[open] 'cause you and i, we were born to die

[saisamour]

Who| Marius Pontmercy and OPEN!
What| Marius in the Capitol being Marius. Everything happens so much.
Where| Training Center Central Commons and some random place in the Capitol
When| First couple of days after his arrival
Warnings/Notes| suicidal thoughts; far too much pining for Cosette

} Central Commons

It takes a couple of hours for Marius to push himself off his mattress, and several more to drag himself outside his lodgings. A dazed and befuddled look eclipses his face as he walks aimlessly throughout the Center, still reeling from the explanation provided to him about the Hunger Games, and the absurd notion that he has to participate in an event reminiscent of the ancient Gladiatorial matches.

Is this truly real? It seems far too impossible, to be pulled into this unknown space, this unfamiliar world that makes him feel all the more lost and abandoned, now that he has been forced further away from his Lark. Now that he may never be found again. Where is Cosette now, he wonders? Does she think of him, even for a moment, the way he thinks of her even when he's dream-lands away?

Perhaps this is what it is, though: A strange, bizarre dream. He must have fallen asleep while taking a rest at the barricades. When he opens his eyes, this scene will disappear, and he will be allowed to die fighting for the France that his father wielded his weapons for. To die so that he can be the gentle wind that caresses her face and teases out her kind, loving smile.

He soon enters the Common Room, wherein an offer of drink to him is only acknowledged with an absent-minded nod of thanks. He wanders the area, wine glass in hand, with a hazy and distant look in his eyes that hints at his inattentiveness to his surroundings.

It is this preoccupation that causes him to clumsily trip and spill his drink on you. It might have only dripped on your shoe and perhaps soaked your sock, if you're lucky; it stains your entire outfit in a splatter of red, if you are not.



} Somewhere in the Capitol

How strange, he thinks, that he has yet to awaken.

For he has come to the conclusion that this is simply a long, odd dream; it is folly to think otherwise. Or, at least, that is what he has decided at the moment. As he roams through the streets, before the entrances of shops and restaurants, and among the people that his imagination could not possibly conjure, his mind shifts continually between belief and disbelief, real and unreal, wakefulness and dreaming.

When he is caught staring a second too long at two ladies with powder-white faces and wigs that strangely resemble horns, his face turns red and he hurries his footsteps, overhearing their high-pitched giggling and assuming it is because they find him amusing, or funny, or too pitiful to be taken any seriously.

That is when he bumps into you and... Well, he simply stares, with a befuddled look on his face as if internally debating on whether or not you are actually real.

Comments

[polyturtle]

Wasn't it obvious why?...Well, maybe not. Not to Marius at least. Though he heard the cleared throat, and thus turned to look at him.

A newcomer. He could tell. There was definitely that look of where the shell am I, and oh dear god I must be hallucinating. Aside from that, this man wasn't in the last Arena.

"...Yes?" Don quietly stood up. "Are you all right there? Do you need to sit down?"

The turtle did just talk, by the by.

[saisamour]

He did not even know it was possible to lose consciousness in a dream, but all of a sudden he felt alarmingly close to that. His eyes swept the room, as if somewhere among the unfamiliar crowd in this unfamiliar world an explanation would materialize before him, or at least have it so that when he turned back to the chair, the turtle would have disappeared, and he would simply assume it a hallucination. So glance back he did.

No, the turtle was still there.

Maybe he should test whether he had indeed heard him speak.

"I-I beg your pardon?"

[polyturtle]

"...Here."

Quickly the tea and book were down and turtle was at Marius' side, hoping to lead him to the chair before he fell on his face. The guy's face had whitened several shades in the minute between Don's speaking and his response. That was never a good sign, especially when he had the distinct feeling that it was his appearance that was triggering some of what was happening.

"Sit down. Have a glass of water. I can explain...well..." Don waved his hand around himself, then sighed. "Everything. Try to, at least."

[saisamour]

There was no other option but to follow the turtle's instructions, to be honest, when the alternative was to faint rather ungracefully onto the floor. So he allowed Don to lead him to a chair in which he immediately plopped down on.

He looked around again, dazedly, then raised his eyes to the turtle. "I..." Oh, but a tinge of gratitude did coat his voice, at least; Don was being helpful. "Thank you."

[polyturtle]

"Its nothing."

Don gave him a reassuring smile as an Avox appeared with a glass of water. He quickly took it, and nodded approvingly to the Avox, who looked rather stunned as she walked off. Not at the fact it was a turtle, but the fact he was acknowledging her.

"All right." After giving the water to Marius, Don sat in a chair opposite to him, sheepishly rubbing his head. "I know this is all pretty overwhelming....which is an understatement. But I'm afraid that what the people who brought us here said is true. We're...basically here to fight to the death for the people's amusement."

[saisamour]

A slight tilt of his head, as he made an attempt to understand his situation. Yet again. That was not to say that he did not understand what the concept was; he did, and he even had an inkling on what ancient matches the so-called Hunger Games had been patterned to, but outside the surface aspects of everything the idea behind it was...

"It is simply absurd." He had not realized that he had spoken aloud, but his voice was nonetheless decided and unwavering. "Has civilization grown backwards?"

[polyturtle]

On the inside, Donatello didn't disagree. The Games were barbaric and immoral and oppressive, but also inherently wrong. They always were and always would be. They were an instrument of destruction. A regression.

Regression.

Don closed his eyes as thoughts of stalking through the woods in sticky smoke suddenly came to him. He bit his lip, determined not to let that flashback on.

"It would depend upon your definition of civilization," he replied carefully as he looked down at his cup. "And also, understanding some of the circumstances that brought these people to the...well, the conclusion they came to, to bring us here. Once you understand that, you might be able to understand the...necessity they see in our being here."

Translation: Be careful what you say in this place. Hopefully, this guy picked up on it.

[saisamour]

No, Marius unfortunately did not pick up on Don's subtle hints, nor the fact that certain memories had been troubling him. But the impossibility of the situation he was forced into, the reason that he was still half-believing that this was only a bizarre dream, and the fact that he was not Enjolras, kept him from saying anything potentially dangerous against the Capitol and their reign. For the moment, at least.

Instead, he lowered his eyes to the drink of water that he held with both hands, his grip tightening on the glass. "And what might those circumstances be?"

[polyturtle]

"In this place..." Don looked back up at Marius. "This is a future. This country is called Panem. Its..." A look at his clothes. "Well, I don't know if you've heard of it, but its what I'd call the United States of America back home. What's left of it at least. If not what's left of the entire world."

Yeah. He'd not found anything about other countries or even continents, even though Plutarch had mentioned the bronze doors. It was...unsettling, to say the least.

"Anyhow. There was a war. A rebellion. The Capitol - the people who brought guys like you and me here - suppressed it. They won it. So in the treaty that ended the hostilities they told all of the Districts - the other political entities in Panem that are subservient to the Capitol - that a condition of their surrender was that every year they had to send a tribute of two children to a gladiatorial game the Capitol had, to fight to the death for the populace's amusement."

Like the Athenian children to the Labyrinth, children to be eaten by the political machinations of a madman. Perhaps this guy might know of it, if his clothing was an indication. Actually...its similar to that one person's who had the political discussion earlier. Aah, what was his name...

"Last year, the Capitol changed their mind for...some reason. Instead of bringing children from the Districts...they started bringing people like us from other worlds. And that's...it."

That wasn't really it. There was a Rebellion. There was. But Don knew this knowledge could doom those who were in it, those who even implied to have had an inkling of it. He really preferred not to have more blood on his hands than necessary.

[saisamour]

A hand with gently curled fingers drew to his mouth, pointer finger and thumb resting on his lips as he listened, his brows furrowed. The United States he was familiar with, but the Capitol was nothing like the United States of his century. A chill then trailed down his spine when he heard Don's speculation on the fate of the other countries; never had he imagined such an event to transpire.

"So France is...?" But he stopped there, unable to continue. The idea that the France his father joined battles for under the Great Emperor Napoleon, the nation that his friends at the barricades were fighting so hard for, had simply disappeared made him fill dizzy and a little bit nauseous, and he hastily pushed the thought away for later.

Focusing instead on the Capitol and the Games, he uttered, without thinking, "So the Districts are the slaves, as are we, whereas the Capitol is the Empire, and fear is the ruler of all."

[polyturtle]

"I don't know," Don admitted. "No one talks about other countries, just that some catastrophe happened in the past and as far as they know, Panem is what's left. They could exist. Something, but there's not enough information."

He was quiet at Marius' words for a moment.

"President Coriolanus Snow is the ruler," The turtle replied carefully, neither confirming or denying what Marius said, but...did he really have to confirm it when all Marius had to do was look around? "But the Capitol is like Rome. In its culture and its architecture and government. Though...President Snow isn't exactly known for wearing togas."

[saisamour]

"President Coriolanus Snow," he murmured, almost to himself, committing the name to memory and musing at how even the first names sounded Roman.

Unfortunately, even if Marius were in a better mood, the attempt at lightening the conversation would have gone completely over his head; since he was still very much confused and bewildered—and maybe even the tiniest bit infuriated now—he spared Don the oblivious and slightly stupid response. ("Are togas somewhat unfashionable in this world, then?")

His hands fell to his side again as he spoke. "How long have the Hunger Games been running? How long has he been a ruler?"

[polyturtle]

"Seventy-five years." Don nodded quietly. "Seventy-four of those used...they used the children of the Districts."

Because that would go over well.

[saisamour]

Marius's eyes widened in shock and outrage. He felt his hands begin to shake, so he hastily set his glass on a nearby table and clasped his hands together, trying to keep himself composed.

But the words that left him sounded almost angry despite his best attempts. "And not one man has stood against them?"

Someone should just really tell him to shut up.

[polyturtle]

"Um..."

Well, shell. He wasn't going to last one Arena at this rate.

"As far as I know? No."

Liar.

"In any case...I know its a lot to take in. Its..."

Not right? Abominable? He can't say those things. He wants to. But perhaps it was his own paranoia preventing him. Or perhaps the Capitol managed to get to him, which he hated. Being that mouse staring at the teeth of the vice behind him in the maze. Knowing one false move and he was trapped.

At least with the Triceratons, he had his brothers and others who he knew wouldn't be taken from him.

"...a lot to take in."

[saisamour]

It's okay, Don, Marius doesn't really care whether he dies or not. Ah, the destruction that love can wreck upon a man's soul!

Though the hesitation in the turtle's words made him wonder. Was the turtle simply timid? Was he frightened? Was he making an attempt to choose lighter words so as not to shock him too much?

And what was his name? Suddenly aware that he had yet to introduce himself, Marius turned a faint shade of pink and averted his eyes.

"I am sorry, monsieur, I had failed to introduce myself." And, glancing back up, the fire in his eyes extinguished and replaced by bashfulness, continued with, "I am Marius Pontmercy."

[polyturtle]

Frightened? Well...yes. In a way. But he had to be careful. Everyone did, if they were going to survive.

"Hamato, Donatello. Er...Donatello Hamato." At this, he held out his hand. "I'm sorry I put that all on you so suddenly, but it's kind of necessary to know what this place is about."

[saisamour]

"It is a pleasure to meet you, monsieur."

Marius took the hand and shook it. The tips of his fingers were still trembling slightly, but that aside it was quite a firm handshake.

"There is no need to apologize. In fact," and at that he lowered his eyes and stared at the carpet again, "it is I who must beg your forgiveness, for forgetting my manners."