Marius Pontmercy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
saisamour) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2013-08-18 11:27 am
saisamour) wrote in thecapitol2013-08-18 11:27 am
Entry tags:
[CLOSED] insert hipster lyrics here
Who| Marius, R, Peeta, Shion
What| Suddenly everything / various Capitol logs
Where| Places!
When| Various dates after Arena 7
Warnings/Notes| Pontmercying
// SHION
Marius expects to wake up after his death in the Arena and feels utter disappointment when he does.
He lies in his bed for hours, staring blankly at the ceiling. The tears have long since dried, leaving him with a feeling of numbness. He should not be here, breathing. He is supposed to be in the sky, in the wind and in the flowers that his dear Cosette loves so much. His spirit should have been reunited with her.
Eventually he decides to exchange his bed for the gardens in the Tribute Center, the one that Eva had introduced him to in what seems to him like aeons ago. He manages to rise with some difficulty (it is wearisome, almost painful to force himself to move forward when all he wants is to exist in the dilapidated gardens he once knew as well as his Lark), and drags his feet outside the room, to the elevator, to the spot where the tiny garden is, its plants and trees he recognizes as coming from various parts of the world, still as thriving and blooming as he last remembers it, like nothing ever dies.
A white lily catches his eye and he stares at it blankly. He cannot remember the Arena. Oh, not completely, that is certain; there have been stretches of clarity in his memory, faces and voices of people he had met and assisted, and who have assisted him in return. But everything else is a chaotic patchwork of blood and candy-colors and sand and the blinding rays of the scorching sun.
But he does not want to remember. Let his mind be a blurry haze; it is better than to recall the moments of anguish and torture. So he wanders through the garden, fingers ghosting over flowers, him staring at nowhere in particular with a distant look in his eyes.
// PEETA
The message comes unexpectedly, delivered by Marius's escort, who informs him that the Peeta Mellark is reminding him of their earlier discussion regarding the composition of love letters. The escort seems fiercely determined that he must go, and so the meeting is planned accordingly even before his input is ever requested.
Now in all honesty, Marius does not have the faintest idea why his escort had been fretting over the fact that he was to meet with Peeta, but eventually, and after some insistence that he wear presentable clothes, he finds himself confusedly waiting for said acquaintance in the Commons. He is standing by some rounded tables to one side, politely declining any offer of drink from the Avoxes, and sweeps the room with searching eyes.
// R
Marius cannot remember how he managed to end up in the Commons—he had simply been walking aimlessly, thoughts often-times leaving him to wander on its own, and all of a sudden he is in a busy room full of Tributes and Avoxes and Capitol citizens.
His brows knot in mild confusion, and then he decides to leave before anyone approaches him. In his sudden rush to the exit he does not even notice R until he is a mere arm's length away.
He is only supposed to step around the man he has almost collided into in his haste. But then he makes the mistake of glimpsing his face, and when recognition dawns on him his eyes grow large and his breath hitches, and fragmented memories are suddenly ripped out from the depths of his mind that had kept them trapped: of sand curling up in waves, teeth ripping off the skin and muscle off his arms, and the biting cold of the desert night as his blood paints the sand red.
Marius freezes.
What| Suddenly everything / various Capitol logs
Where| Places!
When| Various dates after Arena 7
Warnings/Notes| Pontmercying
// SHION
Marius expects to wake up after his death in the Arena and feels utter disappointment when he does.
He lies in his bed for hours, staring blankly at the ceiling. The tears have long since dried, leaving him with a feeling of numbness. He should not be here, breathing. He is supposed to be in the sky, in the wind and in the flowers that his dear Cosette loves so much. His spirit should have been reunited with her.
Eventually he decides to exchange his bed for the gardens in the Tribute Center, the one that Eva had introduced him to in what seems to him like aeons ago. He manages to rise with some difficulty (it is wearisome, almost painful to force himself to move forward when all he wants is to exist in the dilapidated gardens he once knew as well as his Lark), and drags his feet outside the room, to the elevator, to the spot where the tiny garden is, its plants and trees he recognizes as coming from various parts of the world, still as thriving and blooming as he last remembers it, like nothing ever dies.
A white lily catches his eye and he stares at it blankly. He cannot remember the Arena. Oh, not completely, that is certain; there have been stretches of clarity in his memory, faces and voices of people he had met and assisted, and who have assisted him in return. But everything else is a chaotic patchwork of blood and candy-colors and sand and the blinding rays of the scorching sun.
But he does not want to remember. Let his mind be a blurry haze; it is better than to recall the moments of anguish and torture. So he wanders through the garden, fingers ghosting over flowers, him staring at nowhere in particular with a distant look in his eyes.
// PEETA
The message comes unexpectedly, delivered by Marius's escort, who informs him that the Peeta Mellark is reminding him of their earlier discussion regarding the composition of love letters. The escort seems fiercely determined that he must go, and so the meeting is planned accordingly even before his input is ever requested.
Now in all honesty, Marius does not have the faintest idea why his escort had been fretting over the fact that he was to meet with Peeta, but eventually, and after some insistence that he wear presentable clothes, he finds himself confusedly waiting for said acquaintance in the Commons. He is standing by some rounded tables to one side, politely declining any offer of drink from the Avoxes, and sweeps the room with searching eyes.
// R
Marius cannot remember how he managed to end up in the Commons—he had simply been walking aimlessly, thoughts often-times leaving him to wander on its own, and all of a sudden he is in a busy room full of Tributes and Avoxes and Capitol citizens.
His brows knot in mild confusion, and then he decides to leave before anyone approaches him. In his sudden rush to the exit he does not even notice R until he is a mere arm's length away.
He is only supposed to step around the man he has almost collided into in his haste. But then he makes the mistake of glimpsing his face, and when recognition dawns on him his eyes grow large and his breath hitches, and fragmented memories are suddenly ripped out from the depths of his mind that had kept them trapped: of sand curling up in waves, teeth ripping off the skin and muscle off his arms, and the biting cold of the desert night as his blood paints the sand red.
Marius freezes.
no subject
"Okay. If you're sure, then I'd love to see this place." He gave a smile, hoping that it would be okay. He just didn't want to ruin what could be something fun by attracting crowds, but maybe if they moved fast enough?
"Here, I can carry this stuff." He picked up the papers and such; not that it was a lot, but still. "Lead on, my good sir!"
no subject
The offer to carry some of the materials himself did not actually cross his mind until much later, after he had led the way through the room and out the elevator, and by that time he did not know whether it was still considered appropriate to offer assistance or whether it was too late to be a bother, and so a slight blush crept up his cheeks in embarrassment as he led the way out the doors and into the busy streets of the Capitol, his gaze fixed in front of his feet the whole time.
Now Marius was never much of a good conversationalist, but he did know the areas where he could be spotted least, shadows and narrow paths he had darted towards whenever he went out for a walk and tried to avoid the people's judging eyes on him. (Although really, they were mostly stares of admiration; it was simply that Marius never considered himself attractive, so in his mind it must obviously be stares of mockery instead.) It was to these spots that he led Peeta, still too shy and unfamiliar with the other man to strike up a conversation on his own as they weaved their way around the Capitol.
no subject
As he followed Marius, though, he could only let the silence go on for so long. He didn't need to talk all the time, but it just felt awkward if he didn't. "So, what do you do back home, Marius?" He asked brightly, as they walked. Peeta had no idea on some of these paths, and he had to admire Marius for being able to find them so well.
no subject
Unfortunately, it did not occur to him at the moment that Peeta might have not understood what those languages were; nevertheless, there was a faint trace of melancholy in his voice as he spoke. Those events seemed a long time ago, after fighting at the barricades and watching several of his friends die, and then dying twice himself at the arena.
no subject
But he heard the sadness, and he could understand that a lot more versus the translations. He continued to follow him in silence for a moment, before he reached out and put a hand lightly on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry. This has to be hard for you, and I'm sorry." Because it was his fault they all were here, now.
no subject
When he felt Peeta's hand on his shoulder his footsteps came to an abrupt pause and he tensed for a brief moment, then glanced at the other man with slightly widened eyes containing both surprise and a question. It was the first time, as far as he is concerned, that someone apologized to him about his situation, and yet he cannot be certain whether Peeta was sincere.
But it did not matter, maybe. The only thing that Peeta should truly be sorry for was the fact that he could not even die with honor in this world. He averted his eyes and resumed his pace, though he made no move to shrug Peeta's hand off and said, in an almost stiff, formal tone, "We are almost to the shop."
no subject
A second 'I'm sorry' died quickly before he let his lips form the words, and he looked down at the ground before looking back up. "Great! And it looks like your secret path worked out pretty well, we haven't been mobbed once," Peeta gave him a smile. "I'll have to remember this, if I ever need some peace and quiet myself."
Peeta was one of the best actors here.
no subject
It temporarily drew his troubled thoughts away from death and Paris, in any case. There was genuine curiosity in his voice when he asked, "Are you well-known?"