Karkat Vantas ♋ carcinoGeneticist (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
crabmunicator) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-09-18 01:23 pm
crabmunicator) wrote in thecapitol2015-09-18 01:23 pm
Entry tags:
[open] late one night, sorrow come round
Who| Karkat and OPEN
What| Rattled crab tries to deal with the aftermath of the interviews.
Where| The tribute center and around the Capitol.
When| The first few days after the interviews.
Warnings/Notes| Nothing particular.
After his interview Karkat felt solid, confident, like he had done the right thing and made his point - pulled it all off without a hitch, even. It was hard to miss when others didn't fare so well, either by the sounds of the audience from beyond the stage, or what he might have been able to see after.
The final announcement, in turn, came like a bullet to the gut. If there was one thing he's been glad for in his time here, it's taking the pressure and fear and death from the native children of Panem, and now he doesn't even have that. Maglev has been reaped--Jackie, her nickname, called after by a boy he's sure must have been Cable--and he hasn't been able to keep her from mind since.
He's glad enough that there's no school Fridays, but even across the other days of the weekend he gets no sleep. He doesn't feel much like he deserves to try.
A1 D6 / A2 roof
There are letters he got back from his pen pals, one each from Maglev and a Capitol boy called Drusus. It's with these that he sits around the tower, either in his district or up on the roof, thinking and writing and rewriting. Drusus's takes long before he can even put pen to paper, but Maglev's takes draft after draft. It's hard to miss him when things derail: pen scratches across paper in frustrated scribbles, or descends into nothing but swears he echoes verbally, or stops entirely when tears overtake him. He takes to stuffing tissues in a pocket, and tries to scoot off somewhere private when it happens, but it's hard to miss the pink tracks down his face.
It's been hard enough trying to win on his own, and he doesn't know how he'll get her there.
B1 the lobby / B2 around the Capitol
At other times when he can't focus, he slips downstairs or outside. There's media enough that wants his attention after the interview, and it's easy to find him chatting to some reporter, forcing himself to draw up the vestiges of the attitude he had then to comment. Yes, unity, yes, Panem, he's here for all of it. Some try to ask about Maglev, which is harder, but unity stands there still. He'll be there for her, he promises. He'll do everything he can.
Other times he sits in a daze, staring blankly over a sandwich he's ordered, or a pastry, or whatever else. The first floor restaurant or out in the Capitol, there's places enough for him to space out until something grabs his attention.
C the training area
Still, other times comes anger. That's the worst thing beneath the hurt of it all. He feels impotent without any way to strike back at the Capitol that did this, so his blows turn to practice targets, given with knife jabs or strikes of a sickle, or even in frustrated, aimless punches at a punching bag. Now and then an open growl rips out of him from frustration, or a shouted swear, and he's quick to fire off a glare at any who might look at him funny for it all.
What| Rattled crab tries to deal with the aftermath of the interviews.
Where| The tribute center and around the Capitol.
When| The first few days after the interviews.
Warnings/Notes| Nothing particular.
After his interview Karkat felt solid, confident, like he had done the right thing and made his point - pulled it all off without a hitch, even. It was hard to miss when others didn't fare so well, either by the sounds of the audience from beyond the stage, or what he might have been able to see after.
The final announcement, in turn, came like a bullet to the gut. If there was one thing he's been glad for in his time here, it's taking the pressure and fear and death from the native children of Panem, and now he doesn't even have that. Maglev has been reaped--Jackie, her nickname, called after by a boy he's sure must have been Cable--and he hasn't been able to keep her from mind since.
He's glad enough that there's no school Fridays, but even across the other days of the weekend he gets no sleep. He doesn't feel much like he deserves to try.
A1 D6 / A2 roof
There are letters he got back from his pen pals, one each from Maglev and a Capitol boy called Drusus. It's with these that he sits around the tower, either in his district or up on the roof, thinking and writing and rewriting. Drusus's takes long before he can even put pen to paper, but Maglev's takes draft after draft. It's hard to miss him when things derail: pen scratches across paper in frustrated scribbles, or descends into nothing but swears he echoes verbally, or stops entirely when tears overtake him. He takes to stuffing tissues in a pocket, and tries to scoot off somewhere private when it happens, but it's hard to miss the pink tracks down his face.
It's been hard enough trying to win on his own, and he doesn't know how he'll get her there.
B1 the lobby / B2 around the Capitol
At other times when he can't focus, he slips downstairs or outside. There's media enough that wants his attention after the interview, and it's easy to find him chatting to some reporter, forcing himself to draw up the vestiges of the attitude he had then to comment. Yes, unity, yes, Panem, he's here for all of it. Some try to ask about Maglev, which is harder, but unity stands there still. He'll be there for her, he promises. He'll do everything he can.
Other times he sits in a daze, staring blankly over a sandwich he's ordered, or a pastry, or whatever else. The first floor restaurant or out in the Capitol, there's places enough for him to space out until something grabs his attention.
C the training area
Still, other times comes anger. That's the worst thing beneath the hurt of it all. He feels impotent without any way to strike back at the Capitol that did this, so his blows turn to practice targets, given with knife jabs or strikes of a sickle, or even in frustrated, aimless punches at a punching bag. Now and then an open growl rips out of him from frustration, or a shouted swear, and he's quick to fire off a glare at any who might look at him funny for it all.