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dead_black_eyes) wrote in
thecapitol2015-03-18 07:22 pm
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Tomorrow I'll be stronger, running colorful, no longer just in black and white [Week 6, Open]
Who| Linden Lockhearst and Open!
What| After this altercation, Linden had to spend the night in jail. Encounter him at any point during the 24 period during and after this less-than-glamorous ordeal.
Where| Jail, later on the District 6 suite.
When| Week 6
Warnings/Notes| The normal ones for Linden! References to drugs and death are likely.
I. Jail
Linden stares past the rigid plastic handcuffs at his black shoes on white tile. It was only a matter of time, perhaps... withdrawal and the ensuing hell that was sobriety has been rough on him. For the first time in over a decade, he's been forced to look at some of the experiences that have shaped the person he is without the haze of Morphling or alcohol influencing it, resulting in the emergence of a deeply sad and very angry man. Having numbed these emotions for so long means that his ability to deal with them isn't great; an already tense situation with an admittedly horrible District 7 Mentor had escalated and though he'd blacked out past a certain point, he's pretty sure that he hurt the guy. Possibly even enough to need stitches. At that point, it didn't matter who you were or what you'd been through; you at least had to spend a night in jail as a token punishment, and past that, even if you were lucky and the media didn't catch wind, it was inevitable that you'd have to deal with some kind of therapy or conflict-resolution seminar at some point.
There's a forcefield keeping Linden from walking out of his cell, but it's possible to hear through it, even smell through it. There's coffee brewing somewhere nearby, and he approaches the forcefield and tries to get the attention of the nearest Peacekeeper.
"Hey... hey, is that coffee? Can I have some, please?"
The Peacekeeper sighs. "Try to sleep. You can't leave until morning at the earliest, and it gets boring as hell in those cells. It's supposed to, this is a punishment."
"Then let me bum a cigarette."
He's left behind with a brisk, dismissive shake of the Peacekeeper's head.
II. The Next Morning- Bail Posted
"Rise and shine." the Peacekeeper in charge disables Linden's forcefield, and he sits up quickly, having not actually realized that he'd fallen asleep.
"What's going on?" he asks blearily, already reaching for the wastebasket he'd requested they leave in his cell with him. Since quitting Morphling, he's queasy in the mornings sometimes.
"Morning, and someone's posted your bail. Congratulations; 6 must really want their only Mentor back."
"Who was it?"
"Beats me. I'd suck up to them big time, though, they did you a hell of a favor."
III. The Next Morning- District 6 Suites
Linden probably shouldn't have been allowed to return to work so quickly after snapping so obviously and so badly, but he is 6's only Mentor right now, and he's therefore needed. A sweet-voiced woman in a nurse's uniform had stopped by his cell before his bail had been posted and given him a stack of pamphlets, commending him on his efforts to get clean but assuring him that there were more ways to quit than recklessly going cold turkey. She urged him to consider tapering off to avoid a situation like the one he'd ended up in, and explained that mood swings and aggression were common side effects of coming off of a persistent Morphling addiction, and he is broodingly considering it.
He's also considering how the fuck he is going to apologize to Jason Compson. A written apology was one of the conditions for his release, after all, and he takes a deep breath, trying not to clench his fist around his pen and staring at his attempt to write something acceptable.
Dear Mr. Compson,
I'm sorry you'rea sadistic brat
Stupid
have the self-control of a rabid warthog in front of an all-you-can-eat truffle buffet
I'm sorry that I lashed out at you. It was entirely my fault to expect you to be as refined as your bloodline would suggest when you are clearlyan Avox-hitting sow of a-------------
Fuck you, you spoiled
It's not going particularly well.
What| After this altercation, Linden had to spend the night in jail. Encounter him at any point during the 24 period during and after this less-than-glamorous ordeal.
Where| Jail, later on the District 6 suite.
When| Week 6
Warnings/Notes| The normal ones for Linden! References to drugs and death are likely.
I. Jail
Linden stares past the rigid plastic handcuffs at his black shoes on white tile. It was only a matter of time, perhaps... withdrawal and the ensuing hell that was sobriety has been rough on him. For the first time in over a decade, he's been forced to look at some of the experiences that have shaped the person he is without the haze of Morphling or alcohol influencing it, resulting in the emergence of a deeply sad and very angry man. Having numbed these emotions for so long means that his ability to deal with them isn't great; an already tense situation with an admittedly horrible District 7 Mentor had escalated and though he'd blacked out past a certain point, he's pretty sure that he hurt the guy. Possibly even enough to need stitches. At that point, it didn't matter who you were or what you'd been through; you at least had to spend a night in jail as a token punishment, and past that, even if you were lucky and the media didn't catch wind, it was inevitable that you'd have to deal with some kind of therapy or conflict-resolution seminar at some point.
There's a forcefield keeping Linden from walking out of his cell, but it's possible to hear through it, even smell through it. There's coffee brewing somewhere nearby, and he approaches the forcefield and tries to get the attention of the nearest Peacekeeper.
"Hey... hey, is that coffee? Can I have some, please?"
The Peacekeeper sighs. "Try to sleep. You can't leave until morning at the earliest, and it gets boring as hell in those cells. It's supposed to, this is a punishment."
"Then let me bum a cigarette."
He's left behind with a brisk, dismissive shake of the Peacekeeper's head.
II. The Next Morning- Bail Posted
"Rise and shine." the Peacekeeper in charge disables Linden's forcefield, and he sits up quickly, having not actually realized that he'd fallen asleep.
"What's going on?" he asks blearily, already reaching for the wastebasket he'd requested they leave in his cell with him. Since quitting Morphling, he's queasy in the mornings sometimes.
"Morning, and someone's posted your bail. Congratulations; 6 must really want their only Mentor back."
"Who was it?"
"Beats me. I'd suck up to them big time, though, they did you a hell of a favor."
III. The Next Morning- District 6 Suites
Linden probably shouldn't have been allowed to return to work so quickly after snapping so obviously and so badly, but he is 6's only Mentor right now, and he's therefore needed. A sweet-voiced woman in a nurse's uniform had stopped by his cell before his bail had been posted and given him a stack of pamphlets, commending him on his efforts to get clean but assuring him that there were more ways to quit than recklessly going cold turkey. She urged him to consider tapering off to avoid a situation like the one he'd ended up in, and explained that mood swings and aggression were common side effects of coming off of a persistent Morphling addiction, and he is broodingly considering it.
He's also considering how the fuck he is going to apologize to Jason Compson. A written apology was one of the conditions for his release, after all, and he takes a deep breath, trying not to clench his fist around his pen and staring at his attempt to write something acceptable.
Dear Mr. Compson,
I'm sorry you're
I'm sorry that I lashed out at you. It was entirely my fault to expect you to be as refined as your bloodline would suggest when you are clearly
It's not going particularly well.
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He accepts the glass of brandy from the Avox, raising it in a humorless toast before tipping back a generous swallow.
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TW for filthy drunken poetry
"I like limericks," he confesses. "I guess I had to get some things out of my system before my serious attempt."
He hands the page over to Leo as he turns back to the Avox to accept more brandy.
An Escort who works in Panem
Must be a sparkling gem.
But when you dump out the box,
Sometimes you get rocks,
Surely Compson is one of them.
I once met a man who was smothered,
By his bag of a Dynasty mother.
She taught him his manners
With drums and with hammers,
Which explains why he's always so bothered.
There once was a Capitol pox,
who sucked a plethora of cocks.
One day he was dumb,
Broke his mug full of cum,
And took it out on a helpless Avox.
"That last one may have gotten away from me, but you can say it. I'm a genius."
this is beautiful.
Boy howdy was it different. By the time Leo finishes the twisted little poem, he's actively laughing his District 2 ass off.
"If you're not keeping this, I am. You've truly outdone yourself, Lockhearst!"
8D
"Take it," he invites, with a one-shouldered shrug. "It'll surely change Panem forever... but I'm not signing it. There's flirting with trouble and then there's banging on its door and asking to get shot."
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No, not really.
"You're never going to finish at this rate..." Not Leo's problem, "If you need another bail out, call me up."
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He shrugs, the glass of brandy in his hands. "Well, the seal's broken, so at least there's something else to fall back on."
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The coach then served himself a hearty glass from that bottle, as if to keep that very advice he'd given earlier, "I meant what I said, Lockhearst. Two glasses and that's it, even for you."
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Ha, ha...
"But they were very small glasses..." he protests half-heartedly, knowing full well that he's not going to win this. Admittedly, he's just a little bit grateful in that regard.
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"Two glasses and filthy poetry, it's a fair trade for enabling your vice and your creative tendencies," Leo argued with a degree of playful finality. "You could have gone sober but then you would've found other ways."
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Shouldn't flirt so much with trouble, anyway...
"Well, you know me," Linden says with a fractured smile. "Where there's a will, there's absolutely a way, and when you win the Games you do whatever you have to to survive."
Even if surviving just means being distracted long enough to not take your own life.
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"Knowing you, you could have stashes in the laundry room, just to fuck with the Peacekeepers," he added with the same candor as before, "Or the books. It's hard to tell at this point."
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"Could I?" he asks mildly. "Well, I like to take my drinks in tumblers, but that certainly puts a new spin on the concept. That being said, I do think that the idea is a wash."
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Leo was still bitter about his own failed chance at being a Career Tribute when he saw Linden's Crowning. Even someone who was raised in the system, to become the most efficient killing machine, could see how bungled it all had been. Those Games had ended in a red mess, the scar could attest to that fact. But it was the breaking of the young boy's soul that gripped the audience.
It was a testament to Leonidas' capacity to adapt when he came across the District 6 Mentor now. Before, he believed Lockhearst was too weak to understand the honor of Victory and the drugs were a consequence. Now, even with their loutish behavior, some of that spirit seemed to live on in crappy jokes like these.
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For someone so brittle and frail-looking, Linden is actually quite a resilient individual, it would appear. Even if his soul was broken, the rest of him is still present and determined and selectively sharp.
"You know, despite the two of us working for so many years in the Capitol... I don't think we've ever actually talked."
Spoken, yes. Talked, no, not like this.
"I'm glad to have had the chance."
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"I didn't frequent the Capitol as much as I would've preferred. I was mostly in District 2, prepping the Career candidates before the Never Ending Quell began," Cora explained his lack of actual bonding with any Victors and Capitolites, "If not, I was getting a sponsor or two for my students."
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It's the less impressive thing.
"As staff, we're all busy," Linden rationalizes understandingly. "I didn't mean to make it sound as if you were at fault... I'm equally to blame. And in the past, I've simultaneously both admired and avoided District 2, so... perhaps the blame falls mostly to me, after all."
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Anything to get the man away from the stupor that the Tribute Tower and all the intrigues that came with it. And drugs.
"My home is open to Victors and Mentors."
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"I don't recall... if you're really sure, though, of course I would like to visit."
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"After what you did with Compson, you might have warmed some stonemasons' hearts," Leo remarked with the same candor as before. "Our home has quite the vista of the District plaza. Job stresses can be murder."
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How had it come to that? Linden wasn't just bright, he was brilliant. Had he taken a lifetime worth of luck and wits into that Arena and left it on the cave floor alongside Scorpii's body?
"Maybe," he allows carefully, hesitant to celebrate it too much. With the kind of grudge that Jason Compson is known to hold, he's lucky to have only spent one night in jail, after all. "But every Districter has a difficult job. The harder we work, the easier the Capitolites can take it, right?"
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"Heh, you say it with such reverence," the coach admitted, reverence he would never show to the likes of the D7 escort. "We're all part of the great chains that hold Panem together."
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"Reverence isn't exactly the word I'd use..." he murmurs. "But 'chains', that's... actually incredibly apt, isn't it? Quite perfect in fact."
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Sounds good! /thread end