Eмιly Fιɴcн (
conifer) wrote in
thecapitol2015-10-03 09:01 pm
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[OPEN]
Who| Emily and YOU
What|
Where| Around the Training Centre
When| A couple of days before the start of the Arena
Warnings/Notes| None inherent, will update as necessary
a) District 7 suite
Emily's dressed in the sort of clothes she'd only reluctantly wear for a fancy party, her hair piled high on her head. She looks out of place in the suite, especially as she's tidying and cleaning - disassembling the garden she's kept in one corner of the common area ever since she came back to the Capitol, something that's been her pride and joy, and has been her main distraction and source of therapy in mentoring. Today though, the plants are dug up, the soil swept and the wire displays dismantled, and Emily insists on doing it all herself. A few moments later she disappears into her room and comes back with her arms full of the intricate wood carvings she's put so much care and attention into, and dumps them into the bags with the plants, nodding to the Avoxes to take them away and dispose of them.
b) Out and about in the Capitol
Emily isn't certain what makes a 'good Capitolite'. A shallowness and self-absorption seemed to have a lot to do with it. But she was quite certain that she'd been offered citizenship because of qualities that were the exact opposite to that, ones that she had to admit that she hadn't seen in that many Capitol natives. It bothered her that she needed to stay true to herself while fitting in as one of them. Perhaps she was being unfair, and she was viewing them from the point of view of a Victor and moreover a Districter.
She goes to one of the high end shopping districts, wandering through stores and parks and finally seating herself in a restaurant, people watching all the while. Out here, a little of their eccentric nature seems to disappear, and they're not obnoxious Capitolites but just people. It's a surreal thing for her to accept.
c) The roof
The media didn't seem to have picked up on her panic attack at the Tribute Parade, something for which Emily was more than grateful. She wondered if Cyrus had anything to do with it, after all his offer of citizenship had come quickly after, and she was sure he'd wanted to keep a positive, Capitol-friendly image of her circulating. But even now, she couldn't get the District Tributes out of her mind, the bewilderment and despair on their faces as they realised that they were being sent to die, contrasted with the cheers of the audience.
She grips tightly onto the railing of the balcony to stop her hands from shaking, taking several long, deep breaths. "Get it together, Finch," she mutters. "They're not your people any more. You can't do this to yourself."
d) Closed to Beck
She shows up in the District Twelve suite without warning, and just stands and waits until Beck comes walking through, her expression stern and only a little less pained than when she'd found her in the bar the other night. She has no idea where they stand, and as much as she wishes she could postpone this indefinitely, she knows that she can't avoid Beck forever.
"It's time we finished our conversation."
What|
Where| Around the Training Centre
When| A couple of days before the start of the Arena
Warnings/Notes| None inherent, will update as necessary
a) District 7 suite
Emily's dressed in the sort of clothes she'd only reluctantly wear for a fancy party, her hair piled high on her head. She looks out of place in the suite, especially as she's tidying and cleaning - disassembling the garden she's kept in one corner of the common area ever since she came back to the Capitol, something that's been her pride and joy, and has been her main distraction and source of therapy in mentoring. Today though, the plants are dug up, the soil swept and the wire displays dismantled, and Emily insists on doing it all herself. A few moments later she disappears into her room and comes back with her arms full of the intricate wood carvings she's put so much care and attention into, and dumps them into the bags with the plants, nodding to the Avoxes to take them away and dispose of them.
b) Out and about in the Capitol
Emily isn't certain what makes a 'good Capitolite'. A shallowness and self-absorption seemed to have a lot to do with it. But she was quite certain that she'd been offered citizenship because of qualities that were the exact opposite to that, ones that she had to admit that she hadn't seen in that many Capitol natives. It bothered her that she needed to stay true to herself while fitting in as one of them. Perhaps she was being unfair, and she was viewing them from the point of view of a Victor and moreover a Districter.
She goes to one of the high end shopping districts, wandering through stores and parks and finally seating herself in a restaurant, people watching all the while. Out here, a little of their eccentric nature seems to disappear, and they're not obnoxious Capitolites but just people. It's a surreal thing for her to accept.
c) The roof
The media didn't seem to have picked up on her panic attack at the Tribute Parade, something for which Emily was more than grateful. She wondered if Cyrus had anything to do with it, after all his offer of citizenship had come quickly after, and she was sure he'd wanted to keep a positive, Capitol-friendly image of her circulating. But even now, she couldn't get the District Tributes out of her mind, the bewilderment and despair on their faces as they realised that they were being sent to die, contrasted with the cheers of the audience.
She grips tightly onto the railing of the balcony to stop her hands from shaking, taking several long, deep breaths. "Get it together, Finch," she mutters. "They're not your people any more. You can't do this to yourself."
d) Closed to Beck
She shows up in the District Twelve suite without warning, and just stands and waits until Beck comes walking through, her expression stern and only a little less pained than when she'd found her in the bar the other night. She has no idea where they stand, and as much as she wishes she could postpone this indefinitely, she knows that she can't avoid Beck forever.
"It's time we finished our conversation."
d
Unconsciously, she folds her arms around herself, as if that could ward off the conversation. She knows - she does know - that this isn't a conversation that ought to be avoided or put off. But she also knows that it's going to hurt, and it may end up destroying everything they had, and it's all her fault.
Also, she's already feeling fragile (not hungover any more, at least), and a small, selfish part of her just wants to call an end to everything right now, just so she can control it. Instead, she bites her lip, clears her throat, and nods towards her open office door.
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"Cyrus Reagan met with me the other day. He wants to give me Capitol citizenship."
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She doesn't want to lecture Beck, and there's a part of her that agrees that it would be far easier to just end things now and get it over with. But she feels that they both owe each other a little more talking it out first. After all, that seemed to be the root of the problem here.
"I feel like we've been walking on eggshells around each other ever since we got together, knowing how differently we both approach intimacy. None of this would have happened if we'd just communicated. That's my fault as much as yours, and I'm sorry."
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She holds out her arms toward her a little tentatively.
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wrap?