thecapitol | [Open] Not Exactly Home

Entry tags:

ellis,
✘ jane

[Open] Not Exactly Home

Who| Ellis and OPEN!
What| El's first death and watching the Arena...horrified.
Where| All over the Tower
When| Week 5
Warnings/Notes| Language and mentions of the Arena

A. District 4 Suite

Ellis' death was quick and yet he couldn't quite shake off the horrible feeling that came from it. That empty horror that came as he bled out. Of course he checked out his body for any scars and only found the ones he came into the Arena. Garrett slammed the the knife twice, cutting It felt like that time he was nearly killed by a Tank, only less terrifying as it turned out. If this was how death would be from now on, he was going to get used to it...or lose his mind. Go big, or go home, he thought as he stretched out. He wasn't that shaken about it and that's what disturbed him the most: how accepting he was of it all. Was he so used to being near death back home that when he actually bought the farm, it wasn't that big a deal?

"Jesus help me, what's wrong in my head?" he muttered to himself, playing with his hat, his token...

Well at least now, he was now in the Capitol and more so, his District Suite! Nick said this was a safe place, no zombies in here! Any fellow D4 Tributes can see the strange hick explore the floor and all the amenities that come with being a guest of the Capitol for their entertainment.

B. Tower Bar

Watching the Games themselves on the big screen was possibly the worst mistake Ellis ever did as he watched Nick pick off four tributes. The callous way he just pulled the trigger and told them off with such a cold manner that. Ellis wanted to personally apologize to those people. He'd also take a good drink or three...holy crap, he knows this a death game but this is just-

"Where the hell is the nearest bar?" the mechanic needed that one fast as he watched the bloodbath even further. He wanted to cheer on...he really did. But holy damn, he could almost hear Coach scolding them both.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Jane has been spending a lot of her time at the bar since her return to the Capitol. She looks rough. It's her second time dying in an arena, her second time reverting to the borderline-emaciated state she arrived to Panem in. She can't stomach more than a couple mouthfuls of food at a time, but the booze goes down better somehow, with the added bonus of dulling the knowledge that her friends are still out there, just waiting to be picked off by some asshole for an entire country to place bets on.

But he wasn't just some asshole anymore, was he? No. He has a name. Looking him up had been one of the first things she'd done after reanimating on a sterile cot and being herded back to her suite by Peacekeepers. She's done her homework, and kept tabs on the arena ever since.

Nick. She slams a shot back, sharp eyes fixed on the giant projection behind the bar. Fucker. Revenge won't do anything but make her too single-minded to last when it came time to fight again, but there would be no hesitation on her behalf when it came to him, she had promised herself that much.

She pours herself another shotful of vodka, narrowly avoiding the urge to shatter the bottle against the counter. The stools to either side of her are vacant, though sponsors, staff, and other tributes populate the common area of the tower tonight, but they've given her a generous berth -- one that she reinforces anytime someone is brave enough to enter it with a withering glare.

Edited 2015-03-08 23:52 (UTC)

Ellis had paid no attention to the glare, he simply sat down, and asked the bartender for the strongest drink available. Bourbon was his poison when beer wasn't enough and Capitol-grade bottles were going to be his favorites right now.

"Fuckin' dick o' a man," he growled, "Heartless bastard..."

He didn't care about Jane's glare, but it did reinforce one idea: "He got you too, didn't he?"

That's one name on a building list Ellis would take care of.

The glare doesn't work, much to her frustration, and she's practically fuming into her drink while Ellis settles in beside her. She figures she'll go for pretending he doesn't exist next until he gets the message, and that's just what she does until he asks his question.

Though she doesn't look at him, staring straight at the back of the bar instead, he does get her to lift her head. That's reaction enough, a warning to any who are fluent in or attentive to body language. From what he can see of her profile, Ellis should just be able to make out the hard line of her mouth twisted down into an angry frown. She's not happy, and he's not helping.

Ellis saw that frown and got every answer he thought he needed and more. Yep, this lady had been one of those four first unfortunate souls that got to know how well Nick handled the gun. And it wouldn't be the first time he'd been glared out of the room. He tried contacting the others but to no avail.

So the mechanic did the next best thing, took a glass full of the bourbon then left the bottle for her to enjoy. "Bon apetit...I'm sorry he did that to you."

Because Nick wasn't going to apologize for his behavior, El took it upon himself to make sure the other Tributes didn't kill the man in his sleep back in the Capitol. His affection and loyalty to the gambler were unquestioned, but Jesus Christ, this was one hell of a hole even someone like El couldn't easily pull him out of.

Stock still, she watches him scoot the bottle towards her out of the corner of her eye. For his sake, he better just be feeling generous. But that's not the case -- of course it's not -- and Jane nearly shoves out of her bar stool then and there. Disbelief mixes with anger mixes with the liquor already burning a hole in her gut until her head's pounding. She doesn't give a shit if he means well-- it's been years since something like that mattered to her.

The legs of her stool screech against the floor as she kicks out, swiveling to stare Ellis dead in the face. Jane seizes the bottle of bourbon off the counter, twists the lid off and flings it across the floor like she's skipping a stone.

"You wipe his ass for him too?" She brings the bottle to her lips, hard enough to make its contents lurch up the neck with a slosh. She takes a gulp, then two, then three, then leans in to pour the rest of the bourbon in Ellis's lap.

The sudden cold startled Ellis but he didn't shout or react as badly as Jane probably thought. He expected this sort of reaction as he asked another tribute and got the stink-eye.

"No, but I feel responsible for wha' he did to ya and the others," he answered with a sigh, "He was a fuckin' idiot, that was completely uncalled for an' I had to apologize to ya ma'am." There wasn't much to say to her than that, it was the right thing to do.

He does nothing to stop her, and she's not about to stop herself, so Jane pours out every drop of the bourbon onto him, expression cold and relentless. It doesn't make her feel any better, but it doesn't make her feel worse, either - especially not when she knows he's not just expressing sympathy out of the blue. She recognizes him from reviewing the arena, knows he's buddied up with the piece of shit that gunned her down. That's all the proof she needs that he's not here for anyone but himself. The only thing catching her by surprise about this is the fact that he honestly thought getting her a drink would help smooth anything over.

Somehow, the bottle ends up back on the counter unshattered, and not across the bar in pieces or broken over his head. Her own is swimming and heavy and uncooperative when she tells herself to stop reacting to emotion, to get up and walk out and never give Ellis the chance to get close enough to say anything to her again, but the dam's already burst. Why couldn't he have just minded his own business?

His mouth is moving again, but all Jane hears is more self-serving horseshit. She stands, slamming a hand on the counter for support when her legs are unsteady.

"Oh, you feel responsible, huh? Well I'm not here to soothe your fucking conscience." She leans in, eyes burning with unspoken threats she's made good on before and wouldn't hesitate to make good on again. "Go fuck yourself."

Edited 2015-03-11 03:50 (UTC)

Ellis can't help but try and reach over to help Jane steady herself but he pulls back, and looks away. He knew bubbling hatred when he saw it and merely turned around to ask the Avox that rushed into the battle scene to clean up if he could escort Jane up to her suite when she was too far gone.

"Not everyone who's with Nick-nevermind, you're not all there," he muttered to himself and took off his hat to shake off the excess of the drink. "I'm sorry he did something to you tha' I never expected him to ever do."

Ellis wasn't as self-serving as Jane probably thought he was, but he wasn't wasting his breath explaining himself to a woman who wouldn't even remember what they talked about the next day.

"You stupid son of a bitch." The intervening Avox attempting to mop up the bourbon with a rag is the only thing keeping Jane from lunging at Ellis. He means well, even she can see that, but the bottom line is it doesn't count for shit. She can't do shit with an "I'm sorry". Sympathy can't abate the wrath that has done nothing but culminate for months now. All she wants to do is drive her fist through his face, because splitting her knuckles on his teeth sounds like the only thing right now that will make her feel better. It's getting so bad it's hard to see straight.

"You think I'm saying this to you just because I've been drinking?? I'd be more than happy to find you tomorrow and repeat myself. It'd just make my fucking day!" Her voice rises in time to the violent red creeping up her neck. Both of her hands are balled into shaky fists. She's attempting to edge around the mute woman now, though the Avox is doing her best to impede her without involving herself directly.

"Get out. Go!!! I don't want to fucking hear it. You and your goddamn bullshit apology aren't welcome here!"

Edited 2015-03-19 06:30 (UTC)

For the sake of the Avox (who was simply doing her job and had no fault in this mess) and Jane's rage, Ellis backed off and left the bar as fast as he could. Whatever hell the next Arena had in store for him, there wasn't much that compared to that fury.

If this was a preview of what was to come as soon as Rick and Daryl find out about Beth's murder in the tundra, El was shit out of luck. He'd still stand by Nick, he wouldn't abandon the one person he unconditionally cared for in all of Panem.

[Garrett was decidedly unhappy about both being killed and waking up back in this world. His own was cruel, he'd be the first to admit that, but this one...if that's what people did for entertainment, then he had little interest in mingling with them. Not just yet, anyway. At least they'd had the decency to give him back his clothes.

It's only natural that he makes his way to this world's equivalent of a tavern and lingers in the shadows, surprisingly inconspicuous despite looking like he stepped out of a history book. When he spots Ellis, he starts making his way over; the kid was the closest thing he had to friendly companionship.

The thief doesn't say a word as he takes his seat, just watching the monitor with eyes that are now incredibly mismatched. Whatever had shut down the Primal in the arena apparently wasn't active here.]

[Yeah no, Ellis is now glaring at Garrett if slightly. It'd been two weeks but the perceived betrayal was still fresh. The thief had the balls to try and sit beside him after holding his friends hostage then killing him.]

Whaddya want?

[That was as nasty a tone as Ellis had back in the cave]

A drink. Some bastard got me, too.

[At least he could admit he was a bastard. That term probably applied to him in a literal sense, too. He takes a swig of his drink, a simple and cheap ale that managed to be better than anything back home despite being the worst thing on tap.]

Guess it's true what they said about the arena.

Congratu-fucking-lations, you got was comin' to ya for what ya did.

[This was his third beer and he stared at Garrett. Though he'd yet to see the Capitol footage. All he knew was that this man was on his shit list.]

Here to apologize?

For killing you? I'd say we're both owed an apology for that.

[Another swig. He scowls at the memory. The blood hadn't been easy to wash out after being left on his clothes for a day, and he knew he'd never be able to get the sounds of Ellis' dying breaths out of his nightmares.]

I wouldn't count on either of us getting it.

...[He quietly looked over to Garrett] Why didya kidnap my friends? [To the point, as usual] I followed those sounds an' then you attacked me.

I didn't kidnap your friends. I'm a criminal, but I'm not that kind of criminal.

[He pauses for a moment, reluctant to share anything that might be considered personal...but this might clear his name. There were things even he didn't want to be known for.]

They tricked me, too. Made it sound like...someone I knew back home was in the caves, being tortured. I found where the sounds were coming from; she wasn't there. There were just supplies and a voice that told me to kill you in 24 hours or we'd both die.

[Another swig.]

Bastards.

[Ellis blinked at that] Wait what? But they...they sounded so real an' I know when Nick's hurt, Rochelle's screams, or Coach is down! [It sent a shiver down the younger man's back] It couldn't have been all made up!

If that's the case...shit...I'm sorry I broker yer face an' ribs...[yeah that's a start]

Edited 2015-03-11 03:17 (UTC)

[He shrugs.]

It wouldn't be the first time someone's broken my ribs.

[Wait...was that an apology? A real, genuine apology? Well. That's not something he's used to. The best he usually got was the other person not breaking his nose the next time he saw them. That probably warranted an apology in return. He lets a moment go by before muttering.]

...Sorry about, uh...stabbing you. I'm a criminal, but I'm not that kind of criminal.

I wasn't gonna let ya jus' stab me an' not give the people at home a show. [El gave Garrett a quick wink and allowed himself to soften a bit] At least you got to, uh, this far.

They really played us like fiddles in a band, huh?

They put targets over all of us. Guess there wasn't enough blood for their tastes.

[He nods.]

Not that they gave us much choice. I still don't understand why they didn't just bring in a bunch of mercenaries and assassins. They wouldn't have to work so hard to get their show.

What fun would it be then, if everyone's capable o' killin' each other? There's no real drama?

[Over the two weeks, Ellis had realized a few things about the Games, and the people reaped along with it. There was a hint of dark humor in that statement] They want to see average people kill, people like me. The more you fight, the more your District cheers ya on.

[Ellis wasn't that ordinary, if his smile and the returning friendliness were any indication]

All we can do is play our part, right?

[He smirks just a little bit.]

I've never been a fan of playing by the rules.

[Not anyone else's rules, anyway. Even his own could be bent if the situation called for it.]

Call it a shot in the dark, but I'm guessing you were a normal, law-abiding citizen before the shit hit the fan.

Technically speakin'...yeah...but the Zombie Apocalypse happened an' I unleashed my inner badass. [smirking now when he realized]

Your eye's all weird, why's that? [He got a little closer]

That? I got a piece of Primal Stone in my eye about a year ago. I think the arena just...shut it off.

[Which was odd, to say the least. He'd seen what the Primal could do, and they seemed to have something that could turn it off. Something stronger. He needed to find out what it was, but that would have to wait. There was no way the kid knew anything about it.]

So, what exactly happened with this "zombie apocalypse?" I always thought they just shuffled around old tombs.

B

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B...but is week 6 okay?

Okay!

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