thecapitol | The Crowning of Mindy McReady

Entry tags:

The Crowning of Mindy McReady

Who| Everyone ~~who's anyone.~~
What| The Crowning.
Where| A warehouse on the edge of town.
When| Starting from early evening till late into the night.
Warnings/Notes| Be sure to check the linked thread for plot purposes, even if you don't tag into it.

The party is brightly colored.

The theme, subtly, is super heroes. Boldly paints city scapes are splattered across the walls, and hallways are made to look like dingy, potentially crime ridden alleys. From the upper walkways of the warehouse, party goers can get hooked into harnesses and swing out over the dance floor. Above them, tributes and VIPS can find themselves on a clear plastic dance floor levitated above everything, looking like they're hanging in air.

Masks are passed out in plenty, and capes are easy to find, while brightly colored drinks themed around super powers are plentiful. None of them actually work, but many of the Capitol people are happy to pretend, mocking super strength or invisibility with each new beverage.

Under the dance floor a catacomb of tunnels and rooms full of obstacles is splashed with black light receptive colors. Party goers are given vests and laser guns, marked green for villains and red for heros, and set loose to hunt each other in the laser tags playground. The screens in the dance floor keep a running tally of which side is winning, displaying the players on the screens around the room, along with clips from the arenas.

About half way through the night, everyone is gathered to the main stage for a special announcement.

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Her smile drew a small one from him, like an echo. Instinctive and unstoppable as he reached out to take the strawberry. (Where she'd had them hidden in that getup, he decided not to ask.)

"The arena's ain't easy on anyone, not those goin' in, not those left behind. But, so long as we make it back, it'll be alright."

He might have reached out then, if she'd been Howard or Max, but he didn't know her quite as well yet. Didn't want to cross any boundaries.

"We ain't gunna let 'em make it that easy."

"Notice that it's mostly adults this time? I wonder if the charm of a child Victor wore off that quickly."

Which is all fine with Venus. Last Arena, she failed to keep Kankri safe from Justin. This time that won't be a concern. She sucks on her strawberry, favoring the bitter and the sweet on both a gustatory and metaphorical level.

"Plenty adults I don't fancy sticking a knife either," he sighed, turning the strawberry like a top between his fingers before nipping off the pointed tail. "My districtmate, Susannah, she's decent. Joel,... you."

The berry was sweet, and reminded him of candy, pink and blue, melting on his tongue.

He couldn't bring himself to take another bite.

"I won't hold it against you if you do. Well, maybe a little. Depends on where you stick me." She leans forward, taking his strawberry from him as he suddenly looks at it as if his appetite has left him. She plucks it out of his hand. If he won't eat it, she will.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

He didn't resist, giving up the strawberry without a fight. Better it didn't go to waste.

"'Tween you, me, an' the moon," he said, slanting her a look.

Them, the moon, and whoever the Capitol had listening in.

She knows it's fully likely this'll be recorded somehow, broadcasted in some way. She pops the strawberry in her mouth, packs it in her cheek, lashes downturned as she thinks. And she looks back at the crowd, but the familiar face has vanished.

She swallows. "I don't ever intend to actually win this thing."

Wyatt took a breath, but said nothing, not for several long minutes. It was something he might have said, before, and hearing it now from her, when she too had so much to loose, brought on a wave of guilt.

He knew there were many more deserving, and yet, still, after the museum he'd hoped... he'd wanted....

Looking away, he turned back to the Tower.

"We could get Pruna out," he murmured lowly. "Er maybe that friend'a yers, if we work together."

"We could get you out too. You've done ten of these. You've paid your dues." She breathes deep and frowns. "And it'd make Max sleep easier at night, and I owe him for the good death he gave me my first Arena."

These are all excuses, she knows. These are the ways she rationalizes her original trajectory, the one she decided on when she was fifteen and knew that her only way forward was to barrel towards death. But at this moment, she believes them wholeheartedly.

"Like that man'a yers wouldn't?" he replied softly.

Wyatt might not have owed him anything, but he did Venus. She might have not have had to see through the promises she'd made him in the arena, but she'd still made them. Had still been willing.

"I want out," he admitted after a pause. "I'm tired, an' I can feel it -- like a noose 'round my neck, get tighter ever time I die." That whisper in the back of his mind, warning him that the odds were wearing thin.

Even cats only got nine.

"But I couldn't do it on the back of a child. Er a friend."

"He'll always have his idealism to keep him warm at night. Max doesn't have that." Enjolras had said that he could never dedicate himself to her, and Venus accepted - was grateful for that. She welcomed it with open arms because tethers never bind only one of the two things they connect. Some matter becomes satellites but some is content to float without orbits.

"Alright. Then we focus on getting Pruna out." She nods. "You don't have to feel guilty about being top of the list if she's already there."

"Still stands a'course, you make it back an' I don't, keep an' eye on 'em for me," Wyatt said, turning to look at her again as they returned to the same page. "Keep 'em out of trouble, as best ya can."

Max, he expected, would be unstoppable if he set his mind to it, but he'd feel better, knowing somebody was trying.

He held out a hand.

"Of course." She doesn't believe Max could ever be kept out of trouble if Wyatt died - and honestly, she doesn't want to ponder the alternative. She can only see Max as livid and broken, or completely demolished.

She knows love when she sees it. (Usually).

She shakes his hand. "Don't risk the Cornucopia. I'll cover that. Courfeyrac and you should find each other then find shelter, then you can have one person hold down the area while the other finds me and Pruna."

He gave her hand the firm, steady shake of a deal being sealed, and then withdrew it. Folding his arms again, tucking his knuckles in against the warmed leather along the inside of his elbows.

"I know where Pruna's headed. I told her if we didn't meet up at the Cornucopia to head for the high ground or to follow the tail. We all head that way, it'll save us a step."

"Alright. That makes sense." High ground seems a bit risky to Venus - most people who plan head that way, and Pruna may run into traffic or bottlenecking. Still, with no idea what they're facing they have few options. She rocks forward on her high heels and cranes her neck, gesturing to the crowd with one orange-nailed finger. "That's Courfeyrac. The one with the dark curly hair. See him?"

The problem with having so many Arenas under your belt is that you make too many friends. Venus has just been lucky that most of hers haven't died.

"Have you met Guy Crood?"

Wyatt knew it wasn't the best of the plans, but as he had with Howard, with no other idea as what the Gamemakers would spring on them, he could say it was better than nothing.

He followed her hand, turning back to the party and ducking a bit to catch a glimpse of the man in question before a woman in black suit and blonde hair piled atop her head moved and blocked his view.

"He the one that attacked the stylists that one time?" he asked, recalling the story overheard from his own team, all gasping whispers. Eager gossip.

Wyatt couldn't say he blamed him.

She nods. "Apparently they didn't sedate him before they decided to shave him all over."

Honestly, she gets along well with her Stylist, but she suspects she's one of the only ones. She has to admit that even by her standards, the Stylists here are painfully invasive.

"If we run into him, he's friend, not foe."

Wyatt gave small, quick shake of his head to clear it -- remembering all too well how the conversation about shaving had gone with his stylist, then agreed.

"He plays nice, I will too," he promised.

"I should find Courfeyrac and solidify our plans." She nods. "Take care of yourself and Max tonight, alright?"

"I will," he nodded. "An', Venus, try an' do the same, ya hear?"

"Sheriff's orders," she says, and saunters off, heels clacking against the floor.

His mouth twitched, a small curl, as Venus disappeared into the crowd, then he turned away from the party again, back to the distant lights.

He'd have his drink with Howard, then see if he couldn't find Max again.

Surely the man's escort could give them one more night.

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The Crowning of Mindy McReady

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