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

"Johanna," He teased lightly, "think of what the tabloids would have to say about that."

Finnick knew he could be a little looser around another mentor. They understood his feelings just as well as he did, most of the time. And people were less likely to spread awful rumors about him if he was making those sorts of jokes with Johanna.

"And how could I not miss all of this?" He gestured around at the room. "The opulence, the flash, the betting on people's lives. It's a holiday tradition."

"Some holiday." She snorts, nose turned up in disgust as she surveys the room. "Yay. Come and watch a bunch of kids be turned into murderers. And now you can watch it over and over, without your damn guilt, because who cares? They don't even belong to Panem. This place makes me sick."

She shakes her head again, and downs another mouthful of her wine.

"That's not entirely fair. Now we can see adults murder children and each other too."

He grabs a drink off the nearest serving dish so he can follow Johanna's lead. He's not one to get drunk in public, but as he pointed out before, it is a holiday. A dark, horrible, nightmare filled holiday.

"Think any of yours will make it out alive this time?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, the bloody delights."

Her attention went back to the screen. "They're cocky, my lot. Absolutely full of themselves. I had to get 'em one at a time in the gym, just to try to scare them into doing what I told 'em. Think they learned that lesson." She grinned suddenly. She had enjoyed that - the look of realisation on their faces when they realised exactly who they were dealing with.

"But make it out? Nah. I dunno if it'd be any better if they did, honestly. It's just as crap now. Just..." She wrinkled her nose. "More disguised."

"I'm glad you finally got through to them. I would hope you hadn't lost your touch." He meant that in a completely complimentary sense.

"But I have to think that making it out is better than dying and starting all over again. Not that it's easy on our end, either. That would be too much to ask after forcing us to kill other kids, to just leave us alone with our nightmares."

Now it was Finnick's turn to try and drink the day away.

"Yeah right." Johanna just rolled her eyes. Obviously she hadn't lost her touch, Finnick. Once a victor, always a victor. And if Johanna wasn't terrifying, she was nothing. And Johanna was definitely not nothing.

"Speak for yourself, anyway. I don't have nightmares. They can't touch me." She shot a look at Finnick. He might be in denial, but she knew the score, and she knew that she would rather be forced to play their sick murder games than give in. And she'd much rather her Tributes kept fighting in an arena, where even death wasn't permanent, than to face what she had, and Finnick, and every other mentor had, and have to make the decisions they all had.

"I admire that about you, I don't know too many Mentors who can say the same." He didn't want to comment on his own nightmares, that was admitting more than he was comfortable with here or pretty much anywhere else.

"But then, we had more than a dozen years to get used to the idea that we might one day end up in that arena. These tributes get a couple of weeks at best to wrap their heads around it."

He felt terrible for his new tributes. There were some in his district who really didn't deserve the world they'd ended up in. And Finnick would do whatever he could to help them, just like Johanna would. It was one of the things he admired in her.

She rolled her eyes. "Is this the part where I'm supposed to giggle and say, 'Stop. You're making me blush." Johanna put on a fake, high-pitched voice and leaned against Finnick, obviously taking the mick. But after that split moment, she sat up and got a bit more serious again.

"Well, I don't know what you want me to do about that, Finnick, really." She snapped. Oh, it annoyed her to be so powerless.

"Perhaps you'll recall that Snow doesn't think too highly of me questioning his divine judgement. I'm not gonna let him murder my damn Tributes. Maybe Justin. Just to shut him up."

Finnick laughed at her mockery but sobered up as quickly as she did after.

"It's still our job to prepare them as best we can. I'm still not sure whether I feel more or less powerless that the same ones are going to keep coming back looking for more and more advice. There's not much we can do for it, and I won't argue that for a second."

Finnick gave her a wry smile. "What did Justin do to you to earn that?"

"Have you not heard his music? He has it on full blast, permanently. There are crisps everywhere - and don't even get me started on the amount of Avoxes I've tripped over because they're picking up his damn crap."

She shook her head and barked a laugh. "They're not like the usual Tributes, that's for damn sure. And they keep coming back to kick you in the knees just a bit more. They're not even scared of me." She shook her head. "I stab Penny with a damn fork in front of them, and they're still not scared."

And that would explain why makeup was heavily plastered all over Johanna's face and neck - to hide those lovely bruises from the ever-gentle peacekeepers.