(no subject)

[gamemakers]

 WHO|  Don&Plutarch, Riddick&Lilium, Max&Elias, and Anna&Nathaniel
WHAT|  Scoping them out for rebellion potential.
WHERE|  Various locations
WHEN|  About a week before the new arena.
WARNINGS/NOTES| This is our first time doing this. Forgive any mistakes. Also this is not a promise you will get into the Rebellion. And if you fail, it is not a promise you will never get in. There will be a thread for each of the pairing, set up by the NPC half (it may take a day or two for your NPC to get up a thread)

Whispers of a rebellion could be heard, even if you didn't know where to look. Many lived blissfully in ignorance, of course. But it didn't take a lot to realize that, when you killed people's children, they tended not to be happy with you.

But whispers of a rebellion and an actual rebellion were very different things.

Especially one happening right here, in the middle of the city. That was unheard of.

Comments

MAX

[nofunandgames]

The training room was a bit risky. But with tributes training for the new arena, there was enough noise that he felt he could talk to Max in some level of privacy.

And although he had considered other options, none seemed fitting. Inviting her out, out of nowhere, given his general social habits...yes, this would be a much safer place.

[x5452]

Since Max had no idea why she'd been asked to the training room, she went out of sheer curiosity. She hated the fact that she was bored, and that part of her wanted to go back to the arena. So this was out of the blue, and god help her, it was different enough for her to at least temporarily throw caution to the wind.

So she walked into the training room, dressed to train, because that's what you do in there.

"Hello?"

[nofunandgames]

"Hey." Elias gave her a warm greeting, a typical on from him to other mentors. Nervous as hell, he tried to keep from showing it too much. Although he was solidly on 'nodding' terms with Max when they passed each other, he didn't know the woman at all. This was nothing like asking Aria or Wyatt.

"How do you like it so far?"

[x5452]

Max stares at him. Is he kidding? How does she like it?

Just like any other circumstance wherein one is kidnapped and taken to an alternate universe to serve as either continuous death match fodder or be constantly bombarded by the media while the government watches one's every move. Awesome.

Instead she only says, "How do you like it?"

[nofunandgames]

There was a smile flicker of a smile at the corner of his mouth. She wasn't going to make this easy, then.

"It's what it is. I enjoy what I can, focus on where I can help."

[x5452]

Would it be right for her to make this easy?

"I suppose that's the only way to get along, isn't it?" she concedes. "Enjoy what you can, and focus on what you can do to help."

Her brow lifts. "Is that why you asked to meet? Because you want to help me?" Oh dear, now we're back to suspicious.

[nofunandgames]

"Well, I would imagine Gloss is more than happy to tell you anything you're doing wrong." He flashed her what he hoped was a disarming grin. Everyone around here was more than familiar with District one.

And most pitied Max a little.

"But if you need it..."

Don

[gamemakers]

The head gamemaker is a face everyone in the Capitol knows. He's on the side of buildings, on the screens every day. Plutarch Heavensbee needs no excuse at all to invite a tribute out to lunch, and it doesn't take a genius like Don to see that saying no could have bad consequences.

[polyturtle]

Well, shell.

When he received the (admittedly very nice-looking) card inviting him to lunch, Don knew he didn't dare refuse. He knew who Plutarch Heavensbee was. Everyone did at some point. And he wasn't going to put himself - and more importantly, his friends in the Capitol - in danger just because he was afraid to say yes.

Because...well, he was afraid. He would never admit it out loud. But the lead Gamemaker didn't summon someone for no reason. He just couldn't figure out for the life of him what that reason was, as he stepped into the appointed place at the appointed time.

[gamemakers]

The upper level of Conscientia had only a few tables, and today, only one was occupied. Plutarch rose, offering Don a hand in greeting with a warm smile.

"Donatello, a pleasure to meet you in person."

[polyturtle]

"...Hi, Mr. Heavensbee." Donatello went to shake his hand. Though he tried to be as relaxed as possible Show no fear. Focus. Focus, Don. it was likely obvious that he was nervous. "It's nice to meet you as well."

[gamemakers]

"Plutarch, please." He gestured to the seat across from his as he sat back down, and gestured to a waiter, who silently brought them drinks. "If I can ask, were you named for the old painter, or the actor?"

[polyturtle]

"...The painter." Donatello seems admittedly surprised that Mr. Heave Plutarch would even know what it meant. In other words, he's seen way too many normal Capitol citizens - and a few Tributes - who have no clue. "Actually...all of my brothers are named after Renaissance painters. Leonardo, Raphael and Michelangelo."

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad as he thought it would be.

Riddick

[gamemakers]

To the untrained eye, Lilium appears to be working the bar like she would any other day at The Speakeasy. But today she's got an eye out for someone who's fast become a familiar face.

[itsananimalthing]

One bar is, on the whole, a lot like any other, and there's pros and cons of what little differences there are. This one is less informative than others, but at least at Speakeasy people don't bother him. So once he's sick of being gawked at and having to keep a glare going to keep them off his back, and if he's not ready to head back to the Tributes' compound, it's not surprising to find him here.

He settles at the bar proper. "Got anythin' to recommend tonight?" he asks the bartender, a gal he's seen before.

[gamemakers]

Lilium smiles at him, leaning with folded arms against the bar. "I could make you a Lunar Eclipse or a Lumberjack. We've got a nice 12-year scotch."

She watches his body language, trying to gauge just how open to conversation he might be. Particularly the one she's planning to start.

[itsananimalthing]

Riddick's body language is pretty much never very open. But he isn't any more closed off than he usually is, at the moment, so that's a start. "Which one's more expensive?" is his follow-up question, coming with a wry smirk. He's been pretty much ignoring the "debt" he's wracking up by eating out so often, in part because he's curious what they'll do to make him pay, and in part because he just doesn't care.

Sorry about the delay!

[gamemakers]

Well, the smirk is a good sign. At least he isn't in a bad mood.

She grins in return. "That would probably be the twelve-year."

Sorry right back. silly work trip :P

[itsananimalthing]

"Let's go with that one, then. Might as well, right? Ain't like it's my money I'm spendin'." He knows there will eventually be a need to pay up, of course, in some unspecified manner, but that doesn't mean he has to act like it. He slaps his credit counter down on the bartop for her to charge up, and settles in to wait for the drink.

Anna

[linchpin]

Anyone who was anyone here in the Capitol might not know Nathanial's name directly, but they knew his father. If there was a top of the social pyramid in Panem, the Fisher family was comfortably at the very top of it.

It was entirely commonplace for the rich and the powerful to acquire a little one-on-one time with the young and the famous. Tributes were fleeting and rare; a strange commodity that the powerful traded around as pointless displays of power.

Tonight, Nathaniel had decided to spend an evening with the lovely miss Anna Morsca. In the past, he has been seen with many tributes, especially the attractive ones. He had made the usual arrangements. A secluded but public meeting place, elegant and intimate, candlelight and fresh strawberries from 11 topped only by the priceless view of the snow-capped Rockies from his favourite table at his favourite restaurant. It was now only a matter of waiting for her to be delivered to him.

On time, preferably.

[itswhoyouare]

By now, Anna should be used to being dressed up and paraded around like a show dog for other people's benefit. And she is, but that doesn't mean she's used to it. This time her stylist actually puts her in something elegant - a long, fuschia gown - while going on excitedly about some Fisher guy, how it's an honor to be chosen, etc. And then she's shipped off to a restaurant with the most spectacular view of the Rockies.

Anna sits down and glances at the scenery - completely neutral and impassive in her expression. She's not sure whether to be pleased, annoyed, or worried.

[linchpin]

"Anna, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," Nathaniel stands to greet her and offers her his hand; a proper, formal gesture. "May I call you Anna?"

He is young, but not quite so young as he looks, though he presents himself as older. Nathaniel is twenty and four and the son of a very powerful politician.

"You look lovely this evening," he says, giving her knuckle a polite kiss before he insists that she take her seat and be welcome.

Nathaniel too sits, and like clockwork, a waitstaff member approaches their table and pours two generous servings of a rich red wine.

[itswhoyouare]

It takes every last ounce of control for her to not flinch when he kisses her hand, out of sheer disgust at first. But he's very polite and gentlemanly, so he gets credit for that as well. Something about him isn't sitting quite right with Anna, though she's not sure why.

"It's an honor, thank you for having me." She replies politely enough and crosses her legs when she's seated, glancing at the wine poured for her with a vaguely curious expression.

It's all a very delicate act of suppressing her temper, appearing genuinely polite and profiling without appearing to profile.

[linchpin]

"I hope that you enjoy lobster," Nathaniel says through a smile, after a casual sip of his wine. "Though it can be changed if there are any allergies. My mother can't eat shellfish. I suppose that may be why I enjoy it so much. A luxury you can't always have."

He speaks as though what he's saying should have some hidden importance. It doesn't. Not anything about his mother or specially prepared lobsters, at least. But he's hoping she'll try and find something there anyway.

"So, tell me. How are they treating you over at the training center? Well, I hope. Nice clothes, a warm bed, hot food, that sort of thing..."

He has a terrible habit of talking too much when he gets nervous. He's hoping she won't notice that he is.

[itswhoyouare]

"No allergies, but I haven't exactly eaten much of it. My position doesn't exactly afford me many luxuries," she replies with the same air of cryptic importance, indicating she's probably onto the double-talk.

She sips at the wine, brows raising a touch because it's one of the best glasses she's ever had. After all, a civil servant's salary won't cover such expensive years.

"Oh, yes. They're very gracious hosts, I can't complain." Actually, she can, but it's counterproductive to her mission. Negativity gets people silenced quickly.

Isn't she just a fabulous liar?

"May I ask why you requested me? I wasn't exactly a stand-out in the last Arena."