I Know Explosions Make Debris, and Catching it Kind of Suits You [Open]

[dead_black_eyes]

Who| Linden and Stephen, Linden and OPEN
What| Linden and Stephen do another blindspot conversation about rebellion stuff. Also a catch-all for Linden
Where| Lots of places
When| Before (for Stephen) and after (for everyone else) the Binding!
Warnings/Notes| Bidding mentions/implications, profanity, descriptions of injuries and sad stuff.



[a]. [for Stephen]

Linden is a lot less recognizable than he usually is today. Despite the nice weather, he's bundled up in several sweaters, and doesn't appear to be perspiring. He's got a few books under his arm as he strolls down a busy Capitol street, getting a few glances and murmurs of "is that...?" from curious appreciators of reality television. He's not wearing anything around his neck and his scar gives him away to attentive fans of the Games, and who in this part of Panem isn't?

He's not planning to hang out on Main Street, though. Linden Lockhearst is going into the seedier parts of the Capitol, striding through streets he is seldom if ever seen and ignoring casual midday offers for scantily-clad companionship. Eventually, he makes his way to a dark, isolated and unbugged alley, turning past the rougher edges of an older building than is typical in the Capitol. It's clean enough, unremarkable and nondescript, and when he sees his District's Escort, he approaches. Since Cyrus began cleaning up Stephen's image, he's been wearing clothes that are more subdued than any he's likely ever worn in his entire life. Traces of glitter remain, but ultimately the aesthetic is reminiscent of Cyrus's, sharp, clean-cut and professional.

"It took me long enough to find this place," he says; even with the confidence that they won't be overheard, he keeps his voice low and the movement of his lips minimal.

[b]. [tribute center rooftop]

Linden is off Morphling, clean for weeks and counting. The world is sharper, brighter, and a lot more hateful than the one he remembers cultivating for himself after his Games; that being said, he's found other ways to stimulate and soothe himself when either of those effects are needed. One such method is hanging off the guard rails by the back of his knees, dangling his body over the edge of the tower and gazing down through the forcefield at the street many stories below as blood rushes and sings in his ears.

The Sun's setting soon. From Linden's current vantage point, it'll look like it's levitating and being absorbed into a strange, solid, silver skyline composed of jagged skyscraper teeth. He tries to focus on this instead of the depressing revelation that Panem and especially the Capitol are falling apart, and even if he has to do some pretty shitty things to contribute to a cause that has actually succeeded in lighting a fire under him, he's on thin ice. It would take so little to slip and fall, and the precision of a tightrope walker to succeed; it makes hanging off the edge of a building seem dull and unadventurous by comparison.

The building has a safety net, after all; the rebellion doesn't, and anyone willingly involving himself with it carries the welfare of everyone he cares about on that wire with him.

[c]. [upscale Capitol bar]

The Binding had shaken up a lot, and for good reason, many staff members or people who are otherwise closely affiliated with the Games have been extra careful not to arouse suspicion. In this classy, upscale establishment, Linden actually looks like he (or more likely, 6's stylists) have put some real effort into his appearance tonight. He looks like a caricature of himself, dressed in close-fitting black vinyl with silver accents. It covers every inch of him below the neck, but is skintight on his extremely thin frame. His hair looks artfully tousled rather than slept-in, and his dark makeup accentuates the hollowness in his eyes and cheeks rather than attempting to soften, conceal or apologize for it.

For as little as he really looks like himself, absolutely no one could mistake the strikingly larger-than-life Victor as he currently appears. Even his scar is exaggerated and accented with makeup, and it's not long before a tall Capitolite of indeterminate gender is slipping into the seat next to Linden, ordering a drink and wrapping the man's thin fingers around the frosted glass. They strike up a conversation, appearing to already know each other. From a distance, it appears that the Capitolite is getting close and cozy, and though Linden doesn't reciprocate, he isn't making an effort to distance himself from the situation, either. He sips at his drink as his companion's hand strays to the sharp blade of Linden's hip.


[d]. [d6 suites]

Linden comes in late assisted by two Avoxes, seeming to time it so he isn't seen by anyone. A long bath and approximately 12 hours of sleep later, he reluctantly emerges from his room, appearing... strange. He's had some help from stylists, clearly, but the swelling around his eye is still noticeable. Foundation light enough to match Linden's parchment-pale skin is hard to come by, so the result is a mismatched nightmare that clashes with the cool tones in his complexion and does very little to cover the mottled bruising. The same goes for his neck; what his higher-than-normal collar doesn't cover tells a disquieting story of someone breaking his rule about even touching his neck rather severely.

If he notices someone staring, either at the bruising or the ginger, painful way he moves, he'll offer a tight smile. The tone will vary depending on whether or not they're friendly, but the message is always more or less the same.

"You should see the other guy."

Comments

[bravelyplucked]

"Ah, well, you do have a point." Torin shakes his head. "I've been fortunate enough in that regard."

[dead_black_eyes]

"But you haven't been unhurt," Linden says softly. "If you don't mind me saying. It's not usually obvious, but sometimes it is."

[bravelyplucked]

"I'd...hoped it wasn't." Torin is torn--that someone cared enough to notice is nice, but he isn't really into telegraphing an injury. That's a weakness people can strike at. The mindset might be something his father tried to drill into him, but it has a certain point to it here in the charmingly bloodthirsty world of the Capitol. "Then again, it's not like I can hide the arm." Because having a bad arm is the easiest injury to speak of, right?

[dead_black_eyes]

From Mentor to Mentor, it's a little different than a casual passerby or vapid Capitolite pointing it out, if still potentially sensitive. At the very least, Torin can be assured that his weaknesses aren't ones that Linden would strike; their Games didn't line up, so that chance and reason has passed them both by.

"Nor would you be expected to hide it; the wounds of an Arena are proof and pride that it happened, right?"

[bravelyplucked]

"Oh, of course." Right. Pride. Not a constant reminder of the terrible way the Arena had ended, of course not. Though the words are what he should say, the tone suggests just how much Torin dislikes that way of looking at it. "Still, some might mistake it for a weakness."

[dead_black_eyes]

"Then it's their mistake, and you are not to blame for it."

Linden's firm with that assertion. He tends to see Torin as someone strong and infinitely wiser than he is, and as a poster child for stereotypical Mentor weaknesses, picking on such frailties seems no end of unfair to him.

[bravelyplucked]

That gets a weary smile out of Torin. "Thank you for that." He'd like to think he holds up well given the life of a Mentor, but he's intensely aware of the weaknesses he works hard to hide from everyone else. Hard to admit that around one of the more...fragile...Mentors.

[dead_black_eyes]

"Not at all..."

As they often are when Torin directs them at Linden, the thanks get accepted awkwardly and reluctantly. Linden seems to believe fully that despite both their statuses as Victors, they have an uneven relationship, and perhaps because Torin holds up so well to expectations and scrutiny, Linden is by default the juvenile party in the relationship.

[bravelyplucked]

"You've been doing well otherwise, then?" Outside of the usual array of things that might be giving Linden problems.

[dead_black_eyes]

His smile is just a touch overbright when he addresses the question.

"Yeah, it's fine. Still off Morphling," he says. "This is the longest it's been, since... well, since I became an adult, in all honesty."

[bravelyplucked]

Torin gives him a sympathetic nod. He's picked up on the overbright smile, though he won't question it for the moment. "It's an uphill climb. You'll get there."

[dead_black_eyes]

"You think so?"

He still sounds doubtful, but at least he's comforted by Torin's certainty. It's encouraging, at least, even if he doesn't feel that way most days that endless hunger just keeps gnawing at him.

"Thanks for thinking I'm strong enough, anyway. It means a lot coming from you."

[bravelyplucked]

"Careful, you're stoking my ego there." Torin gives him a smile. "Have some faith in yourself, Linden. You can get there."

[dead_black_eyes]

"Maybe," he agrees, sounding highly uncertain in the end. "Faith and cockiness are easily confused and I don't want to fall victim to it."

[bravelyplucked]

"A wise choice." Torin nods. "But that doesn't mean you can't have any faith. That's just a different sort of extreme."

[dead_black_eyes]

"I don't know if you're aware, but extremes are kind of the way I operate," Linden mumbles. "I've never, ever been good at that whole 'moderation' thing."

[bravelyplucked]

"There's a first time for trying everything," Torin says with a slight smile. "It might agree with you one of these days."

[dead_black_eyes]

"I've never really had a problem trying things," Linden laughs. "Just quitting them. You know how it is... or you don't, but either way I'm sure you can imagine."

[bravelyplucked]

"Oh, I can imagine." Torin sighs. "But this is something that's worthwhile to keep trying at, I think."

[dead_black_eyes]

"So, what do you have that's worth that?" Linden asks, tilting his head. "I think it would help me a little bit to get some perspective."

[bravelyplucked]

Torin's quiet for a moment as he thinks of that. "There's my family. I wouldn't want to give them any trouble." But that's not going to be an applicable thing for Linden, is it? Sad..."My friends. My Tributes--I wouldn't want to let them down."

[dead_black_eyes]

The catch and plummet of the light in Linden's eyes is probably enough to say that he knows he can't relate and is disturbed by the fact. But the second point... he's better at that.

"How lucky to be a Mentor, then, if that's a priority."

He doesn't say that the Career Districts tend to be luckier (except that you can't really call it luck, can you?) There's no need to bring that up now on such a peaceful evening.

[bravelyplucked]

"Oh, yes. Lucky." Only it's not really luck, and Torin's tone reflects that. Torin might have it better than Linden, but being a Mentor was a thankless task. Especially when traditionally, you'd know you'd still experience a 50% loss even if you won. Now, it's a bit different with the unnatural way people come back, but they're still under the Capitol's heel.

[dead_black_eyes]

They're both very practiced at saying things that they don't mean for the sole benefit of the cold, unfeeling microphones picking up the words to be judged later by shrewd Capitolites who want to assume the worst. Fortunately, comprehension finds a way, and Linden and Torin are both also more skilled than most at picking up nuance as a result.

"So, I... hope it's not weird to ask but how are things with Felicity, since...?"

[bravelyplucked]

"No, it's not weird to ask." He smiles a little. "I appreciate the concern." At least this is safe enough. "Things have been going well, I think." There's a rueful, somewhat forced chuckle. "I suppose she had to find out sometime that her old uncle isn't as infallible as he'd like her to think."