dead_black_eyes: "Off to the Races" (With every beat of his cocaine heart)
dead_black_eyes ([personal profile] dead_black_eyes) wrote in [community profile] thecapitol2015-06-09 03:38 pm

Home, It's Become a Killing Field [OPEN]

Who| Linden and YOU
Where| Catch-all around the Capitol
When| Week 3
Warnings/Notes| What usually comes with Linden; drugs and alcohol references and profanity likely, I'll update this if anything else comes up.



I. Capitol Viewing Party- Any Bar

Linden's here tonight out of obligation more than any true desire to mingle with the gaudy imbeciles who gamble and sponsor and genuinely enjoy watching people murder each other in a gladiatorial free-for-all. District 6 still has five Tributes alive, meaning that by the third week, they're actually doing very well, and he's being congratulated almost constantly. Tonight, the sponsors are gathering themselves; they're practically flocking to the thin Mentor's side, wanting to discuss gift options and asking him about his personal favorites and informed hunches.

Yes, Phillip truly does care that much. No, I have no idea what Nux's issue is and I sincerely hope he doesn't accidentally murder someone from our District. Clementine's doing well as is typical for her.

That's not all that comes up, though. With the latest issue of Celebrus on the racks, a fair number of people have read the spotlight on 6 and are immensely curious about Linden's private life. Linden has always preferred to keep such details strictly personal, but due to the potentially scandalous nature of the rumors if they are true, he finds himself deflecting far more than he'd like to.

No... it's against the rules. My relationship with Nill is nothing inappropriate. We're friends and she shares her cigarettes with me sometimes. You heard...? No, no that couldn't be more wrong.

He's exhausted fairly quickly, and slinks into corners at every opportunity to refill his drink and either nurse or slay it. So many in, he's not feeling well, and not in the usual way; he's tired, disoriented and his stomach is bothering him.

"Excuse me. I don't suppose you remember the Avox with the shots... he had blonde hair, sort of dark makeup? I really need to find him. Not to alarm you, but I think I might have been poisoned."

II. En Route to a Liquor Store from a Health Clinic

The next day, Linden's first order of business is something he dreads as a rule: seeing the doctor. He has a list of concerns and complaints ready, but the medical professional waves it aside, telling him to sit down for bloodwork, not seeming particularly worried. She only speaks to express annoyance that his veins are so terrible, collapsed and weak and difficult to find purchase in. It takes her ages and many pricks to get enough vials to test.

When they're back, Linden voices his suspicion again, louder. "I think I was poisoned."

The doctor snorts. "You were, in a manner of speaking. Your liver's failing, Lockhearst."

"...I see."

"If you were anyone else, I'd tell you to get your affairs in order. You're a long-time substance abuser, you weigh 110 pounds after gaining weight, and you don't have any family to live for."

"It sounds like it's grim," Linden says, wondering why the gravity of the situation isn't hitting him harder.

"Well, it would be, but you're a Victor. Snow isn't going to let you die," the doctor shrugs, writing extensively on her clipboard. "We can get you a new one, like we did with your heart when you wrecked that, and have you on your feet again so fast everyone will think it was a spa day."

On the way back to the tower, Linden takes a slight detour. Strangely, even after hearing news that should have been life-changing, all he wants to do is get drunk, and he leaves the liquor store with a bottom-shelf liquor wrapped in a paper bag. He finds a curb to sit on, near a sewer drain in case he exceeds his limits, and starts swallowing mouthfuls. Occasionally, he glances down at his hand, where a handkerchief with embroidered linden flowers and a scarlet ibis rests.

III. Tribute Tower- Around the Comfort and Care Office

Linden's in trouble. Not bad trouble, at least not by his standards, but even for good reason, starting trashcan fires in the lobby tends to be frowned-upon. Unfortunately for Linden, "I was tired of looking at this month's stupid issue of Celebrus" isn't considered a very good reason, and the result is a period of time where he's sitting and waiting for the annoyed administrators to deal with the paperwork that comes with an unstable and unpredictable Mentor's expected but nevertheless frustrating antics.

There's no rule against it.

That's because most people don't need to be told not to set trash cans on fire indoors!

He rests his cheek against his palm; he's been told that a Peacekeeper will probably be along shortly to give him a slap on the wrist, but as long as it's something like this getting him negative attention and not proof of involvement with Nill, he has no problem dealing with it. He's had plenty of practice with misdemeanors and their fallout; the only real inconvenience is that he'll be here for awhile.

The administrator steps out for a second, and Linden cranes his head around, pausing before standing from his chair in the hallway and strolling over to the vacated and somewhat messy desk. His fingertip slides aside a paper, and he starts glancing over a few various lists and records, wondering what he can commit to memory before anyone comes by.

crabmunicator: (034)

[personal profile] crabmunicator 2015-06-12 01:15 am (UTC)(link)
"No one? No one at all?" He keeps walking as he says this, feeling the shift of balance and just how much Linden is leaning against him. "Don't care to inform the kid in your District just why you're doing so badly? I have eyes, Linden. I'm not the only one, and people are going to wonder."

He near wants to snatch the bottle out of his hand. It's a weird feeling; he's never been this rubbed wrong by someone else's addiction. With Rose he didn't know enough about alcohol, and his hurt lie more in how she sucked up all of Kanaya's attention. Terezi and her soda brought hurt and regret, all aimed at himself for not doing more, for not stepping in, for not keeping better watch on Gamzee. Nill and her cigarettes only worry when they're too much, when he finds her stressed and out of sorts and has to tease her troubles out.

Linden, though, surely knows what danger this is. He spoke like he did, and he's not a man who does it to be cheery or likeable. He's not sure he could put cheery to Linden in any circumstance. But here he's bringing himself down, big and obvious and impossible to mistake; and he might not be his moirail, but as a Tribute in the same District, he feels entitled to a sense of worry over him. It feels, essentially, like he's throwing himself away.

He doesn't dare nudge him for attention, but he does flash a sharp look as he asks, "Do you know a way more discreet than this? The cameras are going to find you if we stick to the main streets."
Edited 2015-06-12 01:17 (UTC)
crabmunicator: (054)

[personal profile] crabmunicator 2015-06-12 01:30 am (UTC)(link)
His lips curl. "Stop shaking your head. Do you want to make yourself sick?" And puke down his shirt is the next logical step, which is why he wants to avoid it.

But soon enough Linden is leading him off, and Karkat follows along, doing his best to make sure Linden at least keeps his footing. He did mean what he said: a more discreet path would save Linden the tabloid trouble, and while it might help him to be seen supporting a staff member, he doesn't want District 6 to take the hit to reputation it would surely bring otherwise. But if Linden is leading where he thinks he might (less a specific spot than one where they can talk), then he'll take it, too.

He's got more than a few things he could say about this.
crabmunicator: (065)

[personal profile] crabmunicator 2015-06-12 01:46 am (UTC)(link)
When they get there, he lets Linden move away and sit down. It helps to have a cover in case anyone is watching, and with as bad as his Mentor seems to be doing, he might legitimately need it.

It turns out this is the case.

"Shit, Linden, seriously?" He sounds exasperated, and he is, but looking over him now that note of worry comes up again. It's not an ordinary friendship they share with their difference of age and roles, but the point is that Karkat still holds some caring for him.

It makes the way he found him all the worse. He turns, running a hand through his hair, and sighs.

"What were you doing in that gutter? Honestly?"
crabmunicator: (077)

[personal profile] crabmunicator 2015-06-12 02:00 am (UTC)(link)
Karkat hears the slosh of the liquid before Linden even admits it, and it's stupid, because why does he need to say it? Of course he was drinking. He saw him drinking. A muscle goes tight in his jaw, and as he turns back he's glaring at the bottle, at the sack and his hand and his whole sad manner.

"That's not what I meant, you stunningly obtuse stack of dust. Of course you were drinking; you're weren't pouring it up your ass. But why the fucking gutter, Linden? You looked like a troll waiting for the cull, like you had given up."

His fingers itch. He hates standing and watching just like this, and finally unable to stand it, he snatches out to try and grab the bottle from his hand. "Give me that."
bravelyplucked: (ah well you see)

[personal profile] bravelyplucked 2015-06-12 02:00 am (UTC)(link)
"And you need to get to a doctor then," Torin says insistently, taking ahold of Linden with his good arm. He can offer support...and he could probably even carry the other man, given how scrawny Linden is. "Which way did he go?"
crabmunicator: (057)

[personal profile] crabmunicator 2015-06-12 02:24 am (UTC)(link)
"Oh, right, because that's the point I was going for!"

His grip tightens just like Linden's, refusing to let go. He could probably pull hard enough to bring Linden toppling with it, he feels like, but he doesn't try to.

"Why the fuck should I, huh?" You want a growl, he'll give one: it underlies his words, alien and insectile more than the mammalian rumble. It comes with teeth, nubby yet sharp, alternately flashing and clenching with his words. He doesn't do it as a threat of harm, but as gesture, as seriousness, as instinct answering the aggression shown to him. "So you can drink yourself stupider? So you can bury everything instead of trying to face what the hell it is wrong with your life? I don't know how your soporifics work, but I'm not an idiot, Linden!"
Edited 2015-06-12 02:26 (UTC)
crabmunicator: (054)

[personal profile] crabmunicator 2015-06-12 02:52 am (UTC)(link)
Karkat flings it hard and far, so that it ends up crashing beyond the shadow of the bridge, only a trail of alcohol that slipped from the neck to mark the trajectory it took.

"Fuck you." It comes over the shattering, tone almost shaking for the raw anger of it. "Who the hell do you think you're doing this to, Linden? Because it's not just you. It's not even me. I barely know you; what are you going to care for my sake?"

And turning back more fully, he bends down, not kneeling but crouching that his hard glare might meet Linden's sunken eyes.

"Nill. What do you think she's going to feel when she comes back and finds you like this?" His voice is low now, harsh but quieted, not daring to let it carry. "You think she's going to be all fine and dandy to see you treating yourself like a lump of refuse? Her life is shit, Linden. It's long and painful and she's been a lot of places and lost a lot of people, and I don't know the half of it because there's only so much she dares to say and most of it was in my head back during the 12th arena. I know I have a chance with her when you don't, but that's absolutely no excuse for all this. It's going to hurt her either way, and it's going to fall to me to keep her together, and that means I can't just tidily overlook you slamming yourself health-first against the pavement of your copious addictions."
crabmunicator: (085)

[personal profile] crabmunicator 2015-06-12 03:22 am (UTC)(link)
Karkat tips his head, a gesture too clean and sharp to be random. It tips his horns back, sets his chin forward and up, and comes with bared, clenched teeth. It's utterly trollish: you are not a threat, even if I bare my throat. It's not even that Linden is fighting him here, but it's instinct and ire and knowing that he could hurt him, should he continue on the path he's on. He growls again, not under his words but clear on its own.

"I want you to quit your dry-nook, cullbait bullshit and fucking act like you love her. You want to die that badly, then fucking say it now and I'll go run and tell all the Tower staff and the media how much you care and how much you've hidden just to get you away from her, so that when you trip over your own feet into the pit you've dug yourself that she can't see you fall. She'll hate me, and we'll hate each other, and I'll hate myself worst of all, but I fucking REFUSE to let another one of my friends wreck herself over some grubfucker who pretends to feel when he's only wrapped up in the stinking embrace of his own waste chute. Pull your head out of your ass and think, Linden."
crabmunicator: (143)

[personal profile] crabmunicator 2015-06-12 04:28 am (UTC)(link)
Karkat listens, glaring and angry and more on defense than he's trying to present himself as being. He would make good on the threat if that's what it took - it's not remotely anything made in any degree of lightness - but he's deeply, terribly aware how easily Linden could hurt Nill, and how he would hurt through it. He would think himself waxing ash for him if the threat he'd just made weren't so drastic.

But he watches Linden, how he picks at his tape and flicks at his lighter, how he stands (enough to make Karkat shrink back himself, hissing on still-flaring instinct), and how he finally slips back down like a stretched spring finally released.

It takes him a moment. It takes him a long moment. He's shaking - mad, hurt, scared, he's not even sure, maybe all three - but he reaches forward to put his hands with ill-fitting gentleness to his shoulders.

"Look," he says. All that rage of a moment ago is gone out, replaced with something raw and unsure of itself. "I'm not in your spot. I know I'm not. I don't know your life, what it is to be addicted to all whatever it is you put in yourself, anything. I'm not going to pretend to. I just--"

His lips draw tight.

"You have to try. Even if you can't fix this whole situation, you're not going to make it any better by destroying yourself and hurting her." Even that light grip weakens, until his hands slip off and away. "What you said about her? I know it. I see it in her. That's why I pity her; I can't stand to let her give and give without giving any to herself. But if you don't want to do that either, you can't just act like you're nothing. I don't care if you hate me after this; that ship sailed so hard it hit an iceberg and sunk into the deep, dark depths of the ocean. But if you just let yourself screw your life over and crumble like a burnt out husk, you're not going to help her or yourself or anything."

He stands now with slow movements. As unsure as he is, as little as he feels he's accomplished, he somehow still feels drained and hollowed out.

"You know people are going to fight this, Linden. And there aren't any promises of what's going to happen yet, but if we make it, you might have a chance then. You just have to keep going until then. Find help, get off the addiction, do something instead of just sinking down further."
crabmunicator: (142)

[personal profile] crabmunicator 2015-06-12 07:31 pm (UTC)(link)
A breath slips out of him with a light, shaky sound. As much as he expected that hate (and he levies so much on himself already), it's that much more a relief to not see if turned on him. And in a way, he feels solidarity to see how Linden turns it on himself.

"I got shot in the leg for fighting this," he adds, glad to be able to say it for once.

It vanishes off his face as Linden continues. He may not know what a liver is, but new organ and not the first ring clear to his very core. It puts a mix of feelings in him, but what he might say sits on hold as he steps in to let Linden lean on him again. He's not going anywhere like that alone; he won't let him try to.

"I'm not happy about any of this, and you know it, but I won't tell her." He doesn't want it to have to be this way, but him not wanting her to hurt is why he got so worked up in the first place. He just wishes it weren't necessary. "But you need to watch yourself, Linden. Just because you can get this thing replaced too doesn't mean you can keep wrecking your organs and having 'spa days' about it. There's got to be something here to help you, isn't there? Look for resources, ask for them, admit to whatever health professionals that handle this stuff that you need help getting off the drinking and the pills and whatever. Even trolls need moirails to keep their shit together, right? I can't do that for you, but you humans are indiscriminate if you go to the right people."

He takes a step, just a small one, testing if Linden can still walk and keep with him.

"You might still hurt her," he says, "but that's no excuse to make it worse than it has to be."
crabmunicator: (006)

[personal profile] crabmunicator 2015-06-13 12:14 am (UTC)(link)
The bullet wounds are gone without a trace now, reset handily by whatever mechanism handles post-death resurrection. It's as if they were never there, and he stands solidly without waver under Linden's slight weight. If Linden's paid any attention in the time since his return, it would be easy to notice the lack of a limp.

He doesn't leave from under the bridge yet, and won't until the conversation is done. Neither of them can risk this being overheard.

Just hearing this much himself is hard, though. It was obvious from the day he met him that Linden was weird, but he never knew it would turn into this: holding the man up because it's too hard to stand alone, trying to help convince him to stop digging his too deep pit. It leaves him sore and tired, and he's already worked out all his energy to be mad.

The Capitol is like that: even when you're exhausted, it keeps grinding, grinding, grinding down to dust.

"Shit." His gaze is set down, his eyebrows knit. "And I can't just go smashing your bottles every time I see them. I can't always keep an eye on you for it to begin with, and trying would be tantamount to cheating on Nill, and I don't want that. I'm sure you don't either--you're not a grub I need to sit."

He brings his hand up to rub at his temples. "Is there anything you can do at all? No woe-is-me, it'll never work, self-defeating crap, just tell me. Anything better than getting locked up for rehab that you can try anyway."
Edited 2015-06-13 01:51 (UTC)
crabmunicator: (106)

[personal profile] crabmunicator 2015-06-13 02:39 am (UTC)(link)
Karkat listens and nods here and there. It's better not to fall into that with him, that kind of relationship. There's a regret to see Linden as he is, but it's not the sweet, hurting pity that Nill calls up. He feels no desire to pap Linden back to sense, and imagines the man would be highly unamused if anyone thought a few touches to the face were all it took to save him.

Sign language, though. He glances over, interest piqued, but it slips back for a moment at the next part.

"So that's why you got worse. I knew something had to be some reason." He'd been avoiding alcohol at last Crowning, after all, only for his return to find him swallowing drink and pills in tandem.

"Can you avoid them at all? If it helps any I can try to practice sign language with you, but it might just make it more obvious why you're learning it. I mean, I'm going to try anyway, because it only took the space arena to tell me what a runabout pain in the soft gluteal mass it is to try to communicate when she has no notebook."
Edited 2015-06-13 02:40 (UTC)
crabmunicator: (075)

[personal profile] crabmunicator 2015-06-13 03:15 am (UTC)(link)
"I'm the one who demanded to know what was up with you," he counters, eyes trailing over the flowers and the bird before it returns to the pocket he drew it from. "You sure you should keep that, if that's what she does to you?"

It should be alright to ask, he thinks. Talking about this bitch is safer than talk of Nill, and it would be suspicious not to have something on their tongues after a stop this long beneath the bridge.

"We'll keep to the alleyways still. I asked you earlier about keeping off the main roads, and it would look weird if we suddenly went to them. Besides, it will be easier to keep you out of the media if we aren't wandering around in broad starlight." He doesn't think it's quite that dark yet as he peers out to the sky beyond, but the point remains, and there's not really a good replacement for dusk.

He gives him a gentle nudge - he's got an arm slung around his back for support - and starts walking. "Come on. Let's get you to the Tower."

Page 2 of 6