Karkat Vantas ♋ carcinoGeneticist (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
crabmunicator) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-04-22 05:55 pm
crabmunicator) wrote in thecapitol2015-04-22 05:55 pm
(OPEN) a vial of hope and a vial of pain
Who| Karkat and OPEN
What| Karkat finally returns after the Binding plot.
Where| Around the tower.
When| Around when Sigma's announcement happens & afterward.
Warnings/Notes| Mentions of police brutality and brainwashing.
It's a little after Karkat has stepped back into the Tower that the announcement comes up over some monitor or several, demanding attention. He should have expected this, but he's feeling disoriented enough that it takes him a moment to process what it is. Sigma is no one he's ever met, so that part doesn't matter, but the subject of rebels and anti-Capitol plot filters through and tethers his attention.
He can tell the Capitol slant in how it's worded and presented, and a part of him still hates them for it, but the sharpest part is what he already knew: the Initiate brought this all. As much as he wants Panem to change, as much as he wants freedom for his fellow Tributes, he's never going to forgive the Initiate for trying to turn it into something for him to take over.
He shudders at the end and turns to move forward.
A. The Lobby
It's a bit hard to miss Karkat on his return. Though washed and dressed in fresh, clean clothing, he walks with a noticeable limp and a slight wobble besides. For all his gunshots to his right thigh were finally tended in the end, you don't go three days with little more than scraps of your disguise to bind them without having a lot of soreness left over. It's only by virtue of being a troll that he didn't come out worse for it. But beyond that is a general soreness, left over from the roughness of the Peacekeepers during his imprisonment. His sleeves are long, his pants covering, and they hide the extent of the bruises he bears.
Still, a tired, limping, dizzy tribute is not a steady one, and if not spotted on his own - either during the broadcast, or after as he makes his way to the elevators - then he's bound to get attention when he bumps into people.
"Shit, sorry," he mumbles. He's not trying to hit anyone, but his legs just won't cooperate.
B. District Six
Eventually he makes it back to his district. He's been missing for three days, easily noticeable for the lack of grumping, shouting, and orange horns going around. And it's here for a while that he stays, aiming first to shuffle off to his room to lay the fuck down, if no one stops him first - but it's not like no one can knock on his door.
Sooner or later, though, once he's feeling less of the weird nausea that's bothered him since the end of his imprisonment, he heads back out into the kitchen and then the common area. Winces and swears come from the former as he digs through the fridge for an orange, and eventually he settles himself on a couch in the latter, picking off bits of peel and pith with a claw. Some inane talk show plays on the television, but he's not watching it. Not really.
C. First Floor Restaurant
It's later after his stomach has shown that it can keep the orange down that Karkat decides he wants a real meal. Three days of bread and water will do that to you, and so after another limping trip down, he brings himself in to the restaurant off from the lobby and sets to ordering something.
"Yes, just the soup--no, no bread--no crackers--no sandwich, just the soup, alright? If I'm still hungry I'll order something else," he huffs at a concerned-looking waitress, who had been trying to ply him with are you sure?s and you look awful hungry. Good intents, to be sure, but he doesn't want to touch bread for a week. He doesn't dare tell why.
D. The Roof
With being stuck onhouse tower arrest until the next arena, Karkat ends up spending a lot of his time on the roof. Furnishings inside may be comfortable enough, but it gets stuffy, and he's had enough of being stuck inside to last him for a good while. The roof at least has fresh air and a view of the sky, and he heads up day or night to sit, watch the city, and most often read.
Did you want that other chair? Too bad, because he's too busy tugging it over with his good foot so that he might prop his right one on the seat. It feels better for his leg, and the less soreness he has, the better he can enjoy the trashy romance novel he's currently stuck his nose in.
E. District 9 (Closed)
Between everything else, sometime after making it back to his floor, getting some food and drink in him, and laying on his actual bed for a while, Karkat gets back up to visit this District. He's still sore and tired, but those things are weighed out by the need to visit his important people and communicate the fact that he's not dead or Avoxed. Three days may not equal the week he was gone after last arena, but it's three days after the Initiate's plan went off and the broadcast from Sigma Klim can't have eased worries.
It takes him a while to get up - most of his time in jail was spent sitting around to keep from worsening his wounds, so he's not yet used to walking on his hurt leg - but get there he does. Elevators help, thank fuck; he doesn't want to think about stairs for another week. And from there it's not too far to one of the doors he intends to visit.
He knocks with the back of his hand, but doesn't call any greeting. There will be time enough to talk once he's inside and sat down.
What| Karkat finally returns after the Binding plot.
Where| Around the tower.
When| Around when Sigma's announcement happens & afterward.
Warnings/Notes| Mentions of police brutality and brainwashing.
It's a little after Karkat has stepped back into the Tower that the announcement comes up over some monitor or several, demanding attention. He should have expected this, but he's feeling disoriented enough that it takes him a moment to process what it is. Sigma is no one he's ever met, so that part doesn't matter, but the subject of rebels and anti-Capitol plot filters through and tethers his attention.
He can tell the Capitol slant in how it's worded and presented, and a part of him still hates them for it, but the sharpest part is what he already knew: the Initiate brought this all. As much as he wants Panem to change, as much as he wants freedom for his fellow Tributes, he's never going to forgive the Initiate for trying to turn it into something for him to take over.
He shudders at the end and turns to move forward.
A. The Lobby
It's a bit hard to miss Karkat on his return. Though washed and dressed in fresh, clean clothing, he walks with a noticeable limp and a slight wobble besides. For all his gunshots to his right thigh were finally tended in the end, you don't go three days with little more than scraps of your disguise to bind them without having a lot of soreness left over. It's only by virtue of being a troll that he didn't come out worse for it. But beyond that is a general soreness, left over from the roughness of the Peacekeepers during his imprisonment. His sleeves are long, his pants covering, and they hide the extent of the bruises he bears.
Still, a tired, limping, dizzy tribute is not a steady one, and if not spotted on his own - either during the broadcast, or after as he makes his way to the elevators - then he's bound to get attention when he bumps into people.
"Shit, sorry," he mumbles. He's not trying to hit anyone, but his legs just won't cooperate.
B. District Six
Eventually he makes it back to his district. He's been missing for three days, easily noticeable for the lack of grumping, shouting, and orange horns going around. And it's here for a while that he stays, aiming first to shuffle off to his room to lay the fuck down, if no one stops him first - but it's not like no one can knock on his door.
Sooner or later, though, once he's feeling less of the weird nausea that's bothered him since the end of his imprisonment, he heads back out into the kitchen and then the common area. Winces and swears come from the former as he digs through the fridge for an orange, and eventually he settles himself on a couch in the latter, picking off bits of peel and pith with a claw. Some inane talk show plays on the television, but he's not watching it. Not really.
C. First Floor Restaurant
It's later after his stomach has shown that it can keep the orange down that Karkat decides he wants a real meal. Three days of bread and water will do that to you, and so after another limping trip down, he brings himself in to the restaurant off from the lobby and sets to ordering something.
"Yes, just the soup--no, no bread--no crackers--no sandwich, just the soup, alright? If I'm still hungry I'll order something else," he huffs at a concerned-looking waitress, who had been trying to ply him with are you sure?s and you look awful hungry. Good intents, to be sure, but he doesn't want to touch bread for a week. He doesn't dare tell why.
D. The Roof
With being stuck on
Did you want that other chair? Too bad, because he's too busy tugging it over with his good foot so that he might prop his right one on the seat. It feels better for his leg, and the less soreness he has, the better he can enjoy the trashy romance novel he's currently stuck his nose in.
E. District 9 (Closed)
Between everything else, sometime after making it back to his floor, getting some food and drink in him, and laying on his actual bed for a while, Karkat gets back up to visit this District. He's still sore and tired, but those things are weighed out by the need to visit his important people and communicate the fact that he's not dead or Avoxed. Three days may not equal the week he was gone after last arena, but it's three days after the Initiate's plan went off and the broadcast from Sigma Klim can't have eased worries.
It takes him a while to get up - most of his time in jail was spent sitting around to keep from worsening his wounds, so he's not yet used to walking on his hurt leg - but get there he does. Elevators help, thank fuck; he doesn't want to think about stairs for another week. And from there it's not too far to one of the doors he intends to visit.
He knocks with the back of his hand, but doesn't call any greeting. There will be time enough to talk once he's inside and sat down.
no subject
Once she gets him inside, she makes a beeline for the bed. "Is there anyone I should know about cooking for trolls? Is there anything you can't digest? Religious dietary restrictions? A strange affinity for bizarre foods that I have never heard of?" You never know, after all. She quickly figured out that it was best to ask questions rather than make assumptions, because around here, you could never tell what things were what.
no subject
Once Tabris has him in his room and over to his bed, he disentangles from her carefully and hobbles around to sit on the edge.
"And stop fussing. You're not my moirail." His hand waves her off. "Just nothing too rich or heavy unless you want me returning it to you post-ingestion. They don't have troll stuff here, but I am fine with human things."
no subject
"What's a moirail. Is that your mother? I could probably be your mother, except for the whole cross-species thing. Then again, half elves rarely look elven." She gave a small smile at that, lips twisting in a dry way that said that she didn't find the joke that funny, even though she had told it.
"Alright. I'll go find something for you, and see if I can wrangle in...someone." She waves her hand around, and leaves the room, heading out to locate both food and someone with some kind of responsibility to this kid.
no subject
Just the same, he knows practically nothing of elves. He only ever met one besides Tabris, and he hasn't seen her since.
Still, he waves her off as she goes to leave with no further protest or hindrance. For his part, he's going to lay down on his good side. Sitting up will be a pain later, but right now the softness of his blankets and mattress is much too appealing.
no subject
He sees Tabris coming out of Karkat's room and hurries over to her with a look of worry on his face.
(His clothes are practically subdued, by Capitolite standards; the suit's cut well, but all sparkle has been limited to cuff links, eye makeup, and a shimmery blue shirt.)
"I thought I heard Karkat a moment ago. Is he back?"
no subject
"He is. He's messed up something bad, though. Looks like he's short sleep, favoring one leg, and..." She's used to giving reports of health to people, used to diagnosing on the go, and making predictions and health calls. But she's used to talking to people who've seen ugly, nasty wounds, who know battles. This man has probably seen the arena, but she sincerely doubts that he has personally witnessed worse than a stubbed toe.
"He's not good. You should check up on him. I'm going to make some tea and food." If he were a normal person, she'd offer him some. But he's the enemy.
no subject
"Oh, god. I knew he hadn't come back to Six, but I thought he was just staying with someone else for a while..."
That's a lie. Stephen had a good idea of the individuals involved with the recent altercation Karkat had been caught in, having provided a diversion for it himself. It looks for all the world, though, like he's just realizing where Karkat must have been, and he's both frightened and worried.
"Yeah, I'll talk to him -- and if his leg hasn't been treated, I'm getting a doctor in here right now. Thank you for telling me about it," he says, already slipping his communicator out of his pocket. The thank-you is sincere: Karkat wasn't the most forthcoming of Tributes, and Stephen wouldn't have been surprised if Karkat had tried to hide the leg injury.
He pauses at Karkat's door. Stephen thinks about suggesting that any food Karkat liked could be brought up from the kitchens, and opens his mouth to do it, but Tabris's manner makes him hesitate. He closes his mouth and nods, recognizing that this is something she wants to do for Karkat personally.
"Is there anything you want sent up here?" he asks instead.
no subject
While the appraisal he made to Tabris was namely for cover, Karkat still would have preferred Linden. His Mentor is the one he's more familiar with, has spoken with more often, and shares some similar perspectives on. Stephen did earn himself quite a bit of respect from seeing him on the Initiate's post, but he's a Capitolite. Even if he cares, Karkat knows he'll have to put on more of an act around him if just to fool the cameras.
It was probably inevitable that he'd have to talk to him, though.
"Gnnrrrr," he groans out thoughtfully. Not so much pain as frustration, as expression and tone suggest, but not completely lacking the former. He just laid down and now he has to sit back up. But he manages, and if Stephen is looking - he didn't ask Tabris to close the door when he figured she'd be along with someone soon after - he at least shows no outward sign of injury.
It probably doesn't mean much when his clothes cover everything.
He'd like to ask for a painkiller, but he's not sure he'd be allowed after what he just came back from, and he figures he should be grateful enough that his wounds got tended at all. It only took the fuckers three days for it.
"I'm fine. I'm just sore and Tabris is already getting me something," he calls over. He misses Capitol food, curse him for thinking it, but he's still feeling dizzy and doesn't want to risk throwing up their rich fare.
no subject
God, he's glad to see Karkat. The past few days have involved a lot of trying not to show how worried he is about the missing Tributes.
"Karkat," Stephen says, looking worried indeed, "I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to answer me honestly. Were you one of the people brainwashed by Fraysong?"
He doesn't believe for a hot second that any brainwashing was involved, but he sure sounds like he does.
no subject
His gaze drops, mouth pressing flat, and his hands clutch at his bedspread. "Yes. He fucked us all over, and I should have known not to trust him from the start." A shudder goes over him, and his shoulders hunch in.
no subject
Something about the story doesn't sit right with him. Why would they choose to pin all this on Fraysong and let the other captured Tributes go? Especially after Cyrus just codified the penalty for treason, it's a goddamn mercy Karkat is alive at all. This isn't like the Capitol. Not at all.
But he can't ask further questions. Not here. The more immediate problem is Karkat and looking after him.
"Hey, hey, easy. It's going to be okay. Everyone knows it wasn't your fault--" for whatever reason the Capitol has for spinning it this way-- "and I'll make sure there are no misunderstandings about what happened. The worst of it's over, Karkat."
Most likely, anyway. There might be consequences further down the line, but the Capitol wouldn't have released the Tributes back into the Tower if they still planned to Avox or torture them.
no subject
"I hope so," he says to the second part. He's out of jail and his leg's been treated, and at least for now he's past the worry of whether he'll be Avoxed or culled. "It's better than it was."
It's not going to be fun or easy talking to others, though. Beyond the need to watch his tongue, there's the simple not knowing of how the Initiate's friends and quadrantmates will take it all. But he doesn't need to tell Stephen that.
"Is there anything else you need?" he asks. To say, to know, to do - whichever. He doesn't know.
no subject
no subject
"I have people I need to talk to, Stephen. I've been gone three days and I would like to maybe let them know I'm not dead or Avoxed." Despite the joking tone, the set of his face is serious. "But I'm not going to go limping my husk around outside the tower anytime soon. I don't think I'm allowed to, anyhow."
no subject
"Can you stay off the ground floor and out of the areas open to the public, then?" Stephen asks. "If you stay in the areas that are restricted to Tributes and Games staff, that would be fine."
no subject
"I'm not going to cause trouble," he says like an argument. "That post didn't list names, and you probably know already that I'm not the kind of Tribute to go deliberately seeking out the media. I'm not going to try to leave; I just don't want a redux of that curfew from a while back."
It may not be as restrictive as a jail cell, but he's under no illusions that this isn't a kind of imprisonment.
no subject
"All right, on two conditions. One, if there is trouble with the public, you get out of there and you call me. Two, if your name does come out, you stick to the restricted areas of the Tribute Center. Sound fair?"
no subject
Probably for the better anyway, as he thinks about it. Even with everything pardoned, so to speak, he doesn't want any reporters trying to pry the details from him. It's rough enough on its own.
"If that's everything, can you check on Tabris for me?" She might be still muddling around in the kitchen, for all he knows. She didn't really say what she was going to make.
no subject
no subject
She had managed to not burn down the kitchen, at least.
She notes Stephen leaving, and figures that he's trying to make sure that she hasn't managed to catch his kitchen and all the food on fire, and waves to him, grabbing the tea kettle and pouring the tea into two cups. "I don't know how common this shit is for you, or for him, but it's the best I can do on short notice." She informs him, waving with her spoon to the food. "Cooking isn't exactly my specialty. Are you sure you don't want some?" It felt odd, to make food and not share it. Against Ferelden culture, where you made sure everyone around you was fed, no matter how little you had.
no subject
"Thank you for offering," Stephen says, and despite the laugh of a moment ago, it is sincere: she's a Tribute, he's a Capitolite, and her offering to share food she made with him is generous. He recognizes that.
Maybe it's a cultural thing? he realizes. If that's true, would it be impolite to refuse?
"...I think I'll take you up on that," he decides, "but only if there's enough. You two eat first." The food was made for Karkat; it makes sense.
no subject
Grabbing the tea, she bursts into Karkat's bedroom, holding up the offerings. "I made stuff!" She announced with pride, like being able to panfry mystery meat and carrots was some kind of cultural breakthrough of the culinary world. Then, she shoved both the tea and food at Karkat. "I don't know what kind of food you're used to, but this is the basic stuff that we eat in Thedas."
no subject
And the thing is, it smells good. Mystery meat or no, Thedas cuisine or whatever, he lights up with genuine interest as she brings it in to show.
"Here, set it on the side table--" He scoots over, hissing at his soreness, to move things out of his way. Not that there's much; he keeps his room neat. "It's not troll cuisine, but I don't expect that, and it smells like I've never had food in my life and you just gave me fine delicacies. I am going to stuff my fucking face if I can keep it down alright." He'll take the tea first to blow and sip at.
His eyes turn back to her. "Seriously, thank you. I would have been happy for like a bowl of cereal. You didn't have to do this much."
no subject
"It's no problem, really. You're not the first injured person I've just kind of randomly stumbled across." That's what she does, after all. Helps people. She'd say it was some kind of compulsive neurosis, if the fact that people needing help didn't continually fall in her lap. It's more like fate just wants to see her go around cleaning up after asshole governments.
"Anyway, you're friends with Shepard. She says good things about you. Well--She does that thing where she insults someone but in a way that's a compliment."
no subject
"She is a stubborn, bitchy pain in my ass, but she saved my life without question when I first met her, and she trains me well. So trust me, I know what you mean." It's what he just did, right there, and what he does with friends of his own.
"But so long as you're watching me eat, tell me more about yourself. I need something to keep me awake so I don't fall asleep in my food and wake up with it crusted onto my face."
(no subject)