[open] darling i'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream

[fusshionable]

Who| Porrim and anyone in D5 or who happens to be around D5.
What| mingling in the D5 suites; addressing tribute concerns and getting to know her charges over tea.
Where| D5 suites
When| anytime between October 5th and now!
Warnings/Notes| probably none, aside from language! will update.



Soon after her initial introduction over the Network, and for the weeks following, Porrim finds herself situated at regular intervals in the District 5 lounge, a fresh tray of tea, pastries, sandwiches and assorted other delicacies spread across the table in front of her, and a handsome leather notebook poised in front of her, ready to take notes if necessary. She finds that these regular sessions--like open office hours in a university--are helpful to her Tributes. It's important for her to be accessible, especially when her district has the reputation that it does.

And, well, if she keeps a tiny silver flask nearby and occasionally slips a little something stronger into her tea, who can really blame her? The job of an Escort is a neverending headache, and the indomitable Miss Maryam is more than well-equipped to deal with the consequences. And true to her word, she's happy to socialize with anyone from another District who happens by; she'll never say no to new friends, to making new contacts and meeting new faces. After all, people are interesting. Especially when they come from such varied walks of life.

Comments

[pythianjudgment]

Terezi's absence from the District 5 floor after the arena is probably fairly notable, considering how often she's there to drag Fraysong on some grand adventure. Or just rope him into painting with her for a while. At some points in the month, she'll linger by Shepard's room and hassle her for a while until they either run out of things to talk about, or she gets shoo'd from the room. She doesn't typically show up without a purpose, and yet she's there every day as soon as curfew lifts.

But for a week after the arena, there's simply no sign of her.

And then, she's back with her shirt more bulky around the middle, hiding bandages from the injury she managed to survive. Her energy levels are a little lower and she leans on her cane from time to time, but that doesn't stop her from sniffing out the pastries that Porrim has laid out on the table. Food is like a siren's call to her, and she'll be more than willing to wander over and pluck something sweet off the table.

"Hello." She probably should have greeted Porrim first before helping herself, but manners are not always Terezi's highest priority. At least she manages not to hover over the woman when she sniffs curiously in her direction. "Are you writing something?"

[fusshionable]

For her part, Porrim is mostly a silent spectator to Terezi's sniffing about. Her absence has been notable, but she's not about to comment specifically on that. After all, she knows that the Mini-Arena has been rough for many of the Tributes involved. So until Terezi greets her, Porrim simply watches, an amused smile playing about her lips.

"Hi, Terezi," she says simply, and chuckles at the question. "I am, actually. Notes to myself, mostly." She taps the pen thoughtfully on her notebook. "You should try the cherry Danish, they're superb."

[pythianjudgment]

Terezi takes a moment to process that suggestion before stuffing the rest of her current pastry into her mouth and picking up another. This time it's a cherry one, but at least she waits until she's done eating the pastry before trying to speak again. Waste not, want not--and she might be more than a little happy to be eating normal food again.

"Notes about what?" She's curious now. She leans over closer, trying to sniff at the notebook. "Scandalous fanfiction involving the intricacies of our love lives? Or do you leave that to the tabloids?"

[fusshionable]

Porrim has to resist the urge to swat Terezi away from her sniffing. After all, she reminds herself, how else is the poor thing expected to experience the world? She does, however, shift slightly away. "Not...quite," she laughs, covering her mouth with her hand. "More like...observations. I find it helpful to make note of goings on, what all of you like, what you particularly don't like, so on and so forth."

She reaches for a cucumber sandwich and bites into it, humming as cream cheese and cucumber meet her tongue. God, these sandwiches are divine. "Though I suppose if I was strapped for cash I could start making shit up about you all."

[pythianjudgment]

"I like these cherry things," Terezi supplies with teasing helpfulness. She figures that is probably not exactly what Porrim meant, but that might also be her own paranoia talking. When you've lived under an oppressive government for this long, "observations" doesn't sound quite as innocent anymore.

"I am sure that anything you make up would be completely believable to the masses at large. Just make sure to add in a lot of steamy one-liners and romantic fluff. And if you need any leads," she adds, flashing an unabashed grin, "I am more than happy to mercilessly embarrass my fellow Tributes for the sake of a laugh."

[infinitemayonnaise]

There is one good way to draw Kousuke Nitou to any location for any length of time: free food. And that's just what he sees spread out across that table: free food. It was even worse after his arrest and reeducation session, because starving a guy as fixated on food as Nitou was just rubbing salt in the wound. As soon as he spots her setup there, he's got to investigate in the most straightforward way possible. "You gonna eat all that?"

[fusshionable]

Porrim blinks, rearing her head back slightly at the forwardness of this newcomer. "Ah, no--" The escort clears her throat, gesturing to the spread in front of her. "Please, help yourself."

She tilts her head, then, feeling a bit sheepish. Perhaps she's not been paying as much attention as she thought. It's hard, with newcomers coming in all the time.

"I'm sorry, dear, are you--one of mine?"

[infinitemayonnaise]

"Alright!" Nitou lights up at the permission to partake of free food. "Thanks!" He whips out a squirt bottle full of mayonnaise, spins it around in the manner of a gunslinger twirling a pistol, and wastes no time in squirting an enormous quantity of mayonnaise onto one of those sandwiches.

He then stuffs part of that sandwich into his mouth before blinking at her curiously and answering her question around said mouthful. "One of yours? What do you mean?"

[fusshionable]

Porrim blinks, watching him pile mayonnaise onto his sandwich. Her stomach turns, but she doesn't let on--aside from a slight incredulity in her expression. How...charming.

"Mm, one of my Tributes," she clarifies, when his question finally reaches her ears. "District Five, that is. I'm normally more well-informed, but it can be so hard when there are so many of you coming in all the time..."

[celebrityskinned]

Occasionally, Porrim and Venus find themselves sharing the lounge together in silence, Porrim sipping her tea and Venus leafing through those magazines filled with polls on who wore it best and what the color of the season is. As much as Venus feels permanently stripped of her beauty with the horrible brand across her face, she can't help but continue playing the part of a fashion-conscious woman. She can never quite tell if it seems like an outright mockery when she dresses herself in flawless makeup and towering heels or if it dampens the shock of her mutilated face. She suspects the former and hopes for the latter.

She lies on her back, dogearing the occasional page, then sets the magazine down and closes her eyes. She usually naps around this time, but this time rest seems to elude her. She feels as if her fingertips are full of little tectonic quakes, as if the fluid in her inner ears is unsettled. So eventually she sits back up and leans against the back of the couch, dark eyes on Porrim.

"So. How's your day going?"

[fusshionable]

For her part, Porrim is just fine with companionable silence. Venus is at least amiable, and she's never been one to find discomfort in a lack of conversation. Between the general hum of talk and activity beyond the walls of the room, people passing through at intervals on their way in or out, and the sounds of pages being flipped and teacups being clinked, it's never truly dead silent anyway, and that suits her just fine. She's nibbling on a cucumber sandwich when Venus seems to tire of reading, and at the inquiry she sets it down on her plate and shifts in her seat, giving her Tribute a smile.

"Well enough, I suppose. No explosions or property damage thus far, so I really can't complain. Yours?"

[celebrityskinned]

"Eh. Lazy."

Bar the four hours she spent this morning at the gym, on the mats and on the balance beam and with a punching bag. Her hair's still wet at the roots from the shower she had afterwards.

Lazy isn't good for Venus. When she's active, she can distract herself from the hole in her heart that seems to take up her entire chest, that drills its way through her back and through her bed and through the core of the Earth when she stops to think about the fact that Ellie's gone. When that girl runs through her mind like a flash, ponytail jerking in the wind.

But lazy's what it is, today.

"How are you liking District Five so far?"

[fusshionable]

Porrim smirks. It's her business to know her Tributes' business; she knows that 'lazy' isn't quite an apt term for Venus's day, but she won't protest. Their definitions are clearly quite different.

"Well, yogurt incidents aside, I have to say it's not as bad as everyone made it out to be." Sure, her charges aren't the most stable, and she's done her share of mediating, but overall she's managed to keep a firm grasp on both her sanity and the well-being of her Tributes.

Porrim takes up the teapot in front of her and pours herself a third cup of tea, adding two sugar cubes and a healthy pour of cream and stirring daintily. "Can I interest you in a cup?"

[sizeofyourbaggage]

Sam's coming back from working out in the Training Center, dressed in shorts and a pretty tight tee-shirt with a towel draped around his shoulders, when he spots her. His work outs are pretty serious business, and it probably shows considering his shirt is a little sweat-stained, but he heads over to greet her anyway.

It'd be rude, to pass by her without so much as a smile, especially after telling her how much he was looking forward to them meeting in person.

"Oh, I knew I should have cleaned up a little nicer before coming back."

[fusshionable]

At the sound of someone entering the lounge area, Porrim glances up from her writing, trying and failing to hide the smirk that rises unbidden to her face at the sight of Sam.

"Well hey there, stranger," she greets him, setting down her pen. "Nice to finally meet you in the flesh." She doesn't seem to be deterred by his post-workout sweatiness; she's seen Tributes in far worse shape, after all. And, well, she can't resist a man in a tight shirt.

[sizeofyourbaggage]

His grin grows a little when he sees her smirking. Looks like she might be up for a little bit more of the way their last conversation'd gone, which definitely puts him in a good mood.

"Right back at you," he replies, leaning his hip against one of the chairs, but not quite sitting down yet. "You good if I grab a post-workout cup of tea?"

[fusshionable]

Sitting back in her chair, Porrim adjusts her posture; less prim and ladylike, more relaxed and open. After all, openness is important when dealing with one's charges, attractive or no.

"Didn't peg you for the tea-drinking type," she counters, "but please, be my guest." She reaches for an empty cup from the tray, flipping it upright and pouring it full. "Cream? Sugar?" She cocks an eyebrow. "Rum?"

[burnedbrighter]

Azula breezes into the suite like a warm wind on a spring day. She's beaming with pride and cuts a fierce figure in her slick crimson suit.

"Where is our Initiate? We've made some fresh new assets for him." She called and settled her eyes on Porrim.

"Oh, it's still surprising to see a member of the tributes staff actually working out in the open. I sometimes worry they've all been scared into the shadows like our Avox."

It's a loose greeting but she offers a nod of respect all the same.

"Have they been co-operating?"

[fusshionable]

Porrim glances up out of the corner of her eye as Azula breezes in, the corner of her mouth lifting into a black-lipsticked smirk. "In his room, if I'm not mistaken. Unless Terezi has dragged him out somewhere." It's a distinct possibility, after all.

At Azula's observation, she lifts her shoulders in a little shrug. "I try to make myself accessible. After all, I'm no good to anybody if I'm hidden away." A pause, as she considers the question. "Well enough, I suppose. No fights have broken out this morning, as far as I'm aware."

[burnedbrighter]

"Well thank goodness for small miracles."

She decides instead of going directly to the Initiate to stop at the Kitchenette and let the attending Avox pour her a drink. Sipping her juice and liquor laced beverage she sighs happily. In reality District Five's reputation is almost overblown these days. Most of the tributes have learned to either co-exist or completely ignore one another.

It's just the rest of the world they can't seem to get along with.

But trouble makers aside Azula is pleased with the independence her tributes have. What had once been a thorn in her side had become one of her greatest benefits in the sense that she could count on them to act in their best interests...most of the time.

"Well while you're here I'd love to hear some of your thoughts about the tributes. Surely you've observed them enough to have some opinions or ideas of what we can do for their public image?"

[fusshionable]

Porrim sighs lightly, nibbling the corner off one of her sandwiches. "I heard that," she agrees. Really, it's been far calmer around here than she expected--since the yogurt incident, anyway, and even that wasn't so terrible once the mess was cleaned up.

Azula brings up the whole public image issue, however, and Porrim perks up, because it just so happens she's been pondering that very issue. "I do have some ideas, actually," she says matter-of-factly. Flipping a few pages in her notebook, she goes on. "I was thinking we could gently nudge our lovely tributes toward a redemption arc of sorts. You know, they're not bad, they're just drawn that way, that sort of thing."

[carnagecarnival]

Far be it from him to admit it, but he's been sulking a bit (a lot) since he got signed up for the alteration of his speech. Porrim, of all people, seems the least likely to have meant it out all of anything malicious, which is why he doesn't direct no anger at her. But like a child, he mopes and lurks about the corners, avoiding direct contact.

Not to mention that, truth was, Porrim reminded him all too much of the Dolorosa, Signless's charge. He isn't sure if he'd have noticed it if he hadn't known the names of their fated twelve, but still he finds himself expecting her to rise up with a day glow and bared fanged, a rainbowdrinker what's been lacking the rainbow.

But even in being made smaller in these little ways, the allure of lain out food is difficult to ignore. Maybe he can just... sneak a pastry... without her notice...

[fusshionable]

To her credit, Porrim pretends quite expertly not to notice the skulking troll. Discretion is a special skill of hers. She's got her chin cradled in one palm, her bare arm snaked with tattoos all in black, tapping her pen against paper thoughtfully. She doesn't even look up when Initiate goes to snag a morsel from the table. Still looking down at her page, she murmurs, "Help yourself, dear."

After all, that's why it's there. She's certainly not going to eat it all herself.

[carnagecarnival]

He flinches. Dammit. Caught.

He takes a second or two to sulk some more, before deciding, fuck it, and taking one to settle up in one of the District 5 lounge chairs. He chews on it silent enough that her tapping becomes the loudest thing in room, making his ears twitch with each go of it.

Finally, he looks up at her. "SOME--" He cuts off, face contorting as he tries on managing the fluctuations. "SSSssome kind ART." fuck. "Some kinda art you going the fuck at there?"

[fusshionable]

Porrim makes no mention of his efforts toward normal speech, only cocks her eyebrow slightly, and when Initiate finally gets the question out, she sets down her pen and looks up at him fully for the first time.

"Art? Mm, not quite. Mostly just making a few notes for how I want you all presented for the next Arena." She smiles blithely at the troll. "My kind of art takes place on the body. Hair, makeup, clothes..." She tilts her elbow toward him. "Ink."