thecapitol | (no subject)

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WHO| Everyone!
WHAT| A Halloween Ball
WHEN| Halloween night
WHERE| The Tribute Center
WARNING/NOTES| None atm. Please tag in your subject lines if anything comes up.

The Capitol had been winding up to this for weeks. More and more extravagant decorations had begun to appear all over the city. Gruesome alleys dripping with gore, houses transformed into creaking, ancient cobweb covered dwellings, flickering ghosts haunting windows and doorways. The citizens themselves had becomes more and more extravagant as the days crept closer, dripping in glitters spiderwebs, hair teased to coil around pumpkins and crows, and decked out in meticulous costumes, often celebrating past victors, and even current tributes.

The ball at the Tribute Training Center wasn't anywhere near the only party that night, but it was the most extravagant, and the most sought after. The decorations had gone towards the classic (perhaps the goverment realizing other areas might move too close to home.) The building had been transformed into a spooky, ancient looking mansion, over taken by spiders and lit with flickering candles everywhere. The tables were spread with unimaginable heaping of treats, from grotesqueness mock organs to sparkling jewel colored sugar covered candies. Avoxs move about, for once literally ghosts, covered in their own shrouds of spider webs and sheer gauze, holding plates of smoking drinks.

Attendance for the Tributes was mandatory. As were costumes. And oh boy did their stylists go all out for this one. It was a parade and a party all rolled into ones and they weren't going to slack on that.

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Ariadne was picking up yet another drink for herself when Dean showed up, her cheeks already slightly flushed from the alcohol. It was later in the evening; she'd been there for a little while already, drinking the proffered drinks in order to keep socialising, and keep from just leaving. There was only so much of these parties she could ever stand, but it seemed as though everyone wanted their latest Victor to hang around for a photo or a conversation. She was a hot commodity. She just needed to get away from it all briefly.

Dean noticed the very cute brunette being swarmed by people, and he figured that meant that she was important, though the look on her face, and the amount of booze she'd been drinking, gave him the impression she wanted time away. So, being the smooth man he seemed to believe he was, he walked over to her, grabbed her by the arm, and pulled her away into a quiet room.

"You look like you can use a break."

She was a little bit surprised when there was suddenly a hand on her arm, and she found herself spirited away from the crowd; at first, she'd thought it her escort - but since it was the woman's fault she was there to begin with, doubtful - and then she realised it was a man's hand. In the haste of being removed into another room, Ariadne found herself briefly wondering if kidnapping plots existed in the Capitol, and if they would take the most recent Victor just because they could, but there was absolutely nothing logical about that.

And then she found herself face to face with her apparent saviour, looking almost like a stripper-version of an angel. He seemed nice enough, if somewhat out of nowhere. "I'm not sure that's generally the accepted method, but I'll take it. You're right; I could. If I'd known how much work all this press would be, I think I'd have let Alex kill me instead." Perhaps morbid, but the small smile pulling at her lips suggested it was more a dry sense of humour than a genuine comment.

Smiling down at her, though he knew what kind of outfit he was wearing and how bad it was, since he definitely knew he looked like a stripper, he was glad that he was able to help.

"So, are you like the winner of the last...whatever the hell this is? That why everyone's all over ya?"

"Yeah," she replied plainly, glancing around the room before finding a particularly cushy chair and settling down in it, her red yarn set aside on a nearby table. The gauzy material of her dress continued to flow around her like half-submerged; she was pretty sure the stylists had done something to it to make it do that. "The last Arena. No one's told you about it yet?"

Trying not to watch her too much, though with a body like that, and that dress, it was hard for the hunter not to. Back home, he was surrounded by men; his brother, Bobby, Cas... he wasn't used to seeing women, especially not ones dressed as nice as this one currently was.

Leaning against the wall beside the chair Ariadne now sat in, he sipped his drink and shook his head, "Nope. I don't even really know what's going on here. I was told there'd be booze, and my stylists of whatever said I had to come."

Ariadne barely noticed. After being watched for three straight Arenas now on cameras that were semi-constantly on her, having to watch what she said every moment of the day, the looks of one man were nothing. She tipped her head to one side, curls bouncing over her shoulder as she shrugged a little. "It's sort of like a never-ending gladiator tournament. The Capitol somehow brings in us - Tributes - and sends us in to fight on behalf of the Districts. And then, when you die, they bring you back. It's sort of interesting, in a way."

His jaw almost dropped. Killing each other, in cold blood; that was not something he would do. His future self, sure, but not him. "...Okay. Wait a sec. Are you telling me I have to kill people? The dying thing and coming back to life isn't that weird, but the killing people in cold blood... not exactly my thing."

"You don't exactly have a choice," she pointed out, blinking up at him. "It's that or get killed. If that's what you prefer, by all means - it does get painful after a while, though."

Inherent in her statements, in their situation, was not only the suggestion that she'd died more than once, but also that she'd killed her way to the top. Every other Tribute had to die in order for her to win, though she hadn't exactly volunteered the information of exactly how. It wasn't like it wasn't the current buzz: her and Don cutting their way through everyone who remained until Don sacrificed himself for her.

"You don't think it's weird for people to die and come back?"

"Well... that's not going to be fun. But if it's them kill me or me kill them, I guess I'll just break out my hunter instincts and do some serious ass kickin'." With a nod a wink, followed by a sip of his drink.

He knew that if that's what these things were, that this woman had killed her way to win in the last arena. He knew some of what was happening, but he still didn't like it.

"Nope. I've died and come back more times than I can count, sweetheart."

"What do you hunt?" She got the feeling it wasn't animals, like some might; it was just the casual tone with which he said it. Her curiosity was kicking in again, finally allowed to tentatively flourish back up. Ariadne shifted where she sat, tucking her feet beneath her to better face him, folding her hands in her lap comfortably.

She tipped her head to one side, frowning a little, visibly intrigued. Her tone almost played on dry and teasing, "How did that happen? I didn't think it was possible to die more than once."

Sighing, he took a long sip of his drink before he began to list "Vampires, werewolves, zombies, demons, wendigos, strigas, okami. Any monster from a horror movie, you name it, I hunt it. Killed some angels before too, it's... an interesting life back home, to say the least." Taking another sip of his drink, sighing a bit. He missed Sam, and hell, he even missed Cas, his little nerdy dude with wings.

Nodding at her second comment, a bit of a chuckle passing his lips, "Yeah. In my world, I die a lot more than you'd expect someone to."

Only her brief delves into mythological creatures gave her the headstart needed to keep up with Dean's list of creatures; her eyebrows lifted slightly, disbelieving for a moment that he actually did all of that. Then she remembered that she had a totem back in her room that told her if everything she was experiencing was just a dream, that even Cobb had sounded crazy when she had first heard about dreamsharing.

Perhaps it wasn't that farfetched an idea.

"You've killed angels?" She couldn't help it; she was curious.

Nods, "Yeah. One or two. They're great big bags of dicks, and honestly, if one wasn't my best friend, I wouldn't have believed in 'em in the first place. But, they do. And most of them seem to like me." Shrugging, he downed another gulp from his goblet, "What about you? What did you do before ya got plopped here?"

"Interesting," she told him, deciding that was something to perhaps look into. As strange as it all sounded. "I wasn't aware angels made a habit of talking to humans." Left unspoken was 'like yourself'; she wasn't exactly the picture of innocence herself, but she'd have though if they existed at all, they'd talk to priests and other men of God before someone who hunted things.

"I was an architecture student. Graduate school."

"Yeah. Didn't believe they existed until one, Cas, plucked me from hell when I went down there." Sipping his drink a bit more, knowing it was hard to believe a majority of the things he mentioned.

"Impressive. I'm a high school drop out, with my GED."

"How did you get into Hell?" Assuming he wasn't just insane, at least. She could sustain disbelief for the moment and take in all the details of the thing. It was an interesting enough conversation, and it was saving her from the rest of the crowds outside; it was nice to get a bit of a breather.

Ariadne tipped her head to him mildly, "Nothing wrong with that. I assume you liked hunting better than studying?"

Looking at her, "How? Well. I sold my soul to a cross roads demon, had to kiss her and everything. Sold it to save my brother's life. That gave me one year to live, because the demons wanted me dead anyway. So, once that year was up, the hell hounds and Lilith came after me and dragged me down to hell, and I was there for four months, which is more like forty years in hell."

"I was raised hunting, just.. ended up dropping out."

She had curled up a bit more comfortably in the chair, resting her chin now in one hand, watching him curiously. It still sounded ridiculous, but then again, so was most of this.

"I didn't know that you could escape from Hell. Even with the help of an angel. Then again, I didn't know angels were real, either," she mused thoughtfully, eyes sliding across the floor. "How did you meet- Cas?"

Shrugs, "To most people, what I'm saying sounds crazy." He went to take a sip of his drink, but then she brought up Cas. His best friend, someone who was almost like a brother to him. Almost. "He 'gripped me tight and raising from perdition', as he would say. And so, through the past year, we became close friends."

"It does sound crazy."

And she clearly didn't care how tactless it sounded. Because, after all, it was true.

The change in demeanour when this 'Cas' was brought up was palpable; since Ariadne didn't really know what to say to that - didn't think there was anything that needed to be said to that - she kept quiet, simply nodding a little. "Interesting."

"Yeah. He's my best friend. That's all." Making that clear, since a lot of people probably thought he was with Cas, based on how close they were. Like how people thought he and Sam were at some time or another. "Anyway... what about you? Tell me about yourself."

The hunter took a seat, sighing as he did. The pants were tight, and he didn't feel comfortable enough sitting in them, but he had no other choice.

Ariadne shrugged, amusement playing at her lips. "I didn't say anything," she pointed out at that point, taking up her ball of yarn again so she had something to fidget slowly with, looping the soft red threads around and between her fingers.

"What do you want to know?"

Raising an eyebrow at her, he always knew people thought Cas was more than a best friend to him, and maybe he was, but other people did not need to know that.

"Just about yourself? I dunno. Not big on asking the questions, not the complicated ones, anyway."

If other people didn't need to know that, then perhaps he needed to stop violently reiterating that they were 'just friends'. That always spoke to more.

She frowned a little, not quite sure what she was supposed to say. He already knew that she went to architecture school, and beyond that, what was there? She couldn't - wouldn't, really; not after the debacle of Eliot trying to use it - tell him about Cobb or the dreamsharing. So she shrugged, "There isn't much to tell. I have parents, and a brother. Half-English, half-French, fluent in both."

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I rhymed. Oh God.

oh sweet jesus

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