thecapitol | (OPEN) a vial of hope and a vial of pain

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(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 on ~~house~~ 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.

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She eyes him, as he walks over. The escort, obviously, if he screamed Capitolite any more he would probably have it stamped on his forehead. Still, he's not quite as obnoxious as she had been prepared for. And he was conveniently there, and conveniently already talking to her.

"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.

Well....she's not wrong.

"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.

Is that Stephen out there?

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.

Edited 2015-04-25 13:30 (UTC)

Stephen comes in, looking very serious. He's got to be careful here: officially, all he knows about what the Tributes did is what was in Sigma's post, and Sigma didn't mention the individuals involved.

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.

Karkat's expression falls. He didn't expect to be asked so point blank, but in a way it makes sense. He's been gone three days, and it's not like he's going to pretend what the Initiate did never happened, no matter how he hides the actual way it went down.

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.

Stephen doesn't suspect actual brainwashing. He thinks this is an act. His brows wrinkle into a worried line.

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.

Not his fault? Karkat looks back up slow, a hesitance still in his gaze. Even if no one else puts the blame on him, he'll still be there blaming himself. It's a habit too old to abandon with one reassurance.

"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.

"I need you to rest up," Stephen says, letting the subject drop. "And to eat what your friend gives you. Don't leave the Six rooms just yet. I want you out of the public eye until this dies down a little more."

Resting he can try, and eating he needs to do, but the last has his lips pursing.

"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."

He thinks. There has to be a compromise.

"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."

Karkat pushes a hand through his hair. It feels like such a fuss, and if he's right about being stuck in the tower from now until who knows when, then he doesn't want his movements to be restricted extra.

"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.

He takes a breath, considering. It's not good form to let Tributes set their own boundaries like this, but Karkat's not wrong.

"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?"

Karkat listens and nods shortly after. "Yeah, that's fair. I'll agree."

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.

Stephen gives a nod. He turns and walks out, scanning the common area for Tabris.

Tabris had come to the problem that this kitchen didn't really have anything she knew how to make off the top of her head. Some boxes came with instructions, but the words were small, confusing, and she didn't know most of them. So, she defaulted to what she did know. She cut up a piece of meat into chunks, threw it on a pan with salt and pepper, and then mixed it up with similarly cut carrots.

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.

The situation is serious, but he can't help a short half-laugh: cooking isn't my specialty immediately followed by do you want some is enough to tickle him.

"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.

Well, she's glad one of them is having a good time. She doesn't seem irritated by the laugh, though. She raises an eyebrow, looking amused, but nods to him, and throws a bunch of it onto a plate--She'll serve herself and Steven after Karkat eats. "Alright, let me make sure he can hold this down, then I'll get to us."

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."

Karkat's still sitting upright when Tabris comes in, much though he'd like to lay down and sleep. But he's hungry and thirsty alike, and it's easier to fix those when not laying on his side (nor out like a light).

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."

She follows his instructions, setting everything down, and plopping down on a chair to watch him carefully, making sure that he likes the food, and can eat it without getting sick. If he can't, she might need to get something less appetizing but easier to digest. Mush and gravy, or something. When he thanks her, she just nods.

"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."

While she speaks, he goes for a bite, and it's good. It's no troll food now either, but it tastes just as appealing as it smells. It means he'll have to pace himself from wolfing it all down. Hungry as he is, he'd rather not want to send it back up from eating too fast. He's not the worst off he could be, though; he had bread and water, and it was only three days, so he's hardly a victim of long starvation learning to make his stomach tolerate food again.

"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."

She can't help but smile as Karkat does exactly what she'd just said Shepard did for him. Yeah, exactly like that. "That sums Shepard up pretty well." Not that Tabris was above using it herself.

But she paused, looking thoughtful as Karkat asked her to discuss one of her favorite subjects--Herself. She leaned back in the chair, looking off to the side for a few moments as she decided just what parts of her illustrious life she should divulge at that point in time--Knowing that whatever she said would be captured by the Capitol as well. As well. Surely they didn't care about a little bit of origin story.

"Well, one thing about Thedas is that elves are pretty much second class citizens. Maybe worse. Elves have to live in this shitty, horrid slum called an alienage, and we're not allowed weapons because the humans know they treat us so bad one day we're going to snap and if they let us get weapons we'll probably kill them all. Which is what happened to me." She paused, mouth twisting, and an unkind smirk flits across her face as she recalls the old memories. "Some humans kidnapped me and a group of girls--On my wedding day, no less, that was some bullshit. You can do that shit to elves, no one gives a fuck. Well. My cousin snuck his ass in and slipped me a sword." The smile grows fonder. "I killed every fucking human in the castle and rescued the other girls like a goddamn hero." Ah, now that was a blessed memory.

"Naturally, the penalty for me saving my own ass is death. Told them I'd picked the sword off a guard so my cousin didn't get in trouble, and they were just dragging me off to go measure me out for a noose when this human shows up out of nowhere. A Grey Warden. Liked my gumption I guess, or something, because I was still covered in blood and seething, half blood-crazed, and he conscripted me then and there. Now, Grey Wardens can conscript anyone they want, and no one can do anything about it. So those guards had to stare at me while I danced away giving them all the finger. Hah! Fucking shems." She laughed, though it lacked the bite that it had back then. Old memories, old anger.

She paused, and held out her hand to show Karkat the ring on her finger. "This is the ring that my fiancee gave me, that day. Poor man died trying to break me out, Maker bless his dumb ass. I kept the ring. It reminds me of all the shit I've gone through to get where I am." And then she pulled her hand back, and shrugged, waving her hand airily. "And that's the origin story of Hero of Ferelden, which I am sure that they will erase and rewrite with something more politically correct as soon as I'm cold in my grave. Probably say that I was an upstanding elf. Managed to rise through my troubled youth in a bad neighborhood to become a model citizen."

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(OPEN) a vial of hope and a vial of pain

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