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

[capitolprivilege]

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?

Comments

open;

[confidentially]

Jessica wasn't exactly feeling so hot. Even though was was all dolled up for the party, she still looked worse for wear, a little grayer than usual, with sporadic coughing fits. She figured it was just a cold and didn't think much of it though, and had taken to self-medicating with cocktail after cocktail. She found a spot near the center of the room to hold court while watching the broadcast, hacking up her lungs every so often, as though it were to emphasize whatever was being shown on the screen. Truth be told, though, she felt completely miserable.

"Is anyone else freezing?"

OTA

[revvinguptheharley]

Harley was feeling particularly cool tonight in a pale and gothic ensemble with only splashes of red to break up the moody look.

Despite how her outfit might suggest she was in mourning her smile was firmly in place and to speak with her was to hear not the loud abrasive voice of Harley Quinn, but her more professional "Doctor" voice. Harleen Quinzel.

There was no particular reason for it, and she often let it slip while laughing or getting excited. Harley simply thought a more sultry and smokey voice was better suited to the theme of the party...for now.

This was her first big viewing party as a mentor as well so she was doing her best to talk to anyone that could be a potential aid for her tributes. Look out sponsors, Dr. Quinn is in and looking to operate!

Ota

[burnedbrighter]

The makeup had been a poor choice.

Azula had initially felt confident in the outfit she worn to the party. It was a sharp contrast to the dark and gloomy theme yet at the same time fit in perfectly. As a pale specter she intended on haunting the party despite not feeling particularly great in the hours before arrival.

Azula was not one to force herself to socialize when she didn't feel well, but this was the opening of a new arena. And after all the wild events and parties that had happened since the last proper arena it was important that Azula be a apart of this return to normalcy. She had to at least give the appearance of strength so that her tributes would receive sponsor gifts when they really needed them.

They were counting on her.
But even with the weight of her responsibilities crushing her selfish desire to stay home...she still felt unwell. Her body was warm and under her make up she was flush. Sweat was beading on her skin which caused the makeup to run. It made for a nice melting effect which could be misconstrued as intentional.
At least that's what she was hoping for.

Some cool crisp water, that's what she needed, and so she set out for the nearest servant with water on hand.

[hit_girl_mindy]

If she had to go out and do something so ridiculous when it wasn't halloween, this one really wasn't so bad. For now, she was helping herself to some punch, not feeling too awful about how things were going. The costume helped hide the fight she'd had a few days ago, though the remnants of a black eye barely made its appearance. This actually reminded her of Halloween back home, including the abundance of sluttier clothing.

She took a cocktail but drank sparingly, using the opportunity to talk to some of the patrons, get them interested in her tributes. She even dropped Clementine's name, fairly keen on getting the girl provided for, but of course she favored Riley and Dave and Elsa when she could spare a word. Donatello's name would come up when she could, but most seemed less eager to support the turtle, much to Mindy's chagrin.

For now, she was doing her job to talk people up, though her eyes were starting to note that people were looking ill. Was there something in the drink?

Re: open;

[hit_girl_mindy]

Jessica. Right. She remembered her from the failed mission to get back Ian. She wasn't super impressed with the bottom costume (frills on a vampire? Come on) but noted that there was more than just the outfit to pay attention to. She put down her drink, walking over and overhearing her question.

"Not yet but...you don't look good, princess. Think you might want to sit this out?"

[president_evil]

How quaint.

A party where everyone played at being a monster. All porcelain fangs, and colored contacts. Gallons of fake blood to disguise all the old stains.

His strange, serpentine eyes of full display - a glittering red and gold - Wesker watched them mill about like dark, fluttering moths, wondering to himself who they thought they were fooling.

If they were truly so deluded as to believe it themselves.

[the_marshal]

In Wyatt's book, watching the Games was bad enough without having to do it in a ridiculous getup surrounded by giggling strangers, but he hadn't been able to come up with a convincing enough argument to get out of the invite.

Not when, as his escort had sharply pointed out, the party was just downstairs.

Not if he truly wanted to help his tributes.

So, there he was, scratching absently at the dark, curved bull's horns the stylist had glued near his hairline. Wondering what on earth the theme of this shindig was supposed to be.

Halloween, he understood, was still months away.

[pepsi_cola]

Victory was, of course, trying to go for the damsel that one rescues from the vampire, in a Victorian-style dress with a little bitemark applied to her neck. Currently, however, she's a bit too flush to look dead or even dainty. Her cheeks are burning red and she's got a little bit of unsightly sweat at her hairline. She fans herself and sits down at one of the couches.

Maybe it's just the handsome man next to her. She's certainly felt hot and flustered writing about him. She reaches over and rests her hand on his knee.

"Where's Maximus, cowboy?"

[confidentially]

She coughed into her elbow, sounding more like a vicious dog than a person. Blinking back tears from the fit, she looked to Mindy. "I can't miss this party, kid. And not just because I like the free drinks."

[hit_girl_mindy]

"Nah, I know its not just that." There were always the tributes to think about of course. "You just sorta look like shit right now. Won't hurt to take a rest."

[the_marshal]

Wyatt had, over his long stay in Panem, encountered his fair share of excitable, overly familiar fans. More woman than he could count (and increasing numbers of brave men), were often finding excuses to put their hands on him. So often, he almost expected it anymore.

Didn't mean it liked it any better than he had the first time, he'd just gotten better at reacting to it.

Tensing, he shifted out from under the woman's touch.

"You know how the stylists are," he muttered as he turned to look at her - figuring to himself that her high color and likely a good portion of her forwardness was thanks to the free flowing booze. "He'll be along."

[pepsi_cola]

"Oh, I should know. I am one of the Stylists. We just like to do our best work." She gestures for an Avox to bring her more ice for her drink and settles in a bit closer next to Wyatt.

"If I weren't so loyal to my own District, oh, I would be asking for a transfer to District Ten in a heartbeat. Or Three. You're both lucky men."

[hit_girl_mindy]

She was taking a little break from the mingling with prospective sponsors to take a breather. That was when she noticed the strange gut. She vaguely remembered Harley talking about him, although she had seemed far from complimentary. It made her curious.

"Hey," she said, offering him scissor hands to shake. "Enjoying yourself?"

[hanssome]

Hans has been notably withdrawn since both his victory and the family event. He'd done a bit of character assassination on himself, attacking Rat in such a low way. He knew he could play that off easily, but it had been seeing his brother's that really put him off. He couldn't think of two people he'd rather not see... other than all of his other brother's and his parents. Alas! It's all in the past and they'll suffer for the crimes of being related to him. With the Arena in play, he's noticing the slump in his networking and socialising. He may have won an Arena, but it's important he stays interesting and relevant if he wants to stay on top of things.

His stylist has graced him with a dark elf costume. There's a thin sheen of grey/silver make up over his face and latex ears over his own. He has white contacts and hair extensions so long and fierce he might grow attached to them. He's not sure if he feels ridiculously good looking or just ridiculous, but at least the costumes are common ground when he approaches other guests and aims to make small talk.

[hanssome]

Hans has greeted Azula already this evening, but he hadn't lingered too much. He's looking to make new alliances as much as he's looking to strengthen others. Considering they live so close, he's not worried about losing the chance to have discussions with her.

That said, even in his effort to cycle around, it's not difficult to see that Azula is faltering through the evening. At first it hadn't been cause for concern, but when he catches a glance at her later in the night he can see she's not doing well. When he approaches, he's sure to snatch a glass of water off a tray as he does, offering it to her with a concerned expression.

"Are you alright, Miss Azula?" He says, head to toe in grey/silver make up like a dark elf from an MMO he'll never play.

[burnedbrighter]

She accepted the water gratefully and sipped at it delicately trying not to ruin her makeup anymore then she already had. Her hand was trembling and it caused the water to ripple.

She gasped for air after the long drink and her breathing remained heavy.

"It's too damned hot in here." She grumbled. "Someone needs to turn on the air conditioning or we'll roast alive. How are you not sweating?" She complained with fierce accusatory eyes.

She was not yet aware that it wasn't the room that was too warm.

[confidentially]

"I can rest when I'm dead." Jessica shook her head in protest and wiped her nose on her arm. It was grody, but she couldn't just leave. Sitting at home, by herself, watching the arena? No thank you. She had to be part of a group, otherwise she'd go crazy. "I need to stay and watch this."

[hit_girl_mindy]

"That intent on seeing how your tributes are doing?" Mindy smiled. "that's pretty admirable, actually. I mean, you look like you're gonna keel over at any minute, but you're pretty dedicated. I'm not going to lie...I kinda had you typecast when I learned about your rise to becoming a winner in the games."

After all, in personalities? The two could not be more different.

[hit_girl_mindy]

She recognized him: he'd been in her radar, though only barely, though the last Arena was fairly chilling, especially since it WAS Rat that he'd taken out of commission. Granted, she had also happened to spar with Han's brother in the play fight Arena, and had told her to keep an eye on Hans. It was actually an interesting contrast: if you'd met Hans, he seemed like the nicest guy, amicable, gentle, all of that. The opposite of what his brother had warned her about. Hell, she'd even seen that he and Elsa got along, despite some ugly shit going down in their first Arena.

Needless to say, she was curious. He had, after all, a friendship with Elsa, and that made him someone to be wary about. If it involved one of her tributes, it became her concern.

"Hey new mentor," she greeted, holding out her scissored hand. "Been meaning to talk with you eventually, more so after the arena."

[confidentially]

Was it admirable? Or was it totally twisted? Jessica wasn't exactly sure which was truer. She cared about her tributes, Albert and Eponine especially, but she knew it was sick to be so keen on watching them die. "They're giving their lives for us. The least I can do is pay attention."

As for being typecast...? Well, she was pretty much used to it. She'd played up the sex kitten part, now it was hers to play for eternity.

Jessica coughed again, then forced a smile. "What can I say? I was born to be a cheerleader."

[hit_girl_mindy]

"Yeah, but if you're jaded abut the games, and some of us definitely are, its hard to have to go sit and watch people perform in it and die in all these different ways. When you care about what you do, you start to really get attached to all of them, and that's pretty much inviting pain."

Something Mindy had, sadly, already done the past week and a half.

She snickered. "Oh bullshit. I've seen enough shit on cheerleaders to know they stay on the sidelines. They don't get involve in the game. What do you call what you did with Ian?"

Besides stupid, for all of them really.

[reallynow]

Tres has been a little reclusive for the past few months. He slams out dresses and suits for his tributes like nobody's business, but he's been faltering on the social side for some time. The mini arena had been an unpleasant call back to the old way of doing things and the family event was faaaar too touchy feely for him to get involved in. What better way than a viewing party to get back into the spirit of watching his tributes fall over themselves until they die and come back to pester him? They're like obnoxious ghosts, which fits perfectly in the theme of the night. Tres is head to toe in leopard print and loving it. He has totally not been looking for an opportunity to wear this dress since he made it, he's totally not giddy about wearing it. To make it a little "spookier", it's coupled with a giant, shaggy mane of hair, cat eye lenses and some fangs and claws for good measure.

The after buzz of way too many cocktails is hitting him in the best way right now, pretty much everything is hilarious in one way or another. And if it's not? He'll make it funny for himself! This is totally not avoidance because he's a little attached to his tributes, this is all genuine party buzz. Totally. Whatever. He's happily weaving between joking around with old friends and laughing at strangers, teetering a little in heels as he makes his way toward another drink.

[reallynow]

The life of a Stylist has its highs and lows. Jolie had definitely been experiencing some lows in lieu of the family drama and sending the tributes off to murder each other once again. After all, what fun is life without your precious morons to dress and bother? Booze. Booze is life. You can find your own highs with booze.

And funny costumes. Lots of funny costumes. Man some stylists are scraping the bottom of the bag, right? Jolie's face lights up the moment he catches sight of Wyatt and he claps his hands together before pointing accusingly at the other man.

"BULLSHIT!" He follows that with a laugh that would make a hyena jealous. "Get it?"

[the_marshal]

Wyatt had finally managed untangled himself from Victory, and then, before he could even start to enjoy his freedom, there was another one. Cursing at him.

In the moment he couldn't decide which he liked least.

He fixed the stranger with a cool, unamused frown, and turned to carry on his way.

[the_marshal]

Wyatt exhaled, a long-suffering breath, and resolved himself to being neatly boxed in - at least for the next few minutes.

Keeping one eye out for possible escape, he did his best to play polite.

"Likely for the best, wouldn't want yer tributes gettin' upset with us for stealin' ya away."