[open] Say where is my shame...

[whittlingnickels]

Who| Augustus and Open with a closed prompt
What| Panem is falling apart but Sinclair isn't worried
Where| Various locations
When| Early January
Warnings/Notes| Capitolite privilege, callous disregard for human life,

I- The Capitol
What was a passing worry, a simple flight of fancy that the Capitol allowed to exist was wearing thin in Sinclair's eyes. Those in his sector, the finance centers of Panem were starting to panic and make rash decisions, making his work all the more annoying rather than enjoyable. The Rebellion captured District 12 and Seven but he wasn't quite surprised that happened. Like Three, those were hotbeds of dissent compared to the richer districts. It was simply a shame that they forget just how easily those smears can be wiped off the face of the planet.

Is Sinclair worried? Of course, it's his job to do so, but he's also keeping an eye on the events as they unfold. Snow is entertaining the rebels in their game but how easily can that be put to rest with another District 3 bombing? Even the murder of the Panem Nightly News anchors wasn't a big deal to him…
At least outwardly. In reality, Sinclair was starting to sleep with a gun under his pillow, and more so with the attempted capture of District 1…that hit too close to home for his taste.

He doesn't break routine as he goes out to his investments in the Capitol, offering a charming little smirk towards those he runs into.


II- The Detainment Center

And that charm is especially evident when Gus goes with Delta to the Detainment Center to examine the specimens in their enclosures. That's what offworlders have become: specimens, dehumanized examples of far off lands whose systems of governments were bound to fail. Kingdoms fall with beheadings, democracies built on peace collapse under the hypocrisy of what peace meant: sacrifice.

"You," he'd pick any soldier he saw, "What battles have you fought?"

Should he be satisfied with the answer, his smirk would gain wattage and suggestions for what supplies they need for battle.

III- Closed to Swann - Her apartment

But there are somethings that just can't be bought with money, like for example, the heart of a woman who loves someone else. Someone Sinclair knows is a scheming brat of a Capitolite who knows he's done wrong and just doesn't play the game by the rules that Gus set out. He can impound assets and reclaim properties that were scammed off him, but in the end, nothing would make Swann see the vile nature that comes with Jason Compson IV.

Even coming here makes the proud businessman feel second-tier to such a desperate waste of an Escort who could get slapped by a little girl if he were so stupid to pick a fight with. Sinclair was here to check up on his friend, he remembers the last time she was scared and lost in the events that transpired. True to his word, Augustus never mentioned Eta and her autonomy… but these conflicts were worrying him.

"Swannie? You in there, sugar?"

Comments

[cigne]

Even to hear it back, it's like being punched in the throat, makes her entire body ache in ways she doesn't even understand. She thought she knew the extent of emotional pain, she thought she'd experienced it all. She didn't know until now how much worse it could get.

He's not just Gus. He's everything in life that she could have, knows she should have, and yet the sick, prickly tentacles that she and Jason have lashed to each other are thick and strong and unwilling to be broken. She feels so stuck and gutted, empty inside and desperately wanting.

"Don't," she whimpers, and it's such a base reaction that she never could have stopped it. She trembles from head to toe, shaking her head without thinking about it, even though she knows it doesn't matter if he leaves now or in the morning or never. When Jason calls, she'll come running.

Her love for him is all-encompassing. But her love for Jason is even greater than that.

[whittlingnickels]

A part of him, the cold and calculating businessman, tells Sinclair to finally let Swann go, to exit her apartment and leave her to her own devices. But there's something deeply human about all of this. He's agonizing inside, trying to extend his inevitably limited time with her. But the moment he spotted her phone, cute and so very her, he knows the truth. Jason will come and the man with the sixth largest fortune in Panem will become part of the noise.

"I hafta go, Swannie," he doesn't hide the raw break in his voice, a fracture as real as a shattered bone. "But stay safe. You deserve a happy life. I'll keep your father an' Eta safe, don't worry about that."

The businessman is already dismissing this as a contract gone south, the mortal self is reeling through it all.

[cigne]

She doesn't have the businesswoman part of her to be shrewd, to numb the agony even a little bit. The businesswoman that Swann is spends her time fighting for herself, for other people -- she is no more detached than the broken little bird Swann that lives in the same body.

Nothing hurts her like hurting other people. Nothing demolishes her the way she is demolished when she feels the cracking of the strong pillars in her life, the people who hold the weight of the world and her own crushing darkness off of her head. The pain is searing, seems to take up all the space in her body, and she is at a loss.

After, when she's hurt, she usually runs right to Sinclair's arms. Where does she go from here?

She moves away, finally, feels cold and small standing in front of him, barely able to stay on her feet. But she doesn't fall, even when every fiber of her very being wants to, because she fears she will never get up again.

[whittlingnickels]

When Swann does break away from their embrace, it feels like the frigid northern districts in the dead of winter. Outsiders looking in just see two Capitolites about to just part ways in what would've been a temporary crack in the friendship. Sinclair doesn't know what Jason did to get him and and Swann in trouble to this point, to throw away their birthright and remain in the Capitol's walls.

But for the first time in decades, Augustus feels hollowed out. The last time he felt like this, was to identify his grandfather's drowned corpse, leaving the young boy to fend for himself. And for a second, he really was staring at a dead woman. Swann was a lady raised in privileges, she has never known the strains of heavy work, and if it were up to Ilar, it'd stay that way. If Gus had his way, Jason would have his head mounted on a pike. But it wasn't what the woman before him would want.

Sinclair gave Swann one last tilt of the head before he headed out. Nina and his staff would be given the rest of the day off, to prepare for any big announcements by the Capitol. He doesn't know when he'll see the Honeymead heiress again but he knows what needs to be done.

[ooc: wrap here?]

throws you into a pit

[cigne]

"Bye," she whispers, hardly more than a breath, and she doesn't watch him go, can't make herself. Her lungs burn and feel swollen, panic making her frame feel even tinier and less capable of holding emotions than it already was. She waits until she hears the quiet click of the door behind him, and then she collapses to the marble floor of the kitchen, sobs and howls into her arms, kicks Eta away when she appears to tend to the sorrow.

Cakes that will soon be thrown away whole go cold on the counter.