thecapitol | We closed our eyes [OPEN]

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We closed our eyes [OPEN]

Who | Sigma Klim, Akane Kurashiki and you!
What | Sigma breaks into the District 7 Suites like a maniac, and then meets with Akane.
Where | District 7 Suites, and later heading towards the District 2 Suites.
When | Final days of the Arena.
Warnings/Notes | Kyle's mun is on Hiatus at the moment, and so Kyle hasn't been "resurrected" yet.

As he reached the seventh floor, Sigma shot out of the elevator like a bat out of hell. A rather confused Avox stared at him as he marched determinedly around a suite he did not belong to. Dr. Klim burst uninvited into the common room, the dining room, the deck, scanning each for the face he was looking for... nothing. Apprehension growing, he was off like a shot towards the room he'd once guided a very drugged up Tribute to during Valentine's Day, and threw open the door without knocking. Empty. Gone.

For a few short seconds Sigma froze with terror, but managed to collect himself and close the door without slamming it. He coughed, muttered a half-hearted "I'm sorry," to whomever was watching and headed towards the exit as though nothing had happened, his expression hard. Perhaps the man was with Akane- he had to find Akane. Surely they had brought her back, the poor old woman had barely been given a chance. Or had the Capitol targeted her on purpose as punishment for Sigma's mostly nonviolent nature? Images of the Gamemaker's muttations tearing Akane and his son apart flashed through his mind. Sigma stilled his shaking hands as he pressed the button to call the elevator. With luck, he could walk into the District 2 Suites calmly and without bringing down the floor.

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Neffa had installed himself on a couch in the common room after breakfast, feet up and facing the window, content to view the outside from a distance for the day. He was in the mood neither to endure his stylist's mandatory pre-human-interaction spot checks, nor to walk the city, where the words "You! I saw your stabbing!" were still leveled at him far too often for his comfort. With no magical project to occupy him, he'd set himself instead to finding out everything the communicator they'd given him was capable of - its own sort of magic, he supposed, if a cheap-feeling substitute.

He was deep in it when Sigma burst in (the same way he'd been in the Arena, searching for spirits in a half-trance and waiting for the sound of footsteps at the edges of his consciousness, waiting for the knife in his back)-- the communicator flew as he jerked violently upright, scrabbled for the floor with his feet and flung his hands up in involuntary defense.

It was a good two breaths before he registered that he was not moments from death. It was another before he was clear-headed enough to feel stupid about it. "Gods," he exclaimed, half-breathless, and yes, his composure was well and truly gone, no point chasing after it, "Would it have been so much strain to knock?"

After her resurrection Akane hadn't strayed far from the district two suites. Hah. It seems the boy she met at the beginning of this ordeal was right: death was a way out.

The suites provided everything she needed; food and information. Being in the dark was not something she took well and she did not want to stay in that state for long. If that meant holing up and watching the entirety of the sixth arena, and some of the fifth if time permits, she would do it. There was no rush to find Kyle, he would have been brought back just like her she assumed and the same could be said for Sigma after she saw him in the highlight reels. He really outdid himself this arena. There were more than a few dramatic montages of his conflict with Donatello.

Currently, Akane was situated in the lounge watching the final week play out on the large television. She seemed pretty relaxed as she watched quietly sipping tea. She hadn't yet made much conversation with her suite mates except for a nod of the head as the passed by. Which was what she was about to do to Sigma at the sound of an opening door. Instead she just chuckled and smiled. It was about time he came searching for her after all.

"Hello Dr. Klim."

He was so preoccupied with his own set of concerns that Sigma hadn't entirely thought his actions through. It didn't occur to him that some might get upset with a stranger barging into their private living quarters. And so he flinches as the other man reacts nervously, and the Doctor takes a cautious step back, also showing his hands in reflex to show he meant no harm.

There's a short pause to let the scene sink in after Neffa speaks. Dr. Klim folds his arms against his chest, still trying to calm down, himself. "...Ah. Please forgive me." His face flushes slightly in embarrassment. He'd lived so long in isolation that he'd forgotten the importance of knocking. "Are you alright?" He asks tentatively.

Yes, he was fine. He was. Someone just needed to tell it to the tremor in his hands. He exhaled deep, bent to retrieve the fallen communicator, and pinned his smile on - more polite than friendly, but then these were his living quarters.

"I'm fine. No harm done." He could feel his smile growing less shaky already. It helped that the man had the decency to look embarrassed about it. He wasn't unfamiliar, exactly - Neffa had seen him at a distance before, at some social gathering or other, but he couldn't even have said what District he represented. "Can I help you?"

Why are you here was the more important question, but said pointedly enough Can I help you meant much the same thing. Am 09.05.2013 19:38 schrieb "non_possit_reprehendere - DW Comment" < dw_null@dreamwidth.org>:

"Are you sure about that?" It was beginning to look like he'd almost scared the man to death. "...Uh, you see..." Sigma wasn't certain if he did want to ask for help, but to leave suddenly would be terribly rude. The old man fidgeted with his cybernetic eye, looked in another direction, cleared his throat. "There's a Tribute living here by the name of K. About six feet tall, black hair. Have you seen him recently?" He made it sound as though it were of little importance, but Sigma held his breath anxiously for the answer. Yes, perhaps he'd just been missing him, coming at the wrong times... It would destroy him to learn that Kyle was never coming back...

"Completely sure." He gave an apologetic grin-- "I died last week, you see..." He shrugged, as if to say What can you do?

The question gave him pause. He ran through the roster of District Seven tributes in his head, but it was a courtesy - he knew before he began that this person was unfamiliar to him.

"I've not seen him. Before the Arena perhaps, but I can't properly recall..." The week before the Arena he'd been too disoriented to register faces. "Is he still in the Arena?" Am 09.05.2013 20:52 schrieb "non_possit_reprehendere - DW Comment" < dw_null@dreamwidth.org>:

Dr. Klim felt his heart break. "No," was all Sigma had the strength to say, and then was silent. Deciding it was too suspicious to get emotional, Sigma's steeled himself and he continued. "...He was released about the same time as you, I suppose." So Kyle hadn't been here all week. He felt like fainting, or perhaps having a nervous breakdown, but reason kept him from it.

"I see... so he isn't here." He wasn't going to say he was sure he'd be back just to cheer himself up. "Thank you for your help, mister..?"

"Neffa. Neffa a Reyeth." His answer hadn't gone over well. He could tell. Put together with the man's explosive entrance, it was clear the missing tribute was a source of some distress.

His desire to know more and his desire not to pry fought a brief, fierce battle; came out even; compromised. "My apologies; I wish I could be more helpful," he said, smoothly putting on sympathy. "I'll watch for his return. Should I see him, to whom should I direct him...?" Am 09.05.2013 22:18 schrieb "non_possit_reprehendere - DW Comment" < dw_null@dreamwidth.org>:

Sigma was at once profoundly relieved and disappointed to find Akane in her district's quarters. Though Kyle was nowhere to be seen, she was safe for now. He was also glad she had ultimately not been murdered by another Tribute, but by the Capitol themselves: it allowed him to quell his hate with the thoughts of rebellion that were whispered throughout Panem since his arrival. Perhaps he'd tell her when they weren't being listened in on.

Dr. Klim drew closer. The lovely old woman could not know what a welcome sight she was, sitting there drinking tea as though nothing had happened. It was certainly something to hear her quiet laugh, her voice. She had a way of strengthening his resolve with her presence alone.

"Akane," he replies cooly. He's collected himself since visiting the seventh floor. "Are you alright?" He knew it was a foolish question before he asked it. Akane's spirit was much more resilient than his. She had lived through an infinite number of deaths and he supposed this one was no differ to her than the others.

Dr. Klim relaxed somewhat, turning towards the gentleman. "Thank you, I think I would appreciate that. You've helped me immensely, Neffa."

Making eye contact, Sigma tried a smile. "My name is Sigma Klim, District Ten. You can tell K that Sigma wanted to see him." He thought to go find Akane now, but he realized he was a little weak on his knees. His age was catching up to him, and news of Kyle's permanent death made him feel sick.

"I.. am sorry, but could I sit down for a moment? I will not trouble you much longer."

Akane definitely wasn't as unaffected as Sigma thought. Oh yes, she has experienced death many times. There was no way she approached it the same as other first time tributes, but all the other deaths she had faced she knew were going to come. There was merit in being able to steel yourself and mentally prepare. The fact that she continued on after death threw her for a loop too. There isn't usually a continued story after the end.

"I'm fine. Look, not a scratch on me." No one said she couldn't joke. Akane pat the seat cushion next to her. She didn't know the politics of other district tribute's visiting but there couldn't be any harm in catching up with an old friend.

Dr. Klim smiled sadly at her joke, not quite in the mood to make one in return, as he obediently took his seat next to her. He folded his hands upon his lap and sat quietly a moment. "Good," he answered, unsure of where to start. He glanced at the television and quickly looked away. He'd lost his taste for watching this Arena.

"I assume you're all caught up." Nothing slipped past Akane, and he knew he'd have to explain himself to her soon. But first: "I must apologize. It seems the reason they've brought the two of you here... is because of my behavior."

[ooc: ...wow, ok, now that I'm home I see the limitations of the email reply system!! sorry about that |D]

"Yes, of course." Neffa half-stood, indicated the unused half of the long couch with a politely outstretched hand. "So long as you require. Shall I call for something...?"

He glanced around, caught the eye of the Avox on silent duty near the door, and she approached as though on cue (gods, he hadn't even said anything). To Sigma, with a slight roll of his eyes-- "This week all the drinks are blue, to match the new curtains, but I'm told the taste is much the same."

Sigma gratefully took a seat, feeling better almost instantly. "You are kind." Before tears could come, he rushed to rationalize Kyle's disappearance- surely, they were still in the process of bringing everyone back- and stopped thinking about it before he could argue with himself. "Just a glass of water is fine," he replied, and tried a dry joke: "One has to watch how much dye they intake in their old age."

He found he desired conversation- something, anything to keep the mental wall up. He'd babble about anything that came to mind. "So, Mister a Reyeth... It is perhaps a good thing we have had our first encounter outside of the Arena." Frights and misunderstandings were fatal within their game. "You say you've been here since before the last one began - where are you from?"

The Avox moved to comply with the request without Neffa's having to add anything. He gave Sigma's joke the smile it warranted, and let the remark about the Arena go quietly past him, without sinking in teeth. Distraction was something he was willing to offer - and the closer it got him to learning what was going on, the better. The matter was clearly one close to the man's heart.

He waved off the title. "Please-- Neffa is fine. My mother's name is just for business." (You're with a friend here, he was saying.) "I'm a magician of the city of Ristopa - a city much like this one, but not as brightly lit." The sardonic twist to his mouth gave the lie to that statement. "Less murder, too, in general."

Sigma made himself comfortable while he waited, unzipping his jacket, rolling down a sleeve. He listens attentively, smiling curiously as Neffa mentioned his home. The Doctor smirks to hear that it hadn't been as grim as the Capitol, but does not comment, as it wasn't the part that captured his interest. "A magician?" At last the Doctor looks hopeful - energetic, even. The few others he'd met with powers had been reluctant to discuss it with him. "Is that so? I don't recognize the city name, and so I presume you're not from a world where that word describes cheap parlor tricks and amusements."

The Avox returned with his drink, but Sigma leaned forward, completely oblivious. "If you'll permit me to ask, what sort of abilities do you have?"

This was a deeply pleasant surprise. Neffa was used to a rather cooler reception when he brought up his work - Enjolras' barely-polite skepticism, Asha's suspicion, or the Capitol's fear - and to see Sigma's active interest was gratifying. Back home his title had commanded something resembling respect, and the lack of it here had been difficult (galling) to get used to.

He smiled, quite clearly taking Sigma's interest as a compliment - though he shook his head, as though to brush it off. "I'm afraid what Ristopa calls magic is rather unspectacular compared to what most here imagine." In his experience, most people here heard "magic" and immediately assumed him to be a miracle-worker - calling fire from the sky, tearing mountains down, banishing darkness with lightning bolts. The senseless, useless stuff of epic poetry. "I bring nothing to the table but an expensive education and an infinite supply of words, in exchange for which power may be bought off those spirits who will sell it. Power once bought has a diversity of uses, of course - but my abilities have very little to do with it."

There was nothing genuine about his modesty. Magic was not a fool's discipline, and not all who entered an apprenticeship completed it - even fewer with a much success as he had. But he'd run afoul of people's misunderstanding here before, their inevitable disappointment when his work did not mesh with their expectations, and modesty was a safeguard - purposefully underselling his life's work, so that they could not hurt him with knowledge of its true value to him. Sigma seemed kind, and his interest genuine - but until Neffa knew whether or not he was expecting grand conjury, he stayed cheerfully cautious.

"I see. So in your world, magic is an academic pursuit?" Sigma's interest never faltered. Rather, it appeared to increase: he thought he'd very much like to know how Neffa's world was run, for it was something the new future would need. "Sounds like there's a fair bit of business about it as well. That's fascinating..." He recognized that Neffa was wisely concealing his talents, and politely did not press, not yet.

The Doctor smiled knowingly. "I don't find it unspectacular at all. These people aren't aware, here, they don't understand such concepts. In my universe, even the smallest of powers went a long way."

Neffa felt his polite interest turn suddenly, sharply genuine. It was gratifying enough that Sigma had used the word "business" - Precisely, Neffa wanted to shout, not miracles but business! - but more than that, his interest seemed personal, somehow, and Neffa grabbed hold of that thread of conversation with both hands.

"Your universe," he said, and only the way he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, betrayed how eagerness. Sigma spoke with the unmistakeable air of one who knew, who had had to deal himself, maybe, with how wrong the people here could be about something so vital - gods, he hoped he was reading that correctly, that his frustrated wish for understanding was not blinding him. "Do you mean to say that you're something of a magician yourself, sir?"

Sigma was quiet a moment, reflecting, stuck in an emotion somewhere between pride and regret. "That is true. I awoke to time magic when I was a young man. But I was an exception rather than a rule, and the way in which my world dealt with us was quite abhorrent."

The Doctor wondered if he should reveal much to Neffa, but gave the man the benefit of the doubt in the end, deciding it couldn't hurt. There were few who could steal his powers. Sigma's expression grew stony, as it usually did when he launched into an explanation. "What you might call 'magic' in my world were merely simple skills, rarely physical. Telepathy with one's sibling, longevity, short conversations with people from the near past or future." Sigma gave an almost shrug intended to downplay their significance. Truly, nothing he had listed was particularly earth-shattering. "But unfortunately, it was kept secret. No government wished to make it public fact when they could build a secret army of Espers, and so training was always carried out illegally by men who would even kill children to force out small abilities."

A bit wearied by the admission, Dr. Klim rubbed his artificial eye, and then smiled enigmatically. "You could say I was in a position of influence over the future. And so I believe I could learn a lot from you, Neffa."

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We closed our eyes [OPEN]

District 7 suites!

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sssorry I'm late haha. Also no worries with the email thing.

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