thecapitol | open spectator log because why not

Entry tags:

open spectator log because why not

Who| Anyone who wants to spectate but doesn't want to make a million logs
What| Spectations, spectactling, spectalary. Gathering together to cross fingers and watch the mini arena.
Where| The Commons
When| All through the mini-arena. However many hours people feel the need to watch.
Warnings/Notes| Watching your friends die, kind of a huge bummer.

In one of the many tasteful bursts of helpfulness the Capitolites are prone to having, the commons are full of bowls of snacks and drinks. Popcorn or many varieties, candy and drinks are spread across the table, as if it's a delightful addition to the decorum right now. In another bout of helpfulness, there's also over a dozen tissue boxes spread across the room, nested between couches and chairs. Basically, it's all super tasteful.

It's probably a little sickening watching the Arena on the screens in the common room, but it's hard not to keep a close eye on your friends. Surely some people will opt to keep their viewing in private, but perhaps others are inclined to gravitate toward other people while this shit goes all the way down.

As far as parties go, this one is a real stinker.

Threaded | Flat

Some can't stand to be alone, just now. So mind the masked grue occupying half a couch in his tight huddle, hugging a pillow. He's kept his helmet from the crowning, and is wearing it with the visor down, so all that's visible of his face are his mouths, both pressed into flat lines.

This shit is already off the chain as far as unfair experiences go. After literally just seeing Terezi again, she's getting dragged into an all-exclusive arena. Dave hasn't even seen a real arena, but an exclusive one is fucked up on levels he cannot even begin to comprehend. He doesn't want to watch, he shouldn't watch. It seems weirder and more torturous than going back in time and watching yourself fuck up the lines in the school christmas pageant, but Terezi is his friend and she's living this, the least he could do is keep an eye on her somehow. Right? Right.

He's extended over an armchair currently, legs draped lazily over one side and his head propped up by the other arm. It's hard to tell how intently he's scanning the screen when he has his aviators on, but the fact that not a single piece of popcorn from the bowl he has sitting on his lap has actually made it to his mouth is telling of how distracted he is. He's not really good at the Emotions thing sometimes.

Mindy was not one of the people viewing in private. Hell, she wasn't even eating any of the food, opting only for water. For all she knew, something might happen that would quickly make her lose whatever she was eating. Better to watch then stay by herself.

That and, well, she had friends that were here. They might need her here.

Edited 2014-04-03 15:47 (UTC)

Clementine is no stranger to seeing people die, that's a fact. But this is different to anything she's previously experienced. It's... strange, seeing it happen on a screen. It's not a movie or anything like that (and Clem's parents had never let her watch movies that showed such gruesome detail anyway), it's real.

Reluctantly, she stays in the common room, grabbing a drink and snacks out of ingrained habit to never pass food by and settles on a chair in the corner. Watching the screen whenever she can stomach it.

She had to be prepared, that's what she tells herself. This is what they say will happen to her too.

Hanji's there, if only relatively infrequently. It's always good to get a glimpse of what waits for her in the future, even if it's not pleasant. But she's always a bit chipper, even when things are going terrible. Although at times, her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. In fact, her smile is almost entirely gone when the killing starts in earnest. Whatever appetite she had is gone for the moment, so a half-finished drink and a collection of miscellaneous snacks stay piled up on the table next to her.

"What a waste," she mutters.

Edited 2014-04-03 18:56 (UTC)

Having claimed her favorite sofa in the lounge Azula can be found dressed comfortably yet tastefully. A silk robe, her hair done up in a neat businesslike bun but adorned with a glittering planet. Venus.

A pair of sideburns lay on the table, she had refused to wear them. Instead to show her support for the Prince of the southern isles she wore a pendent with his family crest on it...or at least she had been told that's what it was.

With a half drank glass of wine on the table next to her she nibbled on a cake and watched as her tributes fought for their lives once again.

As much as she hated to admit it, she was growing fond of the ever polite and respectful Hans, even if she had noticed how quick he was to change attitude depending on if he was speaking to his fiancee, his mentor or for example...Shepard.

Then again Shepard had a way of getting under everyone's skin.

And as for Venus, while she was still frustrated that such a smart respectable woman would debase herself by being in a relationship with Enjolras, she still wanted the girl to win. She worked harder then most to compete both in and out of the arena.

It was going to be a long night.

Sandy was on the edge of her seat.

Her stomach was twisted in knots and she found it difficult to eat anything more then soup. So she sipped warm broth to try and sooth her tense tummy as she watched her best friend once again fighting for her life.

But this time the odds of her not coming back were much higher.

She knows she shouldn't worry...Pruna would never kill herself rather then fight to her last dying breath.

But something about this situation felt wrong to her. She couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of dread as she curled up into a anxious little ball in an oversized armchair. She was grateful for other people milling around. It gave her a distraction from her own grim thoughts.

*************

The screen is currently showing Harley and Susannah clinging to each other as the thin ice starts to crack around them.

Harley, for some reason, is babbling about math to Susannah: "There's gotta be some formula right? Weight times impact divided by speed or something? Maybe throw a pi in there somewhere? I love pie."

Susannah's frowning. "Math was never my forte, honey, I'd need pencil and paper to work that out."

Susannah closes her eyes. And something-- shifts in her expression. Her beautiful face seems almost ugly. She starts moving the two of them--

--a jump cut to the other side of the thin ice. Harley's grinning, but it's not a nice grin. Not in the least. "I'm thinking you'll have a lot more fun with that spear if you keep ahold of the wheel. Ya know the only way to buy us more time is to kill suckers, right? So how about you recite pi as far as you can and we get back in the game, 'Legs?'"

The grin that answers is, if anything, more malicious. And the words that follow, spoken in an accent that's best described as a racist parody of a black person, Butterfly McQueen on steroids, "Honky, I think I like you," sound nothing like Susannah at all--

"Now, that's entirely unexpected," Caesar Flickerman says as they cut briefly to the studio.

"Not entirely, Caesar," Claudius Templesmith says a bit smugly, "In fact, there's a bit of unaired footage from Arena Eight that explains everything. I've been informed that our Mrs Dean has a secret she's been keeping from everyone. See for yourself--"

--and suddenly the screen cuts to entirely different footage of Susannah and Harley, dressed in the outfits from Arena Eight, the one on Dinosaur Island. The two of them are just outside the compound.

"--with multiple personalities," Susannah says.

Harley whistles. "Boy that's gotta be a trip! How long have you had the condition?"

"Since I was five," Susannah says. "Brick fell on my head. It's better than it used to be. Used to be I wasn't aware of it. Used to be I didn't remember what the other half did--"

--another jump cut, still the same conversation, but obviously later on. Susannah has a far-away expression as she narrates, "Odetta Holmes made Detta Walker to act out on her anger and pain, to follow through all of her evil impulses--so that Odetta could take the higher ground, could be selfless and forgiving and above-all good. Made her and forgot about her and made her forget Odetta as well. And then, when they both knew each other, made Susannah Dean to reconcile the difference--"

--back to the studio, where Caesar Flickerman has an intrigued expression. "Well," he says, "to Odetta and Detta, as well as Susannah, may the odds be ever in your favor."

The screen cuts to elsewhere in the maze.

[OOC: People can react here to this highly intriguing footage if they want! It's also here so I can have a reference to it if I need to link back.]

Edited 2014-04-04 08:24 (UTC)

Another party.

More death.

But surprisingly enough Orc wasn't drunk. He was working on it but not there yet. No instead he was lumbering around the commons area watching Waytt and Susannah on the screens and looking for Howard. He felt like he was always looking for Howard and he wished that he couldn't figure out what it was he'd done wrong.

But no, Diana spelled that out for him pretty clearly.

So instead of trying to figure out why it wasn't OK for him to sleep with Eponine, Orc was being proactive in his Howard hunt.

"Ya wouldn't think it'd be so hard to find one black kid in a crowd of so many white guys, girls and trolls." He muttered.

Shion sits with his fists clenched watching the screen angrily. He obviously hadn't been able to do anything to stop Rat being taken. He was in danger again and Shion couldn't do anything to help him. Not that he could have done anything if he was there, but he was even more helpless just watching.

He sat with his knees up to his chest trying to remember to breathe and glaring at anyone who might come near him, with eyes filled with tears.

Edited 2014-04-05 20:32 (UTC)

It's worrying Diana a little, how used she'd becoming to so much death.

Well, death she'd already been used to. The FAYZ did that. But watching it like a sports games. The idea of that becoming commonplace was what pinched at the pit of her stomach.

So she'd decided to watch with the others for awhile. It made her feel better. Seeing that other people were just as bad as her. Watching people die.

Everyone runs a little faster, fights a little harder-- even the pacifists. The Initiate wonders if it's because he's not there as well that it all seems that way.

Terezi met up with someone what all looked familiar but whom he didn't know himself. They seemed amiable and the Initiate takes that as a good sign, that perhaps this one won't betray.

Pruna isn't so lucky. He notes Harley, whom he remembers from the Crowning, and his eyes narrow and both she and the woman with her. Pruna stands her ground and he feels a surge of pride for her, even knowing it ain't near over. Of course it wasn't. Harley he liked-- and so it was a damn shame-- but this other woman, he didn't know. A target. Next time. Pruna lived, meeting some man he ain't know but who'd been around for as long as could be remembered, only to die for him.

He notes Venus's mention of deadlines but whatever it is she's referring to is unclear. The mentions go on with Courfeyrac --"especially this particular arena". It seems to be a scavenging game.

He doesn't leave the chair he's sitting in, back straight like it's a throne, but claws tense on the arms of the chair, eyes intent. He doesn't take his eyes off the screen and doesn't even ask the nearby Avox to get him anything-- he never requests anything of them anymore, not since learning of his life before. He studies it all.

Some other man he ain't know, mentions being killed for good. Something's off, voices in his head whisper. Something is different. He tells himself again, it's just because he ain't there, immersed in it, but he doesn't leave the chair, not for a moment.

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