Conscientia

[gamemakers]

WHO| Open
WHAT| Night life at the Speakeasy
WHEN| Evenings this week
WHERE| The Speakeasy
WARNINGS/NOTES| Feel free to use this party post style, or however you like if you would like to set any threads here.

The speakeasy was a classy joint. Wood panels, and soft velvet, and usually some kinda of live music, something mellow and easy to relax to. It was big, with low ceilings and with many back rooms, some easy to access, others less so. Easy to get lost in. And it gave off an air of class, of comfort, and being a part of something a little different from the rest. The kinda place where everybody knew your name, and everybody knew to be discreet about it.

It was the perfect place to grab a drink, sit, talk, and relax. No one over heard you, no one got in your business, but everyone was glad to talk if you wanted to find a friendly face. The owner, Conscientia, made her round every now and then, saying hello to her regulars, welcoming those who were new.

Comments

[setfires]

Cinna sat at the bar nursing a single drink. He had been working all day, and was giving himself a bit of a break.

The famed Stylist of District 12, available for conversation to anyone who wants it. Cinna managed to give off a friendly vibe no matter where he was or how much he was drinking.

[makeflowersgrow]

[There's a young girl at the bar, somehow scruffy despite wearing clothes obviously manufactured in the Capitol. She's drinking; gin, mixed with water, apparently. And she keeps on sneaking looks at Cinna. She can't help herself. She says nothing; she doesn't know what to say.

Instead, Eponine runs her fingers through her knotty hair, pulling it first over her face, and then back away again.

She glances over at Cinna again, and offers a slight smile.]

[setfires]

[Cinna raises his brow a bit, giving her a slight, questioning smile.]

You look like someone who wants to say something. Go right ahead. I promise I won't bite. [He speaks gently as he offers her an opening. He recognizes her as a Tribute for District 3 and he wonders what her Stylist is thinking, letting her go out in public with her hair like that.]

[makeflowersgrow]

[She looks away, Embarrassed to have been caught out, before smiling again at Cinna. With about the most elegant gesture Eponine is capable of, she shrugs.]

"I have nothing to say, M'sieur. And around here, who listens to us anyway?"

[She eyes Cinna up and down. He doesn't look like a typical citizen...]

"Are you a tribute?"

[setfires]

I'm a Stylist. [Cinna replies easily.] For District 12.

My name is Cinna.

[makeflowersgrow]

Oh.

[So he is one of them. She probably shouldn't have complained.]

My name is Eponine. They say I am district three, but really, I do not know what this is...

[She takes a gulp of gin]

I don't like my stylist.

[setfires]

[Cinna smiles despite himself. He doesn't want to feel ill about another Stylist but it's still something that's a little funny to think about.]

District Three... is that Valeria?

[makeflowersgrow]

Yes - she is nice, but every day, she says to me,
'Now, Eponine, what shall we wear today?' and everyday I ask for a dress, but... They are see through, or indecent. And she says, 'Brush your hair two hundred times. I shall not leave till you do!' but I do not know so many numbers. And always,
"We need to shave and wax and scrub.'
It is nice to dress up, but I would want to look like a lady, not a whore."

[She chatters nervously, not really thinking about what she's saying in her anxiety. She looks shocked at herself by the end, though. Perhaps she has said too much? She downs the end of her gin, and calls to the barman for another.

[setfires]

[Cinna shifts a little closer]

You should trust her. It's vital that you get sponsors, and you won't get those unless you have a look they like. It might be something you're not used to, but it will be something that the people here are. They're the ones that have to like what you're wearing.

WHEN DID LENNY KRAVITZ GET HERE

[polyturtle]

Speaking of Stylists. Sort of.

Don was with Lottie and Some, but had...sort of wandered off. Not purposefully. He had actually been observing the decor, which reminded him of the Roaring 20s. Even if most of the people had no clue what that meant.

But then he spotted Cinna. And the turtle had the urge to talk to him. Not because of anything underhanded, but rather, because of his own Stylist problem.

So, slowly but surely, he made his way to Cinna.

"...Hi."

:D

[setfires]

Cinna looked up at Don when he was greeted. "Hello," he said in a calm voice.

|D

[polyturtle]

"Hi." Don gave a nervous smile. "You're...the District 12 Stylist, right? Do you...mind if I sit here for a few minutes?...I just wanted to ask for some...Stylist-y advice."

Of course, he wouldn't blame Cinna if he said no. Though thankfully Cinna didn't seem like the kind of person who would run screaming at the sight of him like some Stylists he could name.

Re: |D

[setfires]

Honestly, Donatello was nothing compared to some of the things that Capitol citizens did to themselves. Cinna didn't seem frightened at all. Instead, he gestured to the seat by him.

"By all means, just know I won't share anything that will put District 12 at a disadvantage," he didn't seem to take that idea very seriously, but it was true that he still had to put on a show of being competitive.

Re: |D

[polyturtle]

"Thank you." Donatello sat down, clearly relieved. Obviously his, er, problem in the last Arena hadn't fazed Cinna much. "I'm Hamato, Donatello, by the way. I was wondering if you could, um...give me advice on something."

At this, he rubbed his head, looking down at his tea.

"My Stylist...well, really the whole styling team for District 9, ever since I got here...I'm kind of wondering how I can get them to actually...you know...style me."

[setfires]

Cinna frowned thoughtfully, uncertain if he was understanding the question correctly. "How do you mean? They aren't doing their jobs?"

[polyturtle]

"Uh, well...no." Don sighed. "I've pretty much been dressing myself. Other than the Arenas, my Stylist...doesn't even bother with me. And...well, after what happened last Arena, my Stylist runs from me the moment I come into the room."

[setfires]

Cinna pressed his lips together. He managed to keep his expression thoughtful rather than irritated. He disliked Stylists who didn't do their job. Impression was everything to get sponsors and if you didn't have good Style you didn't have a good impression. "Have you spoken to your mentor about it?"

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Once someone pointed Cinna out to Howard, he made his decision to approach. He bothers to straighten his clothes and gather his bearings first, because he thinks he should try and make a good impression, and generally making good impressions isn't his strong suit.

He stands a bit awkwardly by a seat next to Cinna's table, as if asking permission to sit down. And he waves a hand. "Hi, are you Cinna?"

[setfires]

"I am," Cinna replies as he looks up at the man addressing him. His eyes scan over Howard, as he takes in his clothes and appearance. He does so without appearing judgmental though, more curious than anything.

"What can I do for you?"

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"I, uh." He wrings his fist in his other hand, fidgety and nervous. "I'm a tribute."

Duh, Cinna probably knows that, he thinks. "I need advice for finding sponsors."

[setfires]

"What has your mentor told you?" he asked, wondering what these poor souls from other Districts were having to deal with, that they kept coming up to him for advice. Not that he minded giving it out, of course, anything to help the people who had been torn from their lives.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"I haven't really met my mentor." Howard looks a bit startled, like he didn't even realize he was supposed to have one. "So far I've just figured I'm supposed to be entertaining and likable, or impressive, and..."

He gestures to himself. "I need some work, I guess."

[setfires]

"When did you arrive?" Cinna asked quietly.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Halfway through the last arena. I got thrown in after everyone got all the resources, so." He makes a throat-slitting gesture. "Didn't last long."

[setfires]

Cinna winced slightly. "I remember. I'm sorry," he said. He let that hang in the hair and didn't go right into explaining things. Just causally changing the subject after talking about someone's death didn't settle right with him. He was going to let Howard start the conversation again.