thecapitol | (no subject)

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Who| Pasha Chekov and OPEN
What| Delivering tribbles and presents
When| Pre-Arena and post aliens plot
Where| Tribute Tower but available on her way there too.
Warnings/Notes| Not just for tributes who ordered tribbles. Pasha will be bringing gifts from Capitolians in this haul too.

Pasha didn't often do deliveries of items bought in her shop herself.

But morbid curiosity after being trapped in a corder of the tribute tower during the Captiol evacuation had left her needing to know if it looked any different in the light of day. So dressed casually and with an avox trailing behind her who was struggling to carry all the neatly wrapped presents and boxes of things from her shop that were being sent to tributes she set off in the direction of the tribute tower.

She wound her way up the tower, knocking on district doors and asking to be shown to tributes rooms in order to bring them a delivery. Most of the presents had a note attached belaying the sender but some of them, such as the tribbles didn't. If there was nobody in she would simply leave them in their rooms if not, she would wait patiently for them after knocking.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Cinna watched her as she moved into the District 12 suite. Like most of the citizens of the Capitol, he was used to not answering doors. He did, however, stand out from his seat out of politeness at the sight of a someone entering.

"I've heard of these," he said thoughtfully as he realized what she was delivering. "Are they difficult to care for?"

The few tribbles that had been sent to the District Twelve tributes were resting in her arms. The poor avox that had been made to carry the majority of the deliveries looked tired out. "Oh, hello." Pasha smiled at him once he stood. She hadn't wanted to interrupt anyone. Actually, she was certain there had been something for him as well in the boxes of presents.

Of course, a tribble.

"Not at all. The most low maintenance pet there is. All it does is lowe." She told him, crossing the room, gesturing for the avox to pass her the tribble cage on top of the pile. It looked like a birdcage but slightly stouter. "This was sent for you. With the regards of an admirer." It was an onyx coloured tribble, big and fluffy with a pair of golden stripes running down its flanks. "It doesn't require feeding or taking care of." She presented the little cage to him.

"An admirer, hm?" he asked. "That doesn't really narrow it down." He smiled a bit at the comment, as if he wasn't taking his own arrogance very seriously. He was being playful more than anything.

He couldn't help but admire the coloring of the pet. "It doesn't require feeding?" he asked. "What sort of animal doesn't need to eat?" That seemed like a little too good to be true. "Are they robotic at all?"

Pasha laughed politely at his immodesty. Though in all fairness she had to say she wouldn't be surprised if he did have a lot of admirers. He seemed to inspire them.

"It is a muttation. Not robotic."

"Ah," he smiled a bit at that. "That makes sense. Genetics is something I should learn a bit more about."

Carefully, he stroked the little creature, trying to test how it felt to touch it.

The Tribble gave a trilling coo when it was stroked and Pasha smiled at it. "It's okay, I only know about it because I questioned to poor soul who was selling them for a few hours. I think he was rather sick of myself by the end in all honesty."

"Was the person who was selling them the one who made them?" Cinna asked, curious. "Was it a genetics corporation?"

"Yes. He made them." She confirmed before tapping her nose in a mildly playful gesture. "I am afraid that is a question I can not answer. I am the only seller in the Capitol with a monopoly ower these beauties at the moment." And that was something she wasn't willing to give up easily.

Cinna chuckled a bit. "And you're worried that I'll pin them to a dress?" he teased a bit.

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[OOC: let me know if this is going too far, and I apologize for Penny's awfulness.]

Some of higher-ups have told Penny that the Tributes need a bit of a reminder of their vulnerability, and have sent her to 'check' on them. She knows full well that it really just means that she makes an appearance, preferably in the same outfit she used to slaughter Ariadne, just to jog their memories. It's not the best use of her considerable talents, but she gets paid, so she goes.

She hasn't spoken to Pasha before, but she's seen the advertisements for the shop, and seen Pasha's cheery face on the network. She hates it, hates the effortless prettiness that comes from Pasha's inherent pleasantness. Hates that she can never duplicate it.

Her upper lip lifts a bit as she ends up in the same elevator as the woman. "Oh. It's you. Giving out those useless balls of fuzz and chewing into your W's again?"

Her artificially bright blue eyes widen in shock.

Did she head that correctly? She couldn't have heard that properly. Pasha's face instantly filled with colour from pure mortification. Anyone pointing out her speech impediment embarrassed her at the best of times but she'd been trying her level best to try and rid herself of it since she was a child.

Pasha gritted her teeth. How rude! Did she not know who her mother and father were? Or her brothers? Her family had prestige in the Capitol even if she was the black sheep of the family. She was Andrei and Kata Chekov's daughter. Their only daughter. And she wasn't going to let herself be galled by anyone, let alone some stranger. Pasha apparently hadn't been watching Ariadne's execution.

Deliberately, mimicking what she'd seen one of her brother's wives do before, she looked the other woman head to toe and back up again. She let out a huff of a laugh under her breath, shaking her head and pulled out her phone, pretending to be far more interest in that. She was clearly showing Penny that she was too below her notice to even garner a reply. That usually pissed bullies off.

The avox holding all of Pasha's deliveries shrunk back against the elevator wall.

If it weren't for the flush in Pasha's face, Penny might be fooled into thinking that Pasha hadn't heard her. She would have been angry, but she would have just repeated herself. But the fact that Pasha dares to ignore her steams her with rage.

"I asked you a question," Penny says, with a voice like a razor and ice-chip teeth bared. She takes a step forward and just like that, she's in front of the elevator door, a barrier more difficult to get past than just metal and mechanics.

Pasha gritted her teeth and put her highly decorated phone into her purse for safekeeping before flicking her curls over her shoulder and jutting her stubborn little chin.

"And I ignored it as you are being exceptionally rude." The young woman brazenly answered her. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears. She hated conflict. But at the same time this woman had rubbed her up entirely the wrong way. "And I hawe 'useless balls of fluff' to deliwer that people are paying me a lot of money for." She levelled the other woman a malicious smile. "So if you wouldn't mind this is my stop."

The doors yawn open. Penny reaches behind her and slams her finger on the 'close' button. The doors yawn back closed.

She leans forward on the balls of her feet, meeting Pasha eye to eye.

"Do you think I care if you think I'm rude?"

"Rude people tend not to. But I do."

Normally Pasha shied away from social situations that contained conflict. But there was only her and an avox here with this rude woman. The young woman folded her arms over her chest.

"Now, if you don't mind, I should like to get past you."

"You'd like to." Penny reaches forward and moves to touch Pasha's cheek and hair, then to try and take one of the Tribbles. "I didn't hear the magic words."

She scowls when the other woman touches her without her permission and bodily moves to stop her from taking one of her products. Goodness! Did she have no respect at all?

"I'm sorry. I only use my manners on people who deserwe them. Perhaps I did not make myself clear enough. Mowe!"

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The Initiate doesn't usually go to his room much anymore. Since his Moiraillegiance with Mituna, most of his time has been spent in Mituna's room, if not the Training Center. His own room is however, the perfect place for a sermon. If only because everywhere else risks interruption but here. Or rather, so he thought.

But it had been good for one other thing too; keeping the tribble the little Pyrope had given to him, indigo with light circles on it, polka-dots. His sermon over, he scoops the thing up, prods at it, as he tends to do, and when still it continues on it's ceaseless chirruping purr, he lifts it up on to his shoulder. He walks on to the door and opens to find;

"SISTER PASHA?" ...And a whole lot of tribbles it would seem. She must've been who the little Pyrope had gotten the tribble from in the first place. Well, at least that probably discounted her reason for being here being a matter of politic.

It had been from her that he'd first learned of "the fate" of district thirteen. Even her being seadweller equivalent of human here, she couldn't be trusted by her superiors to know what he knew now, after voodooing that person in the craze of the attack and getting that file (Long since destroyed now; he could tell when something was all kinds of illicit and from his own world, he knew costs of that).

He was almost certain she wasn't here for preachment and gospel either. He reaches up for the tribble on his shoulder and holds it, further caging it in his hands when it tries to climb up his robe sleeve over his burns. "What all brings a wicked sister on around here?" He asks.

Edited 2013-10-26 07:23 (UTC)

Pasha had been in the process of setting up a small pile of gifts that had been sent to him on a table. At hearing his rather distinctive voice the young capitol straightened up and turned to face him. Darn, caught again. She needed to work on being a little more sneaky!

But never the less she smiled. "Mister Freysong. So nice to see you again." Best to mind her manners once again. "I am afraid I come baring gifts. Decided to do the deliweries myself today to get myself out of the shop." There was all manner of peculiar objects and fascinations (among which three were tribbles) in the presents. "These ones are for you."

The Initiate's brows rise up high, then furrow. He peers at the gifts and walks toward them slowly, as if the gifts were a corpse that had suddenly twitched and he wasn't sure if they might come to un-life and snap at him.

"ALL OF THIS?" He asks, in disbelief. There's a lot of gifts there. A lot of things. And Tribbles. Like it was personally sought to make up for every twelfth perigee his lusus missed and they thought this was the way to do it.

"For no reason?" That disbelief isn't going away. His eyes move away from the gifts, back to her. He looks at her like she's a particularly complex bit of archaic scripture.

"...FROM YOU?" He stares. The tribble already on his shoulder continues to trill away.

Pasha smiled.

"It isn't from me as such. It's from sponsors and people in the Captiol. Who want to send them to you because you are their fawourite tribute or they hawe an interest in you. They just purchased them from me and I am dropping them off now." She explained to him with a gesture toward the little pile of presents.

"Gifts are how people show lowe and affection here." If money couldn't buy happiness, what could?

Love. And affection.

...What?

"But a motherfucker didn't do anything." He sounds genuinely confused. "UNLESS THIS IS GIVING REFERENCE UNTO HIS... SURVIVING." And not. "They still ain't got no reason to feel such toward he. THIS MOTHERFUCKER MAKES NO MEANS TO SERVE THEM, ONLY DOING WHAT HE MUST." Do they not realise he would cull ones from capitol just as easily? He only days ago planted nightmares- albeit of the capitol- into many of their pans. "Seems strange it all does, Sister. HOW ALL CAN THEY CARE ON WHAT THEY DON'T HAVE AT A KNOWING OF? How do they all figure they know he? I AIN'T EVEN APT TO GUESS WHO ALL THESE ARE BEING FROM IF NOT HER."

Pasha cocked her head at him. Oh dear, it seemed he was terribly new to this whole presents and gifting thing wasn't he? Perhaps it wasn't a concept that they had on his planet. Thank goodness it was her here to explain it to him rather than somebody who would handle it a little less sensitively.

"But they do know you!" She disagreed with a little smile. "They hawe seen you on telewision. They know ewerything about you. It's just the nature of the Games. If you don't know you then they want to know you better. These gifts might be their way to express interest in you." She paused, thinking of how best to word it. "They might not make themselwes owertly known but they admire what strength and style that you hawe shown in the arenas. If you don't like the gifts you don't hawe to use them." She told him. "You don't ewer hawe to look at them if you don't like them."

"Between you and I though, some of these people could be good sponsors, that means they could send you things in the arena to help you. I wouldn't cut ties with them just yet."

He makes a face, like he's caught scent something unpleasant.

"They don't know me," He insists. "THEY WOULDN'T MAKE LIKE TO THINK OF GIFTING HIM IF THEY DID. They've fooled themselves and let themselves be fooled thinking at I spill my goddamn guts up in them arenas." It's not self-degradation, it's matter of fact. "BUT HE SUPPOSES IF THEY... ADMIRE-" which was strange and surreal and really motherfucking, well, strange, "-THEN HE CAN'T MAKE WORD ON THAT."

He looks at the gifts, goes to prod at one or two. They bought things for him. He doesn't think he'd mind keeping them. But why...

"What do they want me to do, Sister? ALL EVASIVE UP AND IS THE MOTHERFUCKING UNDERSTANDING ON THIS WICKED SHIT. If they like for how the fuck he up and preforms, wouldn't it all make more sense to give no assistance up at all? LET HIM DIE AGAIN AND SO RETURN FOR ROUND PERFORMANCE. Unless it is bribe at to do for thing specific but I ain't feeling clear up on what that be."

The girl's face flushed with pink.

"It could be, perhaps, that they find you attractiwe and wish to gain your attention to themselwes in a, uh..." She faltered for a manner of explaining it that would seem clinical enough. "In a romantic and, um, well a sexual manner." After all, it wasn't uncommon for Tributes to be thought of as sex objects. Just look at Finnick. There was a fine example of a sex god if ever there was one.