thecapitol | (no subject)

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Who| Jack Atlas and OPEN
What| The Director of District 8 Commodity Control is throwing a masque in honor of the current Games. Everyone is, of course, encouraged to attend.
Where| Anomaly Restuarant
When| The end of Week 2
Warnings| None at the moment, though this will be updated if anything changes!

When the Director threw a party, everyone knew. Not just because of the fact of who he was, but the fact that he always threw a costume party. Always. And this was no exception. What was different was that it was thrown, not at the mansion, where previous parties had always been, but at a public restaurant. The official reason was that the mansion was undergoing a planned renovation, and it was sadly behind schedule. Of course the party venue was forced to change!

Not that it was a bad thing. The restaurant was appropriately decorated for the Arena-themed party, transformed into a tropical paradise "exhibit" with mechanical parrots flying around, and mosquito nets strewn all over various "wax figures". Or, as those not playing along with the theme would call them, the wait staff, all dressed in various exhibit clothing to reflect those found in the museum. The menu was all over the place, too - everything from "gift shop" chocolate truffles to "space pizza" to "Roosevelar's Bull Moose Rib Rack" could be had. And best of all, no one was complaining. After all, what did a little renovation hurt when the substitute was hardly lacking?

But Jack knew better. The party was supposed to be at the mansion, but that was the only true part of the story. In reality, the graffiti had appeared, mysteriously, all over the Director's gilded ballroom and on the outside walls the day before. Naturally, once the Peacekeepers had moved in to investigate, the matter on the party's location - not to mention its fate - was very quickly settled. Ironic, really, given how the Director had once claimed to Jack that throwing a party at such a place was out of the question.

At least Jack himself was not under suspicion for the crime. This time. But what about next time? They had almost condemned him for an accident; was it really so far of a stretch they could punish him for...nothing at all?

It was a question he'd have to push aside tonight. He was dressed in a leafy green frock coat, wearing a mask inspired by the tribal masks in the Arena. Because, on top of being a costume party, it was also a museum-inspired masque, and Jack was apparently meant to be a bird camouflaged in the jungle - a callback to his time in a more recent Arena as well as a nod to the current. A bird that had to chat up everyone with a smile underneath, in hopes that they would continue to bet on those District 8 Tributes still in the Arena, praying his eyes sparkled and his laugh sounded genuine enough. And - knowing how these parties would go - it would be an all night affair.

Hopefully, they wouldn't run out of Blue Mountain coffee before then.

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Ziva had only been back in the Capitol a few hours when she'd been accosted by District 6's stylists, armed to the teeth with their own weapons--fabric, feathers and jewels, makeup, and masks. They descend on her like a pack of wolves, circling and tutting and tsking over the state of her hair and clothing.

They put her in a black dress, covered in feathers and lace and fake fur. They straightened and pinned up her unruly brown hair, painted her exposed skin with patterns of silver and black feathers, covered her arms in swirling rhinestones, and covered her face with a mask that did absolutely nothing to hide her identity. They wanted people to know she she was back, after all.

She hated it, felt ridiculous. But this was the way the Capitol's games were played.

She flitted between groups, all false smiles, cheer, and flirtation.

He might be drunk, he might be thrilled to see her, or he might simply be putting on a good show. Whatever the case: when Jesse spots Ziva, he throws his arms into the air and rushes over to embrace her... and to try to plant a kiss - not on her cheek, as with the others, but on her lips.

The smile is a lot more genuine when she catches sight of Jesse--though it turns into alarm when he comes running over and tries kissing her.

She gently puts a hand up between them, though there is a flirtatious smirk on her face.

"Jesse, where in the world have you been?"

She says it in a tone that's playful--but really, she had been concerned about him. Her connections went farther than her father's now, and his disappearance had worried her once she learned of it.

To mitigate the disappointment, she does offer air kisses in greeting, taking great pleasure in smearing the silver makeup on her face.

Edited 2014-02-02 09:20 (UTC)

Jesse's not offended by the rejection, bursting into laughter. Air kisses are just as fine. "Where've I been?" he echoes. "I think you mean, where've you been? I've been here. I mean - not here here. Just around here. You know, places."

He glances off for a moment, plucking a fresh drink from a passing waiter's tray.

Certainly no offense meant, because she likes you.

"Yes, it would be a bit strange if you were to have been in this particular room for weeks on end."

But she won't let that drop for long.

"I have been home. I suppose that they are calling most of us back, now."

"Ugh," he groans, eyes rolling toward the ceiling. "Why do you ever go back there? It's soooo booooring." That's not a real question, of course. Most people, unlike him, have actual reasons to go home every now and then.

He downs the entire drink in one gulp and sets the glass on another passing waiter's tray. See? The Capitol is so convenient and full of this stuff. A moment later, he has another drink in his hand.

Turning back to Ziva, Jesse grows only slightly more serious. "For real, I was, um... I wasn't in trouble or nothing. I just needed to relax a little. Before all this stuff." He gives a vague wave to their surroundings.

"I happen to appreciate boring. You know how I feel about crowds of people." Not fantastically approving, is how she feels. Caged, trapped.

Also, she's hoping he hasn't been knocking back alcohol like that all night, because if so, he is going to feel awful in the morning. She makes a mental note to make sure the kitchen is stocked with greasy breakfast food and coffee.

She also knows how he relaxes. And she doesn't approve of that, either--it makes her worry more. "I understand. You feel better now, yes?"

Don't make her mother hen you, she always feels fantastically awkward doing that.

Jesse's eyebrows raise in that way that makes him look fantastically innocent but is also a sure sign that he's lying. "Oh - yeah," he assures her with a bob of his head. "Yeah, totally. I'm a hundred percent now."

He takes this drink more slowly, only sipping at it, to drive the point home.

Sure you are, cupcake.

"Then you should dance with me. It has been too long."

She's not going to call him on it yet. Not tonight, not in front of all these people.

He knows he's in for it later, but he smiles anyway.

"You sure you wanna dance with me?" Jesse asks, looking a bit mischievous. It's not that he's a bad dancer. He's just a little excitable. Frisky. Unrefined. "You might be getting too old to keep up."

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Ian smiled at the woman, when she approached. "That's a very fancy mask," he said. "I like it."

"I would say 'thank you,' but I did not choose it. I will pass your compliments along to the appropriate parties."

Except she really didn't like talking to her stylists much, so she probably won't.

"I am Ziva David."

"Ian Chesterton," he introduced himself, smiling. "They chose well, it suits you."

"From District 3, yes?" She's the type to read up on people--and it's not like there's a shortage of information to go around.

"And how are you finding your time in the Capitol?"

He nodded. "Yes." He was a little surprised that she knew that - he didn't think he was that famous. "I like it," he said, as if he was likely to say the opposite. "It has good food and plenty of drink. What's not to like?" He grinned and held his glass up.

She has a very good memory and reason to look up all your names and faces.

Smart, not to come out with how you truly feel--though if any of you were that stupid, she'd be surprised. That's the first lesson new Tributes learn--they're always being watched.

"What's not to like, indeed."

Evidently enough for her to stay away for years at a time, when she can.

"Aside from being brought here against my will and forced to fight in the arena, of course." He chuckled as if it wasn't something he cared about, whereas it was more something he couldn't do much about at the moment. "But that goes without saying."

Ziva wasn't the only one. Though, there was a difference between her and Jack, whereas Ziva generally shunned the limelight, Jack lived in it. He had seemed to almost revel in it, at least before.

However, he couldn't contain his surprise at seeing Ziva.

"Ah--Miss David."

Edited 2014-02-03 00:08 (UTC)

"That surprised to see me? Has it been that long, Jack?"

Ziva knew exactly how long it had been. She hadn't returned to the Capitol for years--District 6 had no shortage of mentors, and thus she hadn't been needed.

She's playing up the persona they prefer in her--flirtatious, witty, and charming. She floats over toward him, smile sharp as a knife, and kisses the air on either side of his face in greeting.

"How have you been?"

"Well...yes."

Jack stared at Ziva like she had spontaneously grew a narwhal horn. Considering that her last appearance in the Capitol (that he knew of, at least) was from before he'd been crowned Victor, he was surprised she even knew his name.

At that next question, however, he straightened up, burying his surprise - and other emotions - as best as he could.

"I've been fine." Ha. Jack forced the bubbling anger at his own lie down, attempting the more pompous air that he was known for. "Never better! The Arena...it can really open one's eyes to how much one can appreciate what the Capitol is doing, after all!"

Please, you expect her not to keep tabs on these things? One thing her father had drilled into her was knowledge, and how vital it could be.

"That it certainly can."

The scales had fallen from her eyes long ago, the only thing she appreciated now was its cruelty.

"I have not been keeping track as much as I should, I fear. I was not expecting to be called back--I suppose now that there are more Tributes, more Arenas, well. You can understand, I am sure, how hard-pressed everyone must be to keep things running smoothly. I hope that it has not been too difficult."

She leans back, smiling coyly and taking one of his hands.

"I should not be surprised that there have been some accusing me of neglecting my responsibilities."

She took his right hand. Instantly Jack's arm tensed up, just slightly. He knew she wasn't going to take his sleeve up ~~at least, he hoped not~~, but it was still ingrained in him that his imperfection was wrong to show in the Capitol. The Capitol, a place which liked beautiful things.

Beautiful and empty.

"Nnn..." Jack's senses came back to him, and he looked at her, still started at her familiarity. "I-if anything, I see it as the other Mentors neglecting their responsibilities to their Tributes. They wouldn't need to bring others in, if they were doing their jobs."

She doesn't touch his sleeve, and doesn't go any farther--in fact, she lets go with a quiet apology, and just keeps smiling at him.

"Well, there is that. Still, it is not an easy thing, with all the distractions available to us." Chemical and otherwise. "So much to draw our attention."

"I try not to let that get to me." Jack calmed himself after she left go. "After all, I'm King of Victors. If I don't go up to bat for my Tributes..."

Those people he shouldn't care about. Those men and women and children who were just constant nuisances. Completely obstinate.

And, in this sea of people, were just as alone as he had been as they were forced to go back into the Arena again.

"...No one else will."

Barbara stumbled with a muffled curse ("Dratted stupid ridiculous shoes!") and a decidedly audible crack as one heel finally gives way. Barbara adjusted most of her weight, managing not to crash down into the floor once more. Unfortunately, it sent her careening into Ziva with a yelp, her own black ensemble (something like The Dark Knight meets the Wheat Queen) and it's half cape fluttering in over-exaggerated movement.

"I'm so sorry!"

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