thecapitol | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

WHO| EVERYONE
WHAT| Effie is throwing a small scale party for just the tributes.
WHERE| The District 12 suite.
WHEN| Christmas
WARNINGS/NOTES| Secret Santa's are under the cut. Feel free to tag in whether you signed up for secret santa or not.

Effie had tried very hard to make this a party that was actually made for the tributes, not made to show them off.

She had tried very, very hard.

The food was what she had been able to investigate as “home” cooking for those she could track down, an odd arrangement of food that sometimes got close to the tributes home food, and sometimes was a terrible disaster. Blood pudding, for example, was a dish best avoided. But then it usually was.

The best hits reel had been her idea. It took a tense conversation with Haymitch and about 45 minutes to convince her that now, that wasn’t really what any Tribute wanted to see when they were trying to relax.

After that the party was much nicer, mellow music, holiday cheer and, for a holiday party, fairly low key. Lorne had karoke going in one room, while another had a large glittering Christmas tree and mellow music playing, with the District 12 windows wide open to show the snow covered city underneath.

Eliot-Neeshka
Kevin-Lottie
Valeria-Tony
Momoko-Draco
Alpha-Anna
Cinna-Momoko
Epoinine-Alpha
Alex-Jade
Jade-Ariadne
Neeshka-Eliot
Anna-Valeria
Lindsey-Glinda
Glinda-Annie
Ariadne-cinna
Elliot-Alex
Lottie- Eponine
Annie-Jade
Tony-Glinda
Shepard-Lindsey
Draco-Kevin

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Excuse Eponine the double take and the wary look as she stared up at Some. What is it? Him? He looks like a hallucination that comes when she hasn't eaten for days and days, lurching out of the darkness to grab her. But she HAS eaten and he is STILL here. So he must be real... A Capitol person?
They have funny things done to them - none so extreme as this, true... but is it possible that it is lots of proceedures gone wrong, right?

"It is all right... M'sieur?"

Is he - it - a mister?

"Are you a stylist?"
He doesn't look 'normal'; but then, neither do the Capitol people.

Edited 2012-12-29 21:24 (UTC)

He tipped his head in puzzlement at the French, not recognizing the pronoun. At least the question made sense.

"Oh, ah, oh no. I'm a tribute. For District Eight. And you?" Some spoke with both of his two mouths, words and occasionally syllables alternating between them in a sort of sing-song accent. And he tried to keep his teeth hidden.

Eponine stepped back, just a little at that. What was he? Was he really speaking out of TWO mouths? How?

"Three..." She kept her eyes fixed on him. "I'm not....... I'm not imagining you, am I?"

Some straightened slightly, his face twitching, settling into a sort of sad smile. That wasn't the first time he'd been asked that.

"Oh no. I am just not human. I'm a grue, and my name is Some ovMennet."

"Oh."

Oh... Not human? A - did he - it - he - say 'grue'?

"I've never heard of that... I'm Eponine... you look like the things I see at night... I never thought they were real, though. Just in my head. You know?"

She touched her head lightly before taking a fortifying gulp of gin-and-water, grimacing at the taste.

"Oh... no, we're real." Though he's not denying that his kind could be the things she sees at night. That's when the hunters hunt, after all. "Do... do you see them often?"

She nodded.
"Sometimes, whenI have not eaten for two days straight, or more, and it is so cold your skin burns... I thought to see what isn't there. Everything goes wavy and people like you appear in the alleys."

He paused, blinking at her. All eight eyes blinked in sequence, never all closed at once.

"... That is probably not my kind. We aren't ghosts."

"No... I don't suppose... I'm sorry, M'sieur."

Eponine stared back at Some. Really, she had never seen anything like him before in her life. He fascinated her, really. But she had no idea what to say. So she took a gulp of her gin.

"I'm- I'm sorry, what is that word you're using?" he asked, ducking his head slightly. "This is not my language. I miss things."

"No, it is French. That is what I speak where I am from. It means 'mister' or 'sir', that is all."

She smiles. "I am from France. I do not think they have it here. But M'sieur, Madame, these are just habits I say. If you do not say it to the right people in France, you get clipped round the ear or worse, and I do not want that."

"Is it like sir or ma'am, then? Respectful?"

Sorry, Eponine. Some likes languages.

"Just so - it is the same. To people who are older, or of a higher class, these you say it to. Until they give you leave not to. And to a young lady who is of a higher class, you say 'Mademoiselle' or 'miss' but to a boy, it is the same. You see, M'sieur?"

She smiles. It isn't often she gets the chance to feel knowledgeable.

He cocked his head, absorbing it. "I think I see, Mademoiselle." It was a very interesting word in his two voices, and he tried it again, first with the upper mouth and then with the lower.

That makes her laugh, the two different mouths talking.

"But I am not a Mademoiselle, I'm afraid, M'sieur. Just Eponine. It would nice to be a lady, but... no. It is not me. You see her -"

She nods towards Glinda, who, to Eponine looks like the epitome of a lady,

"She is a Mademoiselle. Maybe a 'madame'; I do not know how old she is."

"Then I do not think I'm a M'sieur... I am sure I am not older than you, and we are both only tributes. And so is she," he added, with a nod of his own towards Glinda.

"I do not know. In France, I was just Eponine. Or 'Ponine. Or whatever people wanted to call me. That was never 'Mademoiselle' though. Here... I do not know. We may be tributes, but some people still ask you for more respect."

She shrugs, about the most elegant gesture Eponine is capable of, and casts about for another topic.

"Have you been here long, M'sieur?"

"Some months- two Games," he amended, voice a little quieter. It was a more sure way, for him, of measuring time. "And too many parties."

"I've only seen one Games. And one party, except this. I always thought I should enjoy a party; they look such fun with the dancing and the lovely dresses and the food - oh, and the fine wine. Better than gin."

Her smile faltered. "I didn't like it that much though. They kept showing us dying and that thing eating people... This one, though, is better, I think. Nobody stares as if you are a slug or a strange thing here... I do not like the arena, though. I have told them that I do not want to go back, and that I do not want to kill."

Some looked aside. That party. He'd almost attacked Mister Grey in the middle of it.

"That party was hard. They only wanted us there to be seen with us."

"That I do not understand, you know. Why would they want that? To be seen with the people they have seen die? It is as if we are ghosts - and I would not want to be in the company of that... it makes me not feel real.

You know, the other day in a bar, a man bought me wine - and he kept asking how it felt when that man killed me, and what I was thinking of, and he said I had to let him touch my neck, here, where it was cut, and let him kiss it. He said I owed him for the drink. I do not mind; I do not like it, but..."

But she expected it. That was the way France had worked for her... except nobody bought Eponine drinks there.

"I want to just live here."

Oh, he hurt for her. One of his lower hands balled into a fist, but he kept it hidden by his side. "I don't think we are real, to them? They want us to act the way they expect, to be- to be- well, they are all like that man. They say we owe them for bringing us here, so we have to fight and die like-" He forgot himself, baring the sharklike little teeth that lined both jaws. "It's all like watching a show to them, and we're supposed to act like actors afterwards, as if we were only playing. Do you know they are paying those who kill the most?"

"They pay them?"

Well, thhat was news to Eponine. In all honesty, that was a bigger blow to her than the man asking to kiss her neck. Eponine had done such thinks and worse, before now in return for pittance. But to think - they were giving away money? She was ashamed she wanted it so much.

"I would like money, M'sieur, I will not tell an untruth. I would like lots of money to buy a house and nice clothes and food and never be hungry again. But I do not want to kill. I do not understand, really. If we all refused, they could do nothing, could they? I am not scared of being shouted at by these people. Even... if they don't let me live in here any more. It is warmer than France; I will be okay. I won't kill and I will not be a ghost or a toy for them."

Some passed a hand over the back of his head, brushing down the crest of fur that was threatening to rise.

"I don't know what they'll do. I'm waiting to find that out, myself. I won't kill, either. But there are plenty who will, so they have their game."

"Then we will be together. I will let them kill me early, I think. Why should I hide in the arena, starving and cold when I can die and come back here to niceness? It makes no sense to me. M'sieur, they can do nothing worse than put us back in the arena - and they will do that anyway."