thecapitol | [closed]

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[closed]

Who| Roland Deschain and the Signless
What| slightly tipsy advice and funtimes
Where| between Capitol nightlife and the Tribute Center
When| around the end of the arena
Warnings/Notes| a teensy bit of alcohol use (obviously), possible brief memories of disembowelment, brief mention of someone having set a Capitolite on fire a little bit - nothing out of the ordinary for the Games is anticipated

The air is cold out here, and quiet for an odd moment before he catches the sound of young voices raised in laughter some distance down the street. Still quiet compared to the cloying press of people in that room they've just escaped, the people and the cloying press of their desires. "I'd forgotten how it was," he says, reaching up to tug at the ruff of fur sitting around his neck. The pink stuff in that glass he's still holding sloshes around as he does it but, of course, does not spill. Hand-eye coordination, a handy skill for any occasion.

"Diplomacy, I mean. Making nice. Has it always been that way?" He turns to look down at Signless, pressing his other hand between Signless' shoulder blades and leaving it there. "Good thing you brought me as your bit on the side, and not Psiionic. Last time a Capitolite put their hands on that many parts of me, he set them on fire." He blinks down at that familiar face for a moment. Was Signless one of the people he was supposed to avoid mentioning that to? Surely not. No, it's fine.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's such a treat to see Roland smile, considering how rarely he does it with his whole face instead of just those pale blue eyes. Signless slips his arm comfortably around Roland's waist (he gamely resists the urge to touch that bare patch of skin, though he could if he wanted) and allows himself to be led off down the street. Are you cold, Roland? Because he'll be your portable space heater any day.

"It took time. It helped that he didn't hate me like the last him did."

Roland nods, thinking only briefly on the Signless' history with that piece of his own ka-tet before his mind turns back on its original path. It's focused on other things, too - on the heat of the body beside him, a little, on the heat under his hands, but mostly on glancing back at the building they'd come from, looking forward and moving his eyes over every section of the land in front of them. He isn't nervous at all, but this city after the sun's set looks passably like that other city in the arena, the one with all the rubble and all the things hiding in it.

"And if he feared you instead?" he asks, once he's passably certain that all around them is well. "Not you, exactly, but-" How to put this? There's a plain way to say it, but that does not occur to Roland. Not in this case. "-what he could do, if he truly shared himself with you. What would you have done, if he'd refused?"

He reflects for a second, then murmurs to himself. "If. Cort used to hate that word." Roland doesn't expect a response to that last, though, almost doesn't realize he said it, and ends the little reminiscence by staring at Signless, expectant.

Signless stares back, not with shock or confusion but with a thoughtful expression. It's taking his alcohol-infused brain a little longer than usual to put things together but there's no way he can't draw certain conclusions from what Roland is asking him. He's not so buzzed that he's lost his basic sense.

"If he'd refused to continue to be my friend, do you mean? I... the first time, when he was the Helmsman, that was what he wanted. I got incredibly jealous of the people he found safety in and made an ass of myself. Don't do that."

Roland grunts. "Has he, though? Has he found safety in anyone other than me?" He frowns into the distance, realizes he doesn't know, and then realizes he's stopped walking. Roland redirects his frown toward his feet, wordlessly chastises them, and starts to moving again.

"It isn't the same," he says, leaving that other question be for now. "He's with me, but he isn't. It's like Cuthbert. Cuthbert all over again." And now Roland looks worried, distracts himself from that worry by eyeing a small street as they pass it. The people on that street are likely not too much of a threat, and so he moves on. "I talked to him, did you see? In the arena. And he won't share any of the things which sit between us. He's too afraid. Afraid for my-"

And here Roland pauses. His feet are still moving but his words are obviously stymied and just as obviously he is not sure how to get around it. The fact of his own damaged mind, which Alain is so afraid for, is one which Roland does not even consider pointing out aloud.

"My wellbeing," he decides, with difficulty. "Do you see?"

Edited 2015-11-28 13:48 (UTC)

"I think I do."

He saw some of that talk in the arena and he remembers very well how hard Roland found it to connect to the young Cuthbert who wasn't the Cuthbert he remembered. That the things Roland's mind and body went through are things that frighten and worry those who knew him before doesn't much surprise Signless; they worry him sometimes, and he's never known Roland any other way.

"Then you need to tell him it's worse for you to not have it out. It's easy to hurt someone when what you mean to do is help them."

"It sounds very well when put like that. But whenever we try to speak it seems to go wrong. Might've started after that exposee. Everything seemed to go worse after that."

"Don't suppose you could speak to 'im in my place?" He pauses, sighs, and gives his head a shake. "Signless, I cry your pardon. I oughtn't ask you to clean up my messes. Don't know why I asked."

He reaches up to rub a hand across his chin but the hand doesn't get there. Roland takes a second to look at the glass which bumped into his jaw instead and thinks, Ah. That's why. He shrugs, tosses the rest of the drink back, and detours their little walk to place the now-empty glass on a nearby windowsill. He sucks at his teeth, tasting nothing but sugar and trying to decide what he thinks about what the Capitol does to their drinks. Decides, after a second, and mutters his conclusion aloud. "Capitol's drinks are very cleverly made, aren't they? Shouldn't be surprised."

They stop and Signless takes the opportunity to turn in Roland's arms, lean his head against Roland's shoulder. It's so good to be able to hold him again and so he doesn't bother caring about the fact that they're still sort of in public. It's not like the fans don't know. His own drink is cradled in his free hand between their chests.

"They're clever people." He can't kiss Roland's throat with his stupid outfit in the way but the important thing is he would if he could. It's as though no matter what he does there will never be enough time or touch to make up for how long they've been apart, but he can damn well try.

"I won't talk to him for you, but if you want me there to help I can do that. You might need someone who isn't so close to the whole thing."

When Signless turns toward him Roland finds himself smiling, and the light pressure of a head against his shoulder, the familiar feeling of one of those blunt horns nudging against him, is a relief for nearly half a second. Then Signless' drink, at Signless' chest height and Roland's stomach, presses one of its cold ribbed edges into exactly the wrong spot and all of Roland's muscles tense. He stifles the sound before it gets far, tamps it down deep inside his throat and, very slowly, pushes the Signless' drink away. He wraps his callused fingers loosely around Signless', ensuring the glass stays at a distance, and wills his heart to slow.

"I think I do," he says, after a moment to reorient himself back onto the path of their conversation. "Strange, that we need someone's help in order to speak to one another. There was a time- But that time's passed, hasn't it? I wonder, were Cuthbert still here..."

He shakes his head. He wouldn't think down that path when sober, no use thinking down it now.

"But this isn't the time for this sort of thinking, is it?" His free hand adjusts itself around Signless shoulders and he looks around, not moving just yet but deciding which way they ought to go.

If Signless were in a more perceptive state of mind he might notice Roland's moment of panic. He might even correctly interpret the reasoning. As it is it slips past his notice and all he thinks is how much he approves of having their hands touching. Good move there, Deschain.

"If it's troubling you, there's probably never going to be a better time. Trust me, you can't let these things fester. That's how they get worse. Though if you've got other ideas..."

They probably should at least make it back to the tribute tower sometime tonight. Maybe.

"Other ideas?" Adaptable as Roland can be, the gears of his mind right now are coated in something sweet, sticky, and, hm, maybe a little alcoholic, and when they try to shift the track of his thoughts to this new topic, they stick.

"None," he says, the hand still wrapped around Signless' pushing the glass further to the side and a little more away. "That's why I asked advice of you. Alain favors you, doesn't he? Even if you've no ideas, your presence might help."

"Favors me?"

Well. That's one way to put it. Signless himself isn't so sure of where he stands with Alain. They're united in their feelings about Roland, that much is certain, but there are other things on which they deeply disagree. He'd like to think they're friends.

"I guess he does. I hope he does, I like him. If you want me there, I'll be there for you. I'll help you with Karkat too if you'd like. We'll need to talk to him after what happened."

"Aye," Roland murmurs, looking troubled, and starts again on their rambling path back to their rooms. One of their rooms, anyway. Doesn't matter which. "Aye, and soon, probably. I cry your pardon, Signless. I should've thought of that first, before coming with you tonight. The boy deserves more attention from me right now than that."

He shakes his head.

"No, no. I asked you to come with me, I wanted you here. I hate doing this sort of thing alone, and I thought you could use a distraction. Maybe not the best one I could've given you, but..."

He loses his train of thought and, as a result, the end of his sentence. He blinks, flicks one ear thoughtfully, and starts again.

"But. I know Karkat, and I know he needs time to think on his own. Approach him while he's still scared and angry and it'll just make him worse."

The flicked ear brushes against the pit of Roland's arm and he grunts, shifting his shoulder. "I'll take your word on that over my own. You know him best."

Roland looks up, watching the tower made for all the tributes loom larger as they get close. "But what I did-" Roland hesitates, needing a moment to push the memories aside. "That shouldn't be a memory any boy's got in his head. Don't suppose it's different for those of your kind, is it? Less enduring, somehow?"

It might be an indelicate question. Roland knows well enough the whole course of Signless' life before Panem, that he'd spent everything trying to make sure none of his kind had to experience those extremes of violence and cruelty. He asks it anyway, the kind of thought he'd stop before it left his lips on any other night. But on this night the pretense, even for a couple seconds, that it might be alright because the boy isn't human is comforting, and his mind is working too slow to keep himself from indulging it.

Oh, Roland. With any other troll that might be true, but Karkat is not just any other troll any more than his ancestor is. There's a tinge of guilt in Signless's voice as he answers, because he knows this isn't the most reassuring response Roland could hear right now.

"He'll take it hard. Incredibly so. He's like me -- he feels things very deeply and he hates to kill. He's a little more willing than I am, but you're a friend. There's no way it didn't hurt him."

Jeez, that's bleak. He tries to rein this conversation in, tries to set it back on some sort of good track.

"We'll talk to him. We'll set it right. Not tonight though, I don't think I have it in me for that kind of conversation. I can barely manage this one." Ha, ha. It's funny, you see, because he may in fact be a little drunk. Ha.

Roland grunts, taking a slightly too-wide step over a dip in the sidewalk as he studies the Signless. That news about Karkat, bleak as it may be, is not really news because it is nothing Roland had not already expected. It is also, he thinks, all there is to say on the matter, and so for tonight he follows Signless' lead and lets it be.

"Mm," he says, and runs a hand roughly over the back of Signless' neck. "You're alright. Done this plenty of times before, haven't you? And come home far worse than this after it." Roland notices neither his use of the word home, nor the way his hand is still moving in invisible patterns over Signless' neck and the top of his back. One of those things would have been pleasant to notice; the other possibly not. Maybe the two cancel each other out.

Edited (it might help if I finished my sentences before posting) 2015-12-22 00:17 (UTC)

"I wouldn't say far worse," he says, though his voice has a faraway quality to it. He's only half paying attention to what he's saying; most of his brain is occupied with the feel of Roland's hand on the back of his neck. It starts a purr up in his chest and throat, soft but strong.

"It's not the drinking that's the problem. It's the company, but you fixed that pretty well."

(ooc:I've been wanting to use this icon to indicate Roland giving someone The Sexy Eyes since I got it, thank you.)

Roland 'mm's again, raising his eyebrows down at Signless once he hears that noise the man's making.

"I've heard that plenty tonight," he says, still watching Signless closely as he presses his thumb firmly against the side of Signless' neck, moving it slowly down and back up again. "Sounds much better coming from you. Mayhap we'll do this again some time, aye, if you favor my company so well?"

(ooc: so sessy)

"I'd like that. They're always begging me to come out, and there's only so often I can say no without it reflecting badly on me. With you... could be good for both of us. Get that extra public approval."

His voice has a fond, sleepy quality that's very at-odds with the words he's saying. Goodness, but that feels good. He carries so much stress in his neck and shoulders that even a little bit of what is only barely a massage feels incredible.

"Sounds like a fair plan," Roland says, but like Signless, there are other things here that he is paying most of his attention to.

"Won't need me to carry you up again, will you?" His voice is warm, teasing, and he tugs Signless closer to him as he walks through the Tribute Center doors.

"I don't think so," Signless says, a bit of a laugh in his voice. It had been funny as much as it had been embarrassing, to have to be carried all the way up to district four by his lover. At least they hadn't tried to go all the way up to Twelve, and they probably won't tonight either.

"Just let me lean on you."

Roland grunts, leading them toward the elevators and knowing his step is less than steady, and that the scavengers who circle about this place with their picture machines will be able to tell that too, but that's done Signless' reputation good before, hasn't it? Odd place, this Capitol. He puts it out of his mind, and as they make it to the elevator doors he lets his hand slide down to press over Signless' side the same way he pressed his thumb against Signless' neck a moment ago. He watches Signless' face as he does it, eyebrows raised in a silent question, although he's more than sure he's gauged the mood right, here.

He has. Signless's face is markedly flushed as they step into the elevator and the doors close behind them, something the small group of cameramen following them are no doubt delighted to note. He's sure he'll see pictures of this sooner rather than later in some magazine or another but he doesn't care. This is nothing he's ashamed of.

"Getting right to the point, hm?"

"Point?" Alain is lost to Roland, perhaps forever, in ways he does not - or maybe does not want to - understand. He has pushed the boy far from him in nearly the worst way possible. But there's this. There's the slow, syrupy feeling of a little too much drink moving through him, there's the warm body against his, there's the memory of that familiar voice promising that Roland wouldn't handle things alone, that he will be there. There's his face in front of Roland, flushed and pleased, and it's a relief to slump over far enough to press his forehead to the top of Signless' head, to let his hand keep moving along Signless' side and to shift his head around and lay a lazy kiss at the place where the nearest horn grows out from Signless' skin. "Unless my memory's misled me very badly there's no point down there. Something a bit more flexible, hmm?"

That gets a rather unpretty giggle out of him. It's crass perhaps but it's not incorrect, and it's a subject that takes a good deal less thought than the ones they've been discussing thus-far. Not that he wants to ignore the real issues that still loom over them, but tonight started out as a distraction and it can damn well end as one when they're both too soaked in alcohol to do much else.

"Sure you're remembering right? It's been a while since you checked."

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probably nsfw in discussion if not more from this point if anyone's reading this. HI THERE HOW U