Jason Compson IV (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
whatisay) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-03-10 09:48 pm
whatisay) wrote in thecapitol2015-03-10 09:48 pm
Flecks of the Heavens' Spat Out Spit [OPEN]
WHO| Jason Compson and Open; Jason and Swann; Jason, Rick and Daryl
WHAT| Jason gets a migraine and is helpless; Jason beats an Avox; Jason gives Swann a gift; Rick and Daryl get the shotguns.
WHEN| Week 6
WHERE| D7 Suites; Swann's place
WARNINGS/NOTES| Avox abuse, migraines, general Jason awfulness. If you're going to tag the second prompt, please PP or PM me first so we can figure out where it's going and how far to take it, because Jason won't hesitate to put someone in jail.
I. Open
He knew he was going to have one of his headaches from the beginning of the morning, when every light seemed to have a ring radiating off of it and everything seemed to smell like rainwater. The one upside to the curse of these migraines is that he usually gets a few hours head start on them, with the feeling of deadly premonition, and so he spends most of the day trying to finish up everything as quickly as he can and clock out early. The calls to Sponsors and thank you cards to donors becomes a race against time, one which he sees himself losing too late to actually prevent disaster.
First he can't see, and then he can't move. Even breathing seems to put too much strain on him, and the throbbing, tightening hammering in his head gets worse with every exhale. The inside of his body feels like a live wire, sparking away inside his skull at camera-shutter speed. Nausea roils inside his throat and stomach, furling and unfurling like the tide.
When he opens his eyes the light is too bright, speckled with floating spots and halos, and he feels like the universe itself is trying to cram itself through his eyesockets and that his bones have made the opening too small to fit. So he keeps them shut and rolls over on the District Seven couch until he's facedown in a pillow, sweating slightly, trying not to whimper.
He has no hope of driving himself home, and even the idea of getting up seems a cruel joke. He tries twice, and both times a surge of nausea and a thunderclap of pain force him back down. So he lies there, hoping to whatever powers that be that his Tributes stick to their schedules and don't come bother him.
II. Open (please read note)
What started off as a strong Arena quickly loses those good odds as the District Seven Tributes die in the field and the District Suite gets repopulated. The worse it looks, the worse Jason's temper gets, until he's liable to throw something at the slightest provocation, which the Games video updates seem eager to supply him with. At least twice this week he's broken a glass, and yesterday smacked a table so hard that he has a ring of bruising around his finger like a wedding band.
With only Nick left in the Arena, Jason and Emily's chances are getting desperate, and the worst blow comes to Jason's ego when he realizes that no amount of fawning and flattery and networking seems to be enough to get Nick more supplies in the Arena. It stings to feel powerlessness, and to make it worse the only person willing to spot Nick a fire-starting kit's funds will only do it on condition that Jason go drinking with him - no sobriety allowed. Jason turns it down, but doesn't leave with his head held high so much as rankled and humiliated, and every ungrateful glance from his Tributes reminds him of how his family used to practically own this damn country and yet here he is, exposing his belly to anyone with money, helpless and inept and so, so frustrated with his life. Dressed in a suit he got from someone else's charity and supporting a home full of ingrates and lonely and with a fury as endless as the sky.
Whatever it is that set Jason off this time, it isn't sated just by smashing a piece of kitchenware. This time he backhands the Avox who rushes in to try and clean up the coffee mug he throws against the floor, sending them into the couch.
III. Swann
For someone who usually agonizes over every half-assi that goes to a necessary cause, Jason doesn't seem to mind spending money on Swann. He complains about it, at times, but it's more to go through the motions of complaining than because it actually bothers him. He buys her coffee when he can and tells her to save her money when they get lunch, getting sulky and defensive when she insists on splitting the tab. Sometimes he buys her a pastry on his way to pick her up for carpooling, although he doesn't let her eat it in the vehicle, and he has yet to ask her to help pay for fuel.
Today he shows up at her place with a large carrier in the back of his car, covered by a blanket, with a towel underneath it to protect the seats. Something inside is making scratching sounds. Jason looks a little frazzled, and shows up a few minutes late from a different route than he usually takes. He presses a button inside the car and the door opens for Swann.
"You coming, Honeymead?"
IV. Daryl and Rick
The rumors spread quickly after the Crowning, and all of them rub Jason the wrong way. A few photographs of him and Beth at the Crowning, him whispering into her ear, have made the rounds on tabloids, some of them even frontpage for the publications hungry enough to fabricate a scandal for readership. Jason's certain that he wouldn't ever touch a Tribute like that, but the fact that people are so eager to believe it of him leaves his pride feeling excoriated.
For his part, Jason doesn't treat Beth any differently, except for being a bit more stiff and cranky with her than he might have been before. But whispers swarm around them like a plague of mosquitoes, making a to-do out of something as simple as him Escorting her to a photoshoot with horses (A PONY FOR A PRICE?, a headline questions; another goes even more outrageous and wonders if Beth will say 'neigh' to marriage). He can only imagine the explanations she's making to the passel of Southerners who seem so eager to protect her.
Right now he's in the District Seven kitchen, glasses parked precariously on the tip of his nose as he writes by hand some math for the District budget. He's taken to putting most of his notes on his phone lately; he used to be able to leave writing around, but that was when most Tributes were entirely illiterate. His suit jacket hangs over the back of a chair and his shirt sleeves are pushed up to his elbows. A cup of coffee, long-cooled, sits beside him, and he occasionally asks his phone to answer some percentages questions for him.
WHAT| Jason gets a migraine and is helpless; Jason beats an Avox; Jason gives Swann a gift; Rick and Daryl get the shotguns.
WHEN| Week 6
WHERE| D7 Suites; Swann's place
WARNINGS/NOTES| Avox abuse, migraines, general Jason awfulness. If you're going to tag the second prompt, please PP or PM me first so we can figure out where it's going and how far to take it, because Jason won't hesitate to put someone in jail.
I. Open
He knew he was going to have one of his headaches from the beginning of the morning, when every light seemed to have a ring radiating off of it and everything seemed to smell like rainwater. The one upside to the curse of these migraines is that he usually gets a few hours head start on them, with the feeling of deadly premonition, and so he spends most of the day trying to finish up everything as quickly as he can and clock out early. The calls to Sponsors and thank you cards to donors becomes a race against time, one which he sees himself losing too late to actually prevent disaster.
First he can't see, and then he can't move. Even breathing seems to put too much strain on him, and the throbbing, tightening hammering in his head gets worse with every exhale. The inside of his body feels like a live wire, sparking away inside his skull at camera-shutter speed. Nausea roils inside his throat and stomach, furling and unfurling like the tide.
When he opens his eyes the light is too bright, speckled with floating spots and halos, and he feels like the universe itself is trying to cram itself through his eyesockets and that his bones have made the opening too small to fit. So he keeps them shut and rolls over on the District Seven couch until he's facedown in a pillow, sweating slightly, trying not to whimper.
He has no hope of driving himself home, and even the idea of getting up seems a cruel joke. He tries twice, and both times a surge of nausea and a thunderclap of pain force him back down. So he lies there, hoping to whatever powers that be that his Tributes stick to their schedules and don't come bother him.
II. Open (please read note)
What started off as a strong Arena quickly loses those good odds as the District Seven Tributes die in the field and the District Suite gets repopulated. The worse it looks, the worse Jason's temper gets, until he's liable to throw something at the slightest provocation, which the Games video updates seem eager to supply him with. At least twice this week he's broken a glass, and yesterday smacked a table so hard that he has a ring of bruising around his finger like a wedding band.
With only Nick left in the Arena, Jason and Emily's chances are getting desperate, and the worst blow comes to Jason's ego when he realizes that no amount of fawning and flattery and networking seems to be enough to get Nick more supplies in the Arena. It stings to feel powerlessness, and to make it worse the only person willing to spot Nick a fire-starting kit's funds will only do it on condition that Jason go drinking with him - no sobriety allowed. Jason turns it down, but doesn't leave with his head held high so much as rankled and humiliated, and every ungrateful glance from his Tributes reminds him of how his family used to practically own this damn country and yet here he is, exposing his belly to anyone with money, helpless and inept and so, so frustrated with his life. Dressed in a suit he got from someone else's charity and supporting a home full of ingrates and lonely and with a fury as endless as the sky.
Whatever it is that set Jason off this time, it isn't sated just by smashing a piece of kitchenware. This time he backhands the Avox who rushes in to try and clean up the coffee mug he throws against the floor, sending them into the couch.
III. Swann
For someone who usually agonizes over every half-assi that goes to a necessary cause, Jason doesn't seem to mind spending money on Swann. He complains about it, at times, but it's more to go through the motions of complaining than because it actually bothers him. He buys her coffee when he can and tells her to save her money when they get lunch, getting sulky and defensive when she insists on splitting the tab. Sometimes he buys her a pastry on his way to pick her up for carpooling, although he doesn't let her eat it in the vehicle, and he has yet to ask her to help pay for fuel.
Today he shows up at her place with a large carrier in the back of his car, covered by a blanket, with a towel underneath it to protect the seats. Something inside is making scratching sounds. Jason looks a little frazzled, and shows up a few minutes late from a different route than he usually takes. He presses a button inside the car and the door opens for Swann.
"You coming, Honeymead?"
IV. Daryl and Rick
The rumors spread quickly after the Crowning, and all of them rub Jason the wrong way. A few photographs of him and Beth at the Crowning, him whispering into her ear, have made the rounds on tabloids, some of them even frontpage for the publications hungry enough to fabricate a scandal for readership. Jason's certain that he wouldn't ever touch a Tribute like that, but the fact that people are so eager to believe it of him leaves his pride feeling excoriated.
For his part, Jason doesn't treat Beth any differently, except for being a bit more stiff and cranky with her than he might have been before. But whispers swarm around them like a plague of mosquitoes, making a to-do out of something as simple as him Escorting her to a photoshoot with horses (A PONY FOR A PRICE?, a headline questions; another goes even more outrageous and wonders if Beth will say 'neigh' to marriage). He can only imagine the explanations she's making to the passel of Southerners who seem so eager to protect her.
Right now he's in the District Seven kitchen, glasses parked precariously on the tip of his nose as he writes by hand some math for the District budget. He's taken to putting most of his notes on his phone lately; he used to be able to leave writing around, but that was when most Tributes were entirely illiterate. His suit jacket hangs over the back of a chair and his shirt sleeves are pushed up to his elbows. A cup of coffee, long-cooled, sits beside him, and he occasionally asks his phone to answer some percentages questions for him.
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Finally he snarls and turns away, going to get more coffee in a new mug. His shoulders are hunched, his neck tensed as he stalks the length to the kitchen.
"You come up here and you tell me what to do in my District Suite again and you'll regret it. You'll wish you never heard of this District Suite. Now which of my idiot charges is choosing to associate with you?"
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"Or is that part of the visitor's registration for District 7?" The former guard never let up in his professional appearance and behavior. Carefully, he began to pick up the pieces of the mug, might as well save the trip and spare another Avox the misfortune.
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He glances back and glares at Phillip. "Leave that. That's what Avoxes are for. They didn't get spared for execution to sit on their asses and have others wait on them."
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The insistence on leaving even the most menial tasks to Avoxes was still so strange and probably why Phil finished collecting the shards and tossed them into the garbage can, "I'm here now, it's not as bad as you make it out to be." He does ask the nearest Avox to please get him a napkin and to clean the stains on the floor.
"It wasn't that big a deal until now. People make messes and they should clean it up."
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"Avoxes are trying to make a mess of our whole damn country. The least they can do is earn their keep when we've been generous enough not to just line them up by the firing squad. What I say, we should just put them up against the wall..." Jason continues his vitriolic ramble mostly to himself, looking into air again, imagining his sister with her dress hiked up and feeling anger flood his veins again. "Avox, don't let him help you. Do your job."
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The Avox quickly obeyed and the guard stood back, "They're political enemies of the state, but they're still human, aren't they? I don't want to cause trouble but there's discipline and then there's-" Gray shook his head, "You have your point of view, I have mine." Coming from an off-worlder, that must've been rich.
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If she's been fraternizing with other Districts' Tributes, helping them, he'll want to give her an earful.
"And your point of view is from someone who doesn't understand how any of this works, so I says maybe you shouldn't go spitting out all your ethical beliefs like a damn change machine." He doesn't look at Phil. He watches the coffee. "An Avox isn't human. Don't be stupid. We brainwash the souls right out of them. They're like cattle."
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"Emily helped me with some of the more complex concepts, and about death, but this is one of those that I have yet to assimilate. I hope that wasn't a problem, Mr. Compson, sir."
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Jason can recite the next bit from memory, dispassionately, dredging up the memories of being told about his family's history and (unbeknownst to him) indoctrinated.
"How this works is that our world was at war, and no matter who won, if we kept fighting the human race would have gone extinct. The population wouldn't have sustained it. And so the people here, the Capitol, came up with a structure that would keep everyone at peace, so the whole of humanity wouldn't be wiped out. It means keeping people from each others' throats by fear and necessity, so they don't destroy each other like animals. And Avoxes are the people who're too self-centered to realize that, but instead of doing the sensible thing and eliminating the troublemakers who want to ruin us all, we just suck their souls out and use them. Believe me, whenever I can I pay for a proper servant. I don't like the Avoxes getting their seditious filth in my house."
He looks near-ill talking about the Avoxes, as if the anger has actually sickened him.
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A ploy to get Jason to take it easy on Emily? Perhaps, but also a fact-finding question if there ever was one. He could tell Stephen was probably old riches but Jason reeked of it. Reeked of a family clinging to a name that would've been forgotten by the Capitol like the newest fashion trend.
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"Sure, for all the good the name does me." Not much, since he's an Escort, and unlike Stephen he isn't doing it because the Tributes give him a warm fuzzy feeling inside. "My great-grandfather was a general in the war, made some of the most brilliant tactical decisions, and my grandfather was on the cabinet until he went and got himself locked up. So, like I say. Does me a lot of good."
His father had to go and ruin it with alcoholism and a complete lack of ambition and then his siblings went and salted and burned the ashes.
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He had two options: ask why Jason was an escort in the first place or leave...Well, I got nothing better to do than watch Nick and the others kill each other, and I like my odds, Phil thought and asked the question anyways, "So you're here to follow tradition?" Clearly, if his previous actions were any indications. "Your Tributes must be very happy with your work."
Bad decisions, he makes them every day.
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"They'd better be. I slave away to try and get one of them past the finish line. And to get my damn paycheck, because even we old families have mouths to feed."
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And not risk his own ass in getting a rise out of Jason and his wrath upon District 6. From what he could tell, once a Compson has you on his sights, there's no stopping the hate train
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All the goodwill the man had, out the window. "Can I leave her a message at her office?" Lord knows he couldn't ask that from a man who drank his coffee so bare and bitter.
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How Emily kept herself sane with this man and her District is beyond the grasp of Gray's understanding but at least he wasn't risking that big a punishment. He does give the Avox a shrug.