thecapitol | [open] Build it up with Silver and Gold

Entry tags:

[open] Build it up with Silver and Gold

Who| Phillip Gray and anyone he runs into!
What| A sort of catch-all post
Where| Commons Area, and Tower Gardens
When| April 12-16
Warnings/Notes| Mentions of death, more to be added!

[A] District 6 Suite Common Area
After the Crowning, Phillip felt almost lost in the haze of what was probably deadtime. He had yet to master a proper way to cool down from stress, from survival, hell, even a hangover was becoming a longer than usual fog in his mind. Training only did so much for his mood and studying the Arenas was an exercise in torture, more so when he watched his Mentor's Arena. He understood why Lockhearst said that about District 6 being grateful, hell even other districts were on that boat too: he couldn't help flinch as every child that died hit closer and closer to home. Hell, he had to stop at one of them getting crushed and another one being blown up. He knew how easily someone could betray another, to build up the trust and then feel the knife twist. Granted, Phil was thinking about a more metaphorical betrayal but seeing the knife slice through the young Linden's neck, it was the last Arena he saw that day, and ever. No thank you sir, Phil has finally learned to enjoy sleeping again.

For now, Phil sits in the common area, reading a trashy Capitol Harlequin, and laughing along ridiculous amounts of debauchery presented as romance. Maybe even people watching if he's had enough of the literary shenanigans that passed off as a love story. At least Gray did pick up where he left off, and sipped from his soda can, something sweet for the day. He doesn't read this sort of things for the plot, heavens no, but for sport. That and he had to keep an eye out for the rumors.
[B] Training Center then headed to the Capitol

"Wow, this is…this is heavy," the Phone Guy said in awe as he held a handgun for the first time in his life. Every movie, schlock or not made it seem like firearms were lighter, more wieldy than what he was holding. Full of blanks of course but it was still so strange. So this was the weapon that ended his life in Arena 13, and yet…he wasn't that bitter that Nick killed him in that way. Better than what awaited him back home that's for sure.

If the Crowning and Stephen's strip club prank have done anything, it's that Gray needed to make some public relations catch-up. He wasn't that sort of guy that would just pay for some lady to take her top off! Stephen probably meant well, but Jesus Christ, there were still Capitolites that showed him the infamous pictures at the Dancing Bear and asking about it. Not even Fazbear's PR team could make this into something decent. What if he got bid on? He wasn't that ready to face that sort of this deal.

"This is gonna be interesting," he muttered as he practiced disabling the dummy's tendons then jabbing it on every major artery. He never went for the chest though, through the heart was much more trouble than it was actually worth…which meant he struggled on getting the weapon back. "Maybe I can find that…foxling Miss Honeymead told me about." He's mostly talking to himself at this point, but he welcomes anyone who walks in.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Linden looks exhausted today, but it has less to do with his ancient arena and more to do with the latest confrontation with Jason and the deal they'd worked out regarding Linden's parents, currently Avoxed and, if all goes as it should, en route to District 9. As much as he'd wanted to follow Jason's initial suggestion and accept them into 6's suite, he knew that it was dangerous and foolish to keep two beings with such a strong emotional attachment so close. Someone would notice. Someone would ask questions. Linden has friends in 9, and so long as they're away from Jason in 7, he can live with the situation for now. It doesn't even matter that he's agreed to give Jason 2 and a half months' worth of his winnings.

He shuffles by where Phillip is reading the romance novel, on his way to the kitchen to make his own drink, glancing at the title. "Have you gotten to the part where he proves his love by 'rimming her aggressively and passionately running the tesla coil over her nipples,' yet? If so, is it anything like what you saw when you went out the other night with Stephen? Rumor has it you had quite a time."

Firo was one of those Tributes who purposely ignored most coverage of his peers and the Games, so, luckily for both of them, he hadn't seen the pictures that were so frustrating Phil. He was fortunate in that he came from a far away enough time that his behavior seemed to be regarded as adorably backwards rather than rude or rebellious.

He'd been working with one of the knives for a little while and still had it in his hand when he joined Phil. "You know, you seem like such a nice guy, but half the time I see you you're goin' to town on these things. Are you hidin' somethin'?" He grinned as he said it, because, obviously, that wasn't a bad thing at all.

Phil might not have known about Linden's parents but he was sure that his Mentor went through the ringer and almost didn't make it out of there. Gray worried about the man more than he showed in public, mostly because of these new rules about professionalism and what not. If this meant he couldn't partake in a few glasses with Linden, that would be terrible for morale.

Speaking of, he blinked at the surprising spoiler then did his best to contain the laughing fit now trying to escape. He put up a good fight and broke down in a fit, "Nope, but I did get to the silk gloves fingering bit!" Did he just get spoiled for a gratuitous harlequin? Yeeeeeeeeeeep and holy shit, nothing back home compared to this tripe!

And then Phil realized what Linden asked of him: ah yes, the Dancing Bear incident. He let out a groan more akin to a dying animal and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Oh ha ha. You saw the pictures, w-why ask me about it? Why not Stephen?" Because it was hilarious and that startled puppy look made it to the circuit.

Phillip chuckled at the strange observation as he jabbed the knife into the dummy's cheek, "Just a lotta rage and a little bit of revenge on someone back home, you know?" If he ever returned home, the Purple Man would have to contend with a Phone Guy who learned how to use a sharp-edged weapon.

He would've been more forthcoming had the news not plastered his face as part of Stephen Reagan's public meltdown. Worse, he was getting the feeling Capitolites thought him looser than he really was. Or at least more willing to see their goods. That was never the case and right now, the dummy would have to be his pincushion for the time being.

"What about you? Readying yourself for a night on the town? Or keeping muscle memory alive?"

Firo laughed with him, probably more amused than he should be at the thought of angry stabbings. "I get you."

If not for the cheek stab, Firo might have assumed Phil was joking about wanting revenge. But that's lots of blood and, potentially, some nasty scars like Al Capone had. In a lot of situations where Firo'd seen attacks to the face that weren't blinding moves, the intent was to mark and disfigure.

But imagined it'd be weirder to not want revenge after being killed horribly.

"Are you implyin' my 'nights on the town' involve stabbin' people?" He shrugged, a casual gesture that nonetheless brought the blade into view, and pretended to sound offended.

If anyone were watching for it, it wouldn't be hard to sometimes spot Karkat sitting around, absorbed in a book of some sort. The stories here aren't the familiar kind he had back on the meteor, telling tales of quadrant drama and red-black flips and intercaste quibbles aplenty, but they make do, and Karkat's not as picky in his tastes as he likes to pretend. With them sharing a district, Phil might have had the chance to; but at the same time, he doesn't advertise what books they are.

In any case, it's that interest that draws him over today. The book isn't one he's read, but romance novel covers are a universal constant: trashy, flashy, and impossible to miss.

"I didn't know you read those," he says nearing, and the look on his face is open curiosity.

Phil was a genuinely nice if biting sort of man, but whenever he thought about the Purple Man, the serial killer back home, his less than favorable traits came to light. Disfiguring was something he aimed, and more so disable and leave them to the same cruel fate the murderer had inflicted on the others.

"Maybe? Though by the way you talked back at the crowning? You seem more like a, uh, blunt force trauma sorta guy," Gray answered and wiped his brow. "I haven't seen you go out…ever. Man's gotta wonder."

"Hm?" Phil lifted his eyes from the over-the-top scene he was engrossed in and doing his damnedest not to laugh his ass off the chair. He'd finally gotten to the scene Linden had spoiled him and by God, it delivered in spades. Truly, the writers of his time and place were too prudish to comprehend the functions of a tesla coils in the throes of love.

It'd been a long while since he talked to Karkat, at least more than just a quick hello in the tower. "Oh yeah! I do, I usually read them before work and such. For sport," he admitted without a drop of shame in his voice. What that sport was, he wasn't telling just yet in case someone was insulted by his humor.

Because really, when you work with animatronics seeking to murder you in a brutal and gory fashion, you gotta enjoy the little things!

It's honestly difficult for anyone who cares even a little bit about Linden not to worry about him. He's the type of person who looks chronically brittle and vulnerable, and on days when it's truer than usual, he practically broadcasts it like a neon sign over his shaggy head and heavy-lidded eyes. As far as "fraternization" goes... he doesn't think that extends to drinking. It had better not. For now, he supposes his ignorance protects him.

The laughter seems to startle the pale, staring man. He flinches lightly before nodding familiarly at Phillip's description. "That's not all she does with that glove. It gets really strange when the amputee pool boy with the tragic birth defect of two 14-inch penises gets involved."

He shrugs one shoulder. "The pictures aren't really worth 1,000 words, and even if Stephen might have 1,000 words to say about it, that's more than I particularly want to hear."

"Wow, well this is a keeper for after training," It just keeps getting better. "The writers really dive deep into the, uh, sexual needs of the Capitol, huh?" The observation was equal parts a legitimate examination of the Capitol's fetishes and his own wit trying to compensate for the images he would soon experience. In short: the Capitol needs intervention. "Makes Fabio look like a saint compared pretty much everything."

Wrong era, Phone Guy. But Linden's follow-up does lend itself for Phil to open up a little more, "Well if they're not worth a thousand words, there shouldn't be any doubts then. N-Nothing like this book, believe me. I would've high tailed it out of there like a sinner from church." Although- no, there really wasn't anything positive about the experience. "I really don't know what came over Stephen's mind when he took me there."

Firo smiled in agreement with the assessment. "We don't like to take out our knives if we don't have to. Ain't like there aren't ways to beat somebody down when you don't have a weapon." Even if they were armed with a knife or something. When the other person had a gun, that was trickier, but Firo's strategy of charging them anyway had only failed him once.

He shrugged roughly, unable to hide a scowl of disgust on his face. "There's no place to go here, as far as I'm concerned. The style here's not to my taste."

He had a bad enough times at the Crownings. It was all too flashy and far too indecent for his tastes. He would rather stab people than attend a Capitol party.

"If you'd really like," Linden says disinterestedly. "Having spent a lot of time in the Capitol I guess I just don't find it that titillating or shocking anymore..."

He rubs at the dark circles under his eyes.

"Fabio? You know about the District 1 Tribute from a few years back with the very specific foot fetish? Goat feet? That's unexpected, but... good job, doing your... homework, I suppose."

He clears his throat; he certainly does a decent job being the most jaded and unimpressed Mentor when it comes to such matters. It's almost as if the fact that he has read these novels and committed passages to memory isn't even an issue.

"Stephen's been..." he gestures vaguely. "Lately. You're aware of it. You didn't have fun, then? Usually he knows how to show a person a good time, even if they don't remember most of it."

Phillip stopped for a moment, with a look that was priceless, a mixture of surprise, shock and maybe resignation that this place was just out there when it came to fetishes. As if the book he was reading wasn't hint enough.

"N-no, not that Fabio but, uh, good to know…The one I'm talking about is this tall muscular European-" he pauses his ramble for a moment, "I'm guessing Europe's not a thing here anymore, huh?" Nope or else they'd hear about the New Roman Empire or something, he figured, " Well let's say, blonde foreigner who usually did all the, um, Harlequin romance novel covers. But…goat feet?" Because THAT'S what stuck in his mind.

"I-I did have some fun, I guess," Gray admitted a little sheepish, "But my clothes kinda stink of body glitter and ass." The girls were enthusiastic to meet and perform for a Tribute, that was certain. "I don't want to be rude to Stephen, but next time he tries to get me to a bar like that, h-he could at least give me a head's up."

Phil then looked to his Mentor, "Is he getting better though? Is he resting it off?"

"Smart man," And Phillip means the phrase, "Though are you sure you don't stop to think if the person has, uh, has a firearm? Kinda important you know?" He'd worry about the recklessness later but this wasn't the moment or place. It's a relatively peaceful time, no conflicts or Arenas other than Capitol cattiness.

"Not even to a dive? Jeez," Phil shot back with a chuckle, "I-If I wasn't in the rags, I'd take you to my usual place." It wasn't as flashy as the rest of the Capitol, mostly full of Districters that were here on work. Nice, quiet, and Gray's started a rapport with the bartender, mostly to keep referring his place to bring other Tributes with him.

Linden can tell Phillip some wild, wild stories, both from personal experience and the depravity he's witnessed secondhand. A lot of it makes what exists between the covers of that little harlequin novel seem pretty tame by comparison.

"Your world seems so strange to me," he says, staring at Phillip as though half of what he's saying is in a language long-dead.

"I'll have a chat with Stephen when he's up for it. Truthfully... I don't really know how he's doing these days. We've worked together as 6's staff for years and I like to think I know him pretty well, but lately he's difficult to draw a bead on."

Firo blinked--thinking? In a situation like that? "Then it's usually more important to act, don't you think? They're gonna pull the trigger either way, so you might as well take your shot."

"I've just stuck to the bar we've got in here. I haven't looked too far." He shrugged as he admitted it. He wouldn't admit that he'd been almost afraid too; Firo didn't realize how much of a prude he was, but he could freely recognize that the Capitol was sheer debauchery.

He perked up at Phil's words, though. The guy seemed like a decent enough man, so Firo'd trust his recommendation. "A place here? A good place?"

"Likewise, sir; this place is…" he made an all-over gesture, "But hell if what I saw in that club is any indication, I'm pretty sure this novel's got nothing on what happens outside this Tower." Sweet summer child, it's the Capitol: luxury is a pretty expansive term and he'd only caught a glimpse of it. "Though at least I now know, uh, there's no chance of a Paris vacation after all this." One day he'd show Linden a map of the old world, especially considering that it was during his lifetime that the Cold War was on its' tail end.

"Maybe he had a bad month?" Gray suggested succinctly, "Everyone has them, he just has the, the worst timing." Oh by far.

"True and the last time I faced a gun, well the replays are all over the television sets," Gray laughed for a bit. Yeah, next time? Disarm the weapon THEN try to calm the man down.

"It's a bit out of the way of the clubs," he continued, "Usually full of working joes, not many fans frequent it and it feels like the bar back home. Little bright though but hey, at least it's not a, um, strip club. I'll take ya when things settle, okay?"

He vaguely wondered if Firo had any understanding of that concept.

"So what's the plot of that one?" Karkat asked, leaning in a bit. It had been a while, true, but the time didn't dull his interest now, and if anything this might have meant Phil was more worth talking to than he had previously guessed. "Don't spoil the big twists, but just give me the rundown. I might read it myself if it sounds good."

There was no shame to him, either. If anything he sounded earnest, as if talking about this were perfectly normal--and it wasn't as though Phil knew him much either way.

Gray grinned at the question and dog eared the page he was on to answer, "The plot? Well, it started off with Miss Jacqueline Riverdance, a Capitolite who had her first sexual awakening by her one true love, a Peacekeeper named Paul or some other name...when he's transferred to District 10, she embarks on a journey to find her lost love."

He snorts at the memory of the tesla coil, "Let's just say she finds a lot of paramours along the way. There's probably a charity event for a man whose deformity is having two penises, I'm not going too hard on that."

He offered the book to his fellow D6 tribute, "Though I have one that takes the term cat woman to the logical extreme," nope, they can go further, "In the Heat of the Moment, have you read that one?"

A wide grimace spread across his face, baring nubby fangs and wrinkling his nose above. "So it's the back alley trash of a sex shop pressed and bound into a paperback."

It didn't stop him from taking the book. It still had a romance plot, right? Ignoring the page Phil had dogeared, he turned to the first page to skim over as they spoke.

"No, I haven't," he answered of the latter. "And considering one of my teammates and her--let's say relative, that's easier--were obsessed with cats, I do not need to be reminded of them while I'm reading, let alone by the trashier end of the spectrum." Not that he didn't miss Nepeta, but there was a limit to ways he wanted to think of her.

"Do you found any good ones yet? I have some in my room that are alright, but they aren't the same as Alternian novels."

He laughed with him, sympathetic; he had, after all, gone in ultimately the same way. He'd just hurried his death by that little move he pulled with the knife. "Win some, lose some. I'd rather go down tryin' to do somethin'--it's worked for me more times than it hasn't."

Not many fans? A definite plus. Firo's brushes with celebrity before had always been of an incredibly offensive variety, but this was by far the worst. Any encounter with a Capitolite tended to leave him wanting to punch them, especially the ones who liked the Games.

"A strip..?" Oh. The name was a little different from what would be used in his time, but they were in the news often enough that he could figure it out. His face flushed red and he ran a a hand through his hair to try and hide it. "Y-yeah, if it ain't a place like that, that'd be great."

"Nothing whatsoever," Linden agrees blandly. "But it's just sex. Everyone looking for the best way to scratch an itch, the most satisfying way to quell an urge. It's practically mundane when you think about it in those terms."

He gives a light, bewildered shrug at the mention of Paris.

"I think perhaps his brother has been trying to pull him back into line. The Reagan family wouldn't let it go on for long without intervention; Capitol families tend to be pretty image-conscious, especially when someone is in a position of authority or power and scandal can get back to them."

"Yep! That would be the exact words I would use to describe this sorta schlock on paper," Phillip agreed with a smirk, "There's something akin to a plot somewhere and apparently she does decide to go with the Peacekeeper not out of duty but to do something for herself, so that's something, right?" The Capitol's way of "empowering" choice over destiny, though Gray could see the subtle nudges to obedience in the narrative.

But the question lingered and he shook his head, "Nothing that doesn't devolve into gratuitous amounts of porn. And what do you mean Alternian?" Today, the Phone Guy learned that even aliens have romance novels.

"If I may add, it's not just the whole act of getting off," Phil remarked, not allowing his usual censor to do its' work and keeping stray thoughts from going from his mind to his mouth. "It's oneupmanship, how can I be so I can talk to people on the water cooler and-" And now the censor's back and he reeled in the rant, "Erm you know what I mean. I can't imagine what you've seen and...stuff."

Linden's bewildered shrug would be met with a confused look by the Tribute as soon as he hears about Stephen's family. "I-I knew they were rich, Stephen payed with diamonds but, uh, I didn't know his family was powerful too." Learn your politics fast, Phil or you'll get left in the dust with interviews.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 6

[open] Build it up with Silver and Gold

[A]

[B]

you're terrible and you know it

no subject

no subject

[A] PERFECT PROMPT

no subject

i try my best

Yah

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject