Jack Atlas (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
akingalways) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2014-01-31 11:29 pm
akingalways) wrote in thecapitol2014-01-31 11:29 pm
(no subject)
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.
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.
no subject
Honestly, it's a reasonable fear. Jesse has a sort of perpetual wobble to his gait, thanks to being chronically blitzed.
no subject
She might have been exaggerating, but not by much. Barbara wasn't fond of heels. It's easier to show a understandable reason for why stylists should stop making the suggestion she wear them to show off her calves and accentuate her height.
"You've been lucky tonight!"