thecapitol | (no subject)

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(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.

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Eliot kept a smile on his face but anyone who knew him could tell he was not happy. He'd barely opened his eyes from dying yet again when he'd been dragged off to be shoved into a pair of hideous, black, leather shorts and black bracers. Then they'd painted his chest with some ridiculous neon body paint and driven him to this nuisance of a rave. His stylist hadn't even been involved this time. Apparently, someone had specifically requested the outfit. He hid a grimace. Barely out of the Arena and he was already bought and paid for tonight. Worse, he didn't seem to have an individual client so much as open season.

He walked over to the open bar. Between the altered colors on the TV and neon paint under the black lights, he already felt like he was hallucinating. Everything had an odd tinge of not-quite-right and the siren gave the feeling of being back on a battlefield or a prison in North Korea. He ordered the strongest drink he could think of. There was no way he was getting through the night sober and at least, if he ordered his own drinks, he might be able to avoid getting drugged again.

While Anna didn't exactly know Eliot aside from nearly running him over at the Halloween ball, she could easily tell he was struggling. But then again, she was a profiler -- reading people was just a part of the job. She had her own ridiculous ensemble of black crisscrossing fabric paired with black booty shorts and stilettos, but her paint exposure was a minimal amount. Just the number 4 across her chest and two swipes across her cheeks like war paint. If her stylist had her way, it'd have been worse.

Like Eliot, she needed booze and wandered off to the open bar to procure herself a drink when she noticed he was having a hard time. She was on the lookout for people spiking her drink and her eyes didn't leave the bartender until the drink was in her hand.

"I'd ask if you're alright, but that's a ridiculous question considering the circumstances." She said slowly, offering a sympathetic half-smile letting on that she knew he was faking it right now. Perhaps she was offering counsel. Maybe he'd even recognize her from the Halloween Ball.

He took a sip of his drink as he turned to her. As a matter of fact, he did recognize her from the ball. And his smile grew a little more sincere. "Can't say I know what you mean," he replied, figuring she'd pick up on the double meaning. He'd learned a lot from Nate and Sophie about talking about one thing while seeming to talk about another. His body language opened as he stepped a hair closer to her, seeming to invite her to more. He was no Sophie but he'd picked up more than his share of one night stands back home.

Her lips curled faintly at his reply and she nodded. She was the master of double-talk if she said so herself. "Of course." The open body language told her where he was taking things in his mind and she neither reciprocated or declined. Just remained still. Because she wasn't the casual sex type and in this kind of world, it was an even worse idea. Emotional attachments were made readily back home. But the stress of this game? Double it.

"Anna Morasca. District four." She extended a hand in greeting, smiling only slightly because something about the man's eyes told her to tread lightly. Not because he was a bad person or she was in physical danger. But because he might be the exact type to suck her in and make her get attached.

Eliot took her hand. "Eliot Spencer. District 3."

Part of him wanted to tell her to play along, that they'd be able to talk more freely if everyone thought they were making out. He didn't, though. He didn't want to give Cruentus or her colleagues any ideas for the other Tributes.

"Pleasure to meet you, circumstances aside." Taking a single step closer, she offered her drink to him with a look that said the drink wasn't drugged. If Eliot could figure that look out, he'd probably be able to read her well enough for an entire silent conversation. After all, there was always double-talk as well.

"Interestin' party. I think the stylists are really embracin' the theme on this one." Which of course, roughly translated to I swear they get off on sluttin' us up and prancin' us around like we're sex fodder.

"The pleasure's mine," he replied, lifting his own drink pointedly with a smile that said he was fine for now but appreciated the thought.

"Not just the stylists, either. The party's definitely int'restin', though. Makes Los Angeles and Fashion Week look pretty tame." Be careful. The stylists ain't the only ones in charge of sluttin' us up. Some of us are sex fodder.

Just when she thought the depravity couldn't get any worse... the only outward sign of her shock, rage, and disgust was the barely visible clenching of her jaw. Her fingers would've tightened around her glass, but she'd already broken one and drawn enough attention.

"Yeah, they might put Manhattan outta business," she replied pleasantly enough and snapped her fingers when an Avox approached with a tray of body paint. This was a good enough opportunity as any to talk closer without attracting suspicion.

"I think some of your paint got a little smudged. Let me help with that." She dipped two fingers into some electric blue paint and dismissed the Avox as she got nice and close and reached up with one hand to lightly cup his chin while she went about 'fixing' his paint. As an added precaution, she whispered in Italian hoping he knew the language. Testing the waters, she called it. Like you.

"Or Holland," he mused mildly. He tilted his head so she could get a better angle with the paint. "So you have artistic aspirations?"

He frowned slightly when she switched to what sounded like Italian. He was pretty sure he got the gist of it. He replied in Spanish. Even if she didn't know the other language, they were similar enough that she might be able catch some of it. "Como eres como mi?"

Edited (stupid autocorrect) 2012-12-13 16:59 (UTC)

"Artistic aspirations? No. Just think it would be a tragedy if your paint didn't look spectacular." She replied with a smirk, sweeping her thumb gently across his cheek to spread the paint.

She understood Spanish perfectly, and smiled ruefully - just for a second before replying in Spanish, versus Italian. "Because I've been someone's commodity before."

Edited 2012-12-13 18:07 (UTC)

He smiled. "It would be worse than a tragedy. It be the end of the world as we know it."

He used a finger to snag some of her paint. He began to trace a Cherokee design on one of her cheeks. "Most governments only want commodities to kill for them. This one just wants more."

There was the first genuine chuckle she'd had since her arrival in Panem at that. "And that's just yours. Imagine the rest of ours? Catastrophic."

When Eliot began painting her cheek, some of her hardened bravado slipped away and she seemed a touch awkward - shy - at the contact. "There has to be a way out. You're not property, you're a person. I'll find some way to set you free."

"Beyond catastrophic." He found himself laughing with her. "You'd sink the continent."

He nodded. "There may be one. At the last Victor's coronation, there was a blackout. Someone hacked their feeds. Gave a message criticizing the government. There's a resistance somewhere."

"Me? I think you're givin' me way too much credit there." She said with a wave of her hand.

"...I'm gonna find it. Eliot, what can I do for you? To- To help you through this? I've counseled victims of sex trafficking before. I want to help." The empathy and brokenness was clear in her eyes as she cupped the side of his face in her hand. It was wrong to put him through this. He didn't deserve it.

"Well, not you alone, I suppose," he conceded.

"Make sure I don't win. I can deal with it as long as there's some kind of break. Even if it's..." He nodded at one of the screens. "And keep an eye on the kids. Try and help them not to make too many waves."

Anna nodded, leaning in closer and meeting his eyes. "And what about you, Eliot? Outside of the Arena. If you ever need to talk, I'm here.

His smile grew softer. "Thank you."

"Any time." She returned the smile softly, setting the paint aside and tucking some hair behind her ear. There was but a couple of breaths between them now and she didn't want to cross any lines or make Eliot uncomfortable, so she got ready to take a step back.

He hesitated a moment, not wanting to push her into anything. He what was expected of him, however, and it would be safest, both for himself and his brother, for him to play along with that image. He stepped toward her, lifting a hand to her cheek but still leaving room for her to back away.

It was strictly business, she told herself, but it didn't stop her heart from beating just a bit faster or her bottom lip from being chewed on. It would have been so easy to just walk away, no harm no foul. Maybe she didn't care about it being a bad idea. She just... stayed.

"Self-preservation in the midst of Big Brother's eyes." A simple statement in Spanish. She knew what it was.

When she didn't move, he leaned in and brushed his lips across hers. A slight smile turned the corners of his lips up. "Life in the war zone."

Anna was about to speak when Eliot leaned in for the kiss and she let herself go for just a few precious seconds, kissing him back slowly and resting her hand atop his.

He broke the kiss off fairly quickly. It just wasn't safe for her to continue, even if she wanted to. "Be careful."

"Always." She replied with a soft smile so brief it could be missed easily, patting his hand and turning to walk away before things got too interesting.

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