Revas Tabris (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
allyorfoe) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-03-13 09:27 pm
allyorfoe) wrote in thecapitol2015-03-13 09:27 pm
Can you be forgiven, when the cold grave has come?
Who| Tabris and district 10 people, and Tabris and YOU.
What| Tabris adjusts to life after dying. Poorly.
Where| District 10 suite, the rooftop, and some shitty bar.
When| After her death in the arena.
Warnings/Notes| Petty tantrums, swearing, mentions of death and violence, probably really gross mushy fluff once Alistair gets involved.
I
She's alive. She was dead, but now she's alive. She guessed that Maxwell was right all along, and now she was in...the Capitol. She can remember dying, remember Bayard's corpse, remember tackling Nick, hitting him over and over, until that loud bang, the same that had been made when Bayard died--
It's overwhelming, and all it does is serve to make her angrier. Because, she is mad. She is so mad. When she arrives in the suite, she's fit to tied, and probably should have been, because all she feels is the rage coursing through her veins, and she wants to make sure that the people upstairs get a good show. That's what it's about, right? Putting on a show.
"DID YOU LIKE THAT?" She doesn't know where she should be directing her scream, so she shouts up at the ceiling, too white, too clean. Stomping around the suite, her presence, her rage takes up the entire room. "Was that fun? To watch him die? To watch a kid die? WELL!" She lashes out, kicking over a chair, watching it tumble across the room. "What about that! Is that funny?" Grabbing a vase, she hurls it at the floor, watching shards fly across the room. "Does this get your damned rocks off? Is this a good show?"
For a moment, she empathizes even more with mages, who have to worry about their emotions sending up flares for demonic possession. Right then, if a rage demon had offered, if anything had offered to take that boiling fury and turn her into something more, something with power, something that could destroy these people who had tormented her, who had tormented the people who had tried to protect, who had let a little boy get shot. She would have accepted. Death would have been welcome, if it would take this place down (of course, a single rage demon would never be able to do much, but Tabris would not realize that for a while yet).
She reaches for anything else that looks breakable. Feel free to encourage or tell her to get her shit together.
II
She's calmed down. Slightly. Walk it off, Warden. Walk it off. The only place that she can walk it off without having to see their damned demonic faces--Pink hair? Green skin? Even if they weren't demons, they were ugly--was up here. The wind blowing on her face, ruffling her hair into her eyes, was so much more calming, peaceful, than that hell hole of metal and white and unnatural. She walked to the edge, taking long, slow, deep breaths.
The city...it's massive. It's unbelievably big. And looking over it, she realizes what kind of bad guy she's dealing with. This villain is not a single person she can bring down, it's not an army that she can gather allies to defeat. This isn't the darkspawn, this is beyond every scope she could imagine. She might as well be facing down a whole country, with technology beyond her imagination. If there's any way to fight this, it's as far beyond Tabris as everything else in this world.
For the first time, she realizes that this is a situation that she has no hope of winning. For the first time, she feels...hopeless.
Her fingers grip the side of the rooftop, eyes darting over the city, and she voices her complaints to the wind.
"FFFFUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"
III
Okay, she's calm now, really. Or she's just really drunk. It's hard to tell, exactly, but it hadn't taken her long to find where the alcohol was kept. This was no simple tavern, but it was familiar. Some things never change, really. As she sipped her drink her eyes darted around the bar. Listening into conversations, shamelessly eavesdropping. But it was easy to figure out that she wasn't as comfortable as she acted. There was a wariness to her, and the way she drank, with a desperation to try to put everything behind her, tagged her pretty well as someone who had just spent the last month in the pits of the void.
At least the alcohol had improved. Refined. It had a good taste to it, and it decked you better than the shit that you'd normally find. Oh, Oghren, you would love it here. Unending fights and unending alcohol. She stared glumly at the glass in her hand, and chugged it in one go.
Then, proceeded to wince, and try really hard to pretend she wasn't having some paralyzing brain freeze, only made worse with the alcohol. Maker damn it all.
What| Tabris adjusts to life after dying. Poorly.
Where| District 10 suite, the rooftop, and some shitty bar.
When| After her death in the arena.
Warnings/Notes| Petty tantrums, swearing, mentions of death and violence, probably really gross mushy fluff once Alistair gets involved.
She's alive. She was dead, but now she's alive. She guessed that Maxwell was right all along, and now she was in...the Capitol. She can remember dying, remember Bayard's corpse, remember tackling Nick, hitting him over and over, until that loud bang, the same that had been made when Bayard died--
It's overwhelming, and all it does is serve to make her angrier. Because, she is mad. She is so mad. When she arrives in the suite, she's fit to tied, and probably should have been, because all she feels is the rage coursing through her veins, and she wants to make sure that the people upstairs get a good show. That's what it's about, right? Putting on a show.
"DID YOU LIKE THAT?" She doesn't know where she should be directing her scream, so she shouts up at the ceiling, too white, too clean. Stomping around the suite, her presence, her rage takes up the entire room. "Was that fun? To watch him die? To watch a kid die? WELL!" She lashes out, kicking over a chair, watching it tumble across the room. "What about that! Is that funny?" Grabbing a vase, she hurls it at the floor, watching shards fly across the room. "Does this get your damned rocks off? Is this a good show?"
For a moment, she empathizes even more with mages, who have to worry about their emotions sending up flares for demonic possession. Right then, if a rage demon had offered, if anything had offered to take that boiling fury and turn her into something more, something with power, something that could destroy these people who had tormented her, who had tormented the people who had tried to protect, who had let a little boy get shot. She would have accepted. Death would have been welcome, if it would take this place down (of course, a single rage demon would never be able to do much, but Tabris would not realize that for a while yet).
She reaches for anything else that looks breakable. Feel free to encourage or tell her to get her shit together.
She's calmed down. Slightly. Walk it off, Warden. Walk it off. The only place that she can walk it off without having to see their damned demonic faces--Pink hair? Green skin? Even if they weren't demons, they were ugly--was up here. The wind blowing on her face, ruffling her hair into her eyes, was so much more calming, peaceful, than that hell hole of metal and white and unnatural. She walked to the edge, taking long, slow, deep breaths.
The city...it's massive. It's unbelievably big. And looking over it, she realizes what kind of bad guy she's dealing with. This villain is not a single person she can bring down, it's not an army that she can gather allies to defeat. This isn't the darkspawn, this is beyond every scope she could imagine. She might as well be facing down a whole country, with technology beyond her imagination. If there's any way to fight this, it's as far beyond Tabris as everything else in this world.
For the first time, she realizes that this is a situation that she has no hope of winning. For the first time, she feels...hopeless.
Her fingers grip the side of the rooftop, eyes darting over the city, and she voices her complaints to the wind.
"FFFFUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"
Okay, she's calm now, really. Or she's just really drunk. It's hard to tell, exactly, but it hadn't taken her long to find where the alcohol was kept. This was no simple tavern, but it was familiar. Some things never change, really. As she sipped her drink her eyes darted around the bar. Listening into conversations, shamelessly eavesdropping. But it was easy to figure out that she wasn't as comfortable as she acted. There was a wariness to her, and the way she drank, with a desperation to try to put everything behind her, tagged her pretty well as someone who had just spent the last month in the pits of the void.
At least the alcohol had improved. Refined. It had a good taste to it, and it decked you better than the shit that you'd normally find. Oh, Oghren, you would love it here. Unending fights and unending alcohol. She stared glumly at the glass in her hand, and chugged it in one go.
Then, proceeded to wince, and try really hard to pretend she wasn't having some paralyzing brain freeze, only made worse with the alcohol. Maker damn it all.
no subject
He tries to say Thedas and Ferelden as best as she does but his accent almost mangles the word beyond recognition.
"I would think humans aren't stupid enough to try and kill elves." Oh sweet child.
no subject
But it changed, when Ellis spoke that final sentence. Her entire body posture changed, the air around her changed. Her face was rigid, the atmosphere charged, as she stepped forward, silent as the grave as she walked, until she was close, uncomfortably close, close enough for Ellis to see faint scars and the beginnings of wrinkles, a life too hard lived.
When she does speak, it's in a breathless whisper, a hissing noise.
"Humans have committed genocide against my people countless times, they have burned our cities to the ground, forced us into slavery, and stripped us of everything. Our language, our culture, our gods, our mortality, and, naturally, our lives. After we fought ourselves free, they gave us squalid slums, forced us to be servants, and killed us if we stuck our necks out. When I walk in the countryside, I wear my armor no matter the temperature, so they know I can fight, so they know what I am, so they don't murder me in the street. And when I forced them to elect a representative for my people, so we had a voice, they murdered her and called the protests riots."
Her eyes were glittering, anger long felt simmering, bubbling like a dormant volcano, due for eruption--Little puffs of anger here and there, but the main force kept down, just barely.
"So tell me how stupid you are, human."
no subject
"I can speak for myself...I'm quite stupid but not like th' people tha' did tha' to ya." Bile rose up to his mouth, "Jesus H. Christ, that's horrible. I'm so-" If Ellis learned anything from that disaster with Jane is that sometimes saying sorry makes things worse, especially if he himself had no part in the damages. "Did you take action to, uh,avenge her, your representative?"
Subversive talk for Tributes but Ellis wasn't one to let an injustice that gross slip.
no subject
"Of course I did." She replied, staring out over the city. Who cared what the Capitol thought of it. "I have assassins among my closest friends. One of them took care of it." That's all she says on the matter. Zevran did not only owe her his life, but was a very good friend, the two of them alike in many ways. She had only had to tell him, and make a single request. Make them pay.
She stares down for a few moments, then glances up at him. "Most of the humans in my world get real tired of me talking about the injustice against elves. Maybe they're just used to it. It's nice to know that humans are capable of understanding that it's bad."
no subject
The mechanic tried to be as assuring as possible, offering a respectful smile. "May I ask wha' you were hollerin' about earlier? I don't wanna be pryin' but after hearin' what people did to ya, you sound like you lost someone again."
no subject
"Oh--That. I guess I did, didn't I. Another human killing people." She sighed, sobering. "I had a little boy in the arena. I mean--Not my boy, but he was only 12, and he was scared, and I told him that I'd protect him. Told him that I'd make sure he stayed safe." She looked down, her face solemn. "...We were doing good, then all the food up and disappeared. Me an' Bayard, we were looking, and he got too far." She looked off, now, jaw clenching. "I found him, and there was a man. Pointing somethin' at him, and Bayard just. Fell. All bloody. So I tackled the guy, and started hittin' him. Until he got that weird...thing pointed at me."
She clicked her tongue, feeling the rage start to rise in her throat. No, not the time. Not now. "Who would put a kid in that place? Who would kill them?"
no subject
As he heard Tabris' side of the story, El became pale and inside, violently ill. So that's why she had come to the boy's aid. So cat's out of the bag,
"I-In my world...there's this disease runnin' around, an' turns people into rabid, decaying creatures. We call 'em the Infected an' things got horrible. C-Children," it was hard enough to talk about this without Rochelle or Coach to help him get through it, "Children were usually the first to evacuate an' the first put down when they got sick. They didn't last long either way, fever would get them first, but they suffered. That weird thing's called a gun, kinda like a hand cannon. Fires bullets real fast an' hard with gunpowder. People usually go quick with those if done right."
Moment of truth, "I don't condone or agree with what tha' man did. Let's get tha' straight because I am so tired o' getting goddamn glares for it. But he an' I come from tha' same place, an' I can sorta tell where he came from to make tha' choice. It wasn't the right one in my opinion, whatever tha's worth. If tha' makes ya wanna wail at me, then go ahead."
no subject
She doesn't say anything for a few minutes, staring out over the city as he explains himself, and explains Nick. Her first reaction is to take him up on his offer, to throw a punch at him, because Nick isn't here to do it. Reacting with violence is a gut reaction, and him trying to justify what Nick had done certainly felt like a good reason to do it. How could Ellis defend that, he hadn't been there, watching that child drop like a sack of potatoes.
But she also knows what it's like, to have to rely on people who have done terrible things. That sometimes, terrible people can make good friends. Could she say anything, when a decent chunk of her companions had been met whilst attempting to murder her.
And another, quieter voice, reminded her that sometimes, you could find strong allies, when you looked in unexpected places. Bhelen had murdered his own brother, and then every member of Harrowmont. Not even to mention the Architect.
"...I'm not going to hit you." She finally mumbled. "I'm not going pretend I completely understand, but. You need allies. I understand that. And people that came with you...You understand them." She twists her lips slightly, but presented her hand to Ellis. "I'll judge you by what you do, not what those with you do, alright?"
no subject
He took the hand and gave it a shake, "While we're thinkin' about this sorta thing, you said you have people from your world. Were they as uncomfortable with ya as the humans back home?" He was definitely gauging the Thedas inhabitants through her. Unabashedly so.