thecapitol | (no subject)

Who| Mentors, stylist, escorts, and anyone else keeping up with tributes in an official aspect.
What| The green room
Where| The tribute training center
When| start of the arena
Warnings/Notes| none inherent, tags thread subjects as needed.

The green room this round has been decorated with the sensibility of what would be, in our era, a turn of the century sitting room. Dark wood paneling, thick rich red velvet furniture, and plush red curtains drawn back over various monitors with heavy gold cords. Although the room is quiet large to contain so many people, it gives the impression of being intimate. The Avoxes, decked out in vaguely militaristic attire, serve food and drink in silver and crystal dishes, gold alcohol catching the light of the stained glass lamps around the room.

In the center of the room is a holographic projection of the arena, highlighting in flickering lights where each tribute is. Panels hidden discretely in the wood paneling can change the view of any of the screens so a mentor or stylist can pull up their own tribute, or one whom they would like to observe.

The projection can easily be shifted, with the flick of a hand, on to the person's own tablet, or even to be projected on one of the sitting tables placed around the room. On their screens other various information can be easily accessed: current odds, gossip, and even communication from potential bidders.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I can't think of anything more productive than watching, can you?"

Still, he would take a different route this time, and resume his nervous pacing.

"Besides, things have just started, it's more tense when there's more to lose. Or have you settled into that feeling yet?"

"How funny - I suppose the definition of 'watching' must have changed," Wesker drawled, a small wrinkle curling around one nostril - the edges of a sneer. "Unless you find the carpet particularly fascinating."

His pale fingers moved like the legs of a spider, tapping gently across the surface of his tablet, flicking through the cameras with all the ease of someone who was used to doing so.

"I also find it funny, that even with the very evidence before your eyes, how so very many of you have difficultly accepting that there are worlds beyond your own. Worlds where events such as this-" though his head remained tipped down, watching his tablet, the eyes turned up - red and gold flashing above the dark edges of his glasses, "-would be no more exciting than any other Tuesday."

Edited 2014-01-22 12:37 (UTC)

"Just as funny as it is to us to have people here who accept what we very clearly set out to use as punishment. Or did they not tell you newcomers why the games were started in the first place?"

At least arguing with another mentor was a better solution to the situation than continuing his uncomfortable pacing. It wasn't any more pleasant, but until the arena was over, nothing would be.

"You say that as if we might have a choice in the matter if we didn't. Last I was aware, dissenting opinion was all the more likely to see one thrown to the lions."

His mouth twisted, a sharp, entirely unamused, smile that did nothing to warm his pale face.

"Unless perhaps there's some trick to it. Would saying 'please' make a difference?"

"You were the one bragging about seeing worse. If anyone here is tempting fate, it's you and some of the other newcomers. But by all means, don't let me stop you."

He held up his hands in a mock gesture of defeat. The last thing Finnick wanted to do was start a fight with another Victor on the first day of the new arena. Maybe in a few days he could punch Wesker without too much trouble.

"As you were the one telling me I should be shocked and horrified," Wesker hissed back. "Which shall it be? Shall I join in you moaning uselessly at the state of things or carry on in hopes of actually accomplishing something worth while?"

"You can accomplish plenty of things while still being shocked and horrified. Some of us call that having 'human emotions'. But if we stay here so I can explain that concept to you, we'll miss the rest of the arena."

He was doing plenty to help the state of things, but nothing he would dare say out loud.

"Ouch," Wesker drawled, clicking his tongue softly as turning his attention back to his tablet. "That hurt."

He'd been called inhuman for so long, Finnick was going to try a lot harder than that.

"The truth can."

He was content to leave Wesker to his own business for now. But this interaction wasn't over yet. There were surely more barbs to be exchanged.