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

[impaledqueen]

Peggy purses her lips. It's always hard to hear about Capitolites somehow trying to work on their behalf. It's simultaneously infuriating and saddening: saddening because they will never be able to save them, infuriating because they can get away with speaking on a Victor's behalf while not even the Victors have that privilege. "...But that will never happen." She hates this. She hates talking about it. She hates what the Capitol does to her, and how she has to constantly pay it lip service. "He will just have to settle for destroying their political lives to punish them."

If that seems particularly specific, it's because it is. It's what Jason does when someone crosses the line and ignores her clearly stated limits. Jason has numerous flaws, but he's fiercely protective of what he cares about, and he takes care of her when it comes to this. He makes it bearable, because she knows there's someone who has her back, and more importantly, the bidders know that there are consequences to hurting her. After all, even if her voice is worth nothing to the Capitol, Jason's isn't.

"He doesn't understand how little they care. The Capitol cares about animals more than us--and I mean that literally." She crosses her arms tightly across her chest. "There are rules for how you can treat animals. They have to have good space and good food and good care. There aren't any rules for how you can treat the laborers. They can die in the machines and the greatest tragedy is that they slowed productivity." She can't imagine it's much different outside of D10.

[dead_black_eyes]

Stephen means well. Linden knows he means well, but it's ridiculous to think that they have the same context for some of these situations. The Escort has seen the results of bids many times, as well as the more drawn-out destructive behaviors Linden engages in to dull the pain and stress of being a survivor of the Hunger Games. Linden's grateful to him even as he resents that he's stripped of a fair deal of autonomy; having a voice through a Capitolite is much better, after all, than having no voice at all.

"No, I suppose it won't. Better than nothing, perhaps."

Matter of fact, accepting the reality that no longer shocks him because he's been on the receiving end of it so many times.

His brows draw together, wary and concerned, as she speaks in a way that's dangerously frank about the Capitol's treatment of Districters. It's a bold claim; not an untrue one, but one that challenges everything else they're supposed to insist is true. And even if it's different in other places outside of 10, it's true that conditions are just as bad in 6, where deaths in machines are depressingly frequent. He swallows, and decides it's better to demonstrate some solidarity with Peggy than it is to silence her. Victors might not have a voice where Capitolites are concerned, but where other Victors are concerned, they must, or go insane from desperate thoughts left quashed and unsaid. "They don't care. The ones that do learn quickly not to, or... I guess they lose their jobs," he says softly. "I really... really don't want that to happen to Stephen. Maybe I should go after him and try to change his mind."

[impaledqueen]

Peggy surprises herself by opening up about what happens in her District. It's not exactly encouraged for Districters to communicate about the conditions in their homes, but this isn't the kind of thing that would anger the Capitol. She's just talking to a fellow Victor, away from anyone that actually matters. It would be one thing if she were talking to a Capitolite, but she's not.

"I'm afraid it might be a foregone conclusion. Cyrus has probably noticed by now that Stephen is a more sympathetic than he ought to be. He won't stand for Stephen embarrassing himself or the Reagan name any more than he already has."

Peggy doesn't have as many connections in the Reagan family as she'd like, but she knows that much about Cyrus Reagan. He cares about his brother and pulls him out of any situation that would cause the family embarrassment. She wishes that she could be more optimistic, but that would be dishonest.

[dead_black_eyes]

Linden brushes a hand through his shaggy, dark hair, knowing that Peggy's very likely right about that. Stephen, for all his surprising behind-the-scenes allegiances and how well he hides them, probably couldn't conceal personal and passionate feelings from his own brother for long, even if he wanted to hide the way he felt about Linden's treatment.

"He's too good for this job," Linden mumbles as he raises his cup to take a sip, using the rim to obfuscate the movement of his lips. "I guess it's just a matter of time, isn't it? Why don't they tell you you're living in a golden age while you're actually in it?"

[impaledqueen]

Peggy gives a halfhearted shrug. It's a question she's asked herself many times. Who would have thought that her golden age would be when she was starving and dropping out of school to feed the family? "Because that would be too kind, I suppose." And this world is anything but kind.

She looks down at her tea. "Maybe I'm wrong." She doesn't think that she is, though.

[dead_black_eyes]

Linden wraps his hands around the china cup, raising it to take a sip.

"We both know you're not," he murmurs before actually tipping it back. It's so weak and watery compared to his drinks of choice, it's bland and actually angers his system for not giving him the kick it feels like it need to function now.

"You were kind to come by, but... really, you must believe me when I say I'll be all right," he says, glancing up to meet her eyes. "For all the unpleasantness, I don't come away from these encounters with nothing, so... in its way it's worth it, perhaps."

[impaledqueen]

Doesn't come away with nothing? He must mean something other than the sort of things she comes away with. She knows the feeling.

"I believe you'll be alright. You've survived this long. That doesn't mean I don't want to be around to keep you company."

She takes a slow sip of her tea, trying to gauge how 'alright' he really is. "Unless you would prefer some time alone."

[dead_black_eyes]

Linden lives simply, outside of his indulgence in designer drugs. Like many outlying Districters, he doesn't know what to do with the salary of a Victor, and the money, jewels, and other payments thrown the way of one who entertains private company don't mean much to him. Whatever he's hinting at clearly means a fair amount to him, however, arming him with assurance that is almost self-righteous.

"Don't believe it, know it," he urges. "I'm much stronger than so many take me for."

Despite his words, he stiffens when she mentions time alone.

"It's only around other Victors that I don't feel alone, sometimes, so... please. Stay for awhile, talk to me about something that isn't bidding. Tell me what makes you happiest lately. What fulfills you, if any such thing exists."

[impaledqueen]

He's behaving strangely. Peggy knows what kind of thing the bidders can give them, the only things that were of any use to a people so unused to baubles and money, but what could Linden do with them? He could hand them off to the rebellion, but surely she would know if he did? (Or, well, she wouldn't, and for good reason. Spies don't know about each other.) Is he using it to blackmail people?

She doesn't know, and making any insinuations would be dangerous for them both. So she pretends to ignore it.

"I know you are." She does. She knows he's strong. She just worries, because he's a friend and she doesn't have many of those.

"What fulfills me?" Peggy leans back, taking the change in topic gladly. She didn't really want to leave anyway, so talking about something other than bidders is good. "Well, I suppose training the tributes comes closest to that these days. I haven't had much time to develop much in the way of hobbies. I do enjoy taking a chance to ride horses in the woods when I get the chance. I think that makes me happy." If only briefly.

[dead_black_eyes]

Neither of them have many friends, actually, and a good portion of Peggy's (Jason, to be precise) are pretty damn polarizing. Linden has said as much as he dares about what he gets from bidders though; whether or not she understands is officially out of his hands, and he smiles as they transition to the new conversation topic that could possibly act as a salve, for a little while anyway.

"I've never trusted horses," he says, eyes wide, inviting elaboration. "They don't have built-in pedals and controls, no matter how well-trained they are. Is it really so enjoyable?"

Anyone who saw the lead-up to his Games probably understands his unease with them; the chariot introductions had run into a hitch, namely that Linden had a difficult time staying on his.

[impaledqueen]

The change in topic is good. It leaves her time to think about what he said before and wonder if maybe he's another of District 13's spies.

"They really are. The appeal to me is that they can think for themselves. They don't have to just be transportation; they can be your friend." It isn't always smart to be friends with animals in D10, because during the cold and bitter winters, you sometimes have to butcher your own animals for food. Horses are always supposed to be the last to go, though, because you need them for most jobs, so Peggy had risked it for the horses.

"Believe me, District 10 horses are different than the Capitol's." Peggy smiles, because she remembers Linden's difficulty with the chariots. "The Capitol likes to breed show horses, and they can be a little... finicky, I should say. District 10 breeds its horses for work and every day use, so they're better with riders. It's hard to find horses in the Capitol that I like riding."

[dead_black_eyes]

Linden raises an eyebrow, but doesn't question it. Having never had an animal companion, his word is as good as dirt here, and the best he can do is listen.

"I admire creatures that think for themselves. Now I regret not staying longer in 10 the last time I got to go there," he says, sipping his tea. "But hard isn't impossible. Do you have to travel outside the Capitol to find one that agrees with you, or do you have such a 'friend' much closer than anyone could have guessed?"

He blows across the surface of his tea, confident that there's nothing inherently suspicious about that statement.

[impaledqueen]

There's something weird about the inflection to that. Maybe it's her own suspicions adding meaning that isn't there, or maybe he's trying to say something. Either way, she can respond to a (possibly imaginary) message while still continuing the conversation in a normal way.

"I was able to find a friend in the Capitol. She's a sweet girl. I just needed to know where to look."

Or, in the case of her D13 connections, be told where to look by the ghost who showed up in her apartment.

[dead_black_eyes]

One who knows Linden as well as Peggy does would probably be inclined to think that there is added meaning in those inflections and lingering glances. It's possible that he wants her to know, trusting that even if she isn't on the side he wants to help, she wouldn't sell him out at a moment's notice. Their friendship goes further than that, and he has faith in it.

"What's her name?" he asks, a harmless, vapid question on the surface, but there's more of an opportunity here if Peggy wants to try to slip more meaning into unsuspicious contexts. Linden's sharp, and he's been bored, meaning that he's very likely to latch onto even very tenuous possibilities with the feverish desire to be active and effective.