thecapitol | (no subject)

Who| The Summoner and Anyone
What| Too big for the Capitol
Where| District 2 Suites and the Training Center
When| Today
Warnings/Notes| None

District 2 Suites

The Summoner had been cleaned up and led to his level and pointed to a room. He had been itching at straps for the fake wings he was wearing that mimicked the real wings he had tied down under his clothes. This was a strange place indeed.

So far in his stay he has left a hole in the wall with one of his horns above the door to his suite. It was an accident, and after that he hadn't attempted to go through the door again. He was currently slumped on one of the couches pondering his next move. He could probably stay where he was and just sleep here until they could do something about his door.

"I wonder if anyone minds me sleeping here for now."

Training Center

Having finally escaped his living quarters the Summoner has come to a place he thinks is somewhat familiar. There are weapons all around but he goes straight for a lance, the sort he's used to using. Of course to get to the lance he has to go past a rack of throwing knives (which he bumps with his horns and knocks over) and an area for practicing camouflage (which he has dragged his fake wings through on the way). Between the mess and the noise, and the generally huge horns he's walking around with it's impossible not to notice he's there.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

He wants to tell him that he'll fail. He wants to tell him that it's for nothing, that it doesn't matter, that Alternia will be just as much of a shithole as it always was when the universe ends. But he knows it would destroy the Summoner, just like finding out about his own failure destroyed him, and he can't.

"If you really believe that, if you really believe that you can build an empire with violence and murder and hate and somehow shape it into something where those things don't exist, then I wish you luck. But I must ask that you not use my name and my message to justify doing something that goes against everything I ever spoke of."

There's no nice way to do this, but he's trying.

He shakes his head shallowly, not enough to hit anyone with his horns but enough to give some kind of physicality to his feelings.

"You talked about freedom and equality for all trolls, and that's what I want. There will always be violence, and there is no way to stop hate. But I will make things fair. And if i have to do it in my own name and not yours then I will."

He wants to cry, or scream, or something. This is just too much.

He feels awful. He wants to hold this troll and shoosh him and pap him and tell him it's okay, he understands, he understands even if he can't condone, he knows what it's like to know that you're going to fail and that everything you believe in doesn't matter. But he's fairly certain that wouldn't be welcome, just now.

"I really am sorry." It feels lame, to say just that, when there's so much unsaid but so heavily implied. I'm sorry that I'm not -- that I can't be -- proud of you. This has gone so much worse than Redglare.