Thicker Than Blood Start

[gamemakers]

For Tributes with keen eyes, they'll notice that Peacekeeper presence seems increased and yet infinitely more ineffective in the last few weeks. Peacekeepers seem harried, as do the Stylists, and most of the Escorts titter and plot without alerting the Tributes as to what, exactly, is so exciting. They simply say that this weekend they'll know.

And so it happens that on the weekend in question, the Tributes are woken by their Escorts early and brought to a restaurant for a hearty breakfast. The restaurant is nothing spectacular, although they seem to be trying to make an impression on the television cameras that float around. The sleepy, cranky meal goes by and then the Tributes are led back to their Suites for a mandatory meeting.

Sitting on couches and the floor, in chairs and on windowsills, standing off to the side - people from the Tributes' homes are waiting to greet them in each District Suite. Some are confused, some accepting, some frightened and some elated to see their beloved. Either way, it should be an eventful reunion.

Comments

District 1

[etcircenses]

John | For De

[badparent]

They said it was a dream. Of course, John's lack of ability to trust other people meant that he didn't believe it. Of course, he had been dead - for some time, actually. If anything, this place was nothing short of a break from hell. If it was a dream, he didn't want to leave.

Anything was better than that.

He was relaxed, surprisingly, considering the unexpected change. He is leaning against a wall, taking a look out a window. His arms were folded over his chest.

He didn't know why he was here, but he assumed it was because of his children.

It always came back to them.

Kolyat | For Thane

[tributevisitors]

Kolyat highly doubted this was a dream, despite what the freakishly dressed and make-up smeared humans told him. There were some things in the galaxy that simply couldn't be explained by a mere dream and this felt too real to be any kind of dream state.

True to his nature, Kolyat kept himself back from the other people in the room, back against a wall with a good vantage point of everyone else. He didn't know why he was here or with such a strange assortment of people, but answers would come, he would try to be patient.

Castiel | for De

[sterlet]

Quiet acceptance.

Castiel has learnt, often, that quiet acceptance is not preferable.

The Winchester's taught him that. They taught him many things. And sitting here, he's been told that he will see one of them, when he was not aware one of them had been stolen. He had felt it when Zachariah stole Dean away into fictions, he had felt Gabriel's disturbances. He had not felt this.

So he waits, quietly, for the eldest Winchester.

District 2

[etcircenses]

Agron | for Nasir

[quarrels]

He would have looked hilarious, if he hadn't looked quite so angry: the biggest man in the room wearing the smallest amount of clothing. A titan in leather and rags, Agron glowered from the corner of the room he had decided to occupy. There was a palpable undercurrent of tension and anger in the tense lines of the rebel gladiator's face, matched with a fiercely balled fist at either hand. At his side was a Peacekeeper, stationed close by to keep an eye on the barbarian who had already proved troublesome in the short time he had been in the Capitol so far. It seemed Agron didn't like this so-called dream - and he clearly did not care who knew it, either.

A dream, according to the escorts before he had sent them scuttling away with a well-placed snarl and a series of four-letter threats. Agron never placed much stock in dreams - and he'd certainly never had any dream quite like this one. Here, the light was too bright, the surfaces of the room too clean and smooth. Agron preferred blood and sweat and dirt under his nails in the land of the living, where he could curl his fingers around the throat of a problem and brawl his way out of a tight spot. Here - in a room filled with what he could only presume were Romans who stood as much a riddle as the words they spoke - Agron was quite clearly out of his depth.

Kins | For Some

[storiesinstone]

It wasn't hard to surmise, with a little thought, who the different visitors might belong to. Style of dress and way of speech were easy enough to use as cues for identification.

One in particular, however, stood out as plain as day. Standing tall on multiple long legs, powerful muscles terse with barely-contained stress...a hat with a gauzy violet veil furnished by the Capitol to protect sensitive black eyes from the light. She did not like it, but...she liked the light far less.

Kins held herself away from everyone else in the room, steering clear of the couches and chairs in favor of remaining alone. She was not pleased with the current situation...with the exception of one thing and one thing only. Some. She was told that she was here to see Some. Implausible as it seemed, she needed to know...needed to at least find out if it was true.

For her son.

Gemma Doyle for Felicity Worthington (possibly also Pippa Cross)

[psychomancy]

Simmering rage wins out over fear. There is hardly a contest.

They had said it was a dream, but the simple fact that someone had told her so made it feel more wrong than it already did. Gemma knew dreams, had walked in them and used them to influence. This was no dream, and she had no time for whatever nonsense was going on. There was still too much to do, too many potential members of the Order to contact and inform. But they'd told her that Fee was here, that she had needed to come, for some reason or other. Just her friend's name was enough to convince her to stay and not simply fly away--not without Fee, at least. Who, she hoped, would have a very good explanation for all (or at least some) of this.

So she sits near a window in a dark green gown, skirts gathered about her legs as she inspects the others present. Her head in inclined slightly, her chin jutted out in defiance of this entire façade. Felicity must know what is going on, and if she doesn't, then Gemma will make sure they find out.

Jet, his parents and OTA | CW for implied child abuse

[metalicarus]

Jet didn't know what to expect, all he knew was that he was miffed because they'd forced Albert to go to his own district for whatever stupid reason. If asked what he thought they were doing and why the tributes were being sent to their districts for some kind of 'surprise,' Jet would have come up with five hundred things before the idea of what it actually was would have a chance to cross his mind.

He developed tunnel vision as whoever else was in the common room vanished and his eyes fell on a tall, broad, man with bright red hair and sharp blue eyes standing next to a shorter, lithe woman with soft brown eyes and matching hair. Whereas she was the definition of a shrinking violet, he stood tall with his shoulders back, defying the peacekeepers for existing.

Jet had to wonder if his old man had already tried to take a swing at one of them for daring to interrupt his unstructured and thoroughly liquored up lifestyle. Jet then had to wonder if he'd arrived with a beer bottle in hand and if they'd had to pry it away from him.

It was only after these first two thoughts that his mind supplied the seemingly more important question of why? Weren't they torturing him--any of them--enough? If this was supposed to be a chance to meet loved ones like some god damn visitor's day, then the higher-ups had fucked up immensely. If this was supposed to be some threat to keep Jet in line or they'd do something to his parents...well, they hadn't done too much better. More than half of him wished his father would end up in an arena, that would be entertaining.

Of course, Jet's luck seemed to only consist of 'bad' and 'worse' and eventually Ciro Licursi's eyes found Jet and the blond was forced to make his way over to them. At first, there was no recognition in his father's eyes--why would there be? Jet was supposed to look like a perfect combination of them: tall, lithe, with bright red hair and soft brandy eyes--but something in the way he moved or the fact his body itself hadn't changed in build or just some damn parent radar thing gave him away and that look of passive agitation changed to one of barely contained rage and indignation.

"What the hell happened to you? You look like a greaser beatnik and on top of that, they say we're here because of you! Some dream nonsense but this doesn't feel like a dream."

Jet looked away, arms crossing, every ounce of confidence and energy he'd ever developed over the last three-quarters of a century gone in five seconds flat. "No, Pa, it's not a dream. You are here 'cause of me."

Ciro's hand darted out fast and his grip was a vice on Jet's arm, partially pulling him down as though to try and make Jet lower than his father, despite their equal heights. "What the hell kind of trouble you got yourself into now? S'bad enough you run off to god-knows where with that gang of yours, but now you're pulling your mother and me into your shit too? Don't you forget all the grief and trouble you've caused me, the only thing stopping me from letting you have it are these people, you got it?"

This close to the 'older' man, Jet could smell the rank stench of stale booze mixed with fresh and old cigarettes and it just made him want to run in the other direction. "Yeah, Pa...I know."

For Sherlock 1.0

[constantworrier]

Aside from his rather plain grey suit, Mycroft didn't look all that out of place standing in District 2 common room, black umbrella in hand. He watched and mentally deduced those around him as he awaited his brother. They had been give a rather convincing talk about how this world was some form of active dreaming. Very convincing indeed. Too bad he was Mycroft Holmes, a man who had a rather poor habit of distrusting everyone. No, there was more here than was being said, but he wanted to see his brother before making a final judgement.

Rapunzel for Some

[tangled_up]

Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm.

This wasn't the weirdest thing to happen to her. Which was a sad, sad fact. But a true one. Still, it didn't stop her from tangling her finger in her hair (which several people had already tried to play with) and rocking back and forth.

If someone would just tell her what was going on, this wouldn't be half as bad.

District 3

[etcircenses]

Elizabeth Wakefield (for Jessica Wakefield)

[saintelizabeth]

For some reason, there's two of Jessica in the common room when everyone returns. Or... at least it looks like there's two of her. One of them, the one on the right, is much more conservatively dressed, however. "Are you in trouble?" she's asking the normal-looking Jessica in a low voice. "Is that why they brought me here?"

Juba (for Maximus)

[notyet]

A dream, they told Juba. He supposed that made sense, though never even in his dreams has he ever seen things such as this.

The garish, painted faces that would have put even the highest of Roman ladies to shame; the strange, gleaming creatures floating about, humming softly, like steel bees; the glass, a single, spotless pane - taller and wider than three men - and the city beyond, shining grander even than Rome had....

How impressed his daughters would be, when he finally returned home, and shared his new-found imagination with them.

Curious, he laid his hands on the cool glass, and smiled, lightly, to himself at the cool feel of it, finding no reason yet to be disturbed.

Not even when he spied the familiar reflection behind him.

It was hardly the first time the dead had paid him a visit in his dreams.

Smile widening, he turned to take in his friend.

"Maximus."

Susan (for Ian)

[anunearthlychild]

The young lady had been staring out the windows at the city below, but once the tributes arrive back, she dashes to greet her old friend. "Ian!" she cries. "Oh Ian, it's been months since I saw anyone from the Tardis! Not that I particularly expected a visit, you understand, but I wouldn't have frowned on one either. Do you know when we are? It's not an era I'm familiar with but then I don't know all of Earth's history. I've got us pinpointed geographically, though. I think we're in the Rocky Mountain region of North America. How's Grandfather been? Is he taking care of himself? He's kept to that appearance for so long, I used to worry his body would give out. How's Barbara? Is she--"

She frowns. "Barbara isn't here. Is she?" She takes a deep breath, lets it out. "I'm sorry. I'm babbling, aren't I?"

Rahm Kota (for Starkiller)

[blinddrunkenmaster]

Kota was used to the weird and unusual. You don't spend decades hiding in the furthest corners of the galaxy to be around the most average people, after all.

But somehow, this all took the cake. The fact that he'd been grabbed and shoved inside a room, one apparently full of people yammering, the fact that he was apparently supposed to be expecting someone... This was a new form of weird for him. He hadn't been that drunk that he'd start hallucinating.

But he could play the game for now. He'd wait and see what was going to happen and react accordingly. Probably. His hungover was pretty bad, and the noise around him wasn't helping.

District 4

[etcircenses]

Karan and Shion | OTA

[tributevisitors]

The last time Karan had seen Shion it was when he'd gone to bed the day Rat had left. She didn't know where this was, but it felt too much like Chronos all over again to keep a minimum of anxiety from bubbling under the surface. She played at the lapels of her coat while she looked around the room. No one else except those that seemed to be in charge seemed to have any idea of what was going on.

Until the "tributes" filed in, and she saw him. His white hair was gone, replaced with a rich purple, but the red mark on his cheek was there. Sure, he'd been changed physically by all that had gone on, but he was still her Shion.

She'd also notice once he was in her arms that he seemed to have filled back out again from when he'd lived in West Block. But she was too busy hugging him as soon as he came into her line of sight to worry too much about that. "Shion...." she whispered.

District 5

[etcircenses]

Prince Ronald (Olders Brother 4 of 13) for Prince Hans and OTA

[dem_sideburns]

It's a swanky set up, that's for sure.

Prince Ronald of the Southern Isles was lounged casually in an oversized chair like it was a throne lamenting the loss of his favorite swords. Ronald was an avid weapon collector but when he was out on his adventures he favored a longsword and dagger pairing.

He was a strapping large man with a scar on his face hinting at some past scuffle where one could only imagine the state his opponent must have been left in.

Maybe it was magic, maybe it was a dream. All that mattered was the food was good and the girls wandering about were easy on the eyes. He'd get his swords back sooner or later.

District 6

[etcircenses]

Cyrus Reagan, for Stephen

[currupted]

Cyrus Reagan stands apart from the crowd as much as he can. The suites weren't made to accommodate so many people, and he has no interest in sharing a couch with any of the cow-eyed otherworlders crowded into the room; so he waits with his back to the far wall beside the window, his arms crossed and the morning sunlight spilling over one shoulder. Gloved fingers tap an impatient rhythm against his upper arm.

It irks him a little, to be included this way - to be counted among the others here, as though he were a stranger to this place and not the one in the room most intimately familiar with the gears turning behind this organizational nightmare. It'll look good for you! is easy for the publicists to say - those with the luxury of thinking only of how it looks.

There are things that aren't optional - not for Tributes, not for Escorts, and not for presidential cabinet members, and meeting his brother elsewhere was not optional. Not when the cameras are here. But he keeps his irritation off his face-- his expression is clear and neutral, a smile hovering around his eyes, which are turned to the door through which Stephen, he knows, will come at any moment.

There's the one upside to all this: Whatever fear, confusion, and uncertainty the Tributes' loved ones are feeling around him, he has no part in it. He's known for weeks that he's here to see his brother - the one person in all Panem who might make this bearable.

District 7

[etcircenses]

Jadzia Dax - For Julian & Open

[eightlives]

Her first thought was of her symbiont, and of the possible injuries it may have suffered during the transport into another universe. Sure, she'd time-travelled safely before, but this was a whole new ball game, and she couldn't let anything happen to Dax. So it was with some trepidation that Jadzia slowly settling into the District Seven suite, taking in her surroundings and getting used to the idea of being kidnapped to a completely alien world.

Luckily, everything seemed to check out biologically speaking, even if the explanation wasn't exactly obvious. Jadzia always liked a challenge, and figuring out the circumstances of her abduction as well as understanding the mechanisms of the Capitol's dream-induction technology was near the top of her to-do list. Their Avox handlers weren't too chatty, alas, and she had a ton to catch up on. This week was going to be jam packed even before she was reunited with Julian.

District 8

[etcircenses]

District 9

[etcircenses]

Damon Macready for Mindy

[nickcageasbatman]

The splendor and style of this place only gave option to a number of situations Damon could believe he was in.

Either he had died and this was the waiting room to heaven or hell...

...actually no that was pretty much the only situation he could muse up in his confusion.

Sitting politely at a table he eyed a glass of water suspiciously. He'd watched the silent servant (What did they say his name was? Avox?) pour the water himself for Damon as well as some of the others in the suite...none of them had dropped dead yet.

There was cucumber in the water. What kind of hippie bullshit was that?

Taking off his glasses he cleaned them on his sweater and was struck once again by how completely unsettling it was to be wearing the clothes he last remembered putting on before his death as Big Daddy. Who'd have thought the after life had a waiting room?

Tim Burton, Beetlejuice. That's who.

He smirked, unable to resist a good reference even now. Running his worn fingers through his thinning hair he wondered what sins these other figures had committed to cause them to have to wait here.

One of the figures looked suspiciously like a Batman villain, was that on purpose? Cosplay? Or maybe just Damon's overactive imagination having a bit of fun with him.

Oh well, glancing out the window at the city stretched out below, heaven or hell it was quite a site to behold. He'd never seen New York look so clean and glistening as this city did. Every color his artists eyes could perceive was on display in one form or another.

District 10

[etcircenses]

(for Bunnymund, but anyone's free to react to this guy)

[asshole_spider]

One of District 10's more eye-catching new arrivals was the dark-skinned man with dreadlocks, wearing an orange dashiki over knee-length khakis and a pair of green-lensed sunglasses. His clothes, however, weren't nearly so eye-catching as the eight enormous spider legs sticking out of his back.

He'd been using the upper ones to prod one of the other surprise guests, someone hiding deep inside a robe and cowl, in an effort to get a good look at the tentacles they had been using in turn to slap the legs away. He looked up when the Tributes arrived, and nearly lost his sunglasses to the next slap.

"Ah, old friend!" he said, white teeth bared in a dazzling grin. "I think this indicates that I still am not the one always getting us into trouble."

District 11

[etcircenses]

open to the sisters ;A;

[libertin]

Whatever he had been expecting, this wasn't it. Courfeyrac stopped dead in his tracks, knees locking for a split second before it really and truly hit him that he was actually face to face with five of his sisters. His expression twisted into something that definitely looked painful, worry punctuating his face at every possible angle. Staggering, he approached them, almost afraid that if he ran to them they might disappear or be dragged away from him. He didn't care which of them he embraced first, he just wanted to collapse against them and soak in their familiar reassurances. "Damnit! Why did they bring you here?!"

District 12

[etcircenses]

Gale (for Katniss)

[simpletrap]

Gale is standing off to the side, staring out the window at the city below. There's food out on the table, but it looks like it hasn't been touched. He's dressed in better clothes than he usually is -- he hadn't been able to fight that -- but they're plain.

When the door to the district opens he turns, and there isn't even a hint of a smile on his face as he sees who it is. There's only a tightening of his jaw.

"Hey, Catnip."