thecapitol | we wine, we dine, and everything is fine [open!]

Who| Everyone still in the Capitol. If the Hunger Games is a significant part of your life, or if you wield any influence at all in the Capitol, you've received an invitation. Unless you're Victory Hannibal.
What| Week 1 viewing party! It's horror-movie/monster themed, so break out your best sexy witch/vampire/mummy costumes! Also, feel free to use it for sponsor schmoozing.
Where| A ballroom, and some adjacent rooms.
When| Just before the Arena begins, and into the night.
Warnings/Notes| Watch this space for warnings. Also, feel free to make closed threads amongst yourselves, but Stephen will likely at some point come up to greet you personally. If you think your Capitol character would be familiar with the Reagan family, make an OOC note, and I'll give you a quick rundown on their sordid past.

There is a fog machine.

The fog hovers around the guests' knees and ankles, doing nothing to impede visibility or movement, but it creates a ~mysterious~ atmosphere. The ballroom is modest, by Capitol standards, able to comfortably hold about a hundred people. There's plenty of space. The room is dimly lit from concealed sources that nonetheless throw the guests' shadows into frightening shapes on the wall. There are tables laden with food along one wall, and plenty of comfortable seating, for projected onto the far wall is a live feed from the Games.

Through the doors are smaller, more intimate rooms, with cushy couches and a smaller screen apiece for watching the Games a little more privately. One pair of double-doors leads out onto a balcony with a beautiful view of the city.

Everyone who received the invitation was informed of the theme, of course: no pressure, but if you want your outfit to match (and he's sure you do), make sure it's a little bit -- spooky.

Stephen himself, tastefully attired in a shimmery black suit, cape, and vampire teeth, is moving about the guests, giving friendly greetings to those he knows, making polite conversation with those he does not, ensuring that everybody (or at least, everybody possible) is having a good time. So what if his smile looks a little fixed, every once in a while? It's a party. What could possibly be wrong?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Who wasn't? That was really the question. It was something that Mindy might have actually replied, had she not been getting the impression that this guy literally was like a monster. Seriously, no one should be going out of their way to be this creepy and somehow still mean every word.

"That's not that specific. We're in the Capitol. All types of monsters here."

"Depending on your sense of the word," Wesker allowed, smile only deepening. "I was being quite literal, I assure you."

He paused, a moment, his head turning slightly -- and there, beneath the pale flesh of his throat something moved. A sinuous, slithering, entirely unnatural.

"The infection burned through my world, billions dead in that first year," he turned back to her, "But when it came to me, it turned me into something... more."

"That's fortunate," Mindy said, fighting back the shudder that was coming for her. "And...I'm guessing this helped you win your run in the Arena?"

Besides making her have bad nightmares for the next few days.

"I would have won either way," he said, that same low purr, smugly confident. Wholly believing of the things he said. "But it did speed the process, yes."

"That's some confidence." Mindy said this with an air of interest.It was like talking with Azula, when you got down to it: talking with traps. "The games are never that predictable. People, maybe."

"Particularly oneself," Wesker replied easily. "I know what I am, and what I am capable of. I would have won, that arena or another, because I would have it no other way."

He was the man with the plan. The man with goals, with plots.

And he always won. Even when he lost.

"And I see no reason to pretend otherwise."

Mindy shrugged. Ok, can't really fault a guy for being sure about what they do, even if they did sort of give you the creeps.

"Now the million dollar question: why DID you want to win? Some people can't take the idea of killing someone or getting killed. I have a feeling you're not in that camp."

"Why did you?" Wesker returned without a blink. "To be free? To escape the pain and the death? To prove that you are more than just a toy for their amusement?"

He shifted, a small, almost imperceptible movement - squaring his shoulders, straightening his spine - somehow becoming bigger than he was even just a moment ago.

"We all have our reasons, the validity of which can only be determined for ourselves."

"No one can escape pain and death. Long as you live in the Capitol, that's pretty much a certainty. Besides, I wouldn't want to win for a shitty reason like that. For recognition, yeah, part of it. To rub it in the face of my mentor a little, that was part of it too. But you know, the game never really ends, not really. You just play a new one."

And that, really, was what she sought: an end to the game.

"Keeping quiet about yours then?"

"A man must have his mysteries," Wesker mused, that same quite amusement, as if laughing at a joke only he understood. "Particularly if he expects the game to last."

One never revealed their strategy is such early goings.

Not with such weighted opponents.

"You think you'll be pulled into the game again sometime soon?"

Mindy didn't doubt it, but hell. It was enough of a reason, almost. She was just glad she hadn't talked that much about herself.

He'd never left it, but he rather than saying that, he merely inclined his head.

"Anything's possible." His mouth pulled again into that sharp, cold smirk. "And I strive to be prepared."

The world's best, and worst, boy scout.

She bet that he did. Even as a mentor, you couldn't pretend that the fight was over. It continued, just differently. Mindy could only imagine what kind of mentoring Wesker would do for his tributes.

"So do I. That's why we're here right now, right?"

That and watching the games on a bigger screen.

"Let's hope so," he drawled. "Time is not something we can get back."

And he so hated when his was wasted.

"Well that's something we can both agree on."

Whether that was a good thing remained to be seen. This conversation was creepy, but it was also an eye opener.

"Always a pleasure when that happens," Wesker smirked.

In an almost regal gesture, he ducked his head to her.

"Have a good evening, Ms. Macready. May it be, informative."

"We'll see."

She had a feeling this was just the tip of the iceberg, of course. Who knew what the hell the Capitol had in store for them next?

"Same to you, Mr...Wesker? I can tell you it's been already."

we wine, we dine, and everything is fine [open!]

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