thecapitol | (no subject)

WHO| Anyone in the Capitol. Mentors, dead tributes, and the new future tributes (if you like)
WHAT| Game viewing party
WHEN| Ongoing, as long as the weather holds and the Game's don't end
WHERE| The roof of the mentor's headquarters
WARNING/NOTES| none right now.

The roof lavishly decorated, dripping with flowers, brilliantly colored blown glass bubbles and fountains that cascaded down into a small wading pool that ringed the roof. Cabana's were dotted here and there, surrounded by flowing curtains for privacy, and lounges covered with large, ornate pillows made sure there was plenty of places to sit.

Along one edge was a buffet covered with delicacies, all finger foods geared toward the warm weather. Rare fruits chilled on ice, delicate sheets of raw fish curled up on tiny piece of bread, chilled dips and many more. Iced, fruity drinks flowed freely, with a handful of Avoxs around for any needs the guest may have.

TV's were everywhere, and a guarded door lead back into the mentor's headquarter's, in case they needed to slip back in to help their tributes. If they have any left.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Derek hadn’t planned on accepting the ‘invitation’ to the so-called ‘party’. It was sick, really, to be celebrating this competition of survival based on murder. But then he’d realized that this might be an opportunity he couldn’t afford to miss if he had any hope of winning once he got in there.

So, he’d gone up to the rooftop, but couldn’t bring himself to watch the slaughter. He’d instead spent his time profiling the assortment of people joining in the celebration and sampling the variety of delicacies laid out – he’d been hesitant to eat them at first until he realized that there would be no point in poisoning him before he’d had a chance to play the Game.

In a quick glance past the screen, on his way to looking at something else, he caught sight of a raven-black ponytail bobbing
in an all too familiar way. He did a quick double take and felt his heart drop.

“Emily,” he whispered.

But he quickly steeled himself – he couldn’t let these people know that she meant something to him or bad things would happen to her. He did his best to play it off as if nothing had happened and hoped no one noticed his reaction.

Sequestered in a corner of the rooftop, her plate piled high with sweets from the dessert table, Momoko could definitely see why the Capitol Citizens were so hesitant to rock the boat. This was a hedonistic way of life that even the people of Rococo would find a little overindulgent.

She was just the littlest bit in love.

But of course, for herself at least, this pleasure was fleeting. Momoko was here to watch the Games and, more importantly, her fellow viewers. Sponsors were an important tactic in the Games--or so her mentor had emphasized, making Momoko suspect nobody believed she had a chance in hell otherwise--and this was a good chance to see what people found appealing in Tributes.

Or unappealing, Momoko thought, noticing one older man who caught sight of a screen and flinched. The first of that sort of reaction Momoko had seen so far, though the screen itself didn't seem to be showing anything different than the rest of the Games.

That’s when he saw it – that boy...that bastard, shank in hand, plunging the stick straight through her gut. He almost felt it, the air knocked from his lungs. Déjà vu.

“Emily!”

He wasn’t even aware of the words leaving his mouth, hearing them in a detached, out of body sort of way. As he came back to himself, he became aware that he had slammed his fist down in a plateful of food. He could feel the stares of the other party-goers on his back. But he didn’t care.

He’d just watched his best friend die. Again. And there was nothing he could do about it. That kid would pay, he vowed. Just like he’d made Ian Doyle pay.

That was the first kill Momoko had seen so far and she found herself as unaffected as when she was a child watching violent nature documentaries. Perhaps it would be different if she had any idea who these people were (but probably not).

Truthfully the outburst of the flinching man had disturbed her more than the kill onscreen, startling her into knocking over her sugary drink, which she didn't notice until she felt the cold wetness seeping through to her skin. She shrieked, springing up from her seat. For a moment she stared in horror at her skirt, then she scowled, looked back up, and threw her plate in the general direction of the man at fault.

Perhaps a bit of an overreaction--it's not like it was her own Baby brand clothes after all--but it had been a very stressful day for Momoko, okay? After everything she'd been through in the past day or so it had been just such a relief to get out of her ruined dress and into something comfortingly lacy and clean.

So much for clean.

Derek was so focused on what was happening in the Games that he did not notice anything else happening around him until the plate shattered and sliced his feet.

However the physical pain was nothing compared to the mental anguish he felt as he watched his best friend - his Emily - die again.

He watched her eyes fluttered, beads of sweat sliding off her forehead and her hands covered in her own blood. It all came rushing back to him. History has repeated itself and once again, he could not save his friend.

Momoko wasn't sure what to focus on: her shock that she--fragile, unathletic Momoko--had actually made a throw that sort of hit it's target, her slight (very slight) guilt at hurting someone accidentally, or the outrage at her offense at being ignored.

She settled on outrage.

"Hey!" She stomped over, carefully avoiding the sharp shards of the plate that were already being swept away by the delightfully silent servants. "Hey," she said again once she'd reached the man. "You should apologize!"

Honestly, she didn't care that much about the dress. Again, it wasn't Baby, but not only was she angry at her whole situation and perfectly willing to unleash her stress on someone, it had occurred to her at some point that appearing tough and unwilling to back was a trait that sponsors would appreciate. Might as well start the performance now.

'Apologize?' Derek thought. He had apologize several thousands times for the past seven months. He had come to realize that out there in the field sorry doesn't bring people back.

In his trance, he managed to move his feet; maneuvering through the crowd and away from party. He desperately wanted to get rid of the image of Emily lying there in the wilderness, covered in blood and gasping for air.

"Emily..."

"Hey--hey! Don't just walk away from me!" Impatiently shoving away a servant trying to dab at the stain on her dress Momoko strode after him. "You can't just ignore me." Too late she noticed they were moving away from the other people. She frowned. She'd been counting on the presence of others to keep things from getting out of hand. Now she found herself alone with a strange man who said nothing except a name.

"Emily?" Momoko repeated. "That woman who was just stabbed?" Had he known her somehow? Weren't they all supposed to be pulled from different places? Or maybe he was a Citizen who had really liked that tribute. Fanboys could be strange like that.

He turned on his heel and stood his ground, finally unable to ignore the girl any longer. He leaned in close and said dangerously, "I'd really appreciate it if you could give me the courtesy of leaving me in peace with my grief!"

Momoko cast a nervous glance back towards the party but stood her ground. If nothing else, she could certainly scream loud enough when necessary. "What do you mean grief?" she snapped back. "So she died--that's the Game, isn't it? We fight, we die, that's the whole point. Grief does nothing but waste time."

"I said, leave me alone," Derek growled and then pushed her aside.

Momoko stumbled when he pushed her, so angry she nearly lost her balance entirely. Once stabilized she turned on him, scowling. She wanted badly at this point to stomp off with some shreds of her dignity intact, but couldn't leave him with the last word. "It's ridiculous," she sneered. "Grief is always a waste of time and effort, but to grieve over someone who's just going to come back in a few days anyway? Pointless!"

She whirled around and started moving back to the main part of the party. Next time she tried to intimidate someone it would have to one who wasn't so stupid.