thecapitol | (no subject)

Who| Cinna and the District 12 Tributes and Mentors (Effie can come too, if she wants. After the fittings anyway).
What| It's time for a new theme for District 12's style. Cinna meets with the Tributes under his care and interacts with the ones who are under Portia's to go through the fitting of their Crowning attire. This is the start of a drastic change for District 12's look.
Where| Styling area of Tribue Tower, fitting rooms.
When| After the Arena ends, with enough days between then and now to give Tributes time to recover, but not too close to the next Crowning.
Warnings/Notes| None at the moment.

Cinna was moving away from the idea that his Style needed to be inspired by the District. He still loved the fire theme, and would work that into grand entrances as much as possible, but for simple events he had a different theme in mind.

Shortly after Katniss and Peeta had both survived the Arena, the mockingjay had become a fashion statement. Capitol citizens would work it into their accessories and fashion so easily, not knowing what the symbol meant to the revolution. What Katniss had meant to the revolution.

Sometimes it felt like all of that was over, and it had driven Cinna into a bit of seclusion. Now he was done with that. Katniss was still the Mockingjay, and always would be in his eyes (whether or not she liked it), but there were other Tributes too. As well as other birds.

The fashions for each of the Tributes were inspired by different birds and presented in a sharp, sleek way that made each design aggressive in a way he hadn't played with yet. Gone were his attempts to make The Singless more approachable, to make Pruna into a sweet, little girl, to make Sandy that girl next door. He was done with all of that.

These people had been dragged into his world to be made to fight. The least he could do was make them look like warriors.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Something was going to be different about this fitting, and the Signless knew it before he even set foot in the room. Part of the prep today had been to sharpen his horns to points instead of rounded nubs, and his previously-blunt triangular teeth had received the same treatment (he had almost cut himself absently running his tongue over them). Before now everything had been about softening him up, about making him appear smaller -- even smaller than he already was -- and this was anything but that. Of course, he assumed it had to do with what he'd done in the previous arena, and the thought wasn't particularly pleasing to him. But he trusted his team and he trusted Cinna and if this would smooth over that blunder, then fine. It wasn't like you could market a murderer as soft or gentle, anyway.

"So," he said by way of greeting, "no more 'approachable', I take it?"

Cinna nodded at the question. "Does that bother you?" he asked after a moment as he started to unwrap the clothes he had brought. He helped the Signless into them, carefully wrapping his Tribute in the carefully crafted garment.

"A little," he admitted, helping Cinna dress him, inspecting the outfit as it took shape. As he had been expecting, it was very different -- all shades of ashy blue and shiny bronze, except for the splash of bright red at his throat. And it was so sharp, not loose-fitting or overlarge like they'd been doing before at all. Even the leggings -- he would always insist on leggings -- had artful tears in them. Everything about this outfit was dangerous.

"I don't know how I feel about being seen as aggressive. But I can't exactly protest, can I? The entirety of Panem saw me cull two people." He shrugged hopelessly. The feathers at his throat and shoulders shone as they moved.

Cinna's jaw tightened just a bit. "You aren't the only one," he said. "That I'm taking this turn with. All of District 12 will be joining you." He made sure the collar laid right and then ran his hands over the Singless's shoulders.

For a moment, he just looked at the clothes, ignoring his Tribute's face. He wasn't sure he'd be able to hide his emotions well enough just then. When he finally did look up at the Singless's eyes, his own were carefully enigmatic. "I'm sorry for all of this," he said then. "I know it's got to be a lot to deal with."

He wondered how much Cinna knew, about what things had been like since he'd arrived back in the Capitol. How it had taken him ages just to leave his room, and even longer to leave the suites. How he'd nearly collapsed permanently under all the guilt and the self-hate and the hopelessness and the only reason he wasn't dead now, permanently dead, was because Karkat was harsh enough to tell him truthfully how selfish that would be.

"Yes. Yes, it is." He gave a thin smile. "It just piles up more the longer I'm here. But I'm glad that it isn't just me, that it isn't because of what I did. I was wondering how the feathers fit in to that."

But if they weren't in some way symbolic of what happened in the arena, what were they about?

Cinna smiled a bit. Then, after stepping back to admire the way that the Singless looked, he thought he might as well explain. "Before you were brought here, before any of the the Tributes from other worlds were here, Katniss wore a pin into the Arena. It had a Mockingjay on it. That's a bird that is a mix of the mockingbird and one of our jabber jays. The Capitol made jabber jays during the uprising to spy on the rebels. After that whole mess, they were released into the the wild and mated with the mockingbird," he cleared his throat a bit, letting the Signless know that he knew he was rambling a bit.

"For a while, the Mockingjay became a bit of a fab. I'm hoping to recapture a bit of that by assigning you each your own birds." He shrugged. "I guess I stopped seeing the point of playing with coal and fire when none of you are actually from the mines."

"Ah," the Signless said, mulling that over in his mind. It made sense, really, to try and recapture Katniss's success. He'd watched her Games recap enough times with Karkat to know just how much the Capitol adored her and Peeta.

"Does my bird have a story as well?"

"It's called the Luzon Bleeding-Heart," Cinna explained. "It's a type of dove." He fixed a bit of The Singless's hair, molding it carefully around his horns.

"Do you know anything about doves?" he asked. "Perhaps choosing one of them for you means I haven't completely abandoned the idea that you're more at peace than people want to think you are."

"I confess I don't. Not more than that they're a type of featherbeast," he said. "Are they a symbol of peace, for humans?"

There was still a lot about human culture he didn't know, after all. The simpler things he could pick up, but metaphor and reference ingrained in specific cultural things were not as easy.

Cinna nodded. "They are. Though this one is probably extinct. We can't really go back to their habitat and know for sure."

"And you think dressing me as one will make it seem like I'm still who I was when I got here?"

He looked at himself in the mirror, watching the way the feathers caught the light. He certainly didn't look like the same person. He didn't much feel like the same person, either.

"No," Cinna said. "I need you to be better than that," he explained after a moment. It wasn't just about who he had been and who he felt like he was becoming to Cinna. It was the statement that had to be made.

Still, there was a tinge of worry in his eyes as he considered all of the ways that The Signless might dread what had been happening to him.

"Better than that," the Signless repeated, his brows drawing down as he mulled it over. "Better how? I'm sorry that I'm asking so many questions, Cinna, I just want to be sure I understand. Nothing lately has been better."

Cinna put his hands on the Singless's arms, to show that he understood how difficult this all could be. "Please don't worry about asking me questions," he said. "There may be some things I can't tell you, but asking is never a bad thing."

He felt terrible about all of this, and for a moment it showed in his face. He seemed tired, and worn, but he hid it quickly enough. "It's all about putting on a show," he said. "You need to put on the best possible show."

"Right." He didn't seem much enthused by the idea. "A show. A show to inspire the people who like to watch me die for their amusement."

It was probably the most obviously anti-Capitol thing he'd said since he got back from the arena or would say until the next, but Cinna was one of the few people he trusted not to care. Or at least not to tattle.

"You'll understand if I'm not really excited about doing anything for them."

He wasn't really familiar with the districts, after all. What he knew of those who were paying attention to whatever show he'd be putting on was solely what he'd experienced in the Capitol.