[OPEN] Nothing's going to separate us now

[futilecycle]

WHO | Sigma and YOU!
WHAT | A Gamemaker has one last night on the town before his schedule is filled.
WHEN | The night before Tributes are transported to the Arena.
WHERE | About the Capitol.
WARNINGS/NOTES | PM me if you'd like your own prompt in the comments. In several prompts, Sigma is without peacekeepers. If you plan to have your character do anything violent, run it by me first!



Dusk fell on the final day before Sigma's first Arena as a Gamemaker. As the last of the sunlight disappeared over the mountains, he and his fellow Gamemakers drank to their health before going home for their last peaceful evening. The expensive champagne Plutarch uncorked was unlike anything Sigma had ever had the opportunity to taste, but it did not go down easy - as Sigma sips at his flute he realizes that he can afford any luxury he desires except freedom.

He was exhausted over the constant surveillance, tired of filtering out the people 'beneath' him with computers and force fields. At the celebration's conclusion, Sigma wraps his dress coat around his shoulders and takes the elevator down, instructing the peacekeepers that they need not accompany him - he will go straight home.

Instead, knowing he may well live to regret it, Sigma steps out into the night alone.

A - The park

If there was one thing Sigma loved about the Capitol, it was what remained of its natural environment. Having spent most of his life locked in a steel cell, to feel his boots dig into fresh grass and wet mud was an unbelievable - and almost forgotten - feeling.

He wades through the darkness of the park, pensive and safe from the feverish pace of the city. As the Gamemaker reaches the riverbed, he removes his gloves and runs his hand over the bark of a tree, watching the light of one million superstructures diffuse off of the black ribbon of water. It was almost dark enough to see stars. Not far downstream there was a bench at the edge of the park where a troll and his father had once spoken, ashing burned pages of military blueprints into the rocks beneath their feat.

It was not so long ago, actually. Not so long ago, at all...

B - Training Center Lobby Bar

It was not so much a part of his job as a part of his citizenship to make himself well liked by fellow Capitolites. At the moment, anybody who was anyone was living it up in the lounge, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Tributes on their last days of training. Now Sigma settles into the bar, bearing a secret, the only man in the room who knew what tomorrow would bring. Where he used to be no more than a shadow he is now practically magnetic - Capitolites and press begin to pester him, though he says little and drinks much, the occasional smile and nod inserted where necessary. The secret of the Arena is safe with him.

With Quintus' exceptional security, he knows he will be safe if he chooses to bide his time here. Yet fifteen minutes into the first round of drinks and he's looking for an excuse to bolt, waiting for any reason at all to remove himself from this insatiable crowd of vultures.

C - Anywhere within reason

It's much easier to blend into the city street without his Peacekeepers. Should he keep his head down, he was just another old man in the Capitol, an undesirable in a city where youth and beauty were the products of wealth. Months ago he could still take his daily walk unnoticed, practically a nobody after losing his celebrity status. Now blending in had become an art. He does not go so far as to conceal his face, but after his uncomfortable experience in the lounge, he makes certain not to attract attention where he can avoid it.

Yet in a city as alive and buzzing with tension as the Capitol, he was bound to be recognized eventually.

Comments

[furgood]

It's only when he reacts that Meulin realizes how loud she must have been. Her hand slaps up to her mouth, the other clutching pen and pad to her chest, somewhat forgotten. Her mind flies, wondering what he's doing here in the dark before she can only settle on it being something like her own reasons. Solitude? Peace? She probably ruined that. Her eyes dart for others in the dark but come up empty.

"I don't..." She trails off, unsure of how to phrase things. He must be asking what she wants, who she is, even if she can't hear it. His confusion is evident. And it feels silly to offer her pad to a Gamemaker. The tributes, her friends, surely, but he has no reason to speak to her.

"I was startled. I didn't expect anyone and I couldn't hear you coming. And then I recognized you and I just--blurted it out." Her shoulders raise, then fall in time with her words. Her smile is back up, with a tinge of self deprecation at such an embarassing situation. After a moment of thought, she bobs her head in the same short bow, "I didn't mean to disturb you."

[futilecycle]

Meulin's reaction is so genuine and even slightly awkward that Sigma cannot help but be convinced by it. A ghost of a smile passes over his lips - it was not her fault that he was in a constant state of paranoia, and yet Capitolites would bend over backwards to be in the wrong if it meant courting favour. Not that this was what she had been trying to do, necessarily. After a moment, Sigma's shoulders relax - and he laughs quietly to himself. No, he does not think it will hurt to forgive her this once.

"...You did not disturb me, Ma'am. Forgive me. I am old and am wont to get caught up in my thoughts, at times." He nods pleasantly in response to her respect. Organic and cybernetic eyes alike flick briefly to the pen and paper, and he wonders what it could be for, having not had the time to watch the network. His attention had been focused on the Arena until very recently. "Consider all forgiven. ...What is your name?"

[furgood]

It's times like these that Meulin fervently wishes she had taken any sort of interest in lip reading. Things had been so much easier at home, where people already knew. It was a little overwhelming to have to explain and explain over again. She's more than a little aware such an affliction would have been dealt with long ago in the Capitol.

So she tries to guess. He's being kind, relaxing and she smiles in return. Forgiveness perhaps? She errs on the side of caution and simply nods earnestly, eyes wide. Oh she's probably missing something but it's impossible to tell what.

"Thank you--I don't realize how loudly I speak at times..."

[futilecycle]

Sigma nods to accept her gratitude, and then waits eagerly for her to answer his question. Instead, an awkward silence passes between them. Soon enough the gears turn in his head and align - this woman required a pen and paper, misunderstood his question, and spoke louder than she intended. Even if the paranoia made him slow to process, tonight, he was usually not so oblivious.

He clears his throat and makes sure to wear the most sympathy a Gamemaker can afford to display. He has been incredibly rude, speaking at her this entire time without the means to actually communicate. He speaks slowly so that even the most unlearned of lip readers might glean what he's said. "Ah, I see... Ma'am, it may be my turn to apologize. By any chance might you be... deaf?" He hopes he has been polite, but forty five years in a solitary steel bunker does not teach one much etiquette.

[[Apologies for the delay!]]

[furgood]

It's easier to get the meaning from his words this time--really the way his face falls into the familiar mix of politeness and sympathy was all she needed to realize he understood. She must have missed part of a question, slipped too much, too much not to notice. Her shoulders sag in relief and she nods quickly.

"I usually try to tell people up front but I didn't think. You doesn't really expect to meet a Gamemaker in the park."

Her smile is bright and she laughs with a touch of embarrassment. The pad is offered up for his reply. If he flips to a used page, it's often filled with one side of a conversation, replies to her unknown statements, but it's only half filled, with plenty of blank pages left still.

[futilecycle]

Sigma accepts the pad graciously and flips to a clean page, slightly amused by this tried-and-true relic of the past. It is not often that Sigma is required to write. Even in the Rhizome his studies had been carried out with the aid of computers and keyboards, the most celebrated of his papers included. This had the added benefit of never running out of paper or ink in a time of drought and shortage.

He feels sorry that his hurried scrawl must be imposed upon this lady, but there were few ways around it. The Gamemaker takes up the pen with a flourish and writes as neatly as he can manage:

I suppose one does not!

I was just saying that you should not feel as though you have anything to apologize for. Let us put our misunderstandings in the past. Allow me to introduce myself properly: I am Sigma Klim. What is your name, ma'am?

He passes it back to her, having left plenty of space on the page for her reply. It isn't often he meets a Capitolite with a disability, as most were quick to correct such "handicaps." He had never felt the need to replace his obvious prosthetic eye (or otherwise change himself, as Capitolites loathed age) for the sake of resembling an average - and apparently she held a similar sentiment. He is optimistic that he may find a peer in this woman.

[furgood]

Meulin waits, a little anxious about his reply. He'd been gracious enough, forgiving her her mishaps before. People did get odd about writing. She's relieved when he passes it back. Kind and not at all what she was worried about. She feels silly for a moment but quickly writes back.

I'm Meulin Leijon! Thank you again though! I'm so used to everyone knowing about it, I furget that they don't here.

What brings you to the park? If you don't mind my asking.

[futilecycle]

The corner of Sigma's mouth lifts into a smile as he notices the pun. A coincidence? A typo? Or had the press leaked his 'uncontrollable' tic? Either way, he decides he'll play along. If a man was no longer free to make cat puns, it wasn't a life worth living.

Hello, Ms. Leijon. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.

To answer your question, I find it peaceful here. Green, open spaces such as these were a rare sight, at home, and they quickly clear one's head of troubles.

'Here,' you say? Where are you furom?

She couldn't have been an off-worlder, surely. He motions to the grass, inviting her to sit beneath the tree with him while they chat.

[furgood]

Furom. She glances up, eyebrow raised but grinning. Is he doing it to make fun of her or just to play along. People went both ways. Taking a seat on the grass, she tucks her legs up under herself and smooths out her skirt. Perhaps she should have been more cautious but he doesn't ring any alarm bells in her head. She just has to see what he says in reply.

I know, I pun! An old habit hard to break. ;33

But I'm furom District Four. I'm here specially with permission from the Capitol via my cousins sponsorship. Well, my sister and I. I work for Celebrus, as a romance columnist. Rather new so nothing there yet to show for it. But there will be!

Explaining that part of things was always a chore, a delicate mincing around the fact that she's here at all when so many others are at home and the attitude of the Capitolites towards district born. She's not sure what he'll make of it. After another moment, before she hands it back, she adds a few more lines.

I agree about the park! I like all the green and the river. Meowstly the river.

[futilecycle]

Seated comfortably now, Sigma covers his mouth to conceal his grin, deflecting Meulin's infectious smile. It was not becoming of a Gamemaker to joke with the press. Yet, knowing full well Plutarch would be ashamed of him, he writes alongside her first sentence:

I understand the compawlsion.

And as a Gamemaker, Sigma knows he has no right to judge a Celebrus reporter, though he does make a note to keep his personal life closed to her. A kind approach was his greatest weakness, and he wondered when the rest of the Capitol would begin exploiting that...

I have heard District 4 is a beautiful place. I hope I have the opportunity to visit, someday... I especially enjoy listening to the sound of the water. A warm welcome to you and your sister! It seems we will both be newcomers to our positions, won't we? I wish you the best of luck.

He suddenly understands why the two of them get on so well - they were both outsiders welcomed tentatively by the Capitol, so long as they stayed in line, and in this there was solidarity. It is true that, in the Capitol, Sigma rarely hears much good about the Districts. Of course, he knew the Florida area from his youth and remembered its natural beauty. Not to mention the weather.

[furgood]

The returned pun cements him in her good standing. What she knew of him wasn't all good, but he was a man in a position of power in the Capitol. Sitting with her in the park, talking about life and cat puns. She could think of worse people to talk to.

Humming to herself, she relishes the opportunity to speak of home without being thought homesick. It was always a nice excuse, when people spoke of it like that.

Purrlieve me, I understand! And thank you for the welcome. I also wish you the best of luck. I'm sure you will exceed our expectations.

And I really hope you do get to go to District Four. It's so lovely and with many beaches to enjoy. The fishing is superb, as its our staple, but really it's just lovely. We always got visitors from the Capitol. Some came back efurry summer.

[futilecycle]

When Sigma hears Meulin hum, he grows excited to read her letter, and receives her message with a smile. Her words give him a vivid taste of nostalgia. Would she have another chance to return to her hometown before the rebellion began? To consider Meulin going home to visit her family, to give them some respite from the tensions of war with her company...

...Well, it makes him unexpectedly sad.

Sigma's grin ebbs away as he visits somewhere inward - briefly, but long enough to take the edge off of his cheer. He thinks of a bunker where he watched black clouds engulf his homeland, where he beheld his newborn son knowing he would not have the privilege of a long life. It was a place where he had failed to make a difference. Meulin has inadvertently put his work into perspective, reminded him why he has become a Gamemaker, and why he did what he had to get this far. He will not allow this country and her people to suffer the same fate.

After a moment's contemplation, he picks up the pen once more and makes a swift, decisive reply:

Can you do me a favour, Ms. Leijon?

It is so rare that I get the opportunity to speak with someone from the Districts.

Would you tell me a little more about your home? Anything will do.

He passes the paper back apologetically.

[furgood]

She watches his smiles light up his features and she beams to feel that was her words having such an effect. But it fades, a little. Not enough to make her worried but perhaps a touch curious. His reply provides no illumination for that curiousity but invites more talk of home. She looks up quickly, smile bright and almost grateful. Did he know she wanted to talk about home? Or was he curious for his own sake.

Well he asked and he shall recieve.

Anything is such a broad topic! Let's see. The weather is hot in the summer and winters are cold but meowbe I have a weird sense for that? This weather now seems a little cool to me for this time of year. Oh and it never snows, I've only seen that in Arenas. Maybe I'll see it this winter.

Though our main export is fish, it's still mostly the men who do the fishing. My mother baked and I worked in a shop, I think there's meowre oppurrtunities for people in our District? Because the Capitolites come to our District. So we can sell to them as well. I think our beaches are really the star in the District. We, the people who live there, sometimes had little parties and dances on the beach. You know, the ones that Capitolites don't use. Bonfires and the like. The music and dancing are so fun. I can still sing meowst of those songs.

I'd say most of us can swim and fish though. I did it a lot after school and before I worked at the shop. You can sell pearls and pretty shells back to the Capitol if you can dive deep enough but I kept some of the best ones for myself.

After he's read through most of it, she pulls a necklace out from her shirt to show a single pearl strung on a length of leather cord and knotted into place. It's not particularly large or symmetrical and probably wouldn't have fetched a great price from the traders. Its worth seems questionable.