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

[nofunandgames]

He was waiting for company, rolling a glass between his palms. It was good alcohol, and as such he was only sipping at it.

But even then, it was keeping his nerves down.

Which was a very good thing right now.

[mannersmatter]

Business was set aside for now, and Effie was enjoying a drink. This was such a classy little spot, and really, she'd been a little surprised Haymitch had offered it as a place to come discuss business.

But she was enjoying it, for sure.

Haymitch had vanished somewhere. It had been long enough Effie was considering going to track him down. But short enough she wasn't quite ready to go just yet. Instead she took another sip of her electric green drink, playing with the stra sunk down into it's frozen depths.

[punchdrunkvictory]

Haymitch had disappeared into his own corner, sitting at a table tucked away into the corner, nursing a drink that he'd been working at all night.

Business was a priority. He'd invited Effie along to test the waters with her, and to give whomever might be closely a reason to think there would be no business going on tonight.

Another sip. Anymore waiting and he'd have to order another drink.

[warbles]

It still hadn't sunk in. Maybe, when he was rounded up and sent off to whatever Arena they had put together, maybe when he had to fight for his life, the reality of the situation would sink in. But, he'd woken up in The Capitol, in his room on the third floor for a few days now. He never awoke back in Lima. Nightbird would find a way. But, if Blaine were honest with himself - and he had no choice to be here - he wasn't Nightbird. Nightbird was an extracurricular activity and a costume he put on to make himself feel better.

He'd figured out the credit system but only ventured out a few times. He didn't want to get lost, being so new. He was told there were maps but fooling around with those... he just didn't trust himself. He was assaulted with information and sounds and unrecognizable people who did not know fashion.

And boy did that make him miss Kurt.

On Saturday, he found his way to the Speakeasy. He'd enjoyed his one night out at Scandals but because it wasn't what Kurt went for, he'd refrained from returning. In truth, he was a Scandals guy. He liked to dance and comically drink to the small lightweight proportions of his liver but this was a lot more mellow. It was quiet and classy and what he'd think people in a place called The Capitol would do if they didn't look so garish.

He found a table by himself and ordered a soda. He didn't know what else to order and he didn't want to mess with getting alcohol. Plus, he knew himself after alcohol. Unleashing that here would just be... a bad idea.

[setfires]

Cinna saw the bright thing that was Effie. He smiled a bit to himself at the idea of of her here, enjoying a drink, but he managed to change it into a smile that was pleased to see her.

"Effie," he said by way of letting her know that he was joining her. "Care if I join you?"

[setfires]

Cinna had been avoiding public appearances since the new games had started. He had mostly been locked up in his room, letting rumors of the next visionary piece of art swirl around his hermit like ways. The Speakeasy was the perfect cover to pull him out of his workship, just as it had been crafted to be.

"Let me buy you the next round," he said as he slid in next to Haymitch. To anyone who looked at them, it was a perfectly natural thing for him to do. After all they were the mentor and stylist for the same district.

[makeflowersgrow]

GIN!

Eponine is way too young to be drinking gin really, even in her world. But she whines and she wheedles and she begs at the bar. After all, what does it matter for a tribute?

So Eponine downs her first and begs her second, taking it back to a small table in a corner to sip slowly, and savour.

She sits on her hands, leaning forward, obviously uncomfortable in the relative fancy environment. She watches the other people carefully, wary for trouble and simply interested in the other customers. And, always at the back of her mind, she was trying to work out a scheme for paying her bar tab at the end of the night.

[setfires]

Cinna had been a bit of a recluse since they had closed the Capitol. He had finally pulled himself from the workshop to come out for a drink. He noticed the dark haired boy and watched him for a moment before going up to him.

Children had always been the target of the Games, but at least the ones here knew what was happening to them. It didn't make it right, nothing could ever made this right, but at least they weren't pulled from their lives and stuck in a new reality without a clue as to what they were about to face. They hadn't been raised being forced to watch the Games every year, hadn't seen others from their Districts slaughtered before their eyes, didn't know what the Gamemakes were like.

There was something so depressing about taking people from another world to force them to compete. Cinna wanted to help in any way that he could. He got up and moved to introduce himself to whoever this young man was.

"Here, let me pay for your pop. You don't want to use credit for something like that." He was different from the other citizens at the Capitol. Even just his clothes, which were black and simple, set him apart. The only hint of the Capitols trends in make up was the line of gold on his eyelids.

[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.

one tag in and i'm breaking him. just breaking him. also, CINNA

[warbles]

Blaine looked up, brought out of his thoughts by - well, not someone who was well dressed as much as, less than dressed. When it came to the Capitol he expected a whole lot more. But, this guy, this guy was understated. He caught the glint of gold eyeliner. It was Kurt's influence that made him take note of fashion first.

"You don't have to do that," he replied, genuinely meaning it. Blaine wasn't a person who expected special treatment. Sure, at Dalton he got it - as did all the Warblers, but he was never wont for nothing. He thanked whoever gave him anything. He sent thank you notes to the bursar's office. He thanked parents, students. He thanked his Warblers. He missed them. He missed texting his friends. He missed good music on vinyl and he missed - God, he missed everything. It was hard enough to function daily - never mind this being the first day he'd gelled since he'd gotten here.

It helped that the Capitol was a cosmetic place. Make-up, hair products, fashion - it was easily found.

"I'm sorry, I don't... know what to say. Do you want to sit down?" He had lost his manners and his bearings. If this guy was going to pay for his soda, then he could sit with Blaine. To be honest, he wanted to curl up and cry. To hide. But, Blaine Anderson didn't hide. He wallowed. Outwardly. But, he didn't hide.

"And thanks," he added.

[the_marshal]

Wyatt didn't really fit in anyplace the Capitol had to offer. Even if he hadn't been a tribute, and didn't have people whisperin' and pointin' and otherwise grinding his last nerves, it all seemed so... wrong. So loud, so crowded, so... false.

But then he found this place and while it wasn't perfect, it was the closest he'd come and he figured he could at least give it a chance.

At least he get a drink in this place without feeling like he wanted to shove a red-hot poker in his eyes, or ears, or both.

Sliding up the bar, he tipped his hat at the tender and ordered a round.

[the_marshal]

Spotting Elias from across the room, Wyatt extracted himself politely from his conversation with Effie and made his way over.

"A man after my own tastes," he greeted his mentor, resting a hand on the man's shoulder, before moving past and taking a seat on the other side of Elias' table. "I mighta known you'd be here."

Blaaaaine. /wants to scoop him up.

[setfires]

Cinna sat down with Blaine, giving him enough space as to not give the boy the wrong impression.

"No need to apologize. You have a lot to deal with already, you don't need to be in debt over a soda." He gestured to the bar keeper to show that the boy's soda should be put on his tab and them looked back at Blaine.

"I'm Cinna."

/he is plenty scoopable

[warbles]

He watched as Cinna sat down. Normally, he wouldn't be questioning why someone would sit with him. He had a magnetic personality and a smile that could light up a room - maybe that was why he got a 6 as a score - but, he wasn't showing that right now.

"Blaine," he said, not able to even give Cinna a smile. "You know, you hear about bad things happening to good people. Choking on stage, kidnapping, carjacking, a relative's death..." But, none of that compared - maybe the kidnapping. Wasn't that what this was. "My biggest problem before coming here was my ex-boyfriend wouldn't talk to me."

That he laughed at. His laugh was low and humorless. More ironic then anything. He took a long sip of his soda.

"How do I..." live without you, I want to know. Weirdly enough, his brain kept connecting thoughts to songs or events - things that happened on Earth, in his life. Not here. "How do I do this?"

Mm. Yes he is.

[setfires]

"You fight, as hard as you can," Cinna said simply. He didn't really elaborate on that though. There were many kinds of fighting that needed to be done, both in and out of the arena. "How much of what is going on has been explained to you?"

He knew the new recruits were given some summary of what to expect, but that didn't help prepare them.

As is Cinna, mmm.

[warbles]

It was a cliche for a reason but Blaine was a lover, not a fighter - and back in his old high school, a runner. He had run away. He wanted nothing more then to run but this was beyond homophobic bullying.

"The basics. Why I'm here, what's going to happen. Fight to the death," he responded, his voice hollow. "On camera." Like a sick, twisted reality show. It didn't matter how they explained it, it wasn't going to change that it was happening. That this was real.

"That it won't be the last time." Once would be enough - if it had to be any number of times - but more then once? At all?

[setfires]

Cinna folded his hands on the table. "Yes, the thought that they'll bring you back doesn't really make facing your death any easier does it?" he said softly. He really couldn't imagine the horrors this boy was going to face.

[warbles]

"The thought that they brought me at all doesn't make facing my death any easier. I'm still stuck on facing my death." He didn't mean to grind his teeth together and snap back at Cinna, albeit quietly. But, Cinna was being awfully nice to him - as if he knew what was in store but he knew there was no choice in the matter. "People just sit back and watch all this happen? It wasn't enough that they volunteered people who are actually from here, but they had to..." Pull others, he wanted to ask.

"I was just fine worrying about our club's trophy and a new friendship and an old boyfriend and not thinking about clever strategies that might keep me alive past day one. I don't go camping. I played sports but I never did karate. I box when I need to let off some steam and I go to school. I'm eighteen!" He looked around him after raising his voice and exhaled.

"Why is this happening to me?" To any of them? But, in a rare selfish moment, Blaine only had himself in mind. He knew nobody deserved this, maybe the least of all him. He was doing what he'd tried not to do all week.

Breaking apart.

"I'm thanking you for paying for my soda when in the near future there won't be any soda to pay for because I'll be running for my life or hiding or dying."

[setfires]

Cinna let the boy vent for as long as he wanted. He was quiet, understanding, he didn't take the snap personally and didn't try to calm Blaine down. He listened until he was done and took a deep breath, steadying himself away from the empathy he felt for this kid.

"I'd suggest taking this time to learn some of those skills," he suggested. "I'd also work on getting sponsors. Have you spoken with your mentor? Or your Stylist?"

[warbles]

"No," he replied, curtly. But, he knew he had to do these kinds of things. He had made a checklist. Everything he had to remember to get by. But, he had filed it away in the back of his mind.

"So, you go along with them. You know, you look different but you're just like ..." Them, he stopped himself from saying. "Is it entertaining?"

[setfires]

"I'm a Stylist for District 12," Cinna explained carefully, voice low enough that only Blaine could hear him. "I can tell you that you need to be careful. If you're killed outside of the arena you won't be able to come back and the Capitol's government doesn't take kindly to people disagreeing with them."

[warbles]

"So, I have to find one of you, but for district three." He could take a hint. That was a mission to fulfill, it would keep his mind off of what was going to happen after. "I'm not trying to speak out against anyone. I'm just trying to - understand. Understand why I'm here why the Capitol ever decided this was a good idea, an entertaining idea. I don't get it." He looked down at his drink. "I don't get any of it."

He picked up his soda and took another sip.

"So, you're a stylist." He glanced back at Cinna. Did he only style others? He kept that thought back, preferring not to lash out at the instrument of the Capitol. Something read different about Cinna then the other flashy dolls around them. "How'd you get into that?"

[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.]

[setfires]

"That's a complicated question," Cinna admitted. "It might be a good idea to find a history vid or two. I'd try to hunt down the story of the war, and how the Games came to be if I were you. Don't go asking too many questions about it though, tell people you're interested in finding out more about our world and culture and learn about more than just the Rebellion." Cinna offered carefully, as if he was only having a conversation with the young man. He could have gone into the history of the Games here, but he wasn't sure what he thought about this kid just yet. Except that he needed some guidance to stop himself from panicking, Cinna didn't have much of an impression just yet.

He shrugged off the question though and gave a simple answer, "It's a profession, the same as any other." He didn't expect Blaine to know him or his work.

Not yet anyway. That would change soon.