thecapitol | (no subject)

WHO| Everyone in the Capitol
WHAT| A must attend events, as the game start to come to their peak.
WHEN| Mid-way through week four
WHERE| A warehouse on the edge of town.
WARNING/NOTES| Alcohol, drugs, possible more. Crazy partying. If your tribute is dead this week, it is up to your discretion whether they are there or not (don't worry if you have not in game killed them, we can turn a blind idea to wiggly time lines by a day or two if you wanna jump in)

As usual, the Capitol was tactful and discreet in their party themes.

Nah.

An old warehouse had been converted for this shindig, and filled with bright violet lights that made anything pale glow vividly. Attire among the guest had taken advantage of this; pale, neon colored clothes, many made with transparent layers, and dripping with neon paint. When there were clothes at all. More than a few people had opted to just decorate themselves with paint, glowing vividly under the black lights.

The music was loud, often interwoven with air raid sirens, the place well stocked with florid cocktails treats that seemed to smolder, carried around by avoxes in gas masks. And with the right words, it was more than easy to find anything else you might like.

The couple throwing this party were known for walking just on the edge of acceptable, their parties always pushing taboos. Which made them that much more gossiped about. Still, the faces seen weren't those usually seen rubbing elbows at these things: a younger, wilder crowd.

But the hosts had made sure to drop enough cash in the right hands to be sure, whether it was their scene or not, all their favorite tributes were there.

Large screens showed the games, though often altered in strange, bright glowing colors. In the center was a large sculpture, filled through with it own bright green iridescent fluid, rolling around in a hypnotic, phosphorescent patterns, turning all those near is a vivid, toxic green.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

That one was slightly less obvious. As it sank in, Draco's smirk tugged his mouth wider, and he finally shot her an amused, almost impressed smile. "Well, well. Who knew that when I was forced over here, I'd manage to find the one person around here worth a conversation," he flattered, already getting a start in on being charming. And besides that, he actually meant it, for the most part.

"Once they've got the idea in their heads that giving us our magic back - even if they don't know that's what it is - would be more entertaining in the long run, we should be good, hm? Not that it's going to be that easy. We'll have to find those people rich enough and stupid enough in the first place."

"In a city like this there's always rich and stupid people." Glinda callously replied. Before she had been Glinda the Good she had been a Queen Bee and everything that had entailed. Cruelty and all. "The trouble is getting to them." She considered, raking a hand through her curls. "Access is the most difficult." If she could find a rich politician to schmooze they might be in with a chance but it didn't seem there were many available.

"Well, obviously we're not going to find them around here. But the other parties? I wouldn't say it'd be that much of a problem," he murmured, frowning. He'd already met up with a handful of richer sponsors who'd had no problem providing him with a little something every now and then. He wondered how hard it would be to get to one of the Gamemakers themselves - he'd heard they attended the odd party every now and then.

Madam Morrible's prophecy of Glinda being able to slime - her slime? Never. Glinda glided thank you very much - into the highest of social events rung in the witch's ears. "Not at all." She agreed solemnly. "I doubt there's any of the kind of people we need here." And if they were they were going to be even harder to find.

Another cursory glance around the room told him everything he needed to know - that any of the potential sponsors they would be looking for were already trashed beyond reason, and probably wouldn't remember so much as what colour they had painted on themselves, let alone a Tribute coming up to them.

"All right, then. We have innumerable parties between now and the next Arena. All we have to do is manage to each corner a couple of decent sponsors, and charm our way into their back pockets," Draco mused. "How about we do that, and meet back somewhere before the Arena starts?"

Glinda nodded. "That would seem to be a good agreement, Mister Malfoy." She smiled. And it didn't hurt that she had located what seemed to be the only other magic user in this Ozma forsaken place.

"Draco's fine," he replied, returning her smile after a moment. For the first time since he'd got there, he didn't feel like he was floundering quite as much. He had a plan.