thecapitol | (no subject)

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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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"Not here, no. Not unless they're just not saying anything," Draco told her with a shrug. "I wouldn't go around telling people, after all. Not after they took away my magic."

Another shiver at the thought. He really needed to fix that before he started feeling like a Muggle.

Glinda's expression darkened. "Do you think they have taken it away permanently?" She didn't like the idea of that one single little bit. Not when her magic was what made her special.

He looked to her then, expression unhappy, looking very much like he hated the idea. "I couldn't say. Without anyone else to compare to, I can say I certainly hope not. Surely, there's something we can do about it."

Draco sighed, the picture of misery as he stared out at the party-goers. "They give us things in the Arena. Those Sponsor gifts. Maybe it's the same sort of process."

The awareness that her magic was either gone or going to be withheld from her made Glinda feel sick to her stomach and the knowledge of just that rest heavily on her shoulders.

"So we have to pander to them if we want it back." Still, it could have been worse. Glinda had lived a lifetime of pandering to people she didn't want to.

It seemed to Draco, in that moment, that there would doubtless be one very plausible method of getting their magic back: to treat it as a sponsor gift of sorts, and to appeal to the Capitol in the very same way Effie had taught him to appeal for those. Between a knife and his magic, he knew exactly which would be more useful to him, and doubtless Glinda had the same thing.

An epiphany crossed his face then, barely visible in the low light of the rave, but there none the less.

"That's exactly what we have to do. Not the low level sponsors, though; we have to go higher up than that. The people with real influence in this place."

It was a bitter and difficult pill to swallow.

But perhaps if she had her magic she wouldn't have been killed and left to-- Glinda couldn't allow herself to finish her own train of thought. All of this was too surreal. It was a horrid reminder of how little she amounted to without her magic.

"How are we supposed to pander to them?" It was about image surely and Glinda felt it would be impossible to shake the image of a terrified woman who was all but useless. She straightened her back, glancing about, wondering if they were even supposed to be discussing this. "I mean, is there any guarantee that they would help?"

"Of course not. There's never a guarantee. Not unless you can make it clear to them that you're more interesting with it," he pointed out, things clicking automatically in his head. He was clever, after all; smart, even. He could put two and two together, and could make mental leaps well enough to figure all this out.

Of course, he had no doubt they weren't supposed to be discussing it; his only reassurance was that the music was too loud for much to be heard over it, let alone one little conversation. Especially when it seemed like they were just chatting. He flapped a dismissive hand. "I haven't the slightest as to how to pander to them, though. Not with any sort of specificity. I assume we'd just test things out until they worked."

"No, but I do."

Glinda swallowed dryly. She hadn't touched a drink since she'd gotten here. They all smelt of alcohol or had things fizzing in them. She may have been a country girl at heart but this as the epitome of why her mother had feared for her safety in Shiz. Corruptions everywhere.

But then again, she'd corrupted herself by pandering to the Wizard. But by Ozma she had been good at it. Never had he suspected that she wanted to be in his place. He thought her a smiling simple sycophant in a pretty frock, not the scheming sorceress that she was. "I've spent the last five years of my life pandering to one without any real authority but all the power."

He glanced to her, frowning a little, starting to be more and more glad that he'd met this woman. A fellow magic-user, someone who knew what she was doing at least somewhat. Perhaps not in the Arenas, but out. If anyone was to ask him, knowing what you were doing outside of the Arena was just as important, if not moreso.

Draco wasn't quite as uncorrupted as her. He was, after all, a little rich boy, used to expensive vacations and his father's liquor cabinet; he caught a drink from a passing waitress, taking a sip before answering Glinda, "That's interesting. So these people shouldn't be too different, really.

"Where do we start, darling?"

"Not different at all." The Emerald City and the Capitol bore striking resemblances in population, clothing and elements of seediness at times. But that just made it easier to play the game, or it would once Glinda got herself into the game properly. She'd been floating along until now but no longer. She was Glinda Ardueena Upland of Pertha Hills.

"Firstly, the best thing is to give an impression of exclusivitationality. We can not seem too easy to get a hold of or people will swiftly grow bored. The public always want what they can't have." She offered as her first piece of advisings. "And the weller off want what everyone else can't have."

"Make sense so far?"

"Exclusi-what now?" He interrupted briefly, looking sceptical before letting her go on. At least what she was saying made sense well enough. Even if her rhetoric rather left something to be desired. She was still no worse than some of the Gryffindors, and far more pleasant to speak to, despite the aforementioned rhetoric. An ally was an ally.

"Of course it does. We play hard to get. Shouldn't be too hard, with the scheduling they've got round here. I expect I can get Effie to shuttle me around to just enough parties that I barely have time to breathe," he told her, smirking.

Glinda nodded her head in conceedment.

"The next thing to do is to be enigmatic. Yet again, the public want what they can't have and a secret is the most desirable information of all. Make hints toward having another ability that can't be used in public. Eventually someone rich enough or stupid enough will try to buy the answer. Which could be the answer to our problems."

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.

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