Dr. S. Klim (
futilecycle) wrote in
thecapitol2013-07-24 05:58 pm
Entry tags:
Cat Planet [OPEN]
Who| Sigma Klim and YOU!
What| Sigma returns to the Capitol and celebrates his birthday with his cat.
Where| District 10 suites and the Central Commons on the main floor.
When| Middle of week 6.
Warnings/Notes| Mention of death. Horrible cat puns eventually.
Sigma made his way back to his room slowly, the first time he'd been reluctant to return from a non-permanent death. How relaxing a long, blissfully ignorant sleep would have been... The Doctor was surprised and disappointed in himself for his reaction to Eponine's slaughter, but what else could he have done? Walking away from a friend in need was not in his nature. At first Sigma considered visiting her, perhaps needing to be consoled more than she did, and then recalled he had someone else already waiting for him.
Trudging through the halls heavily, Sigma made it to his room on the tenth floor at long last. As he opened his door, a pair of shining golden eyes looked up from the entrance, where they had been seated in waiting. Nye stood and arched his back happily, greeting his master with a almost uncertain "Mew?" The noise broke Sigma from his trance, and he bent down to pet his cat, no longer a kitten, with a smile. The animal had gotten fat on the Capitol's pedigree diet, having seemingly been allowed to indulge at will the same as any other Tribute, but Sigma scooped him up happily none the less. Was it embarrassing to admit that most of all, Sigma had missed his beloved pet? Nye bunted his masters face, rubbing his head on Sigma's cheek, and the Doctor's eyes filled with tears. There was nothing more reassuring than a small animal purring into one's ear. Sigma felt ashamed to have wished to stay dead: what would they have done with Nye if he hadn't made it back?
So much had happened in the past few weeks that could not be undone. His first excruciating death in Kyle's arms, Eponine's decapitation, and then his demise at the end of a machete... He knew that R (he should never have given that boy the benefit of the doubt!) must have had a full meal, with two healthy corpses to feast from. Realizing that made Sigma nauseous, and wearily he placed Nye down on the floor and curled into the sheets of his bed, fully clothed, for the first time in a long time. He thought he might have nightmares, perhaps dream of being eaten alive or someone holding down Eponine and cutting off her head while she screamed, but just as he'd closed his eyes a familiar pitter-pat of feet thumped on the bed and Nye stuck his face in the Doctor's hair, wet nose sniffing his ear, purring as he kneaded the pillows. Sigma sighed - it was a painkiller for the soul. How good it was to have a cat...
After a brief, dreamless nap, Sigma woke up, showered, and changed clothes. He then spent a short hour amusing his feline friend, hanging one of his metal belts across the side of the bed while Nye swatted and jangled the links. He remembered disinterestedly that his birthday should have been some time during the week - Sigma checked the date. He was a little late, now, he supposed, and he didn't feel much older than when he had arrived (old age caught up to him rapidly now, so this was peculiar). But after so many weeks in the heat with little food or water, he figured he owed himself at least one good meal.
And so scooping up Bill Nye, Sigma paraded through the District 10 suite with the animal in his arms like it was no thing, eventually making his way to the first floor. If anyone higher up on the pecking order brought up a no-pets rule, well, he'd be leaving with the cat.
What| Sigma returns to the Capitol and celebrates his birthday with his cat.
Where| District 10 suites and the Central Commons on the main floor.
When| Middle of week 6.
Warnings/Notes| Mention of death. Horrible cat puns eventually.
Sigma made his way back to his room slowly, the first time he'd been reluctant to return from a non-permanent death. How relaxing a long, blissfully ignorant sleep would have been... The Doctor was surprised and disappointed in himself for his reaction to Eponine's slaughter, but what else could he have done? Walking away from a friend in need was not in his nature. At first Sigma considered visiting her, perhaps needing to be consoled more than she did, and then recalled he had someone else already waiting for him.
Trudging through the halls heavily, Sigma made it to his room on the tenth floor at long last. As he opened his door, a pair of shining golden eyes looked up from the entrance, where they had been seated in waiting. Nye stood and arched his back happily, greeting his master with a almost uncertain "Mew?" The noise broke Sigma from his trance, and he bent down to pet his cat, no longer a kitten, with a smile. The animal had gotten fat on the Capitol's pedigree diet, having seemingly been allowed to indulge at will the same as any other Tribute, but Sigma scooped him up happily none the less. Was it embarrassing to admit that most of all, Sigma had missed his beloved pet? Nye bunted his masters face, rubbing his head on Sigma's cheek, and the Doctor's eyes filled with tears. There was nothing more reassuring than a small animal purring into one's ear. Sigma felt ashamed to have wished to stay dead: what would they have done with Nye if he hadn't made it back?
So much had happened in the past few weeks that could not be undone. His first excruciating death in Kyle's arms, Eponine's decapitation, and then his demise at the end of a machete... He knew that R (he should never have given that boy the benefit of the doubt!) must have had a full meal, with two healthy corpses to feast from. Realizing that made Sigma nauseous, and wearily he placed Nye down on the floor and curled into the sheets of his bed, fully clothed, for the first time in a long time. He thought he might have nightmares, perhaps dream of being eaten alive or someone holding down Eponine and cutting off her head while she screamed, but just as he'd closed his eyes a familiar pitter-pat of feet thumped on the bed and Nye stuck his face in the Doctor's hair, wet nose sniffing his ear, purring as he kneaded the pillows. Sigma sighed - it was a painkiller for the soul. How good it was to have a cat...
After a brief, dreamless nap, Sigma woke up, showered, and changed clothes. He then spent a short hour amusing his feline friend, hanging one of his metal belts across the side of the bed while Nye swatted and jangled the links. He remembered disinterestedly that his birthday should have been some time during the week - Sigma checked the date. He was a little late, now, he supposed, and he didn't feel much older than when he had arrived (old age caught up to him rapidly now, so this was peculiar). But after so many weeks in the heat with little food or water, he figured he owed himself at least one good meal.
And so scooping up Bill Nye, Sigma paraded through the District 10 suite with the animal in his arms like it was no thing, eventually making his way to the first floor. If anyone higher up on the pecking order brought up a no-pets rule, well, he'd be leaving with the cat.

no subject
When Sigma hears the assault on his district's door, he rushes to answer, knowing exactly whom is must be. In a way, he had been waiting up for her, listening carefully even into the night for her flight from a difficult dream. He'd wished she'd come sooner. He wanted to apologize. He opens the door and Sigma's heart breaks, seeing the broken little thing she has become.
"Eponine... You made it back."
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Eponine stumbled through the door as soon as it was open, shutting it firmly behind her.
"Did you watch it? Did you see? Sir, I didn't want you to be killed. You shouldn't have come when I screamed - I shouldn't have screamed at all. I tried to hold it in, I promise, I tried, Sir. I didn't want you to die. I didn't think you'd come. Why did you come? But it hurt so much, Sir - and then - I don't know his name - he was eating me, chewing my leg. Still I feel his teeth - I know it is in my head, but I can't even run because he has me in his mouth."
The torrent of words tumbled out of her without pause even for breath. She was obviously worked up about it all, obviously not dealing with it well for a change.
"I'm sorry, Sir, that you ended up dead for me."
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"Shh," he whispers, green eyes that had been so hateful to Maximus now soft and reassuring, "I know. It is over now, it's not your fault." Sigma had never been of the mind that stealing food to end starvation was a sin that deserved punishment. "It was my decision to try and stop them. My only regret is that I did not succeed."
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"I'm sorry, Sir. I do not mean to make a fuss. I have died before, you know - of course you know, Sir. You have died, too. I feel like Howard, always. Just crying. It is worse than France - and still, they bring me back as thin - that they do not alter - just everything else about me - and they let the boy eat me before I am dead and I must live next door to my murderer. And you - you might have won, you know? I was dying anyway. The monster had broken my ribs; Madame Mona said I would die of a punctured lung, Sir. You didn't have to die... and I lost Marius and he died. You could not have stopped Monsieur Maximus, Sir. He is a fighter - and he had already put it in my chest before you came. I wish you hadn't, but, oh, Sir, I am so glad you did as well, and that is the worst of all."
She let go with one hand, and swept her long tangle of hair out of her face.
"I'm sorry, Sir. You did not need this, or want this. I am sorry. I won't say more now."
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He sighs, disturbed to see just how much his actions have affected her, but it was better if Eponine got it all out now. "We could switch rooms, if you preferred, if only for awhile. The district assignments are rather arbitrary, anyway. As far as I'm aware, District 10 has a rather kind group of Tributes." He attempts a smile.
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"Well, Sir, you must not think on that. For it is not so that I will win. It is not. The people do not like me; they do not send me presents. I do not mind - but it is easier to win when the people like you, I think."
She sighs too. "I am not going to try at all next time. I have tried and it is silly, I think. To walk injured and fight for food - when I can let myself be killed and come back here straight away and have a nice time. This is the thing with these Games. They are silly, pointless. We fight for nothing, for we die and we are given everything we should want. Why should we fight to live longer, starving? They are stupid, the Games. This place is stupid. Sir, I do not want to play these games any more. I am not scared of Monsieur Snow, and if I see him, I shall tell him what I think. I am not scared and I think these people are stupid."
She shakes her head though. "It is a kind offer you make me, Sir. But you will be in trouble if we swap rooms. Howard and I swapped when he lived with Monsieur Aunamee. But we were both in trouble. I do not want you in any more trouble, Sir, for you are the nicest man I know and I will not have you in trouble for me."
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He pet his cat to avoid looking Eponine in the eye after such a confession. He also knew he was not the 'nice' man she thought he was at all, and hoped to keep that from her. "As for the room, if it is only the other Tributes you worry about, I can deal with them." But if she would only get into more trouble with the Peacekeepers, well, that would be a problem.
no subject
"He is so lovely, Monsieur. What is he called? Is he yours? Did you know, I used to have a cat when I was a very little girl... but my Pa made us eat her when we ran out of food."
She sighed again though. "I would not mind dying for good, Sir. I would not mind at all... it would be a break, no? I nearly did it once, a winter or so ago. We lived under the bridges in Paris, and it was snowing and cold - so cold. And we had no food and no fire and the rats were chewing on our toes as we slept. And whilst I sat there, I looked at the water and I thought of just... stepping in. I would walk to the middle with a stone and I would die. But I am a coward; I was afraid that the water would be cold and that I would not die after all, and then I would be freezing cold and alive as well. So I didn't do it. But they will not kill me here. They like to see me break Howard's heart and to have my heart hurt with Monsieur Marius. They will not kill me. I am the unlovable girl who looks for love. It is funny, no?"
She looked sharply at Sigma when he confessed. "You have fought before? You had battles like this where you were from? How does it keep order - especially here? We are none of us from here? To me, Sir, it makes no sense."
She petted the cat again too.
"I do not think the Tributes care, Sir. But the escorts, yes. And the peacekeepers, yes. It is silly."
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"Your sadness is not funny in the least bit," he consoled. Nye began to purr, and he hoped that would be enough to calm her, perhaps allow her to get some sleep later. "I have. I know it is not what you want to hear, Eponine, but it is true. When I was born, almost all had enough to eat, there were very few wars, billions of people lived in decadence. But when I became an adult, there was a sickness, and only a handful of humans survived. ..In my world, there were a few who had the power to resurrect the dead, to bring back those who had died, but only when confronted with deadly force. And so, there were games. Even I had to take part. There was no other choice." It was a simplistic explanation of his past, but afterwards Sigma felt heavier after, sicker, weaker. He rubbed his fake eye.
"...As for this place, The Games are a part of their history. It prevents an all-out war between the last few survivors through fear and control. And us, I suppose they think bloodshed where complete strangers die and come back to life would be enough. Our simply being here is saving the life of their children. At least, that is how I see it..." The look on his face showed that he did not agree with it, however. It pained him. He looked at Eponine. "It would hurt Howard and me if you died, my dear. But it would hurt even more if you wanted death. There can be so much joy in life." He pointed to Nye, who was rolling happily around Eponine's lap. "If you cannot stay here, then take him for the night."
no subject
She bent her head to the cat's, kissing it, and rubbing between it's ears.
"How did you get one? Did you find him?" The cat squirmed in Eponine's arms, but she clung onto him, hugging him tighter to her.
"You be still, silly Nye. It is only I." But she looked back at Sigma and shrugged.
"Perhaps not to you, Sir. I do not like it. But it is as Paris - what I like, and you like, does not matter because we are nothing. They do not care about us at all, Sir. And they like it so they will not take me away."
She watched Sigma carefully as he talked about his history. And as he finished, she slowly set Nye down on the bed and moved instead to Sigma, holding out her hands to him, a mirror gesture of how he had accepted her before.
"Monsieur? You are okay? But... you think I do not want to hear that? Why? I do not care, Monsieur, if you have fought in Games before. Do you think I would go away if you told me so? But no. You know of me - you know how bad I have been, and you have been forced to play in Games just as I was forced to do things in Paris. Do you think I would fear you, or hate you, Sir?"
That saddened Eponine more than anything. She had hoped that by now, he had gotten to know her well enough that he could confide in her without the fear of her running away... but perhaps that was hypocritical of her? She was terrified of him abandoning her, so why should it be different the other way around?
"I know their history," she interrupted. "But I think it is stupid even still." With a shrug, she moved back to the bed, and picked up Nye again, cuddling him tight. "Howard would not care. You know he wouldn't. He wants me gone, Sir. But they find that funny, too. That he longed for me, and now it is the other way around and he hates me. But... I am sorry to upset you. Life is good here - and I would not go anywhere else if I could. But it is not good in the arena, Sir. I am tired of fighting...I am tired of men taking my life and laughing at me... I cannot take your cat, though, Sir. How would you be comforted with him gone? I will be.... I am always okay."
no subject
Sigma took her hands at her offer, relieved that there was at least one who did not hate him for his past. Of course, she did not know the whole story, but Sigma knew that was a fact he must keep from everyone - even Eponine. He laughed hollowly. "My dear... It was because I am ashamed. I do not like to kill, even on occasions I have to."
He did not believe her. He did not know what else he could do. Forty-five years of pretending to be a bad parent had finally made him one, and Sigma had no other words of encouragement left to give Eponine. Was there anything he could even do? Discouraged, the Doctor's expression fell. "I see. Well, if there's ever anything you need, you can always come to me."
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She stroked Nye thoughtfully. "Do you suppose that would work? He would still be cross, perhaps, but he might speak to me at least."
She reached for Sigma's face, though, touching his cheeks lightly with her fingertips.
"Ashamed, Sir? Of being made to fight in a game? Of being made to kill?"
She shook her head. "But no. No, that is not a thing to be ashamed of, for it is not your fault. If you are to be ashamed of that, perhaps I ought to be ashamed of being a thief and a beggar and letting men take me for a Franc."
She was ashamed of all of that, and even as she spoke, her voice caught and she looked away.
"Those are shameful things, Sir. Montparnasse even said that murder is more honourable. But no - you must not be ashamed of it. I cannot always be so ashamed of myself; already, I know I am ugly and disgusting and stupid and a thief ... and perhaps even a whore, if Javert has his way. But to be ashamed of myself for being so makes it all worse. And you must not be ashamed either, Sir. You have been kinder to me than anyone ever has, Sir. I will not turn my back because you are a murderer too."
She stroked his cheek again, tracing a path from his eye to his jaw, an invisible tear, perhaps. But his expression fell, and Eponine's did, too. She was being dismissed. A warm dismissal, but a dismissal nonetheless. Hesitantly, she curtseyed, knees locking and creaking as she bent.
"Sir, you are so kind to me. Perhaps I could come to see Nye on a time? I would like that, Sir. May I?"
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When Eponine admitted her past to him, Sigma's throat tightened. He felt sick to his stomach to think of what she must have done for those depraved men; this same thin child who cuddled his cat and touched his face, lifting her skirt for adults because she had no choice. It was too much, and Sigma's heart broke for her. No child should have had to go through that, and Sigma didn't want her to suffer in that way again, he wanted only for her to be secure and to know she had people who cared...
But in some ways, she was also stronger than him. He took her words to heart. Was it his fault? Could merely his kindness and lack of ill-intent excuse his deeds? He was not sure, and was not ready to forgive himself, but it was pointless to carry around his guilt here. He spoke softly: "You are not ugly, nor stupid, nor a whore... If you promise not to think of yourself in such a way, I will also do my best to be rid my shame. How does that sound?"
Sigma moved after her difficult curtsey, so touched by her words to him, he did something he had never done for his own child: he gave her a quick fatherly kiss on the top of the head. For Sigma, this gesture was easier and far less painful for him to give than a hug. The last time he had had someone to hold, he had been without arms, and when he had received them back his own son, encased in metal, had only ever known his touch as a newborn. This, though less significant, would suffice. It was also his way of letting her know she had a guardian in him if she needed it, and that he had meant what he said.
"...Any time you wish. I would like that, too."
He knew if he continued to associate with her, Eponine would become someone he treasured dearly. And if he didn't want to mourn her as he mourned Kyle, it was imperative he found a way for her to win...
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Her voice took on an almost dreamlike quality as she described her various bodies. But she shrugged awkwardly and looked away from Sigma when she spoke next.
"They tried to card me, you know? Make me register as a prostitute. They arrested me with the gang; Javert picked me up and put me in La Madelonnettes - that is a prison, Sir, and the worst in France. It is where they keep the murderers and the child beaters - and the prostitutes, Sir. They searched me and made me have the test - but I told 'em I were fifteen and they had to let me go. It was only eight weeks, but that was enough. So you see?" She smiled a peculiar smile. "My things are true... but it is okay. I do not care. And you must not either."
She smiled as he kissed her - and tears pricked at her eyelids. Nobody had ever kissed her so softly, so lovingly, as Sigma did then. And she longed to just fall into his arms and sob herself to sleep whilst he held her tight. Even after the few encounters they had had, really, Eponine trusted this kind old man with all of her heart, and she knew that she would do anything to help him.
"Monsieur, you do me such a kindness." There was a lump in her throat as she spoke. He was so lovely, so loving.
"You must forget your shame and live like me, Sir, not caring what others think. You are a good man, one of the best I know, Sir. And I thank you, truly, for talking to me, and for helping. Thank you, Sir."
no subject
In that moment he wanted to share with her his own past that plagued him; how worried sick he was about his son, how he was too terrified to watch the television in fear of hearing a cannon - that his son slept with a stuffed rabbit until he was eighteen years old, and Sigma was considering making him a new one, but was not sure he could handle the heartbreak if he couldn't present it after all. How he would very much like for her to meet Kyle, for he believed the two of them would get along. He wanted to tell her of the people he had to kill in another lifetime, women and children no different from herself, how it still kept him up at night - how one of them had also referred to him like she referred to her father. How at the end of his life there was the one hope he'd had of being with his love after all he had suffered in the Game, but he was happier knowing she was safe than trying to dig up forty-five years of pain... This all would have been to show her that even in misery there was happiness, however small. She could see the world as he did: that they could still be happy, now, if they tried hard and long enough...
But he does not say any of this. He stares at her and all he can manage is a feeble "...Do not thank me. Come back any time," as she takes her leave.