Walter Sullivan (
illdrinktothat) wrote in
neverinyourfavor2014-10-22 10:48 am
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
Entry tags:
[district 12]
The day of the Reaping has come as it always does, and District 12's sole victor, Walter Sullivan, is ringing in the event in the manner with which he is accustomed to. That is, of course, by getting blackout drunk the night before and being utterly unresponsive on the morning of.
He doesn't hear the Capitol escort knock at his door. Likewise, he doesn't hear the same Capitol escort come in the house, call out, or stomp his way up the stairs, back down the stairs, and through the house. He doesn't hear Weyoun's reaction to him being passed out in the hallway. He's not aware of anything and then suddenly he's very acutely aware he's very cold and very wet, and there is an incredibly annoyed Trinket standing over him, holding an empty bucket.
Walter sputters cursewords, hefting himself up onto his elbows and shaking his head vigorously - he regrets that very quickly. The room spins, and neither the hangover haze or the cold water are moved any. "The hell is your problem?" He snarls once he gains some amount of coherency again.
"We're going to be late, Mr. Sullivan," Weyoun tuts, frowning, as if there is truly no offense worse than that. Late. How very dare. "Get yourself prepared, please. And no drinking. I expect you to be composed. This is a very important day."
Walter's not to pleased with the authority Trinket apparently thinks he's wielding here. No drinking? Like hell. Still, he clumsily pushes himself up more. "Fine, fine. Just get the fuck out of my house." He blinks blearily at the icecubes on his clothes, the floor. Did that shithead actually dump ice on his head? That's just cruel.
"Very well," Weyoun answers primly, tucking the bucket delicately under his arm. He stares down his nose at the victor for a long moment before turning and making his way back down the hall. "I'll see you at the justice building, Mr. Sullivan."
Walter stubbornly sits in the puddle of cold water and melting ice until he hears the front door shut behind Weyoun. Getting up is a lot more difficult than he'd like to admit; stiff, achey limbs from his choice of bed, the ever increasing hangover... and the puddle. He slips and nearly falls a few times before making it to his feet properly. Goddamn Trinket. Goddamn Capitol. Goddamn Hunger Games.
The prep team and getting ready can wait. Right now, he makes a beeline down the hall for the nearest room, and the nearest bottle of booze. No drinking, sure.
He doesn't hear the Capitol escort knock at his door. Likewise, he doesn't hear the same Capitol escort come in the house, call out, or stomp his way up the stairs, back down the stairs, and through the house. He doesn't hear Weyoun's reaction to him being passed out in the hallway. He's not aware of anything and then suddenly he's very acutely aware he's very cold and very wet, and there is an incredibly annoyed Trinket standing over him, holding an empty bucket.
Walter sputters cursewords, hefting himself up onto his elbows and shaking his head vigorously - he regrets that very quickly. The room spins, and neither the hangover haze or the cold water are moved any. "The hell is your problem?" He snarls once he gains some amount of coherency again.
"We're going to be late, Mr. Sullivan," Weyoun tuts, frowning, as if there is truly no offense worse than that. Late. How very dare. "Get yourself prepared, please. And no drinking. I expect you to be composed. This is a very important day."
Walter's not to pleased with the authority Trinket apparently thinks he's wielding here. No drinking? Like hell. Still, he clumsily pushes himself up more. "Fine, fine. Just get the fuck out of my house." He blinks blearily at the icecubes on his clothes, the floor. Did that shithead actually dump ice on his head? That's just cruel.
"Very well," Weyoun answers primly, tucking the bucket delicately under his arm. He stares down his nose at the victor for a long moment before turning and making his way back down the hall. "I'll see you at the justice building, Mr. Sullivan."
Walter stubbornly sits in the puddle of cold water and melting ice until he hears the front door shut behind Weyoun. Getting up is a lot more difficult than he'd like to admit; stiff, achey limbs from his choice of bed, the ever increasing hangover... and the puddle. He slips and nearly falls a few times before making it to his feet properly. Goddamn Trinket. Goddamn Capitol. Goddamn Hunger Games.
The prep team and getting ready can wait. Right now, he makes a beeline down the hall for the nearest room, and the nearest bottle of booze. No drinking, sure.
no subject
Renji's throat feels very tight, suddenly. No, he reminds himself. Don't let them see you crack. He stares straight ahead again and puts his thoughts elsewhere, to the woods where he hunts. To what he would've done had he not made the choice he did. Anything but the saluting crowd before him, strangers and friends alike. Anything but that.
Trinket seems utterly bewildered, glancing about at the silent display. "And now, for the girls."
Renji doesn't look when Trinket leaves to pick someone else. He stays unmoving, listening to the clink clink clink of Trinket's stride as he returns to the mic. It's not going to end well, no matter who's name is on that slip of paper. All Renji can do is brace himself.
Trinket squints at the paper again before looking up and smiling brightly. "Issui Yanagi."
no subject
No.
Issui looks blankly at Shinobu and then Caro and Rukia. They look horrified. She-- she can't. But she has to. She slips from between Shinobu and Caro before they can grab onto her, because she's not sure she could get herself to make them let go before the Peacekeepers wade in. She doesn't want that.
No.
As she walks toward the aisle, she's vaguely aware of Caro grabbing onto Shinobu for comfort and to make sure she stays. Good. That's good. Chin up, Yanagi. The whole country is going to see this. Don't stare at the ground. The aisle seems impossibly far and right there. She's... she's probably in shock. At least she's not crying. A lot of kids do.
She manages to get into the aisle before the Peacekeepers are there to meet her, but barely. She's not sure how. One looms over her shoulder, and for some reason she notices the streaks of dirt on his white uniform. The one Renji knocked over. He starts herding her up to the stage before the other get in place and between his stride and Issui's, they make the other Peacekeepers struggle to catch up. That's good. She likes that. They're not necessary.
She's not going to run.
Trinket's probably saying something-- he's probably been saying something the whole time. She can't hear it though. Her ears are ringing and everything sounds far away, like she's underwater. Blood pounding in her ears. That's what does that, right? She thinks. Issui reaches the stairs. She looks up instead of straight ahead and almost trips when she looks past Trinket to Renji. She catches herself before she can overbalance and actually fall. Good.
She climbs the stairs and lets Trinket steer her towards the center of the stage, but Issui doesn't look at him. He's not worth paying attention to.
no subject
She reaches back for Caro, finding her already there. That's good. She can't lose it and make it worse, so she just wobbles in place for a moment. Then she blindly grabs in Rukia's direction, for good measure.
This isn't fair. This isn't fair. They were so close to being free of this.
no subject
Renji can't think. He can barely breath. He's dimly aware of Trinket chattering away cheerfully. He doesn't care. He struggles to keep his face deliberately blank, to not let on a hint of... anything. Everyone is watching.
The Peacekeeper he knocked down - Keevan - escorts her up the center aisle. Renji finds he can only watch for a moment before he feels that resolve start to crack a little, then he returns his gaze to the distance. On the stage beside him, Trinket introduces Issui, and goes through the motions of calling for volunteers. Renji hadn't let him get that far with Kikuchi.
The crowd is quiet.
Renji only spares a brief glance at Issui when the mayor starts reading through the Treaty of Treason. He's sorry. He's so, so, so sorry. There's no telling her that, not now. He clenches his jaw and ignores the burning in his throat. He doesn't know what he's going to do. This isn't supposed to be happening. It's not like he had a plan, really, but this is one of the worst possible things that could have happened. He's certain of one thing, though. Just one.
He's going to do everything in his power to make the Capitol pay for this.
no subject
Issui would rather it be her than Shinobu anyway.
It's hard to look out at all those people while the mayor drones on. But it's better than looking at Renji right now. Issui's not sure she could. She keeps her eyes on her friends instead, which isn't much easier.
The mayor must be done because now Trinket's telling them to shake hands. She turns slowly toward Renji. Once she can unclench her hands she reaches out and takes his hand in both of hers. An awkward brief handshake is the norm-- most Tributes go for as brief as they can get away with. Not Issui. As she continues to hold onto Renji's hand, she spares a brief glance at the cameras and lifts her head slightly. Her blank expression comes in handy, up on the screens she looks haughty. Defiant. Good.
She turns back to Renji and straightens up to her full height. She's always tall, but the way she tends to slouch disguises just how tall. Now she practically towers over Trinket. The Capitol can have their little show, but not for free. Not this year.
no subject
Issui, however... He does everything he can to look like he's making eye contact without actually doing so. He never realized how tall she is. A little taller than he is, even.
That moment is rather abruptly broken when Sullivan barrels toward them at some speed. He has very little time to react. Then Walter's right there, arms slung across both of their shoulders. God, he smells like he slept in a pool of liquor.
"I like them!" Sullivan announces loudly, slurring. "Lotsa... heart," Sullivan glances between the two of them for a moment, bewildered, until he apparently gets his thoughts somewhat together.
"Yeah, that's it!" Sullivan says with a victorious grin, taking his arm off Renji to point accusingly at Trinket. "More than you!" Then he turns his accusation to the cameras, and Renji's not sure who he's addressing. "More than you!"
Renji has to shuffle back so Sullivan can wheel around and hug Issui. A moment later, Sullivan releases her and stumbles back around, looking as if he's about to hug Renji.
...Only to stagger to far to one side and plummet, face-first, off the stage, promptly knocking himself out. Beautiful. Trinket skitters around while the anthem blares loudly from the speakers. Renji ignores him, ignores the music, and leans over the edge of stage. He looks down at the the drunk dumbass passed out on the ground for a beat or two, before glancing up at the cameras and shrugging.
no subject
Sullivan smells like an entire bar and he's hugging her very tightly. At least he's not rubbing her back? Just as Issui's considering giving Shinobu a look of some sort, Sullivan lets go. And... falls off the stage. Well. That's all, folks. She's still blinking in amused disbelief when someone finally comes to herd her offstage.