Effie Trinket (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mannersmatter) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2013-12-14 07:09 pm
mannersmatter) wrote in thecapitol2013-12-14 07:09 pm
Entry tags:
Alchol, alternative to feeling like yourself!
Who| Effie and Open!
What| Stressed Effie is stressed.
Where| A few different locations, see post.
When| A night out.
Warnings/Notes| Alcohol. Also, multiple prompts, pick your poison. One's set in the District 12 suite only open to those from 12 or those who might end up there looking for someone or something.
The Capitol art museum, evening|
It was the third party this week.
Effie, of course, loved to socialize. She really did. But after this game, with a tribute in the arena till the end, and the amount of work she had been doing being pretty much the only person playing escort and mentor?
One party was enough. Two parties were a stretch. Three parties? Well, she needed plenty of help getting her through the night.
With a few cocktails in her, the stress of the last few weeks melted away, and she could be her usual charming and gracious self. Perhaps, in fact, she might be over compensation. Anyone who walked past, who's face even triggered a small flicker of recognition, she greeted enthusiastically. A few tributes had gotten invites, escorts, mentors, and of course her own people.
How strange she felt more comfortable with those she was growing use to at the training center? Must be time for another martini.
The Tribute Center Commons, late at night|
Of course the line between alcohol as a social tool, and being a pathetic drunk were sometimes far too thin.
Maybe it was the mix of stress, hurried meetings, and lack of sleep, but somewhere one drink became one too many. And once she'd had one too many, Effie just...kept going.
Perhaps she was trying to make up for the lack of Haymitch and alcoholic self medication going on in her life.
Even still, she wasn't drinking like him. It was a steady stream of fluffy, warm drinks, now curled up in one of the more snug, intimate corners of the common area, an avox always there to refill things. Luckily Effie was a happy drunk, less lucky, at least for those around her, she was also a chatty drunk. And every time that thought, that she felt more comfortable in here than out there came up?
Well, bottoms up.
12's common room, very late/early morning|
The happy drunk was gone.
She'd fallen asleep in the room provide for when she was "working over time." Fallen asleep being a generous way of saying she'd passed out like a fool. And then woken up several hours later to puke her guts out.
Now she was sitting in the dim room, curled up with a glass of water, staring out over the Capitol. Although she wasn't entirely stripped down for her usual over the top appearance, she was considerably toned down. Her make-up, which after passing out, followed by her violent wake-up was left in ruins anyway, had been scrubbed away. Her hair was twisted up into a large clip of flowers and feathers, but it was her hair, pale blond and barely long enough to stay in the clip. Her party dress had been replace by a softer, ankle length dress, something she'd left her that she could sleep in if needed, and still maintain appearances.
The city, even at this hour, was decently active. It gave Effie something to watch as she stewed in her thought. She'd acted a fool tonight, and knew it. And if that wasn't enough, she still had all those thoughts, of the arenas, of people missing, of missing part of herself, swirling around in her head.
What| Stressed Effie is stressed.
Where| A few different locations, see post.
When| A night out.
Warnings/Notes| Alcohol. Also, multiple prompts, pick your poison. One's set in the District 12 suite only open to those from 12 or those who might end up there looking for someone or something.
The Capitol art museum, evening|
It was the third party this week.
Effie, of course, loved to socialize. She really did. But after this game, with a tribute in the arena till the end, and the amount of work she had been doing being pretty much the only person playing escort and mentor?
One party was enough. Two parties were a stretch. Three parties? Well, she needed plenty of help getting her through the night.
With a few cocktails in her, the stress of the last few weeks melted away, and she could be her usual charming and gracious self. Perhaps, in fact, she might be over compensation. Anyone who walked past, who's face even triggered a small flicker of recognition, she greeted enthusiastically. A few tributes had gotten invites, escorts, mentors, and of course her own people.
How strange she felt more comfortable with those she was growing use to at the training center? Must be time for another martini.
The Tribute Center Commons, late at night|
Of course the line between alcohol as a social tool, and being a pathetic drunk were sometimes far too thin.
Maybe it was the mix of stress, hurried meetings, and lack of sleep, but somewhere one drink became one too many. And once she'd had one too many, Effie just...kept going.
Perhaps she was trying to make up for the lack of Haymitch and alcoholic self medication going on in her life.
Even still, she wasn't drinking like him. It was a steady stream of fluffy, warm drinks, now curled up in one of the more snug, intimate corners of the common area, an avox always there to refill things. Luckily Effie was a happy drunk, less lucky, at least for those around her, she was also a chatty drunk. And every time that thought, that she felt more comfortable in here than out there came up?
Well, bottoms up.
12's common room, very late/early morning|
The happy drunk was gone.
She'd fallen asleep in the room provide for when she was "working over time." Fallen asleep being a generous way of saying she'd passed out like a fool. And then woken up several hours later to puke her guts out.
Now she was sitting in the dim room, curled up with a glass of water, staring out over the Capitol. Although she wasn't entirely stripped down for her usual over the top appearance, she was considerably toned down. Her make-up, which after passing out, followed by her violent wake-up was left in ruins anyway, had been scrubbed away. Her hair was twisted up into a large clip of flowers and feathers, but it was her hair, pale blond and barely long enough to stay in the clip. Her party dress had been replace by a softer, ankle length dress, something she'd left her that she could sleep in if needed, and still maintain appearances.
The city, even at this hour, was decently active. It gave Effie something to watch as she stewed in her thought. She'd acted a fool tonight, and knew it. And if that wasn't enough, she still had all those thoughts, of the arenas, of people missing, of missing part of herself, swirling around in her head.
no subject
"And just what exactly are you celebrating with such gusto this evening?"
no subject
So now was just a lost cause.
"Well, if you must know, I was at a party earlier, and then came how and decided to celebrate this arena being over."
Looking at him, she defiantly sipped at her bright pink cocktail.
no subject
"Not at all something we have to suffer month after month, endlessly and ad nauseum. No, an excellent reason for a party. And then we can start the parties all over again."
no subject
"I was the only one working to keep those in District 12 alive, since they put our Mentors into the arena." She paused, shooting him a look, as if this was, somehow, his fault. "Both of them."
Why was she always dealing with this man when she was not sober? Why?
no subject
"Well. I can't fault you for that," He said, and said it honestly. The fact that the mentors had gone into the arena had surprised even him, and it was more than obvious to him that she wasn't lying. She cared about her district. He wasn't sure that caring made her any better at her job (in fact, was quite convinced of otherwise), but he couldn't blame her for it.
There was something comforting about it, though God only knew he would never admit it to her.
no subject
Wary, she turned the sentence over and over in her, admittedly fuzzy, brain, looking for any hidden barb.
Running a finger over her drink, she though slowly, carefully weighing the next thing she said.
"Thank you. It was...awful." The last part was very quiet. Very not Effie.
no subject
He'd written her off the same way he'd written off his own escort - a Capitol toady through and through, useless as an ally and more likely to give him into the Capitol than sympathize.
But then again, he always underestimated sentiment.
It finally clicked, what John might see in her. (And what Sherlock, himself, might be able to get out of her.)
He hesitated for the briefest of seconds and then dragged a chair towards him, planting himself down across from her.
"Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark," He murmured as if turning the names over in his mouth, testing their sounds. He knew them - of course he knew them, even if they'd never spoken. It was impossible not to know of them, and what they did, if one did any research at all. It made complete sense to him that the Capitol would want to throw them back in the arena - show just how fallible they really were. But he was choosing his words carefully. "Yes, I forgot they were yours."
He really didn't, ever, but feigning ignorance sometimes made him seem more human. That and winking.
no subject
And really, if he was John's...friend she should at least make an attempt. Taking a long drink from the glass before her, she decided that perhaps, perhaps she could bare it.
Especially with a subject she felt fairly secure in. Puffing up a little, she nodded. "They were the first to ever win together. And now..." whatever bravado she had drained out as she sighed. "I am just afraid for them."
no subject
"And yet, they've been brought back. The Capitol must have some use for them yet."
no subject
She wasn't just interesting, she was getting angry. Clearly, she was trying to keep it in, even drunk she knew to not run her mouth too much but this spark was still there.
no subject
Instead, he raised an eyebrow, gently tapping a finger on the table. "Well. Then we had best give them a good reason to keep them out of it, hm?"
no subject
Her mood kept going down, rapidly, and she took a big drink from her glass, lifting a hand to summon and avox for another. He had pushed buttons, she knew he was doing it, and she was just letting it out.
It didn't really occur to her that perhaps her expecting him to push all her buttons wasn't helping.
no subject
"Well, perhaps that is precisely your problem," He said evenly, watching her carefully. "You'll never keep them all out. The tribute must be made, after all. But perhaps you could... focus your efforts where they would be most useful."
no subject
Not because he was wrong. In fact the opposite was true. But when 12 was always slated to lose, there was no choosing favorites. There was making a pleasant exit, helping a child enjoy the last good bits of their life.
And then when they got winners, they came together. Picking someone to focus on...the thought was awful to Effie. Even if it was a better strategy.
"I..." Her words failed her. "That is...more for the mentors than myself to choose."
no subject
Then suddenly he smiled (entirely false but he was always good at that), and stood.
"Well. Perhaps you are correct. We all must know our place, after all." The way he intoned it suggested very much the opposite.
"Either way, I think I shall leave you to your cups."
no subject
She just hated being aware of how smart her was.
"Thank you for your company." She said, forcing a smile of her own on her face. There was, after all, no excuse to be rude. Not even Sherlock counted.
no subject
He made a mental note, however, to go and tell John to check up on her.
(Not for her sake. Obviously.
That would be sentimental.)