thecapitol | Cuando, Cuando Es [Open]

Entry tags:

Cuando, Cuando Es [Open]

Who| Leo and District 2, Leo and Open
What| A Pre-Arena Assessment and Tribute check-ups while Make a Man Out of You plays in the background
Where| Training Room and District 2
When| May 23
Warnings/Notes| Foul Language, Leo being a callous asshole to Tribute deaths, ect.

[a] District 2 Suites (Closed to D2)

If Life is the School of Hard Knocks, then Arena 13 was a solid blow to the skull in Leonidas's opinion, and part of the shame, he took it upon himself to accept. He couldn't excuse it as his first arena experience in the Capitol, his job before the Never Ending Quell was preparing candidates to fight as Careers. But he accepted the fault with somewhat grace and dignity, his Tributes gave their all and used the resources properly.

With the ever-present banner of "ARENA 14 COMING SOON", Cora grabbed his materials and a list of those under his watch. He rated his Tributes according to their performances in the Ice Arena, ranging from 1 as weaker than a baby rabbit to 10, what he would deem a Career ready for combat. Merlyn was a 3, and would have to take it easy thanks to the completely necessary beating he got from the Peacekeepers. He rated Jet had high enough marks, a solid 9, 10 if he channeled his spouse's death into more kills...

Leo does not knock, he slams his fist to the door of his remaining unknowns, and called out, "UP AND AT THEM, WE HAVE SHIT TO DO BEFORE THE ARENA." He's direct at least. And for Merlyn, he would leave a small box. Inside were the old man's reading glasses, fixed along with some hay for the surviving egg.

[b] Training Suites (open to all)

Training was usually something he did to keep himself fit but Leo could see the effects of combat therapy bear fruit, especially with emotional distress. The spear was exactly where he left it as bitter memories resurfaced with phantom pain. He was a Districter of Panem, a strong man to help his fellows in holding the country in place. To show weakness was unforgivable for the Cora son, to show any cracks in those pillars was unacceptable. But in all of this, and as stupid as it may be, he could never accept being a Capitolite. No thanks, he likes his imperfections.

[c] Around the Capitol (open to all)

As soon as he's done in the Tribute Center, Leo has to dash off and get suited in a suit combo. He's off to meet possible sponsors, to offer them deals and personally apologize for his aforementioned faults. Wearing his dignity and pride on his sleeve while the insults, the denigration Jason served him as armor, Cora strides around the Capitol with his shoulders straight and face lined with a smirk. He represented District 2 in everything he did, and that included his Tributes. Asking him about the so-called wizard's bouts of anti-capitol sentiments would be easily batted out, the poor man comes from very ignorant times, the Peacekeepers weren't too aware of this.

District 2 would have to pull some impressive feats but Leo was up for a challenge.

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Thanks to the regular 'sleep overs' he'd been holding in his apartment, Jet was actually back to feeling as close to normal as he'd felt in months. Actual sleep that lasted more than a few minutes at a time was something he'd missed.

What he hadn't missed were the D2 suites and the note he'd gotten from Leo saying Jet needed to report there. Jet liked Leo, but that didn't mean he had to like reporting to a drill sargeant. He dragged himself out of bed and downstairs to flop his long self out on the couch with a mug of coffee, dressed in his usual work-out wear of shorts and a tank, but his hair down around his chin and the general air that he could fall back asleep any second still around him.

This was where he waited for Leo to get around to him and tell Jet what this was all about. Upon seeing his 'mentor' he did, at least, offer a grumbled "'morning" from inside the ceramic mug.

Edited 2015-05-23 19:31 (UTC)

Cullen is, under normal circumstances, a very early riser. Insomnia, nightmares, and years of military discipline have ensured that. However, he does, from time to time, have a bit of a lie-in. Particularly when a Certain Person is sharing his bed.

Needless to say, then, he looks more than a little annoyed when he opens his door, hair mussed, chest bare, wearing just a pair of trousers.

"Will you keep it down?" he snaps. "A little common courtesy would go a long way."

Merlyn was pleasantly surprised by the little box, having almost forgotten about his broken glasses. He was already awake, of course - old habits died hard, and he was used to rising with the sun. Besides, like many old men, he found he needed less sleep as his age grew. When Leonidas came by his door, the wizard had been pottering around for an hour or two already, putting the finishing touches to the corkindrill he had been knitting. He finished stitching the eyes, careful of his injured wrist, before getting to his feet and going to answer the door.

About ten minutes later, he ambled into the main suite, glasses on his nose, to go and make his second cup of tea that morning. "Thank you," he commented to Leonidas with a little nod, as the kettle boiled behind him. "Very decent of you, I must say." Then, after a moment, "It hatched, by the by. Of course, the poor thing has no siblings, and will be spoiled rotten. But it's alive, which is the important thing. I thought you might like to know. Did you want something?"

"Good," the coach didn't look up from his clipboard just yet, already noting the improvement in the old man's health, "the Avoxes will make sure the chick's needs will be cared for." And he might peek into the nest, to make sure nothing harmed it. Birds were..strange to the Small Lion of D2, but they fascinated him in flight. Being able to see the world at large.

"You're here for an evaluation for your record as a Tribute. Your abilities in the Arena will be measured and I will determine the level of support I can send you." Without insider information, Leonidas had to work blind, and hope his Tributes weren't suicidal. "I'm going to guess that your combat knowledge is extensive but your actual practice is...terrible."

"Common courtesy's out the window when the Arena's concerned and my District's food supply is at play," Leo didn't bother with the niceties at times and he was damn sure Cullen was doing something heavily discouraged in the Tower.

Then again, Calendius ran off with Jennifer Blackwood and left Leo and Torin to handle the rest so...yeah no, screw politeness.

"You're going to show me why I shouldn't report your Interdistrict alliance to the Gamemakers. I want to see how good you are in combat."

"You realize how toothless a threat that is, given everyone knows about my relationship, yes?" Cullen says, snorting faintly. "That and nearly every one of my fellow offworlders maintains close connections with others from our worlds, regardless of your arbitrary district designations."

He looks Leo up and down, as though assessing him. "I don't need to prove myself to you, nor can you teach me anything I don't already know. I'll continue training as I see fit."

"Have you not heard Compson's rants? As vile and moronic as they can be, they hold some truth," Leo shrugged at the assessment he was getting from a Tribute. "The Gamemakers see these alliances as threats to the general safety of the Districts, especially when there's the matter of, oh, say, one of you lot has to win."

He writes something down and stays put in his spot, "You may not need to prove myself to me, but at the end of the day, those supply drops are by some miracle of a god."

The greeting was just...pitiful and Leo rolled his eyes. Sleep was for the weak when it went past the necessary seven to eight hours. But if he'd known about Jet thinking of him as anything similar to a mentor, the coach would not have been merciful.

"I'm guessing you had a great night or a bad night," he spoke up, dismissing the Avox that held lists and ads sent in by possible sponsors. The party with Torin and Felicity may have yielded some Capitol wellness companies to sit up and take notice of the Tributes' resilience and they were looking to add more names. But Leo had no intention of imposing such a task on Jet without clearing it with him, more so with the grief.

"The Arena's drawing near, and I know it's a sore spot for you," he began, "But right now, I need to make sure you'll get past the first two weeks."

"Your Gamemakers should've considered that before bringing people in from other worlds and randomly assigning us to separate districts," Cullen says dismissively. If they didn't want it to happen, they would've done things differently. Smarter. As it is, well, he doesn't think very highly of anyone who does something so patently obvious and then complains about it.

"And if you want to know my prowess in combat, no doubt you can look at the numerous recordings you already have of me."

Linden's out and about for the same reason Leonidas is; that is, he needs to find some Sponsors for 6's Tributes and he has to be superior in both quality and quantity when it comes to the task, given that there are some sharper eyes on him since the debacles of recent months. He only really has to succeed as a Mentor to be accepted, but if he fails in that capacity, he's out a job and certainly disgraced on top of that, so he has to ensure that no matter what else happens, he can get his Tributes parachutes.

He's at a party this evening, taking it easy on the drinking (for now.) Though it's a strain to interact like this, forcing superficial cheer and essentially treating his Tributes like sales pitches, it's necessary and he knows he'll have time to recharge later. Still, the strain shows in moments his back is turned, and when he's gone to the table for a glass of punch, he exchanges glances with Leo.

"Slim pickings," he comments, hoping that hinting at mediocre success might inform him on the state of his direct competition.

"Good, good. Should I leave them a set of notes? They might disturb the mother, you see." Merlyn held up a hand, his wrist still visibly discoloured and swollen, and extended a finger - excuse me a moment - before turning away to make his tea. Over his shoulder he said, "My actual practice, my boy, is untested. As I believe you know, I am a pacifist, and I intend to remain that way."

He stirred his tea thoughtfully, then dropped the teabag in the waste disposal - teabags! what a marvellous invention, and how I have missed them! - before turning back to Leonidas, his bony hands wrapped around the mug. "Let me save you the trouble. I am not a fighter. I may be well set to survive, to feed and clothe myself and heal myself if necessary. But I am not a cold-blooded killer, and I categorically refuse to become one. You may as well resign yourself to that now."

"Hey, I'm with you on that but since I can't exactly tell the Gamemakers' what to do on my hand and foot, you'd best believer I will make with what I have now. I'd rather go back to the old days, but that's just me."

That and he's getting amused by just how stubborn Cullen can get when things don't go accordingly. Unmovable object? Meet unstoppable force. "You were reaped from your world and now you're here. If you're that bothered by the Arenas and my job, by all means, petition out. But right now, you and I have to cooperate and I will make damn sure that you get the supplies you need to keep your lover safe."

Leo may have gotten into some hot water for letting these relationships stand but he justified it in the "rich history of the Games" as letting human nature act then destroy itself. You'll always have viewership every time they have to break the alliance, he assured the official.

As much as they were competing for the same sponsors, Leo nodded towards Linden in acknowledgement. "Second one I've been to this week, all they're interested in is D12 and D7 thanks to the older Nick, maybe Jet and Luke if I'm lucky enough to keep their attention."

He turned his head towards the fellow Districter, "At least you have Molotov and Clementine, easily marketable and fan favorites. More than half of mine went down with the Arena and now, the ones I have left include a grieving widower and an old man with a mouthy problem." Fuck his life at this point, he needs a drink.

"Make sure to leave the instructions in a visible place and I'll make sure the mother's cared for as well," Leo's tone remained civil as he then added, "Eh, at least you're honest in your weakness, what can you do in the Arena then, old man?"

Like hell he was letting go of that moniker and even more now that the healing has begun and the bruises turned into less than sickly colors. He wrote down something in his notes and then added, "Tributes are Tributes, and they all bring something to the table. Even pacifists."

"A damn good one, all things considered."

He set the mug down and sat up, at least showing Leo the respect Jet felt for him by giving him his attention. "Pretty sure it's a sore spot for most people, but I 'preciate the concern. That said, you don't need to have any for those first two weeks, I'm a soldier, I'll make it that long at least. Especially since the cornucopia's off the table."

He hadn't gone for it since the space arena when he'd gotten shanked and would have bitten it faster if it hadn't turned out to be a powers arena. He couldn't afford to bank on that every time.

"That said, what're you thinking of suggesting?"

"If that's the case, perhaps trying to threaten me isn't the best way to go about it, hm?"

Nonetheless, Leo's last words - about getting him supplies - ring with a certain amount of truth. Cullen doesn't like the situation, and he rather despises nearly every native of this world he's met, one way or another, Leo included, but alliances with distasteful people sometimes become necessary if one is to survive.

And Cullen will do a lot worse to try and keep Adella safe.

"What, precisely, are you expecting me to do?" he asks finally, suspicion dripping from every word.

"Pacifism," Merlyn retorted, bristling, "is not a weakness, my boy. It is a considered political position which has been tried and tested over many more years of my life than you, child, can even imagine." He spared Leo the worst of the lecture, though, mostly out of gratitude for the unexpected gift. Instead, he settled for harrumphing quietly as he drank his tea.

"Since you ask, though," he said rather sulkily, after a moment, "I have a medical degree from both Oxford and Cambridge, and another for which I wrote away to that dratted newfangled Harvard place, on a friend's recommendation. I am fully qualified in lifesaving, too. And first aid, six times. I worked in the ambulance service in two world wars, I'll have you know!" He scowled ferociously over the top of his mug. "Besides which, I have an unparalleled and first-rate education in all matters botanical and zoological, magical and scientific, theological, philosophical, and alchemical. And a gold medal for being the best scholar at Eton. What can I do, indeed!"

Leo's eyes glazed over halfway through the list as none of the names ring any bells or sound very Capitol. It's nothing he wanted to hear and in fact, he holds up his hand to stop Merlyn's ramble.

"I'll write you down as field medic then, and get the sponsors to send you brand-name bandages and supplies," he stated and wrote down on his notes. Notes that included such mature commentary as "crazy old bat" and "fuck my life," and his personal favorite, "the universe hates me as much I do it."

"Fair enough," Leo was pleasantly surprised at how quickly Jet caught on to the machinations of the Games. "You'll be getting supplies the first week in, whatever I can muster at first, sponsors are notoriously cheap by then. You need to get exposure, and make sure they see you surviving and carrying. I don't know if exploiting your grief will net you sympathy points but consider it. Not asking you to bawl your eyes out either."

What Leo lacked in empathy during these sorts of situations, he made up for it in strategy, "Soldiers are humans and the Hunger Games are all about human stories. And your alliances?"

"I expect to actually do what needs to be done to keep yourself alive," Leo stated up front without his usual smirk, and simply stated, "You'll get supplies on my part, play up your relationship as much as you can, let the audience love you and make them feel what you feel for her. They will follow you."

So when the inevitable happens, they will support Cullen in his time of grieving.

"Oh, marvellous," Merlyn remarked, his voice positively dripping with sarcasm. "Capitalist consumerism at its finest. And I am glad to know that you recognise the value of education, my boy." The last part, he said in his nastiest tone of voice, the one that could make grown men shrivel into little boys and quake at his disapproval. Sometimes. Probably, it had to be admitted, not in this case. "Field medic. My goodness."

'Exploiting his grief?' Even if he were actually still in grieving and not only acting like it, he wouldn't know how to do that. Grief was a private thing, how did you use- well, no, h could think of a thing or two: he and Albert had almost always settled down in some kind of 'homebase' together, looking pathetic while not having Albert around when he should be would probably do the trick.

He hesitated about sharing his intended alliances because this was the split between them: Leo wanted him to win and Jet wanted to protect his friends no matter the cost.

"Sam Wilson, Terezi Pyrope, Bucky Barnes and Venus Dee Milo. I don't know who I'll stick with, but they're my friends and I'm going to have their backs like they'll have mine." It wasn't defensive, but there was statement. That was how he intended to run things.

"Maybe while you're trying to play up my grief you can play up that stupid as hell rumor about me and Sam. Don't Capitolites like that crap?"

Linden nods, commiserating amply; truly, the popular Districts are what they are, and they aren't 2 or 6 right now. It means more scrambling, more effort, and more difficulty, even without the substantial damage done to 6's reputation lately with boiling-over Mentors and out-of-control partying Escorts. Even though both Stephen and Linden have been working diligently to clean up their acts, it takes years to build solid reputations, and only minutes to destroy them utterly.

"At least, but there are others. Karkat's difficult to find Sponsors for at times, but Phillip's very... he has a vested interest in protecting children, so I think it'll be easy enough to spin that in a way that makes him seem deeply and fantastically sympathetic to the ever-romantic Capitol audience. What about you? Who are you focusing on? Considering what you have to work with, I mean."

"All I have to work with are Luke, Jet, and maybe Garrett if he can manage to not get cornered into a goddamn cave again." A pause and he immediately took a shot off the nearest Avox tray. Leonidas wasn't as bad a drunk as some of his coworkers but he needed the fire that comes from tequila.

"Fiona's a fresh Thedian face, I'll deal with that as soon enough but in truth, my biggest source of frustration is...Rutherford." Cullen doesn't get to be on first name basis simply because even Merlyn acknowledged when he was beat, quite literally. Even getting the man to cooperate was a hassle but he did make a promise.

"Duly noted," Leo wrote down on his notes how many extra mouths to feed if Jet would find himself needing it. Though the sneaky little grin at the suggestion was evidence that he was willing to swallow his pride and let Tributes suggest their own game plans. In the end, he was merely an enabler to the Capitol for their entertainment, and Tributes never quite followed the plans set forth by their staff.

"Oh they do, but what's more compelling: a cheating spouse who jumps for the nearest tail, or a widower looking for comfort?"

Spoken like a man who had no real connections to anyone but his own flesh and blood. "I'll send something extra your way then."

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Cuando, Cuando Es [Open]

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