Dr. S. Klim (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
futilecycle) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2014-02-05 12:57 pm
futilecycle) wrote in thearena2014-02-05 12:57 pm
Entry tags:
[OPEN] We may well find you laid like your steed in his reins
Who | Sigma Klim and OPEN!
What | Sigma ventures into the fourth floor where his, and possibly other's, secrets are revealed on camera...
When | Beginning of Week 3, after closing time.
Where | The fourth floor movie screen.
Notes/Warnings | Mentions of suicide, illness. You are free to view Sigma's, or just put your own Tribute's private conversations on screen, if you want!
Masks secured to his backpack with whatever extra wire he could scrounge up from the fifth floor, Sigma lumbered along the fourth, still vigilant in his search for Eponine. In the hall ahead, bright light bounced and flickered across an old movie screen in perpetuity. Intrigued, though the trap was obvious, Sigma crept closer to the video to catch a glimpse of what was playing.
What he found certainly caught his attention, and he immediately parted from his hiding place for a better view. On screen was a Tribute's bedroom, viewed from a ceiling corner, littered with scraps of cloth and cat toys. A familiar photograph of a young man watched the room from its position on the bedside table. It was a short, silent clip of his own self, seated at his bed and sewing a particular red velvet rabbit, needle following thread again and again and again...
The Doctor stopped to gawk, unable to believe his eyes. It was common knowledge (or, rather, common sense) to Tributes that their keeper's surveillance was extensive and spanned most of the Capitol and the Tribute Tower. But this entire time, even their own sleeping quarters had been rigged with cameras? It was a chilling, and disgusting, thought. At once Sigma understood the purpose of revealing such a trump card: they would be entirely unable to plot and rebel so long as they remained in the Capitol's clutches...
Then the clip cut into something new, though the setting and angle did not change, and before the audio began Sigma knew what he was about to witness: an ailing Howard was thrashing on his bed, whimpering, struggling against an invisible enemy in his sleep. Sigma's lenticular copy on screen is reaching to hold him, to wake him, and the Doctor hears Howard's familiar exhausted squeak in his memories before it happens.
"Dad?"
In front of the screen, Sigma's whole body flinches. It is worse the second time. He's watching his expression twist in sorrow, contorting against the apathy the creases in his face default to and then retreating back to them as he speaks again.
"It's me. It's Sigma. Relax. You're alright..."
"Sorry. I got confused. Please don't tell no one.."
He could not stop himself from sighing, shaking his head. How unfathomable it was to him that that same boy had threatened to kill himself just last week...
"Last time I was this sick was my first Arena. I was the first one to get dropped midway through, you know?"
Sigma knows what is next and though his stomach churns he watches intently, nausea building, praying that the video will cut away before it gets to that part-
"Tell me about your kid?"
That is enough. Though the clip keeps on, Sigma wrenches his eyes away and covers his ears, deeply ashamed. He feels his eye sting and his cheeks burn hot and had half a mind to hunt down anyone who was watching. His and Howard's privacy was something Sigma valued, and did not wish for such an intimate secret to be passed around. But what would he do if he found someone, after all? Kill them? Even if he had the gall to do something so unspeakable, it would not erase what they had seen, nor what the rest of Panem had just viewed during their after-dinner broadcast...
With no other choice, Sigma had prepared himself to flee, to turn his sight inward and rush past whomever he saw on his way out, when he mercifully heard unfamiliar audio cut in - motivated by curiosity, the Doctor released his head and turned to watch...
What | Sigma ventures into the fourth floor where his, and possibly other's, secrets are revealed on camera...
When | Beginning of Week 3, after closing time.
Where | The fourth floor movie screen.
Notes/Warnings | Mentions of suicide, illness. You are free to view Sigma's, or just put your own Tribute's private conversations on screen, if you want!
Masks secured to his backpack with whatever extra wire he could scrounge up from the fifth floor, Sigma lumbered along the fourth, still vigilant in his search for Eponine. In the hall ahead, bright light bounced and flickered across an old movie screen in perpetuity. Intrigued, though the trap was obvious, Sigma crept closer to the video to catch a glimpse of what was playing.
What he found certainly caught his attention, and he immediately parted from his hiding place for a better view. On screen was a Tribute's bedroom, viewed from a ceiling corner, littered with scraps of cloth and cat toys. A familiar photograph of a young man watched the room from its position on the bedside table. It was a short, silent clip of his own self, seated at his bed and sewing a particular red velvet rabbit, needle following thread again and again and again...
The Doctor stopped to gawk, unable to believe his eyes. It was common knowledge (or, rather, common sense) to Tributes that their keeper's surveillance was extensive and spanned most of the Capitol and the Tribute Tower. But this entire time, even their own sleeping quarters had been rigged with cameras? It was a chilling, and disgusting, thought. At once Sigma understood the purpose of revealing such a trump card: they would be entirely unable to plot and rebel so long as they remained in the Capitol's clutches...
Then the clip cut into something new, though the setting and angle did not change, and before the audio began Sigma knew what he was about to witness: an ailing Howard was thrashing on his bed, whimpering, struggling against an invisible enemy in his sleep. Sigma's lenticular copy on screen is reaching to hold him, to wake him, and the Doctor hears Howard's familiar exhausted squeak in his memories before it happens.
"Dad?"
In front of the screen, Sigma's whole body flinches. It is worse the second time. He's watching his expression twist in sorrow, contorting against the apathy the creases in his face default to and then retreating back to them as he speaks again.
"It's me. It's Sigma. Relax. You're alright..."
"Sorry. I got confused. Please don't tell no one.."
He could not stop himself from sighing, shaking his head. How unfathomable it was to him that that same boy had threatened to kill himself just last week...
"Last time I was this sick was my first Arena. I was the first one to get dropped midway through, you know?"
Sigma knows what is next and though his stomach churns he watches intently, nausea building, praying that the video will cut away before it gets to that part-
"Tell me about your kid?"
That is enough. Though the clip keeps on, Sigma wrenches his eyes away and covers his ears, deeply ashamed. He feels his eye sting and his cheeks burn hot and had half a mind to hunt down anyone who was watching. His and Howard's privacy was something Sigma valued, and did not wish for such an intimate secret to be passed around. But what would he do if he found someone, after all? Kill them? Even if he had the gall to do something so unspeakable, it would not erase what they had seen, nor what the rest of Panem had just viewed during their after-dinner broadcast...
With no other choice, Sigma had prepared himself to flee, to turn his sight inward and rush past whomever he saw on his way out, when he mercifully heard unfamiliar audio cut in - motivated by curiosity, the Doctor released his head and turned to watch...
no subject
She still wasn't used to tvs yet.
"... Sigma?" She asked, her voice cutting over the audio from the screens. She'd only met him once, had no idea whether or not he could be trusted in the arena, so she carefully drew her bow, keeping the notched arrow pointed to the floor.
"You know Howard?" She asked carefully.
no subject
It is an incredible uncanny feeling, to realize a young one he once considered capable of no wrong could be violent, and he experiences this again with Ellie. It would only take a raise of her arm and the twitch of her finger to end his struggle in this Arena. Sigma's brow furrows.
"Ellie, wasn't it? ...It is good to see you again," he starts genuinely, though the weapon made him nervous. There would be no cat puns or friendly jokes just yet, and he figured he'd better answer her question before too long.
"Yes. Howard is a good friend of mine," he says carefully, pausing to let his response sink in. He had no idea how the youth of the Arena got along, but if it was anything like the historical Hunger Games, Sigma worried it was not well. "That isn't a problem with you, is it?"
no subject
"No. Howard-- we're friends. If you're cool by him, you're cool by me," She adds, glancing back behind him to the screen.
"What's-- where is that? Is he alright?"
no subject
"That, ah. That would be my room," he admits, and wonders if it is strange to hear a man of his size stutter so, for both herself and the audience, "Just before the last Arena. He fell very ill, I am afraid. Influenza." He wants to shudder in empathy, as it would not be long after the video he would fall ill himself. Sigma tries to push this from his mind.
"Fortunately enough, he did recover on his own."
no subject
"I didn't even know he got sick. Some fucking friend I am," She said quietly. "Sorry to uh -- I didn't mean to intrude. I just thought I heard--"
no subject
The reminder came like a shock as he thought of whom else Ellie was friends with, what personal attachment she might have to another Tribute. Sigma flinches as if struck, and he immediately turns again to face her.
"Ah! Ellie!" he shouts unexpectedly, taking a well-meaning step towards her with urgency. The words spill quickly from his mouth. "That's right! Please forgive me. I completely forgot- there was a man looking for you earlier." His eyes are heavy with sympathy. If Sigma's suspicions were right... well, he understood the implications of having a loved one in the Arena. "I had intended on searching for you, but I was distracted. I owe the both of you an apology."
no subject
"I... It's fine. Joel, you mean, I'm guessing. You met him?" She asked carefully.
no subject
"I... Forgive me, Ellie. Sometimes I forget myself." He folds his shaking hands in front of himself so they are visible to her and smiles nervously. "Yes, it was Joel. It isn't my business, but he seemed desperate to find you. Should I be helping the two of you reunite?" His smile dropped and he watched her sympathetically. If his suspicions were correct, he knew what it was like to be separated from a loved one - but from Ellie's lack of enthusiasm, he worried he had jumped to the wrong conclusion. Perhaps this Joel was no friend, after all.
no subject
"No, I'm fine," She said, carefully. "I already found him, so, we're all good. Don't worry about it."
no subject
"I make you nervous, don't I," he sighed. "I suppose it is to be expected. The feeling is mutual. My words will not convince you, but I do not like to fight in these Arenas when I can avoid it," he admitted.
no subject
"You just can't really expect to jump at a girl in the middle of a death match and not make her a bit jumpy, you know what I mean?"
no subject
Sigma looks her over a moment, wondering how old she is in comparison to Howard. She looks much older to him than she did on Christmas Day with a weapon in her hands. They all grew old too quickly in the crucible of the Arena. Referring to her first statement, Sigma ponders aloud, "I did not think you were, Ellie. I still do not believe that is the case. But we have come a long way from puns and Christmas sweaters, haven't we," he laughs with wry amusement.
no subject
She can't help but give a wry smile, when he mentions the sweaters.
"... Yeah, just a bit," She admits. "Did you like it though?" She asks suddenly, looking much younger than she did a moment ago. "The sweater? I thought it was pretty corny, but awesome..."
no subject
no subject
"God, your puns are worse than mine," She accused. "So obviously you can't be that bad."
no subject
"Pawlease excuse yourself! My puns come from a lifetime of purrractice. I cat nyaat even control them any longer." He was thankful, though, that she thought so.
He waited for her response, but took a few steps back and hoisted his bag over his shoulder - feeling, perhaps, he had reached a good place to take his leave. He had frightened the wits out of the poor girl enough. "Ellie," he said seriously, "do pawtch yourself. I mean, watch yourself. Howard would be furious with me if he found I let you leave only to run into trouble."
no subject
"I can take care of myself."