People In Glass Houses...

[neclectus]

Who | Timaeus Nadir and guests
What | Timaeus is hosting a picnic get-together/catch-up.
Where | The picnic will be taking place in the Tropical Habitat Dome.
When| We'll be using a bit of wibbly time so that people who want to attend can.
Warnings/Notes| None as of yet.

(This is an opportunity for me to make some new CR as well as catch up with ongoing relationships, but I also want to encourage tagging around between characters! Feel free to do whatever you like in the setting with whoever you like! Also I will be backtagging this so don't feel you've missed the boat if you haven't tagged in immediately <3)

Timaeus certainly knew how to organise a gathering- even if it wasn't an outrageously opulent celebration to be held on one of his own yachts. This one was to be held under the expansive dome of the Tropical Habitat- the entire location rented out for the day to Timaeus and his guests, a loosely private affair- formal invitations as such hadn't been extended, but those welcome knew they were. Naturally, all tributes and victors were included in this group.

The Dome was a beautiful piece of architecture in itself, though antiquated when compared with the technology used for the Arenas. Rather than invisible forcefields, the climate of the interior was separated from the outside by elaborately curving steel and glass. Inside, tropical plants of all types thrived- there was a still, green pond and, deeper inside, a cascading waterfall. Butterflies in hundreds of colours, sizes and shapes flitted about, tropical birds swooped between the trees, brightly coloured fish darted in the water.
Blankets and cushions had been scattered in the main clearing with hampers of food, but there was plenty of space for the guests to break away from the gathering if they so desired- the dome was full of winding paths through the greenery- some even climbing around the trunks of the largest trees and leading to viewing platforms above. In a temporary gazebo in the clearing, a string quartet played music that wasn't quite the classical pieces Tributes were familiar with. 

Timaeus himself seemed in a brighter mood than he had been for months, more than happy to make conversation with anyone who approached him- though he was certainly keeping an eye open for particular individuals. Some that he'd met, some that he'd lost and had returned to him, and others still that he had yet to meet.

Comments

[retrieverchef]

Eliot had to admit the Dome was a perfect place for the party. It wasn't his scene but it wasn't as forced or over the top as some of the parties he'd been to in the last year. He sat under a tree, watching the waterfall.

[neclectus]

"Ah- Eliot, isn't it?" he offered in greeting, making his way over with a broad, welcoming smile on his face. "Forgive me for intruding- if you'd rather simply soak in the atmosphere, do let me know."

[acroodawakening]

His escort had made it sound like he had to go and he still wasn't quite sure what he could get away with saying no to. He didn't know if refusing to do certain things might lead to him getting punished.

One thing was for sure, his stylist sure liked to punish him. Apparently, it had been decided that he wasn't allowed pants or a shirt for some reason, which made no sense given that he was used to far more tropical climes and the Capitol dipped down to temperatures Guy had never even experienced before. Luckily, even though it seemed his life was going to spent in a never-ending series of loincloths from now own, the furry boots went up to his knees and he'd bargained for some leg wraps that went a little higher, tied to his legs with leather strips. Between that and the furry cloakish thing, he'd managed to not freeze to death on the way to the party. Barely.

And the moment he got there, he stopped freezing altogether. It was warm and comfortable. Nice and humid.

Actually, it was more than that. The dome was home. It was as if just a tiny little bit of Guy's world had been transplanted to another universe worls away. Everything would've fit in perfectly back home, from the plants to the fish to the butterflies, and the sight of it brought such a profound and powerful wave of homesickness that he felt tears welling up in his eyes. The arena had been a little too green to provoke this reaction but this had just enough touches of color to reach deep into his chest with a crooked finger and pluck a chord that reverberated through the rest of his body and made his knees feel weak.

He felt as if there was a hole in his heart that was empty and filled at the same time, and for a little while after he arrived all he could do was look around and take it in, arms wrapped tightly around himself.

He was so absorbed in it, in fact, that he almost bumped into Timaeus without seeing him.

[neclectus]

One of Timaeus's favourite things about throwing parties was the opportunity to bask in the gratitude and pleasure of his guests- and at a pinch, bare-faced awe would do just as well. While the little wild boy was a little too overwhelmed to take much notice of him, Timaeus had certainly noticed the tears at the corners of his eyes. Undoubtedly, the young man was overcome by the beauty of the Dome.

"My apologies," he chuckled as he twisted just enough out of the way not to be jostled. "It seems you didn't see me there. One of the new crowd, aren't you? So glad you could make it. Timaeus Nadir, at your service- and you are..."

[tis_allgood]

Cuthbert is far too taken with the waterfall to look at anything else for a while. He's never seen anything quite like it and it's safe to say that if he wasn't there to make nice with Timaeus he would have stripped down and gone swimming with all the lovely fish by now.

He will have to settle for crouching at the edge and talking to the fish as they flit past.

"I think perhaps you have the safest life of all, here on display. Not having to kill one another to eat."

[neclectus]

Timaeus chuckled warmly as he approached, an amicable smile spreading over his face. Cuthbert was, in his opinion, quite the sweet young man. He was glad to see him enjoying himself.
"Magnificent, isn't it?" he said, gesturing to their surroundings. "I thought it might be rather nice to spend a day soaking some warmth into our bodies, and I can't think of anywhere better for the purpose. It's good to see you, my friend."

[alldeduction]

Sherlock generally hated parties, as a rule, but he was careful when it came to Timaeus. The man was one of the few solid sponsors he could rely on not to be fickle, and that could mean life or death in the arena. He was never very good a schmoozing, and it rankled, but somehow he had managed to keep it up this far.

He wasn't about to let it slip now.

So he attended, though he insisted his stylist put him in something muted, and mostly kept to himself though he did take the opportunity to get a good look at any of the newer tributes.

And find Timaeus, of course.

[neclectus]

Delighted to see Sherlock, he made his way over as soon as he recognised him and grasped his arm companionably.

"Sherlock! My friend. Wonderful to see you- I'm sorry I wasn't able to arrange our little catch-up... it's been so busy, with the Games wrapping up. I'm sure you understand."

[orestes]

There was little doubt in Enjolras' mind that some philosopher somewhere, at some time, had considered that perhaps living was worse than actually dying. Perhaps the circumstances weren't the same at all. In fact, he doubted very much they would be. Perhaps more so it was less a philosophical thought, than a matter of malaise; a terrible, seemingly endless melancholia from which he could not hope to recover. Whatever the case, it left him in a bad humor as he milled through the garden with its winding paths.

More focal seats were available from which to watch the spectacle, of course, particularly to him, but the paths offered an escape, a blessed moment of privacy between the petty, useless chatter he'd now fallen prey to. Nothing was ever truly private here, but at least he could pretend and make the momentary quiet a reasonable substitute.

Unconsciously, he ran a hand over this face, rubbing agitatedly at his eyes. It was no longer the physical fatigue of the Arena, but rather the mental stress weighing down upon him. Perhaps he could hide for the remainder of the party, it seemed lively enough without him. Perhaps they wouldn't notice.

[neclectus]

Unfortunately for Enjolras, Timaeus was informed of his arrival- and as soon as he could politely peel away from the main group he did so, tracking the newest Victor down. Enjolras had been an unlikely victor, and those were usually Timaeus's favourite kind- an upset in the statistics, an underdog, an accident- and always a story.

Finally, he caught sight of him, wandering the winding paths of the domed habitat. He cleared his throat.

"Congratulations are in order," he offered amicably. "It's good to see you up and about, my friend, though I rather suspected you'd try to keep out of the public eye for a while. I do hope I'm not intruding?"

[asklepian]

He'd been torn apart and put back together again--he could recall, with his accursed perfect memory, the feeling of claws in his gut and teeth in his shoulder, but neither bore any mark at all. Apparently, this was cause for celebration, if you asked the person who'd introduced themselves as his 'escort' and 'stylist' and done all sorts of awkward things to him while he was still trying to process the fact that he'd died, thank you very much. But no, that had been very much glossed over and dressed up along with the rest of him before he was pushed off to this party insisting that it was being thrown by someone he absolutely had to meet.

Julian didn't particularly want to meet anyone. There had been some promising pieces of technology back in his room, and while he wasn't any kind of engineer, he'd much rather be spending his time trying (fruitlessly) to contact his crew than rubbing elbows with the elite of this God-forsaken place. Yet, here he was, and by God, he'd better put a happy face on it.

Or so he was told, anyway. Luckily, he was rather skilled at dissembling, and the party's setting was beautiful enough to distract from the ugly reality. For now, Julian wandered around the waterfall, charcoal woolen jacket draped over one arm, the paired dark and light vests underneath fully visible, the sapphire silk tie and contrasting cuffs on his white collared shirt the only color on him. Two golden pips, his rank insignia, were at his throat, worn on the customary right side.

[neclectus]

He'd looked forward to this for some time- since he'd first seen Julian arrive in the arena, actually, and simply stared at him for a good ten minutes- but nothing quite prepared him for seeing the man in the flesh. It was like looking in a mirror that actually showed the face he felt like he still had. Young, handsome, inquisitive... perfect. He straightened himself up, followed him until he was close enough, and cleared his throat to catch the younger man's attention.

"Julian?" he called out, offering a smile. "That is your name, isn't it?"

[hit_girl_mindy]

There was no reason for her to be in a place like this.

Really, be real. Whatever money she and her father obtained went to their gadgets and living in their apartment away from prying eyes. Mindy would have never been in a place like this. Her home were the streets, jumping buildings, staying in the shadows. In a weird way, both the Capitol and the arena had been perfect for this. Anonymity was a choice, and blending in was easy. But here? It was peaceful, even bright, and you were bound to be noticed.

What was just as well, because it was apparently what her stylists had in mind. Rather than stay appalled by Mindy's insistence that she train every day, they thought this the perfect start of some kind of resume, to show that Mindy had what it took to get far as a tribute. But there was a time to be "Mindy the thug" as they put it and there was a time to get out and get sponsors. So once her time in training was done, THEIRS began. Mindy, wanting to kill everyone, applied logic and relented, hence her appearing in the dome in this fashion. She didn't want a dress, so they obliged and settled for the "cute" look instead. Mindy had been freezing, but here now, that was not the case. Still, this place made her wary, feeling so exposed, so she looked to and fro for the host.

[neclectus]

Timaeus spotted Mindy as he was casting a careful eye over the gathering, doing his level best to make sure everyone felt welcomed and included- it was, after all, his job as host. As their eyes met he offered her a friendly smile and made his way over.

"Ah. I don't believe we've met, though I've seen enough of you in action that it already feels like we know each other in some small measure," he said brightly, offering a hand for her to shake. "Timaeus Nadir. It's a pleasure."

[splendid_roman]

Ian wouldn't usually be one for this sort of party, but he'd been told that it was 'encouraged' and he was curious about the dome. So much so that he'd grabbed a sandwich, which he occasionally took bites out of, and was busy poking at the steel and glass at the edge of the dome.

[neclectus]

"Marvelous, isn't it?" Timaeus said, interrupting Ian's inspection with a warm, welcoming smile. "Quite a work of genius. I don't believe we've met?"

[savedbyasong]

Shion had long stopped fighting his stylists and escorts about anything. There were bigger fights to fight and he had opted to save his energy.

So his hair was a dark green colour, with strands of silver and gold running through it. His clothing was quite simple today though, at least simple for the capitol; dark trousers and a woolen cardigen which would have been more useful if it had had buttons. As it was it was open against his bare chest and his escort kept batting his hands away from trying to pull it across himself.

All annoyance at his clothes vanished though the moment they entered the dome. Shion's mouth dropped open at the shear amounts of plants, the waterfall. He was now used to plants and forests from the arenas, but to see it here. In a place where everything wasn't going to try and kill him.

He stood on one of the platforms watching the butterflies with a smile on his face. There were species that even he didn't know the names of, either never having existed in his world or lost even to scholars.

[neclectus]

"Exquisite, aren't they?" Timaeus interrupted, joining Shion in his contemplations. "I adore butterflies. Flying jewels, really, and yet so delicate... it's a beautiful contradiction. How are you finding the party?"

[the_marshal]

Nothing had changed... and yet, everything had changed. He had died again, one of his bloodiest yet, and another arena was now on his horizon - another turn of the wheel of starvation and pain - and yet, somehow, the days were brighter, warmer.

Wyatt felt like a fool, catching himself smiling at nothing, whistling long forgotten tunes to no one. He knew better, was far too old be struck dumb in love. (It was dangerous. This place was not one for happiness, not for the likes of him. They'd take it from him, if they got half a chance.

He knew that too.)

But there he was, standing in a garden surrounded by soft, fluttering butterflies, warmed not by the sun but from within - those coals, still smoldering away in his chest. Happy.

Against all odds.

[onlyimmune]

"Well, you look ridiculously happy," A voice came from next to him, where Ellie had just stationed herself when she saw him from across the room. She'd only just been revived the day before and she still felt shaken, but she was doing her best to put on a brave face.

It wasn't Wyatt's fault that every time she looked at him all she could see were dinosaurs jumping on his chest.

"Somehow I'm guessing that it isn't about the party," She added, a little sarcastically, but the tone fell a little flat. Her heart wasn't quite in it.

[formersurgeon]

There were many reasons why going to this party was a good reason. Timaeus was a powerful and attentive sponsor; attracting his attention could result in an increase in resources for her and her friends. Establishing and strengthening friendship with other Tributes could help in both the Arena and the Capitol. And getting out and doing things was the best way to keep any possible despair at bay.

Joan was dressed in a soft gray dress. (It must have been her stylist's eighth choice, after the first seven elicited a "Ha...no.") If she had her way, she wouldn't be wearing a floor length dress, but that was the style apparently, and at least this one wasn't ridiculously poofy. She looked around the place, and couldn't help a smile. It really was beautiful. The Capitol's hedonism apparently had the occasional upside.

[neclectus]

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he murmured, interrupting her thoughts without so much as a cleared throat to indicate his presence first.
"My apologies- I'm not sure we've been introduced. Timaeus Nadir- and you are Dr. Joan Watson, if I'm not very much mistaken. Are you enjoying the party?"

[amplifying]

Why was he here...?

Number one- he felt. Awful. The infection that killed him in the first place felt like it never left him. He was achy and felt cold...feelings that made being a User not so fun.

And there was the fact that the last party he went to wasn't that pleasant.

But here he was! Dressed in a black that made the circuits on his skin glow.

[pythianjudgment]

After a week spent sulking in her room, Terezi is a little more than stir crazy. Some time outside would do her some good, but she doesn't really want to wander the streets with nothing to do. When news of Timaeus's party reaches her ears, her stylist only needs to apply a little encouragement to get Terezi to agree to go.

The downside is waiting patiently to be dressed up. When she's finally decked out in a long teal shirt, leggings, and a necklace that is way too gaudy for her tastes, she's given permission to leave for the picnic. She's a little skeptical of her stylist's idea of casual, but whatever. At least she got to keep her glasses this time.

When she arrives at the party, Terezi is suddenly more than glad that she came. This place smells divine. There's so many colors, so many scents... And the forest-esque feel of the dome's scenery doesn't do anything for the pang of nostalgia in her chest. Yes, she likes this.

She doesn't want to seem rude, though. She lingers at the main party site for a little while, talking to anyone who approaches her and partaking of the food. But after a while, she heads off into the foliage to explore to her heart's content. She feels more at home here than she has since being brought to the Capitol in the first place. She sure hopes her stylist doesn't mind if she ventures off the path a few times.

[Feel free to engage Rezi either at the picnic location proper or rummaging around in the flora, whichever you like.]

later in the foliiaaage

[carnagecarnival]

He's made no attempts to linger near where others are. He isn't in the mood for people and even if he was, he's not sure who else he might run into here. Who might want to throw their queries at him for whatever new grievance he's caused.

That, and he's never seen any place quite like this before. It's beautiful here. A miracle for sure. He pours over this thing and that, all in brilliant colors. There's much to see. And for some strange reason, he feels nostalgic too, and he's not sure for what, only that it reminds of some thing or other.

He strays far from the path, risking being lost for the idea of not being found. He keeps going further and further. He's... smiling. Here where no one can see.

Too bad she doesn't need to. He goes still when he spots her.

He should've known. He should've realised she'd be here. This was her place. The nostalgia was for her.

He stands there with his braided hair and scar exposing shirt. He feels like a motherfucking idiot.

[mediumdrip]

Blaine had kept to himself when he entered. For a while, he just enjoyed the scenery around him. Eventually, though, he had to pull away from all of that to interact with other guests, and Timaeus, of course.

[carnagecarnival]

Go, they'd insisted. They yammered on about building an image of more than just a killer and this and that and he'd tuned it out with an eyeroll after the first few words. Whatever they thought he could or couldn't be, they were going to be in for a damn surprise when they realised he was only ever gonna be his own motherfucking self. And further, that was how he'd managed to survive as he had.

The scars that run all over him in faded gashes and marks are left exposed through the sheer of the top they put him in. If it weren't that he found pride in them, in the fact he still took to victory in each strife, this probably would've been a lot more uncomfortable than it was made when they commented it showed his "vulnerability". It made him want to retch. And then with jewellery forced on him too; at least it appeared reminiscent of bone-- to match the skeletons on his pants-- rather than any seadweller-esque travesties. His hair has been braided back and not with ease on the stylist's parts.

Truth told, he'd been more foul than he'd been with them for a little while, ruining the relief his stylists surely had. Any excuse not to go had been one he'd tried to take, petulant and ill-tempered.

But his sour mood lifts a little when he actually gets there. He wanders around wide-eyed with awe. There's color everywhere, bright and vibrant. There's the waterfall, the music, the insects fluttering about. It's motherfucking beautiful it all is, he thinks, and he finds himself muttering his awe as he explores, with occasional Messianic praise. Even being tall as he is, as much the dangerous creature as before, he looks too, like a child now.

[andproper]

Prim thinks it looks beautiful, too. She likes it a lot. She stares all about, barely noticing anyone for a little while. Until... Oh. Hello. Person. Person she knows. Hello. She doesn't wave at him, or anything, but she doesn't quite duck out of the way either. For a moment, she actually feels a little frozen - surrounded by beauty and decadence... then presented with pain and suffering in a neat little scary package. The fact that she isn't sure whether she likes him is another worrisome point she'll address later.

For now. "Hello...." she says, eventually, standing there in her pretty yellow dress.

[polyturtle]

Don hadn't wanted to come. He never did. But of course, his Escorts insisted. Mr. Nadir is a very important man! They argued. And important men do good with gifts.

So he went. Surrounded by admirers once more, who cooed over how character arc. Who asked him how he was doing and what he was "planning" for the next Arena. Would he go for angst? Redemption? Rage?

He'd known most of these people had been insane. He simply shook his head. It only made them squeal in anticipation.

It was some time before he finally got away from the din, and found himself near one of the streams which had permeated from the waterfall. Fish lazily swam, while a flamingo passed by, staring at him curiously.

He finally let out the sigh he'd been holding in. Shell, did he just not want to be here. It was getting a bit more difficult to reign in those feelings as time went by.

Since I opted to go with Orc for Guydeath I'll toss Guy here!

[acroodawakening]

Someone else had the same idea and he came stumbling through the underbrush from the other direction. As soon as he was clear of the party, he let out a little sigh too, still looking back over his shoulder at it, though his was more one of relief at escaping.

Then he turned to look forward and when he saw how very green the person that was standing there was, his jaw dropped.

Guy hadn't really seen many unusual looking people in the Arena. A few, yes, but not many, and even the garishly dressed and augmented people of the Capitol still looked mostly human.

"Uh."

Turtle. Turtle man. There was a turtle man. A man turtle. (A murtle?)

Then, rather than fear clouding this little discovery, wonder did instead. What an amazing universe they lived in, that somewhere out there there were people that were part-turtle living their turtle lives. What other wonderful things could be in it then? What other peoples? Donatello was like the strange and beautiful things and people he sometimes dreamed about and painted on cave walls with Eep and Grug the times his family used caves to take shelter from the rain.

So, instead of being scared or shocked or disgusted, Guy smiled a crooked smile, and blurted out a delighted, "You're a turtle person!"

What else could he say? It was exciting.

Then he realized that might be rude.

"Not that there's anything wrong with being a turtle person and I'm sure there's more to you than just being a turtle person but I like knowing things exist. Seeing someone like you makes me think about how big the universe is to have all kinds of people in it and I'm rambling right now, sorry, sorry for the rambling. What's your name?"

[misscabernet]

Julie had the distinct feeling that most tributes, if not all of them, wanted some spare time to stew in their latest deaths rather than go to a party. Which. She was starting to suspect the Capital never really stopped having. Guess life was a party when you were at the top of the food chain.

She would've killed -- hah -- for a break. Her escort was starting to get on her case about hanging around like she was a zombie. Not that Julie could remember her escort using that exact terminology, but her brain supplied it for her. Zombie. By all accounts, she should kind of be one. Eaten by one and all. Hung out with one. Figured the virus or whatever should've jumped into a new and fleshy ship.

Julie needed a little prodding, but she went. Timaeus Nadir was a faintly recognizable name, mostly because she remembered the yacht and her first time seeing real fireworks. And the niggling idea that she might've owed this guy, this Sponsor, for throwing her a little bone a few Arenas ago.

Besides, her stylists were in a frenzy and sometimes, when her guard was down, she went along with it. Girl got tired of jeans and ratted t-shirts after years of it. After years of bleaching blood and ichor off of them until she'd forgotten the original colors. Dresses weren't bad. The Stylists had taste.

Most of the time.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

He hasn't spoken to Julie since Disneyland, and certainly not since the disastrous incident with the bear traps. He told himself for a long time that he was giving her her space, her time to heal, but the truth is always more self-serving that that. He wasn't ready to face her. Now, when he catches the splash of blonde hair and feels his stomach twist, he doubts readiness was ever going to be an option.

He hasn't ignored her. He left little gifts outside her room for her in District 12's Suite, the kind of outdated shit she found so interesting when they raided that gift shop. Timewaster things. A barrel of plastic monkeys, a full chessboard, salt-shakers in the shape of pugs. It's served a better apology, in his opinion, than the mouth that ate her could form.

Starved-tiny again, he's stuck wearing a padded suit that's supposed to make him look healthy and instead makes him look like a yoga mat, in his opinion. There's a splash of gold glitter on his eyebrows and cheekbones, which his stylists have assured helps him to 'look alive'. Apparently, he has a tendency of giving Julie's not-boyfriend a run for his money in the dead-looking department.

He doesn't tap at her shoulder, instead waiting for her to turn around from whatever conversation she's having.

"Julie?"

[marcato]

Aunamee attended the party, but he did not move through the crowds as he usually did. He did not greet people with smiles or handshakes. He did not laugh. He wore dark shades to obscure the bloodshot spiderwebs in his eyes, and he used white gloves to hide his bruised and battered knuckles.

He moved like a shadow. A ghost.

He was looking for someone.

[orestes]

At first Enjolras had written the sight of the other man off as an illusion. His last memories of Aunamee were fragmented and unclear, at once vividly burned into his mind with a shock of adrenaline, and frenetically indistinct. It was, after all, almost natural that he should've started seeing such ghosts.

It's only out of his own desire to avoid actual conversation that he took to pursuing the man who almost bled to death on his lap months ago. Somehow reckoning with that seemed more appealing than casual conversations about the vines tangled in the lattice work above them and the color of their flowers.

"Pardon me," he called, finally in earshot of Aunamee who seemed to be trying to avoid people just as much as he was. "It is good to see you well, my friend."

[gardienne]

She hadn't wanted to go, but she'd been told to go, so she went.

Before the stylists let Eponine go, they insisted on trying to wrench a brush through her matted, greasy hair; there were still teeth bits stuck in it. They had succeeded in dressing her though; still looking a bit drab compared to the usual Capitol fashions, she was sent in a black polo-neck and a black and grey wool kilt, with black tights and boots. Her only colour was the heavy Capitol cuff that still adorned her wrist.

But, as fed up as she was, she had to admit that the place was beautiful. Timaeus always threw beautiful parties. She hoped the doorhandles were gold again, and easily removable. That would be rather good. In fact, Eponine made a beeline for the furthest door, and set about trying to remove the handle.

[mediumdrip]

"Do you need help with that?" Blaine asked her with a soft voice. He knew that the first and last time they had spoken it had been a pretty stressful situation. He had been stacking up supplies for the Tributes who managed to get back from fighting the aliens, and she had been knocking them over.

Here though, they could start off on the same side. He started by offering to help her. He didn't even care that she was probably trying to steal something. He really didn't care about the Capitol losing a bit of its cold.

[deafscythe]

Justin isn't quite sure if the stylists want to play up the fact that he's a priest, or if they've somehow taken his robes for something culturally unique to his world. Whatever the case may be, they've dressed him in a black cassock, a rochet of very intricate white and silver lacework, and a red velvet mozzetta trimmed with white fur.

It's too fancy, too much, and Justin is fairly sure he wound up looking like he put on a bathrobe, a lacy nightgown, and a girl's winter cape (in that order). They seem to want him looking young and awkward, the exact opposite of the image he's cultivated for the past decade or so of his life. He's supposed to look confident and imposing, not childish.

But he doesn't have a choice in the matter.

So Justin Law leans against a tree and watches the rest of the people mingle.

[onlyimmune]

This place would never cease to be surreal to Ellie. There were more people at this party than she'd seen even crowded in a rations line during a hard winter, and they were all well dressed and they were all happy - or, at least, pretending to be happy.

She felt strangely awkward and very alien, and the shimmering layered dress that her stylists had managed to fight her into only accentuated it. She'd managed to fight for the leggings underneath, at least, as sparkling as they were.

She kept to herself, mostly, but anytime she saw a familiar face she made a beeline right for them.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Thankfully, Howard's in the same mood for clustering around people he already knows. It wasn't even like his last death was that bad, but the more they ask how it felt to sacrifice himself 'the love of his life', the more he wants to swear off parties forever and go live in the woods. When he sees Ellie, he practically sprints to her while excusing himself from the tittering Capitol citizens.

"Hey, shortstuff." He looks worse than the last time she saw him, back after he'd been feasting off the Capitol for several weeks. He's back to starved-skinny, and his long sleeves cover the nutrition patches his Escort has slapped all over his upper arms. "Want to find somewhere we can avoid people getting their cameras out if we so much as fart too loud?"

[dividedgirlofmine]

Susannah ends wheeling herself around in a buttery yellow sundress that represented her stylist's third attempt at an outfit for the party. (The other two, considerably more avant garde suggestions had been rejected for leaving her too immobile if she had to ditch the chair some reason or another.) She has a pair of golden cappies on her stumps--knowing this place, that was probably real gold leaf on the leather--and some floral jewelry at her ears and around her neck. (The wooden ring on the leather thong is a bit incongruous amidst such elegant company, but she'd be damned if she'd let the stylist make her take off her wedding ring.)

It's been a long time since she's been at a party like this, a real society do. Not that there'd been many parties at all on her long road, aside from the night at the Calla pavilion when Roland had danced the Commala or that long ago dinner Auntie Talitha had given them. But still, a society party, a rich man's affair like this... she hadn't been to anything remotely like this since she'd been Odetta.

Maybe that's why she feels a bit more like Odetta Holmes than she has in a long time.

[gluteus]

It had taken him a bit to get here, and the had really only come for one reason, but now that he was here he supposed he should be doing his work and mingling. He'd never been good at mingling, but he reminded himself that most of those here were tributes. Soldiers. Not politicians. (And the ones that were politicians, well, he could practice his best threatening smile.)

He was dressed rather mutely - a good tunic with a wide belt, though his stylist had taken the liberty by covering up his biceps (and the scars on them) with swirls of gold paint. He had complained lowly that he looked like a Briton, but she ignored him.

His prosthetic leg, thanks to the tunic, was in full view , the edges accentuated with lines of gold paint just like on his arms. If it was quiet enough, one could hear the motor in his knee whirr with every step.

Returned, but not whole.

[tis_allgood]

"Hail the returned hero." Cuthbert greeted Maximus with a curt bow. His words weren't meant to sting, but he wasn't concerned if they did anyway. Maximus of all men seemed like the type to be able to take such things in stride.

"Take a seat and I'll find some food for you, if you like."