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

By then, Some had tried to leave twice, each time getting turned around by the mentor from Eight. So he was still here, sulking quietly on a corner sofa with a pitcher of water and a foul mood that only kept about half of the curious away. The more frequent than usual flash of teeth helped a little more.

That quieter, stiller corner just happens to be Some's. Quite possibly a result of the grue's teeth flashing. Grey is so angry and disoriented that he doesn't even notice the furry, eight-legged creature he recently beat to a bloody pulp.

The sound that comes out of him when he sees Grey startles Some as much as it startles anyone nearby; it is an outright snarl, more than a growl and nearly a roar. He doesn't rise from his sofa, but suddenly all of his teeth are bared, and the paint around his eyes makes them seem to blaze red in the black lights.

"You! Get away from me!"

Edited (spelling) 2012-12-16 21:51 (UTC)

There are several gasps and small cries from the crowd at Some's snarl, anyone close by quickly moving away. All nearby eyes are suddenly on the drama at hand. They all recognize these two tributes, of course. They all know what happened.

Grey himself jumps at the unexpected sound full of threat, turning to see the grue there on the sofa, all teeth and bristled fur. He pulls the 'gas mask' from his face and lets it hang around his neck. "Oh, it's you." He says, grinning.

"Come now, it really was your own fault." Only a fool would be so trusting in a death match.

Edited 2012-12-17 05:25 (UTC)

Some's short black claws dig into the black leather of the sofa, his tail lashing, catlike, side to side.

"I tried to help you."

"You assume I required it." He replies snidely.

"We all needed it."

It wasn't that Grey had killed him that had Some bristling, his hackles up clear down to his waist. It was the way he'd tricked him, and then literally beaten him to death with a smile.

"...You do realize that only one victor is allowed?" He'd almost guess that Some didn't quite understand the point of the game.

"I'm not playing their game. And anyone who is has lost their mind," he snapped, glancing pointedly past Grey, at the eavesdropping crowd.

The Capitol citizens don't look happy. How dare Some say such things about their wonderful tradition?

"You don't quite seem to have caught the part where we aren't being given a choice."

"I've made a choice. Me, of all of us here. If I can manage not to kill a single one of you, what's your excuse?"

His expression darkened at that. Why should he need an excuse? "Yes, well, I have my doubts that they'll allow you that for very long." He replied icily, before disappearing back into the crowd. There had to be a quiet corner somewhere without an absurdly moralistic grue in it.