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
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
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."