thecapitol | paint-by-number morning sky [semi-open!]

Entry tags:

paint-by-number morning sky [semi-open!]

Who| Signless and Tony, Signless and the D12 tributes, Signless and YOU!
What| Taking care of business, then taking care of pets.
Where| D12, then the lobby.
When| Now (after the arena, before the crowning).
Warnings/Notes| Nothing I can think of, will add if something comes up.

A. For Tony

Remembering the whirlwind of interviews and speculation and internal conflict he had to deal with after winning, the Signless has left Tony more or less alone since the end of the arena. There's only so long he can put off talking to Twelve's new victor, however, and he feels it's reasonable to want to be on the same page since they're going to be working together. It won't do their tributes any good if they're working hard but working at cross purposes.

With that in mind he stands outside of Tony's door and gives a brief, polite knock.

"Tony? I'd like to speak with you, if you don't mind."

B. For All D12 Tributes

Just as important as keeping on the same page as his co-mentor is keeping up to date with his tributes. In his opinion he'll be best-equipped to help them if he hears from them what it is that they most need. On top of that he wants to get to know all of them better. Twelve is many things and especially right now it's a mixed bag of very different people with very different skills who need very different marketing to make sure they get as much help in the arenas as it's possible for him to secure. Perhaps it's not the most efficient way of doing things but he wants to be sure everyone is being presented to sponsors in a way that they're, if not happy with, at least not vehemently opposed to.

Each of them will receive a brief, friendly note on their door asking to meet in the suite common room at an appointed time for a brief check-in. He parks himself on the couch with a notebook, a pen, and a decidedly non-alcoholic drink, and waits.

C. Open!

It hadn't been as much of a surprise as it might have been when after his crowning he was presented with the small crablike creature the Capitol had billed as a 'mutantblood lusus'. He remembers very well Maximus and his pet tiger. No, the problem with his new pet isn't so much that he hadn't been expecting it and more that it has absolutely no manners. He's discovered that with the exception of himself and Karkat it's distrustful of people at best and attempts to eat their ankles at worst. 'Worst' happens to be its default.

Naturally the solution is taking it down into the lobby of the tower (on a short leash, of course) and attempting to get it used to people. It skitters around his legs, clacking its claws and blinking its four white eyes suspiciously at anyone who gets too close. When it's not making agitated chirping sounds or screeching in alarm at a Capitolite's oh-so-scary shiny accessories it's emitting a low, constant and very uneasy hiss.

"Sorry," he says, nudging it with his foot away from the person it's most recently decided is its mortal enemy. "I'm trying to teach him to be a little more personable and it's not going well."

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For entirely different reasons, Jolie lets her pet wander freely as sparingly as she can. It's not that he's vicious, it's more that he's skittish. He's definitely become something more of a lap armadillo, which is the most ridiculous title she's ever bestowed upon something. Coconut, she feels, is very deserving of that position at least.

It's one of those rare days when he's free to snuffle the lobby rather than being given free reign of the work-room in District Eight. He's very proudly adorned with metallic red and gold paints with small silver diamante outlining certain ridges. On his head there's a plain, red bow because they're going for the subtle look today.

Jolie is distracted by the papers in her hand and Coconut pulls lightly at the leash as he shyly makes an attempt to approach the strange looking crab. It doesn't take more than a hiss to have him reeling, and Jolie is alerted by the fact that he rolls into a ball and bumps against her foot. She spares a confused glance down at him, then she turns to look from Signless, to his pet, then back to Signless.

"Have you tried spritzing it? With holy water, maybe?" She suggests, leaning down to pick up what looks to be a small, gaudy basketball.

Oh, ha ha. He gives her a wry smile, prodding the tiny crab back with one foot so that it doesn't try to pounce on Jolie while her face is closer to its range of motion. There's no way that could end well.

"Is that how you taught your..." What even is that? "Your shellbeast to be so well-behaved?"

He's serious, too. He has no idea how to train a pet: all he's had up to now has been tribbles and those mostly just sit around being soft. Any advice is advice he'll take.

Jolie is about to answer, she really is. She has a whole wealth of knowledge on teaching small, vicious creatures how to behave. She learned all that from drag bars, of course. It's the name that catches her off guard, and she can't help crinkling her nose in response.

"Shellbeast? It's an armadillo, bitch." And she says that with sincere affection, perhaps a little condescendingly. "Well, I mean. He wasn't exactly much to deal with to start with. The whole ball thing is basically his coping mechanism for most things."

She holds him out, just so Signless can get a better look at her adorable sphere. "Spritzing anyone in the face tends to make them think twice about shit. Why? You having problems with your...thing?" Yeah, she doesn't know what that is.

Signless has been called a lot of things in his nearly fifteen sweeps of life, and 'bitch' is not one of them. His eyebrows momentarily look like they're trying to escape into his messy bangs, but he doesn't make much of a fuss about it. This is just a Jolie thing, he's pretty sure. He's seen enough of her around to have that impression.

He does indeed inspect the adorable sphere. It's much cuter than his spiky, scuttling bundle of shell. That could be fixed with the right paint job, but he doesn't think the tiny creature would submit to that.

"Lusus," he supplies, "and yes. He's... overprotective, I think. And easily spooked. The idea in bringing him down here was to expose him to enough people that he'd realize they weren't a threat to him, but I don't think it's getting through."

It's hard to imagine anyone has lived within such a small radius of Jolie and avoided such a fate, but clearly destiny is making the rounds tonight. There isn't any malice in her posture or her expression, perhaps just mild defensiveness for her precious orb of pet.

"Never heard of it." She says without shame, because clearly everyone should know what an armadillo is but a lusus is a give or take sort of thing. "So he's meant to be like a guard.. crab? Or something?" She tilts her head, taking in the concept as she glances from the pet to Signless and back again. "I dunno if it works for lusus..es, but it doesn't hurt to spell these things out for them. Good behaviour gets treats, being a shit means you get spritzed. It's conditioning or whatever, just like getting him used to people."

"Something like that. A lusus is a general term for a creature from my home that watches over a young troll, something like a mixture of pet and guardian." So really, she can be excused for not recognizing the word. It's just garden variety Troll Bullshit.

"That's a good thought actually. He's fond of roe cubes -- clumps of fish eggs," he adds, in case that particular phrase is also hard to parse. "I could give him some any time his immediate reaction to a new person is not to try and attack their lower legs. Was your armadillo difficult, to start with? He seems very docile now."

The adorable sphere doesn't look like it could do anything remotely violent.

"Of course it is." This time she's shamelessly flippant, because she has no idea what to take from this or how to respond. At the very least, she nods in understanding, then she crinkles her nose at the next description.

"You're going to smell like you belong in District Four." Haha! Fun, Capitolite humor. She scoffs at her own joke, but she continues to nod agreeably. "That's the ticket. I mean, there's always punishment as well, but most people prefer excuses to dote on their pets. For good reason." She lifts her Armadillo to her face, making kissy lips at him before turning him as if he needs to look at Signless when he's being referred to.

"Well, he's always been shy. Attacking people isn't a problem, but the bitch likes to dig, even when the surface isn't diggable. I have a spray bottle full of water with a bell attached to it, I used to have to spray him to make him stop but now he damn well knows what the bell means."

"They've been making jokes about me smelling like District Four anyway," he says, almost like thinly-veiled jabs at his love life are an afterthought. He's more concerned with leaning in to get a better look at the armadillo, which is now conveniently eye-level.

"Does he like to be petted or is he too shy for that?" Because that is a very cute tiny snout and if he can touch it he's going to.

Jolie tilts her head the side with an expression of consideration when Signless brings up rumors. She doesn't follow his personal life too intently, but she's at least semi-aware of what he means.

"He loves pets. I mean, look at him, who could resist?" She just barely sways him to the side as he starts to unfurl, realising he's a comfortable distance from the crab monster. "Plus it's a good way to make him less shy, I guess."

The crab monster is still winding its way around Signless's ankles, watching the armadillo with keen interest. For the moment, however, it seems blessedly calm.

"Oh, yes. The more he sees that most people just want to give him affection, the less he'll be afraid." Follows pretty logically. Carefully he reaches out, brushing his fingers over the nearest section of armadillo. Hopefully it won't curl back up again.

"He really is very charming; the outfit helps." It seems like it would be a lot of work, but he's seen first-hand the dedication Capitolites can have to fashion. A stylist surely would have plenty. "Do you dress him every day?"

"Yeah! It's like people." She says in a manner that isn't at all disconcerting. She could make comparisons to Tributes and their adoring fans, but she refrains and focuses on the pets. Signless earns himself a smile with his gentle treatment of her beloved shell-baby. Coconut curls in on himself just a little when the hand approaches, but he uncurls once he becomes more aware that there's a blatant lack of threat here.

"Thank you." Jolie answers with enthusiasm, the grin telling of how aware she is. "Most of the time, if we're going out. He goes au naturel if he's staying at home, though." Which is such a nice thing, she thinks, then glances toward the Crab once again. "Can you imagine trying to dress your little guy up, though?"

No threat here at all, just gray fingers with meticulously filed and painted nails (black, to cover up their 'unsightly' natural yellow). When Coconut uncurls and accepts the petting his face breaks into a genuine and only slightly pointy smile.

"Not remotely. At least, I can't imagine doing it successfully. I think he'd shred whatever I tried to put him in."

He rubs the pad of one finger between Coconut's ears, down his face, over his snuffly snout.

"I could paint his shell, though, if I could get him to sit still long enough. The white is a perfect canvas."

"You could always hire someone." She says with a shrug. Like it's a perfectly normal, acceptable and damn near necessary thing to do. Everyone knows you need to keep your pets maintained, even if they're horrible, little crab-monsters.

"Heck, if you train him up good enough I might take a shot at it. I'm sure he'd look stunning in a nice shade of red. That's your colour, isn't it? Trolls do colours even though their grey." That part isn't a question, it's just a statement that amuses her.

"That's my color, yes," he affirms. "You can usually tell by looking at our eyes, once we reach a certain age. Many of the trolls here are too young for their eyes to have filled in properly... or they're the Psiioniic, but he's a special case and a showoff."

He says it without any real malice -- and anyway, it's true.

"It's incredibly lucky my natural coloration matches my district so well. Gray and black for coal, red for fire. Tony and I even managed to match."

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paint-by-number morning sky [semi-open!]

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