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

Dressed in skin-tight shorts, a full body pattern of paint in hazard shapes, and a neon-streaked gas mask that covered his mouth, but not his eyes, Darius was circulating through the party with a bowl full of swirled, glowing paints, available for any guest who wanted to further ornament themselves.

Elias reached over, before tentatively dipping his fingers in a vivid blue, before rubbing it between his for finger and his thumb.

He had lucked out tonight, more escort than attendant, and dressed in simple white.

"I can't imagine spending all night covered in this..." he muttered, before looking up at Darius. "Ah, sorry."

He had never really gotten the knack of not talking to them. Not the way he should.

Darius, who was himself covered in it, smiled politely, meeting his eyes for an illicit second. He didn't think much of the paint either. On him, it was a multitude of overlapping radiation warning symbols in fierce shades of yellow, pink, green, blue and orange. It was already smeared in places, along his upper arms and back, and a clear handprint left by someone else's purple paint on his hip.

Leaning against the wall next to Darius, Elias watched Darius under lowered lids.

Avoxes were a strange thing. Capitol people, but broken ones.

Trust worthy ones? He wasn't sure about that.

The lingering gaze made Darius, used to being invisible, uneasy, and he didn't wander off to circulate, waiting to see if Elias wanted him for something. He wouldn't be the first at this party to show interest, though Darius had been lucky so far.

He was deep in thought, thoughts far away from Darius's. Finally he spoke, softly.

"It's funny how they think they can undo someone's humanity."

He dipped a finger in another pint color, making himself look busy and interested in it, seeing if the other would respond.

Darius made a nervous little motion of his head, glancing at Elias again, and his eyes tightened, betraying the brief, humorless smile hidden behind the gas mask. He tilted his head towards him in silent agreement. A victor would know, wouldn't he?

He smiled down at the paints on his fingers, before reaching over to trace a pattern on Darius's arm.

A mocking jay, a very simple one appeared on Darius's arm, before Elias wiped it away.

"Don't think it's my color."

A bit of a risk. But if he ended up untrustworthy...he wouldn't be telling anyone. And really, they likely wouldn't listen.

His eyes widened, jaw visibly tightening behind that mask, and for the first time, he looked at Elias and held his gaze for a long moment. Only then did he look down at his arm, and under the guise of fixing the paint Elias had smeared, drew a small '12' before erasing it again.

It was a hopeful reply, although not enough that Elias would be diverging any more details right now.

With a smile, he stepped away, join the revelers again.