sad about being a Victor under the understandable relief -- though perhaps not for the reasons Gary thinks. Mainly it has to do with winning not on his own merits but by sheer luck which, while exemplary of the Hunger Games 'odds blah favor blah' motto, doesn't sit quite right with him.

Still. He intends to have fun now, before he's pulled back into endless rounds of interviews and fake smiles and carefully editing his words. Perhaps it's Gary's boundless energy and how very little self-awareness he seems to have, but Signless absolutely does not care about self-editing around him.

"Chow." That must be the vague food smell that's coming from just about everywhere. "Of course. This all started because I'd never had proper carnival food. What kind of 'chow' am I going to be subjected to?"

There's a pronounced smile creeping its way onto his face.

'Chow' is hidden in pretty much every spare corner of the elaborate boardwalk. This makes Gary's job of finding a good place to start easy, since he doesn't have to think about it; he just points himself in a direction and lets his nose do the rest of the work. The stand that's closest will do nicely, he thinks.

"Trial by fire," Gary murmurs, flashing a grin over his shoulder. They're approaching a fairly unassuming little venue tucked between two loud game platforms; a single man in an apron is working the stove where something simmers, and fat scraped from the edges collects in a heated, covered vat. The sign over-top simply reads BACON.

"I told you they fried everything at carnivals, right?"

"I've had bacon before," Signless says, a little pleased that they're starting with something he knows. Bacon is a staple of breakfast in the 12 suite and something he's grown to particularly like -- and he has to admit, the smell is promising. He's here for this.

"At least it makes sense to fry meat."

Signless is about to be disappointed, as the shit-eating grin on Gary's face would suggest. "What makes you think they're frying just the bacon?"

With that ominous warning given, Gary fearlessly steps up to the bar and raps his knuckles on the counter to get the cook's attention. "Two butters, please. Double-wrapped." He winks, the cook shrugs and heads towards the portable fridge. Gary turns back to the Signless. "You're gonna love this."

Rather alarmingly, the cook returns with two whole sticks of butter, each of which he delicately wraps in bacon slices, skewers on wooden sticks, and then sets and covers in the vat of refuse oil. The Signless has a minute or two to ponder over what he's about to put in his mouth and regret his decisions.

A minute or two is not nearly long enough for all the regrets that the Signless suddenly has. On Alternia he never ate much rich food. They didn't have the ability to carry much of anything perishable, or enough to have rations larger than 'what is necessary to stay alive'. Since coming to Panem he's developed both a sweet tooth and an almost guilty fondness for being able to eat as much of any food available as he wants, but this...

Well. Gary was excited to show him this, and Gary, for all his Gary-ness, doesn't seem malicious. He takes the offered abomination when it's done frying, looks at it with the expression of a man whose dignity has long since died a quiet death, and takes a bite.

It's... very. He can't say very what, exactly, and perhaps some of that shows in his expression. He looks like he has no idea how to react to what's in his mouth.

Gary takes that expression and assumes a generally positive response, because a general 'negative' response would be immediately spitting it out or vomiting or some other obvious rejection. So this is good! Gary nods to encourage him and takes a bite of his own incredibly unpleasant delicacy.

He regrets it almost instantly. Gary, for all his reassurances, has never tried this before--no one on his world would have been insane enough to think this was a good idea, and he didn't want to try it unless he had someone else to try it with him. In a sudden moment of clarity, Gary understands the overbearing extravagance of the Capitol in gross, visceral detail. It strains his permanent smile and makes him hesitant to swallow.

"So?" Gary flashes a toothy grin to mask any previous indecision. "What'dya think?"

"I think that there's no way I'm going to be able to finish this," Signless says, which is a good way to sidestep saying 'it's extremely strange and the aftertaste is getting increasingly foul'. He doesn't want to let Gary down by not liking it but... wow. Wow.

"But the important part is that I tried it. And if I finished it I don't think I'd have room for anything else, and that would be a true tragedy."

It seems even more Capitol (definitely an adjective as well as a noun) to take one bite of something and then toss it. That may very well be the entire point. Why else make something so rich and overwhelming, except to demonstrate the ability to afford ludicrous excess and waste?

Gary is not at all torn up about this and immediately leaps on the excuse to get rid of the rest of this. "Yeah me neither," he says quickly, and just as Signless predicted, nimbly tosses it into the nearest trashcan. The deeper meaning of this misses him as soon as his short attention span flits to the next, most interesting stall he can find. "Now we can move on to the good stuff. Come on!"

All things considered, Gary knows what he wants and he knows where to get it. After some enthusiastic gesturing and a bit of weaving through the deeper parts of the pier, they come upon a much less vibrant stall advertising funnel cakes. Gary's already ordering two before he gives Signless a chance to catch up and intervene.

"They had these where I'm from," he says, to no one in particular. "You eat 'em while they're still warm, so you have to be quick! But they melt in your mouth if they're hot, so it's easier than it sounds."

That wasn't 'the good stuff'? Oh. Oh dear. Signless is finally starting to realize exactly how deep this hopbeast hole is going to go, and he's just as torn about it as he was about the taste of that butter-and-bacon mess. With only a little reluctance he tosses said mess into the trash after Gary's, turning to follow his guide down the pier.

The funnel cakes look much more approachable than the fried butter and bacon, so he goes into this with a much less uncertain air. As it turns out the funnel cakes also taste much better and his look this time is one of overwhelming approval.

"This is amazing."

Gary wastes no time, as he already knows what to expect. Within seconds of getting his hands on his treat he is covered in powdered sugar and half the funnel cake is somehow in his mouth, all at once. "Told ya so," he mumbles around a full mouthful, helpfully reaching over to drizzle Signless's funnel cake with a liberal helping of fudge. "When've I ever led you astray, hmm?"

Not going to give Signless time to answer that one. "Fried, hot, full of sugar. Perfect fair food." Gary seems satisfied with this assessment, gnawing on the last chunk of his funnel cake while craning his neck to see the rest of the nearby stalls. "Then you wash it down with a huge-ass chunk of meat..."

Come on, Gary, you led him astray just ten minutes ago. He's never going to forget the taste of that butter.

"Meat?" Everything he's learned about humans has taught him they do meat first, sugary things second. Perhaps carnivals are a special situation -- they certainly would be for a troll.

"Any kind, or...?" Is this going to be bacon-wrapped bacon dipped in bacon and deep fried, because he doesn't know if he can deal with that.

That's an option and the Signless shouldn't test his luck, but thankfully Gary is feeling gracious (and maybe also a little baconed-out after that initial excursion). "There's probably turkey legs around here somewhere," he shrugs, then waves Signless along for another enthusiastic jaunt. There's no sitting still for them, not even when he's still got half a funnel cake in his hands--but at least that slows him down, if only a little bit.

"So what the hell kind of carnivals are you used to?" Gary asks, in between gnawing off more chunks of his dessert. "Were they, like, just for holidays and stuff? Kind of ceremonial?"

He can't help it: he laughs. He knows that humans don't think of carnivals they way a troll might, but with the context he has it's still funny.

"Carnivals for trolls are exclusionary events reserved for members of the cult of the Mirthful Messiahs -- the faith that the Initiate follows, if you've heard him speak about it. It's also their word for their afterlife. The Carnival is where one goes when they die, provided they've been devout. Where I'm from, for me specifically, going to a Carnival would have been suicide."

"No shit." Gary laughs back out of impulse, even though he's not entirely sure how to process this information. The Initiate never really struck him as the religious sort. But then again, a religion based on carnivals in the afterlife isn't a religion Gary's capable of interpreting. It's all a bit strange and vaguely fascinating.

Gary stuffs the last of his funnel cake in his mouth, moments before they arrive at the next food stop. Turkey legs. Excellent. There's also a mini-game attached where contestants can shoot little moving turkey targets with fake rifles, which Gary has his eye on. "So you're not a religious kind of guy, eh? I don't blame ya."

"I consider myself a philosopher," he says breezily, taking a turkey leg (thankfully not coated in chocolate or butter or bacon or anything else ridiculous) and looking at it as though he's not quite sure where to start in on it.

"There are some who called me a prophet, but that was their word and not mine."

This seems like the best way to approach the subject, to him. Be casual about it. Don't just straight-up say 'by the way, I'm a Jesus, apparently a lot of different species have one'.

Gary nods emphatically with rapt, wide eyes. The interest is completely faked. Nothing turns Gary off faster than talks of philosophy. What's the point? Why bother? Why sit around discussing morality and what-ifs when he could actually be out doing things? The concept is such a low priority for him that he doesn't even think of a smooth way to change the subject.

"You ever used a gun before, Signless?" Gary asks, moving so quickly to the shooting gallery game that he almost forgets to take his turkey leg with him. "They probably hand them out sometimes in the Arenas, right? You've been around here longer than I have, you would know."

Oh, Gary, don't you know the most fun part of philosophy is going out into the world and practicing what you preach? Still, Signless is glad for the change of subject. If Gary doesn't want to know the details, he isn't exactly falling over himself to give them. They can leave discussion of his life before Panem at that.

"They did once, but I never used one and I wouldn't want to. I'm far more familiar with knives." He takes a thoughtful bite of the turkey leg, which is good even if it's still incredibly unwieldy.

"But I'm assuming a game like this wouldn't include a real gun." Even in the Capitol.

As Gary's mouth is now thoroughly involved with the turkey leg, he can't answer directly. The Signless gets an emphatic nod and a few excited mumbles to match while Gary waves the plastic rifle around in a rather alarming disregard for the deadly weapon it's designed from. Then he's shoving it in his companion's direction. Go on! It's a two-person game! Gary's hands are about to be full again, anyways, as he's got the turkey leg in his mouth and is reaching for the second rifle. He will accept no excuses.

You know what, sure. This is going to be the first time he's ever held a gun, it might as well be a plastic one. He takes it in one hand, having transferred the turkey leg to the other for safekeeping, and eyes up the game.

"So the goal is to shoot as many as possible," he says, less because he honestly couldn't figure that out and more to reaffirm it with himself. "Seems like the sort of game they'd like here."

As it turns out his aim is abysmal, though that may be because he's trying to shoot one-handed.

The Signless is in good company, then, because even though Gary has jammed the turkey leg between his elbows so he can nibble on it while still using both hands, his hand-eye coordination is not excellent. To make up for this, he cheats. Every few seconds he looks over to check if the Signless is taking a shot, and then leans in and roughly bumps into his shoulder to try and jar his sights.

Wow, Gary, he sees how it is. Eventually out of necessity he starts fighting back, glancing sideways to keep track of when Gary is going to try and bump him and heading him off with a shoulder-shove of his own. Is this what friendship is? Because if so, he's enjoying it immensely. It's silly, and that means it's taking his mind off of the less-silly things he's been having to deal with lately.

It's not enough to help him catch up, though, and by the end of the game Gary's score far outweighs his.

"Well. Congratulations. What do you win?"

And now the Signless has become intimately familiar with how Gary deals with all of his problems. By the end he's nearly forgotten the actual game in favor of the improvised shoving one, laughing the entire way, and seems quite surprised to realize that it's ended and he's won something.

"Damn straight!" But it's a quick recovery. There's a bundle of large stuffed animals sitting under the ticket counter; Gary lurches over it and grabs one at random (some kind of neon orange big cat of ambiguous species), before the game's attendant can start listing them off, then he grabs Signless's arm and herds him away before anything too drastic can come of this decision. The turkey leg goes back in his mouth for easier transportation purposes, and as a convenient excuse not to explain himself.

Eventually, once they've covered some ground to the deeper parts of the amusement park, Gary stops gnawing on his food long enough to speak. "That was the warmup," he says. "Do they have roller coasters where you're from?"

Yyyyes. There is one impression Signless is getting from all of this and it's that Gary Epps is easily distracted. In Panem where dwelling too long on certain things can be crippling, that might be a good thing.

"Roller coaster?" he says, in the disjointed way of someone saying a word they've never heard before. So, probably not, no.

"Unless we call them something else, not that I'm aware of."

This is the perfect outcome. Gary's grin widens around his turkey leg.

"Oh man." This is the look of someone who knows exactly what kind of disaster this can turn into and is looking forward to watching every second of it. "Okay, follow me. Prepare your butt."

Once again, Gary is grabbing Signless's arm and taking him on a trip through the amusement park. They go in deep this time--past the stands, past the gentle rides, running through the pier and taking shortcuts that are clearly indicative of someone that's taken this path many times before. The roller coaster is hard to miss; it looms over the whole park on its floating supports well before they actually reach the line. Plenty of time for the Signless to realize what's going on.

"Prepare my --" Wait, you know what, no. He's not going to ask why his butt needs to be prepared or exactly how he's supposed to go about doing it. He has a feeling he's about to experience something and too many unneeded questions will tarnish that experience.

"That's a roller coaster," he says, with a tone that is equal parts realization and resignation. He has indeed started to realize what's going on and, like everything else he's experienced today, he doesn't know quite what to think of it. "And you... ride it."

That much is obvious from just looking at it and at the cars full of people currently zooming around on the tracks. What's the point in riding something and not ever going anywhere? Humans are weird.

"Of course you ride it, you dummy!" Gary says, coming to the brilliant realization that Signless did just moments ago. He's slowed considerably now as they slip in line (through a suspicious gap in front of someone that doesn't appear to be paying attention to his spot, which Gary takes to mean that he doesn't care about someone stealing it), mostly out of necessity, retroactively so that he has more time to let it all soak in. "They strap you into these cars, and then whoosh!"

This is the part where Gary makes appropriate 'whoosh'-ing gestures with his hands.

"We might have to check your height, though--maybe they'll count your horns? I dunno," Gary shrugs, then aims a firm pat on the Signless's shoulder. "But don't worry, I'll vouch for ya!"

"Hm." He looks up at the zooming metal thing with only a little trepidation. Logically he's faced scarier. He's not all that frightened of it -- he's more uncertain about exactly why it's a thing in the first place.

The line shuffles forward a little at the time but it brings him no closer to an epiphany.

"So what exactly is the goal?" he finally says, when they're just a person or two away from the gate (and the sign that demonstrates the required height, which he's pleased to see he meets).

That doesn't sound like a very enthusiastic response, which has Gary a little disheartened. He's sure Signless will come around after he's had a turn. Obviously he just lacks the experience to understand how perfect roller coasters are--or, as he discovers when they're just about to get on, he's just thinking about them way too hard. Gary laughs appropriately.

"The goal is--" he's cut off for a moment while the vendor checks his credit card, Gary motions for the both of them, and he guides Signless to a set of open seats near the front of the train, "--you hold on for dear life and see who can scream the loudest."

This is the point where the safety bars come down and lock into place. Gary is squirming in place with excitement and clearly oblivious to everything else.

That doesn't seem like a goal that is at all synonymous with 'fun', but then, the humans here all think 'fun' is watching children murder each other.

Maybe humans just have a strange idea of what fun is in general, Signless thinks as the safety bar locks in front of him and the cars start moving up the incline. Instinctively he grabs onto the bar with one hand, though he gets the impression he's supposed to have them both in the air.

Of course he's extremely glad he decided to hold onto something once the ride starts proper. It's like being picked up and violently shaken by some very angry subjugglator. He realizes about halfway through that he's been shouting since it started, mostly wordless noises of distress and the occasional uncharacteristic curse. This is the time for it if there ever was one.

And yet... it is fun. Against all possible odds, Gary has not steered him wrong.

Of course Gary hasn't steered him wrong! Gary knows his adrenaline rushes and he knows that this roller coaster provides one of the best (that is, for someone looking for an adrenaline rush in the first place, and who wouldn't be?). Based on his companion's reaction to it, he's once again made an excellent choice. Gary would have never guessed that the Signless knew such colorful words. He reacts to the ride accordingly of course, yelling with his arms in the air and goading people on at the tops of tall hills just before they drop, pulling a face and putting rabbit ears behind Signless's head at the photo section. It's all gone very well, in his estimation! Sure, they've eaten a little too much before getting on and by the third consecutive loop or so Gary's starting to feel kind of ill, but this is a necessary, trivial risk, and one he can deal with when the ride's over.

When they finally come to a stop at the station, Gary decides that the threat of being sick is not such an immediate one that he can't check in on Signless first. He turns to him with a wide, breathless grin. "Yeah? Good??"

And then there's also a heavy slap on his back, for good measure.

'Good' is not the word he'd use. 'Nauseous' is a little closer, and the slap on his back only makes it worse. He offers Gary a weak smile and nod because he doesn't trust himself to talk (and he's a little talked-out after going through twice his daily quota of cursing in the past five minutes).

He does pretty well, all things considered. He makes it out of the cars and off the tracks before he actually throws up. Bye, single bite of butter and bacon. Bye, funnel cake. Bye, turkey leg. He hardly knew ye.

"We... may have done all that in the wrong order," he says.

This is pretty good--much better than Gary expected Signless to take it, anyways, good enough that he's thoroughly fooled into thinking that his troll companion is going to hold his lunch after all. He grins back, strides out of line and out front, ready to lead the Signless on another circuit of the park, when he hears the unmistakable retch of failure and disappointment behind him. Gary hops out of his way with some alarm.

"Aw--man! Gross." He frowns and anxiously brushes off his sides, as if trying to remove any invisible artifacts of sick from his clothes, but it's more a nervous habit than an actual sign of disdain or disappointment. Gary's laughing, still, a little apologetically by the time the shock wears off. "Well...at least now you're not full anymore and you can go again? Yeah?"

There is something quietly hopeful glimmering in Gary's eyes, even though he's pretty sure Signless will want to just go home by now. The point where throwing up becomes a thing is usually the point where festivities start to wind down.

That gets a laugh out of Signless that could, perhaps, be mistaken for a cough. Or maybe it's a cough that could be mistaken for a laugh, it's hard to tell. His throat has been through a lot today.

"Again?" he says, straightening up and for lack of a better option wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. "I... maybe. But not right now. I need a few minutes to be sure I can stay upright."

This is fair and is the response Gary was expecting, even though he didn't want to hear it. He frowns, though the gesture is clearly exaggerated for teasing purposes.

"Alright, fine. Spoil-sport." Huff. Gary waves Signless onwards, back down the pier, but hangs back in case he actually does need a sturdy support on the way. The mess they've left goes ignored for the park staff to take care of. "If you promise not to puke on my shoes, maybe I'll get you some ice cream on the way out."

"Sweet of you. I'd appreciate some water more, I think, but ice cream would wash the taste out just as well."

It's incredible. Almost two years in Panem, eight deaths, countless horrors witnessed, and what finally gets him to lose his lunch is a combination of a roller coaster and a cube of butter. It's surreal.

And it's the kind of humor he could use right now.

"This really has been fun, Gary. Thank you. I needed it."

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Funnel Cake Crowning

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cw vomit

maybe we can finally wrap this up, can you imagine

what a weird thought

we're gonna do it we're gonna end the thing

i... i think it's done....