The Signless (
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thecapitol2015-06-07 12:03 am
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Who| Signless and Beck | Signless and OPEN
What| Signless has a chat with the new D12 stylist and does his best to stay occupied.
Where| Around the Tower
When| Arena Week 2
Warnings/Notes| None I can think of!
A. For Beck | D12 Stylist Area
Stylists are, admittedly, not Signless's favorite part of the Tower staff. He doesn't like being fussed over and prodded and put in outfits that are more impractical than they are comfortable. It's incredible how much he misses Cinna and Cinna's understated style, even if the stylists that have been looking after Twelve since Cinna left have been giving him increasingly more and more freedom in what he wears. There are some perks to seniority, he supposes.
It's therefore with only a little trepidation that he steps into the domain of Twelve's new stylist, an as-yet mostly unknown entity to him. When she introduced herself over the network he was still steadfastly ignoring his communicator and so he has no idea what to expect from her. These tattoos aren't going to update themselves, though, and she's the best place to start.
"Miss Scordato? May I come in, or are you busy?"
B. OPEN | Tower Commons
A new rack of Celebrus is always something to at the very least take a glance at. Most of the time Signless just hopes he and those he considers his have been overlooked, but it seems this time he hasn't escaped a mention. Frankly he's surprised there wasn't more of a focus on him given his connection with the Initiate, but he's grateful that connection wasn't mentioned or, god forbid, the focus of a whole tragic chunk of an article.
No, they chose to talk instead about the time he thought providing a mercy kill as someone who'd never killed before was a good idea. They chose instead to focus on a relationship with the Psiioniic he doesn't actually have (wrong quadrant, still very much up in the air) instead of the relationship he does have and has had for months. It's not really that bad but he knows his small but dedicated group of fans are going to have a field day about what they see as confirmation of their 'ship'. Panem humans are weird.
"At least cloaks are finally in fashion," he mumbles to himself, flipping idly through the pages.
C. OPEN | Around the Tower
If there's one thing Signless has noticed about Capitol fashion, it's that male humans seem to wear an awful lot of dresses. He may be somewhat biased by the large amount of drag queens on staff, but he still feels as though that might be something he should get in on. And why not? Leggings are 'feminine' clothes (apparently?) and those are perfectly serviceable and comfortable. The right dress should follow the same principle -- and, furthermore, should show the Capitol that he's making an effort to adapt to their norms and lifestyle.
Alright. So it's possibly a little flawed, as plans go, even if it comes from a good place. It doesn't stop him from talking with Beck, and it doesn't stop Beck from making the dress or setting him loose on the Tribute Tower with it on. As expected, the dress itself is quite comfortable -- he asked for one that wasn't restrictive and that showed off the floral tattoos on his arms, and that's exactly what he got. He doesn't even mind the makeup, simple black eyeliner and red lipstick; it's no worse than any of the other makeup he's been put in and for once it actually suits him. No, the real problem is the heels.
Signless doesn't like shoes at the best of times. He's worn heels all of once, a pair of low chunky blue things that were part of his disguise during the first jailbreak. These heels -- bright red, fairly tall, strappy -- are an entirely different beast. When he's not wobbling around like a baby giraffe he can be found sitting on the nearest flat surface giving his feet a break.
What| Signless has a chat with the new D12 stylist and does his best to stay occupied.
Where| Around the Tower
When| Arena Week 2
Warnings/Notes| None I can think of!
A. For Beck | D12 Stylist Area
Stylists are, admittedly, not Signless's favorite part of the Tower staff. He doesn't like being fussed over and prodded and put in outfits that are more impractical than they are comfortable. It's incredible how much he misses Cinna and Cinna's understated style, even if the stylists that have been looking after Twelve since Cinna left have been giving him increasingly more and more freedom in what he wears. There are some perks to seniority, he supposes.
It's therefore with only a little trepidation that he steps into the domain of Twelve's new stylist, an as-yet mostly unknown entity to him. When she introduced herself over the network he was still steadfastly ignoring his communicator and so he has no idea what to expect from her. These tattoos aren't going to update themselves, though, and she's the best place to start.
"Miss Scordato? May I come in, or are you busy?"
B. OPEN | Tower Commons
A new rack of Celebrus is always something to at the very least take a glance at. Most of the time Signless just hopes he and those he considers his have been overlooked, but it seems this time he hasn't escaped a mention. Frankly he's surprised there wasn't more of a focus on him given his connection with the Initiate, but he's grateful that connection wasn't mentioned or, god forbid, the focus of a whole tragic chunk of an article.
No, they chose to talk instead about the time he thought providing a mercy kill as someone who'd never killed before was a good idea. They chose instead to focus on a relationship with the Psiioniic he doesn't actually have (wrong quadrant, still very much up in the air) instead of the relationship he does have and has had for months. It's not really that bad but he knows his small but dedicated group of fans are going to have a field day about what they see as confirmation of their 'ship'. Panem humans are weird.
"At least cloaks are finally in fashion," he mumbles to himself, flipping idly through the pages.
C. OPEN | Around the Tower
If there's one thing Signless has noticed about Capitol fashion, it's that male humans seem to wear an awful lot of dresses. He may be somewhat biased by the large amount of drag queens on staff, but he still feels as though that might be something he should get in on. And why not? Leggings are 'feminine' clothes (apparently?) and those are perfectly serviceable and comfortable. The right dress should follow the same principle -- and, furthermore, should show the Capitol that he's making an effort to adapt to their norms and lifestyle.
Alright. So it's possibly a little flawed, as plans go, even if it comes from a good place. It doesn't stop him from talking with Beck, and it doesn't stop Beck from making the dress or setting him loose on the Tribute Tower with it on. As expected, the dress itself is quite comfortable -- he asked for one that wasn't restrictive and that showed off the floral tattoos on his arms, and that's exactly what he got. He doesn't even mind the makeup, simple black eyeliner and red lipstick; it's no worse than any of the other makeup he's been put in and for once it actually suits him. No, the real problem is the heels.
Signless doesn't like shoes at the best of times. He's worn heels all of once, a pair of low chunky blue things that were part of his disguise during the first jailbreak. These heels -- bright red, fairly tall, strappy -- are an entirely different beast. When he's not wobbling around like a baby giraffe he can be found sitting on the nearest flat surface giving his feet a break.
C
She was mostly spending her time with her notebook lifted to cover most of her face, trying to be subtle about watching poor Signless attempt to walk in a pair of heels even more precarious than the ones that had gotten thrown onto her feet when she wound up at Stephen Reagan's latest party. The poor guy. The poor, poor guy... and not just for the heels, no way, no how. Though she really needs to stop thinking about that. Yeah...
"...oop!" When he gives a particularly awkward wobble, she can't keep herself from exclaiming with worry.
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"I'm alright," he says to the top of her head visible above her notebook. "Do you mind if I sit with you? It might be better if I stop trying to move around in these."
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"Aaah, aaah... nice dress!" Because it is a nice dress. Super-cute. Wouldn't mind having it, herself. And it's something to say, and compliments always go over well, right?
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"Thank you. It's my first time wearing one -- and probably my last time in heels. I think I appreciate Jolie a lot more now."
He sits, immediately bending down to unlace the straps and slip the heels off, giving a sigh of relief. It's more than worth losing the extra inches.
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"Aw, really?" She's not at all shy in expressing her disappointment. "That's kind of a bummer. They make your legs look really good!" Wait, that came out wrong. She squeaks and coughs and shakes her head and tries again. "I mean! I mean, in the general 'you' sense, not.. not you-you! Though. They do look good. I mean. I...."
And then she sighs despairingly and covers her face with her notebook. "You should probably go, I'm no good at this...."
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aaand done?
Yup!
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She doesn't look much like a Stylist at the moment. She's reverted, on her day off, from fashion to statement wear; a fitted hoodie and leggings, her curly hair pulled back in a simple scrunchie and her makeup limited to a dash of colour on the eyelids and lips. It's a look so absurdly unfashionable that it goes all the way back around to being a fashion statement again, with the added benefit that it's much more comfortable than strappy bodysuits and eight-inch heels.
"Hey, Signless. Come on in, sit down. What's up?"
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"I realized I hadn't yet sat down for a real talk with you and felt it was probably best to fix that as soon as possible, since we're supposed to be collaborating as a team."
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She takes a cookie herself, although she sets it down on the desk rather than eating it, nudging it to a corner where it won't get crumbs on her sketchpad. Then she puts the tin away, looking at him expectantly. "It's an honour to actually meet you properly, by the way."
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"I can't imagine why, but thank you." He still isn't used to the fame of being a Victor, just as he never really grew used to the adoration of half of Alternia's lowbloods.
"All I did was survive, and that's all I've really been doing since."
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this can ALSO probably fade soon we are on fire
B
He shuffles down to the tower commons with a half-finished bottle of liquor in one hand and a packet of cigarettes in the other. He hears the comment about cloaks and notes that the pacifist Victor is the one giving it voice, and he brushes past Signless toward the rack. Almost nonchalantly, he brushes the issues off into his scrawny arms, dumping them in a nearby trash bin and tipping his bottle over enough to lightly drench the glossy pages. Then he takes a swig, lights a cigarette, and tosses his match into the bin where it ignites. Some nearby Avoxes look apprehensive, but this is clearly not the first time Linden's done this.
"They'll stock more within the half-hour, but it is cathartic... and Victors can get away with much more."
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"One has to find outlets where they can, I suppose," he says, careful not to let his gaze linger too long on the alcohol or the cigarettes. It's not really his place to comment on that. Everyone survives as best they can here.
"I personally try not to do things I have to get away with."
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He's not exactly Johanna Mason, known to strip down to nothing in elevators while maintaining eye contact, but he does go for the same type of shock value. It's a way, perhaps, to remind those who are fresh from their Games that another, much longer Arena is beginning.
The Mentors who become friends have an understanding: that they went through different versions of the same Hell, and they had to kill gentler people to come out on the other side. Comfort in place of judgment, compassion in the place of resentment or anger. In another Arena, we might have tried to kill each other, but now we are allowed to share a drink or an evening as allies. It almost makes the nightmares worth it.
Linden's eyes follow Signless, paying close attention to his reaction. It will decide a lot; because he is the "Pacifist Victor", there are a few Mentors who consider his win little more than a joke. They find it ridiculous, and maybe they're a little envious, too, that he's afforded the luxury of a soul untarnished by murder. That's the price for most people to win, and Signless didn't have to pay it. The show of solidarity makes all the difference it possibly could; if it's a test (it is a test), Signless has passed it, and the corner of Linden's mouth turns up in a taut smile.
"Outlets? Something like that," he says casually, as though they're having this conversation in front of a fireplace instead of a burning trash receptacle. "But that line keeps getting pushed back. It's getting harder to tell what those things are, the ones you have to get away with. Technically," he muses, leaning over so he can watch the glossy pages bend and curl in the heat, "there's no rule against burning a few magazines."
There absolutely will be by the end of the day, but that's not exactly Linden's point.
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For a long time now he's been disillusioned as to the effectiveness of sweeping rebellious gestures. People like Merlyn can argue philosophy and politics until they're publicly beaten as much as they like, but in his eyes the risks far outweigh the cathartic rush of saying the things everyone else is thinking. He's instead satisfied himself with small victories, learned to take vicious pleasure in even the most trifling of rebellions. It keeps him sane to feel as though he hasn't completely knuckled under even if in the eyes of the Capitol he's playing nice. He can appreciate the idea behind standing as close to the line as possible without stepping over.
"No, technically there isn't." He watches the face of the woman on the cover shrivel and blacken, his expression mild. "Maybe I should start carrying around a box of matches, just in case. There are probably other things it isn't against the rules to burn."
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Without waiting for Signless to answer, he's got another one between his lips, lighting it, inhaling briefly to get it started, and then offering it to the Troll. Along with it, he offers two books of matches.
Victors, after all, can afford to be generous.
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we can probably wrap this unless you had anything else?
B (cw: blood for the image linked)
Still, his ancestor always draws his attention, and more so in this case because of the magazine he's holding. He knows that magazine. He painstakingly scribbled and wrote all over the bingo card in a copy sent as a gift to Dave. But the thing is, there was something about the Signless in there that he just has to ask about.
Compared to the drab things he adopted in the month between his imprisonment and the start of the arena, he's dressed simply but fashionably today. He doesn't care about the design, but his stylist insisted it would make him more appealing.
He marches up, snaps a copy of the magazine off the rack, and turns until he finds the right page.
He shoves it open-paged at his ancestor's face, finger stuck on the relevant part. "The fuck is this about?"
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Well.
Signless closes his own copy of the magazine and sets it back on the rack before turning to face Karkat, his expression unreadable. This is a conversation he really does not want to have. He's put that awful mess far behind him and so having it dragged back into the present and shoved in his face is enough to put him on-guard. Questions from the press, fine, he can deal with those, but Karkat -- a Karkat -- was intimately involved. He's doing his best not to treat Karkat like he's made of glass but he also doesn't want to cause a scene here.
"Do you want the full story? It's a long one and not easy to tell."
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He's not sure what he feels about it. It's not like the time Terezi told him she killed his ancestor, but it feels still like something's been kept from him. He thought his ancestor was a pacifist from the start. And while he's not expecting another round of the Initiate to crop up, surprises like these still have him jumpy and on edge.
Besides, if somehow things come out smooth and the long story proves a solid one, he still wants to ask about that supposed quadrant.
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Either way he sets off toward the elevator. There's a certain closed-off feel to him that isn't usually there and a part of him feels bad for that when this is something Karkat has a right to know about. He just needs time to unpack all of it, put it in the proper order, come to terms with the idea of letting someone else see it.
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He follows to the elevator and thumbs the button for District 6 once it's arrived. He has nothing to say on the ride there, and if his ancestor doesn't either, will simply lead him to his block afterward.
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I think that was the issue that mention romance novels, anyway
it sure was now
FINALLY tags this. we can call it here or you can cap it off, whatever you prefer
C, sorry not sorry
"Tell me this is a Sponsor idea."
Nope, but what's going on here?
never be sorry
Or at least, the misguided bastardization of troll culture that they all prefer over the actuality of it. No point in splitting hairs, right?
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"I wonder if there's a queen mother you can have to teach you the ways. Jolie shouldn't be too busy."
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"I wanted an understated, comfortable outfit -- and it isn't as though I'll ever look like a Capitolite woman with this beard."
The beard which was never going anywhere. He'd shaved it once -- once, for the jailbreak, when he'd needed a good disguise and a smoother canvas for the facepaint he'd used to make his gray skin. Never again.
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Banter aside, Leo tossed the Signless something that could help: a tablet. "You're a Victor, understated has stopped being in your vocabulary for a while now. What you can do is vintage, the Capitol will eat it up and you're looking like the next new fad from the past."
At least he was being as subtle as he could about calling the troll a victor given his pacifist behavior.
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nsfw for genitalia discussion
bless this thread
it is a gem
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