![garnet beauford d8 [earthling] Avatar](https://i.postimg.cc/4ygfNMmY/garnettoken.png)
Wasting My Young Years // [Day 7 Reactions]
Nov 22, 2015 17:26:09 GMT -5
Post by garnet beauford d8 [earthling] on Nov 22, 2015 17:26:09 GMT -5
CAPRICIOUS KING
In Dom Copperview's office, which had become their de facto Gamemaker Headquarters, the team of Seventy First Gamemakers sat around an orderly table, discussing the end of the Games. Capricious held a tablet filled with data from past Games. The current program analyzed the averages of muttations released, deaths per day, total Games days, etc. The screen was mostly red, a concrete indicator of how far off the beaten path they had wandered.
She loved it and wouldn't have had it any other way.
Of course Dom didn't need a red-washed tablet. The woman could recall every Games statistic known to man at the drop of a hat. She didn't need a tablet, but Capricious longed to push something into the other woman's hands. It wasn't that she was distracted. In fact, it was the opposite: Dom Copperview was withdrawn. Later, Capricious would reflect on this very meeting and wonder if Dom guessed, or if she somehow had known.
Splicing a heated debate about how to herd the remaining tributes closer together, the lights in the room flickered and the volume on the television increased. Capricious dug her shellac-tipped nails into the back of the tablet as the camera panned from one bloody, drawn fight, to the next.
One crown fell in silence, and the other in pain and suffering.
Capricious dropped the tablet as she shoved away from the table. "Make him stop!" She screamed, even though it was entirely too late. It had been too late for Dustyn Chase for days, but she had refused to admit it.
She turned, wrapped her claws around the face of a muttation designer seated to her left. She pressed the tips of her nails into his flesh, pinpricks of blood marking each point of contact. She hissed more than spoke. "You did this. If he hadn't fought so bravely, so tirelessly yesterday... He was worthy. This is your fault."
At the head of the table, Dom's voice was cool as glass. "Take a walk, King. Don't come back until you've found your composure."
Capricious slowly lifted each finger. She felt a morbid sense of victory that a little blood had trickled down her fingertips to her palm. The designer scrambled to the far edge of the room, where she could still see the whites of his eyes. Capricious slowly wiped her hand on her ivory scarf and then draped it over her chair. She collected her tablet and coat. On her way out, she walked directly past Dom. She didn't say anything, didn't so much as bat those doey brown eyes at her. She was right, but that didn't mean Capricious had to be happy about it.
She stomped out of the building, holding up a golden handkerchief to her waterproof eyeliner. The flicker of cameras encouraged her. She could have slipped silently into the open door of her limo, could have driven away to mourn quietly. But what good were tears if no one saw them? The world deserved to see her mourn Dustyn Chase, the victor she should have crowned.
At the door she stopped on one stiletto heel, and turned to address the crowd of reporters. "We lost many worthy tributes today. Can you believe just how bloodthirsty they've been? I'm shocked. Truly shocked. No matter what we've all been told to expect, it's just so unreal. I mean, I could never. But there are still many tributes left, more twists and turns to come. I hope you'll all stay tuned. There's only one way to honor the fallen. And that's by finishing what we've begun."
She loved it and wouldn't have had it any other way.
Of course Dom didn't need a red-washed tablet. The woman could recall every Games statistic known to man at the drop of a hat. She didn't need a tablet, but Capricious longed to push something into the other woman's hands. It wasn't that she was distracted. In fact, it was the opposite: Dom Copperview was withdrawn. Later, Capricious would reflect on this very meeting and wonder if Dom guessed, or if she somehow had known.
Splicing a heated debate about how to herd the remaining tributes closer together, the lights in the room flickered and the volume on the television increased. Capricious dug her shellac-tipped nails into the back of the tablet as the camera panned from one bloody, drawn fight, to the next.
One crown fell in silence, and the other in pain and suffering.
Capricious dropped the tablet as she shoved away from the table. "Make him stop!" She screamed, even though it was entirely too late. It had been too late for Dustyn Chase for days, but she had refused to admit it.
She turned, wrapped her claws around the face of a muttation designer seated to her left. She pressed the tips of her nails into his flesh, pinpricks of blood marking each point of contact. She hissed more than spoke. "You did this. If he hadn't fought so bravely, so tirelessly yesterday... He was worthy. This is your fault."
At the head of the table, Dom's voice was cool as glass. "Take a walk, King. Don't come back until you've found your composure."
Capricious slowly lifted each finger. She felt a morbid sense of victory that a little blood had trickled down her fingertips to her palm. The designer scrambled to the far edge of the room, where she could still see the whites of his eyes. Capricious slowly wiped her hand on her ivory scarf and then draped it over her chair. She collected her tablet and coat. On her way out, she walked directly past Dom. She didn't say anything, didn't so much as bat those doey brown eyes at her. She was right, but that didn't mean Capricious had to be happy about it.
She stomped out of the building, holding up a golden handkerchief to her waterproof eyeliner. The flicker of cameras encouraged her. She could have slipped silently into the open door of her limo, could have driven away to mourn quietly. But what good were tears if no one saw them? The world deserved to see her mourn Dustyn Chase, the victor she should have crowned.
At the door she stopped on one stiletto heel, and turned to address the crowd of reporters. "We lost many worthy tributes today. Can you believe just how bloodthirsty they've been? I'm shocked. Truly shocked. No matter what we've all been told to expect, it's just so unreal. I mean, I could never. But there are still many tributes left, more twists and turns to come. I hope you'll all stay tuned. There's only one way to honor the fallen. And that's by finishing what we've begun."
table coding (c) ghosty
