thecapitol | (no subject)

Who| Everyone
What| Lockdown
Where| Tribute Training Center
When| Starting around dusk
Warnings/Notes| None atm. If your character tries anything extravagant, shoot the mods a pm.

Dusk was falling when it started.

Anyone in the District 12 suite's would have heard heavy sounds above them moments before a loud explosion rocked the entire building. The electricity flickers once, twice, then goes out, replaced by cool, blue glowing lights running along the ceilings. Avoxes appeared silently, as they do, herding people from one room to another.

Once the door shuts, it doesn't open again until the last person is there, sealed shut. The windows in the rooms with them were darkened, and the computer would not respond to any request to show anything. However, food could be called to the room, the trays appearing as they normally do. But the doors would not budge, and the cool blue lights stayed the only light source, the only power.

Although there was nothing to see, there was lots to hear. Banging, foot steps in the halls, on the floors above, explosions, straining metal collapsing, scraping down the side of the building. Occasionally the repetitive rapping of gun shots. Yelling. Screaming. Those near the top of the building could smell smoke, at times strongly. The elevator can be heard moving up and down, even though it doesn't respond to any calls from those trapped.

The sounds last into the late night, finally quieting around midnight. Finally, at 1 am, a calm, cool voice comes over the loud speakers.

"The rebellion forces have been repressed. We will be clearing the building for the next few hours. Please stay patient and sleep well."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's profoundly unnatural for Javert to be standing idly by while other people go to manage the chaos. Granted, he hasn't known anything to this bloody extent, but his instincts say that he should either be actively doing something or lying in wait for an opportunity to come in with force, rather than waiting, meek as a lamb, in the training center.

So since he can't do anything about the threats outside, he looks for something he can manage within. The man with dark spectacles is standing to the side, cleaning his fingertips with a knife in a way Javert can only recognize as uncivilized. Javert approaches with his arms folded and stops a few feet away, looking at Wesker with scrutiny.

"You seem rather calm about all this."

"Should I not be?" Wesker replied, smooth and even, without looking up, carrying on with his manicure. "Would the situation be any better served if I were panicking and blubbering like the rest?"

"Hardly. But it does make a man curious." Given that Wesker won't raise his gaze, Javert stares at his forehead, keeping aware of where the knife is in the periphery.

"Really?"

Finishing with his ring finger, he inspected the nail carefully before his head finally came up, an eyebrow lifting.

Ahh, the Frenchman.

"Is strength of constitution that rare where you're from?"

"Hardly, but look around you." Plenty of people in the room are flinching or startling at every scream or rattle from outside.

There is, however, a coldness to Javert's voice that betrays that Wesker's already hit a nerve. He holds a good deal of pride in his country.

The head didn't turn, but behind the lenses the eyes did, slipping from side to side.

"And?" he asked simply. "Just because some are learning that the world is a dark and dangerous place, doesn't mean we all are."

Javert's body language remains stiff, but he takes a step to the side and lets his arms fall from how they're folded.

"What dark and dangerous place do you come from, Monsieur? Sate my curiosity, if you don't mind. It seems we will be here a while."

And Wesker smiled. No trace humor or warmth, it was the dark, dangerous grin of a shark.

"Where I come from the dead crawl from their graves, hunting the living in great ravenous packs. Creatures your darkest nightmares couldn't even concoct roam the streets. Mankind has been reduced to a few meager thousand survivors, huddling together as the world burns around them."

He nodded his head toward the rumbling ceiling.

"Where I come from, I could set my watch by the screams."

There's a little twitch in Javert's jaw, but otherwise he makes no further expression. "Ah, so you're British, then."

He snorted, and almost looked amused.

"Hardly," he replied simply. "But if it interests you to know, Britain has fallen. France, Germany, Russia..." He waved his free hand idly. "My world is dying."

"France wouldn't fall." Change rulers more often than it changes hats, sure, but it wouldn't fall.

"It has," Wesker said flatly. Simply. Fact. "Where I come from."

Javert's face is stony and impassive. "Do you plan on impressing me with lies?"

"Believe what you will." And Wesker's head tipped down, resuming his manicure... and glancing over the rim of his glasses, red and gold serpentine eyes staring above the black lenses. "It makes no difference to me."

Javert's face is suddenly crossed with confusion. "You appear to have something wrong with your eyes, sir."

Wesker blinked and the long pupils narrowed, thin black slits against pools of heated gold and bloody red. The light, even here, was almost too much.

"Perhaps I would," he said on a dry exhale, almost bored as he reached up and slipped the glasses back up his nose. (The relief was immediate.) "If I were still human."

"As opposed to what?" Javert scoffs. "You certainly look human enough to me."

It's probably some silly Capitol fashion. They seem happy to make themselves look as ridiculous as possible.

"Then I would say that the problem is with your eyes," Wesker replied, blond head nodding toward Javert in emphasis.

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Re: Wesker | OTA (Javert?)

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/sob I'm sorry this got lost in the shuffle

No worries, bb! <3

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i'm sorry for this tag

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