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

It was a bigger relief than she realized it would be, to hear him say that. Like a weight off her shoulders.

Perhaps it was a weak want to not believe everyone you had ever known was entirely awful. Admitting that was near impossible

But at the same time, to simply dismiss everyone who participated as evil meant nothing could be changed. Not without simply killing everyone. And she knew that wasn't an option their world could sustain.

"Oh, I do to. I do very much." She said, giving him a dazzling smile of relief. Studying him, she considered what he said. "Something...like this. Similar, in..some way was going on in your home, wasn't it?"

The question puzzled him. In someways, yes, something similar had happened in France over the last few decades. In the wake of the Revolution he so admired the institutionalized inequality had become monetarily based, rather than an extension of birthright. It was still a game of those in power retaining it, and those without power being subject to their whims and indulgences. They had never been so overt in their sadism, though. The apathy of the people had been just that, apathy rather than evil. This, what was happening in Panem, was, in a great many ways, another animal altogether.

"Somewhat," he responded at great length, tone uncertain as he sought out how to properly explain the nuances. "There was a great disparity. Many people were starving, while others had far more than they could ever need. My family was fortunate enough to be of the upper class, but once I came to Paris and saw what was happening, I could not allow it to continue. In France, as in Panem, it does not have to be this way."

He paused. He could speechify at her, but not knowing Effie's politics made that an inadvisable move. Instead, Enjolras reigned himself in, glancing from her to the garden around them. "We never made our children kill each other. I suppose I should be grateful for that."

Effie was silent for a long, long time. She was not sure how to word what she wanted to say. To explain, rather than defend.

Once upon a time, not so long ago, she would have defended. Now she just wanted all the cards on the table, so they could end the game.

"It made...it made since at first, in a way. There was not enough population for war, but there had to be a harsh control, or we all would have died." She sighed softly. "But this all..."

And she trailed off. There was nothing to explain, now she had tried. It was vile.

"There is strength, and then there is viciousness. There is authority, and then there is abuse." The intricacies of a social contract would likely be lost on her, but the sentiment was, in many ways, universal. More so, Enjolras suspected, for people who had lived to see the erosion of it.

"A strong government seeks to promote peace, and it will enforce that peace when it becomes necessary." He looked to the garden around them, and then down at his feet. "Forgive me, madame, but I find it hard to regard Panem as a peaceful place if that peace is bought routinely at the expense of lives."

Effie looked up at the sky, trying to find what to say.

There was a little bird beating away in her chest, because she knew, if she didn't disagree, if he didn't "correct" him, they could both be in trouble.

But she couldn't. Instead her eyes just feel, looking down at the ground between her shoes.

"We should get back in." She finally said softly. Tiredly.

He nodded, unsure of what exactly had just happened. After all, he'd been fully expecting to half to talk around his feelings and defend them to someone so entrenched in the culture of the Capitol. "As you like."

But the thought of returning to the gold room filled him with a certain amount of dread. Its opulence seemed daunting, sickening. He frowned, looking out over the garden again. "If it is all the same to you, madame, I think I may wait here for a moment. Please do not feel obligated to stay with me. You have other duties to which you should attend, I understand that."

"Yes, of course." She said, giving him a fake smile. It was obviously fake, and she knew he would know. Anyone with half a brain would, and this man clearly had far more than that.

Bowing her head, she hurried off.

He had clearly hit her deep.