capitolprivilege: (and everything is fine)
Stephanus "Stephen" Reagan ([personal profile] capitolprivilege) wrote in [community profile] thecapitol2014-06-29 11:48 am

OPEN CATCH-ALL SAFEHOUSE LOG. THE SWANKIEST SAFEHOUSE YOU WILL EVER SEE.

Who| Any well Tributes who took Stephen Reagan up on his safehouse offer!
What| Catch-all log for mansionanigans, though you're of course free to start your own!
Where| Jove Manor, a few miles outside the Capitol: a lavish estate up in the mountains.
When| From his announcement up until the end of the disease plot!
Warnings/Notes| What you bring with you! Also, a reminder: if you're visiting, please comment either to Stephen's IC offer or this OOC post! Also, feel free to make up details about the house. If you want an indoor pool or a chandelier you can swing on, I'm not gonna tell you no.


If you accepted Stephen's offer, you were driven up a few miles out of the Capitol, into the mountains. You stopped at a checkpoint, where a doctor or two scanned you with some kind of futuristic device and performed a quick test or two to make sure you were in good health. Then, you were ushered back in the car, and as you turned a corner of the winding mountain road, Jove Manor came into view.

It is a gorgeous house, nestled in a secluded cleft in the mountains. The grounds are not so expansive as they might have been, but there are sloping lawns leading up to the house, trails that lead through cultivated patches of woods, an outdoor fountain, and a pool in the back courtyard.

The exterior of the building itself is that delightful Capitol blend of Roman and twenty-first century American architecture, with gleaming white walls and marble columns. However, the inside is -- there's no other word for it -- old-fashioned. The floors are shining hardwood or lush carpets, and the elaborately carved furniture has none of the streamlined contours and space-age chrome that characterizes the Tribute center. The patterns, the materials, the design, it's almost baroque in its elaborate complexity. It makes a clear statement: we are old money.

The Tributes will be in the east wing, which can run independently of the rest of the house. It has a ballroom with gold-rimmed, fancy mirrors, a painted ceiling and a crystal chandelier; a dining room that can seat a hundred easily; an underground room with one wall a giant screen that picks up both live broadcasts and plays recorded documentaries about the heavily censored history of Panem from a Capitol perspective -- more specific descriptions will be in the subthreads.

The bedrooms are spread out over four floors: two underground, two above. The above-ground rooms have large, airy windows; the underground ones have screens that will show several views, like a jungle, a desert, a mountaintop, or a cityscape. They're furnished less ornately than the rest of the house: the furniture is fairly simple but high-quality; the sheets, soft.

Tributes will have free run of the East Wing, with its ballrooms, intercom system, underground theater, pool, bedrooms, dining hall, and well-stocked wine cellar. Supervision is minimal: though Peacekeepers are around and can be called, they can't keep an eye on all of you all the time. Avoxes on loan from the government will bring you almost anything you ask for, within reason. You should be very comfortable.
polyturtle: (brb working)

[personal profile] polyturtle 2014-06-29 06:08 pm (UTC)(link)
The first place Don went - once he learned that the situation was mostly YOYO outside of dining hours - was the kitchen. Given the situation, and his own edginess after learning where the disease might have come from, he needed something - anything - to try and shave a little bit of that edge off. Get his mind off of the worst-case scenario.

And left to his own devices in the kitchen, he knew just what to make.

Within minutes, he was kneading flour, sugar and salt with water and olive oil, turning it into dough. While he'd not made one himself in a long time, the way his hands deftly transformed the ingredients into something more tangible could have fooled most people. No one who knew about New York pizza - and knew how to make it - ever forgot.

Now it was a question of using the right oven for the job, as he washed his hands in search of sauce ingredients.
hit_girl_mindy: (Discontent)

[personal profile] hit_girl_mindy 2014-06-29 06:42 pm (UTC)(link)
"Need any help?"

Of course you'd see Mindy here who was, actually, feeling very weird about how grandiose everything looked. Sure, she'd lived in New York, but she never really went INTO places like that unless she was killing a higher up. This was not her sort of place, and she felt like everything she looked at would shatter with the wrong glance. She was glad enough to find a familiar face.

hit_girl_mindy: (Bathing suit)

Re: POOL

[personal profile] hit_girl_mindy 2014-06-29 07:12 pm (UTC)(link)
Ok, so she'd not used to fancy....anything, so this all feels weird. But you know what? She can shrug off weirdness and looking like everything is a million times better than her if they have a pool. It was hot, she wasn't going to pass up a more intimate pool time over the training room's gruff hole in the ground.

She starts on laps for a solid hour, and once her bones are at their limit, she goes straight for the hot tub, letting the warm water massage her exposed skin.
carnagecarnival: (So hold my hand.)

Open

[personal profile] carnagecarnival 2014-06-29 07:30 pm (UTC)(link)
He fixes himself so his veins run soft and distant again. He fixes his face so the edges of painted teeth are sharp. With all done, even after coming this far, he doesn't want to still and stop. He begins to explore the place he's come to.

But the search end soon enough when he finds the ballroom, and there, from the ceiling, a great chandelier. He's got an option; resist betraying this human seadweller's hospitality-- because what else could he be, holy shit this place was sickeningly grand-- and carry along. OR he could make use of a moment opportune, a set up perfect, and take advantage of means to hone a skill and take his mind off the docterrorists he laid himself down for to get in here, District three, and every little other thing in his life he ain't thinking about right now.

What is he saying, that ain't a choice.

He takes a few steps back to start. Then, he's running and leaping and flying through the air as his hands curl around the chandelier's edge. And he swings. Back and forth, back and forth, like a pendulum, the high-lows of Messiahs' work. Like the motherfucking grief trapeze of the Carnival.

He swings high and spins in the air, like a true performer. He lands smoothly on his feet-- a visceral image in his mind of the one time a troll fell on his own horns and the blood, oh, the blood was everywhere-- and turns around to do it again, from the other side this time.
Edited 2014-06-29 19:31 (UTC)
carnagecarnival: (And then the tears cried.)

For Sigma

[personal profile] carnagecarnival 2014-06-29 08:02 pm (UTC)(link)
The water terrifies. It has done so for sweeps and it has not stopped once ever. It grips something awful, choking sense and reason, even making rage sputter out so all what's left is a mind numbing fear. A fear where all one can't even scream and that, he knows, is some of the worst kind. Truth told, he ain't sure why the Messiahs gave gift of fear to the Indigos. The fishfolk would've done well with it. They would've conquered. But maybe that's why, because Messiahs favor indigos and love them.

And so they blessed him with holy fear. And so they cursed him with it because they love him and he must learn and repent. He must face the fangs or so be consumed while his back is turned. A tiny heretical part of him deep deep inside wishes sometimes they maybe didn't love so much before he stomps it out again like always.

He breathes deep as he approaches the water, expecting like always for it to snap up and swallow him whole like he ain't even air to breathe. He expects the water to burn like acid, or like the way as when the stylists say "a little hot" and it winds up scalding because they forget his blood is colder than them and theirs. In the heart and the head, it is such, but on the outside where the body lay, it's a decent temperature, if warm. He chased every last tremble out of his body sweeps ago. A creature made from fear can maybe never be truly fearless but he doesn't have to show it. And anyway, sometimes it could help, like the way a threat brought life, they way hurt brought clarity, death brought rejuvenation. And maybe he's a little masochistic.

In the night, the dark, when all these diurnal motherfuckers get their sleep on, he is alone and he ain't watched for once (Funny how that went being alone so long and then suddenly never getting the chance). He pulls his braid undone, wondering again if it would hurt less if he cut it short, or if it'd just hurt more to forget the feel of Mituna's fingers running through it, combing out the knots he couldn't be bothered with and making that gentle ssshhh to stop his hiss. The water silences them thoughts right up, just like he knew it would. Just a few seconds on the surface, and he ducks below.

The tiniest itty-bitty bit of frill hidden just along the edge of his ears and jaw, like a cruel promise of could-have-beens, gets that burn-tingle of relief, too long going without. It makes him hate them things what he never lets show even more and its a wonder he ain't torn them yet, he really wonders why. The fear held in his lungs immediately wails. It screams in his skull. He is forever halved in two parts what can't agree if he belongs here or he doesn't. He swims to the end and lets himself sink like a stone, counting the scars along his side-- one, two, missed three, but all else are claw marks desperate made by his own self-- to remind he ain't a seadweller and there ain't no gills to save him. He blinks eyes open to stare up at the surface despite the burn, his hair floating out around him as he pulls his knees closer and lets the fear eat him alive nice and easy as he makes himself get used to it, remember the feeling, savor it, so it can't hurt later or get in the way...

In the flicker-lights of the surface, he thinks he sees a shadow. He near-gasps, near motherfucking drowns himself right there, and he shoots to the surface. He gasps and sputters, moving fast for the side of the pool and scrambling out like a meowbeast what got thrown in, back facing to whoever it is and for once he intends to keep it that way.

"Don't! DON'T COME NO MOTHERFUCKING CLOSER!" He starts and he scrambles on to where he left his things, surely he left his paint there, he can't possibly have been so stupid as not to-- Shit! Fuck! He's so fucked. He sits back on a chair-side there and starts uselessly trying to pull his hair over his face then finally just looks up at the figure through his fingers. His true face is missing and he is only half himself. He is all kinds of exposed, every scar to air, and-- "Oh," Is the intelligent revelation from him when he sees and realises who it is. He asks from behind his hands, "YOU ALONE?"
polyturtle: (I'M TTLY MODEST)

[personal profile] polyturtle 2014-06-30 12:53 am (UTC)(link)
"...Oh, hey." Don smiled a little as he turned to face Mindy. "Fancy meeting you here. I could use some tomatoes, actually."

At least she was fine. She had to be, right? Asymptomatic.

"I'm um, I'm sorry I didn't warn you that I was coming. I just got back from the Arena, heard the news..."
hit_girl_mindy: (Amused (Mindy))

[personal profile] hit_girl_mindy 2014-06-30 01:02 am (UTC)(link)
"Sure," she said, already throwing an apron on. Yes Don, she had already visited the kitchen to see where everything was. "Want them slice or diced? Or is that for sauce, and you're going all homestyle?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I've had a pretty shitty few weeks, so you're gonna have to be specific."
hit_girl_mindy: (Thinking about the end)

Re: THE D3 ANNOUNCEMENT + OPEN STEPHEN THREAD

[personal profile] hit_girl_mindy 2014-06-30 03:31 am (UTC)(link)
She needs a drink.

Not just any drink, a good, stiff, unsweetened drink. No beer, no wine, something hard. This was needed, and to hell with what anyone said, or cried about her being a minor. Fuck that. No one could be a minor, hearing that. What was someone her age supposed to do when they heard something like this, hold their mommy's hand? Ask daddy if they would be all right?

Fuck that. Mommy she never knew, and they brought daddy around to fuck with her, but he'd told her all she needed to know before she left. Wasn't she in the belly of the beast anyway, this house, this fucking testament to the Capitol and all its excess?

No one could get drunk enough and manage a smile. All you could do was take the shot, let it burn your throat and settle in your stomach and try to wrap your head around it. Good people, innocent people, all gone. What would their flunkies cover their bullshit with now?

There. Whiskey, burning life into her veins now, cruel and bitter and everything she wanted. Perfect.
hit_girl_mindy: (Disquiet)

[personal profile] hit_girl_mindy 2014-06-30 03:55 am (UTC)(link)
She took the shot in her hand and stared at it a moment before putting it back on the table and getting another shot glass. Like the last, she filled it to the brim, then took it, stood up and placed it in front of Stephen.

"Before now," she said, her own voice sounding strange to her ears, "it was at least a little form of rebellion to do it. Not tonight."

She raised her shot, and stared at him with expectation.
earthborn: (batton your hatches)

[personal profile] earthborn 2014-06-30 04:17 am (UTC)(link)
It's not often one sees a Capitol Citizen acting in the formal capacity. Or maybe it's just that the Capitol government prefers to act as if it were one monolithic entity, pretending to a solidarity that Shepard knows must be a lie. They prefer the illusion of godhood; you never meet the doctors who revive you from the dead, and when you wake up in your bed, you find your personal space has been further intruded upon by the presence of a medical device bearing thanks from an unknown source.

Ah, but rounds first. Crew before duty, duty before maintenance, curiosity only after the due diligence has been served, and self last of all. When that's sorted, Shepard comes back around to the nervous rich boy with the ugly pants and the pale look on his face. A willing dispenser of aid and information in a population mostly categorized by just plain not giving a fuck about the lives of others.

"I hear we have you to thank for the charity," It's not kind; many would have said it with gratitude, for the circumstances if not the impulse. But Shepard has never trusted kindness. The kind were apt to turn on you, and no Capitolite had ever once been on her side, "Is that right?"

No, sir, this is judgement in Shepard's eyes, in the way she tips her hips and folds her arms, pure and unfiltered. The good stuff, strong enough to get you in trouble if you aimed it the wrong way.
splendid_roman: (Concern)

Re: THE D3 ANNOUNCEMENT + OPEN STEPHEN THREAD

[personal profile] splendid_roman 2014-06-30 01:21 pm (UTC)(link)
Ian arrived in the dining hall, pale and out of breath from his run there. "I need to go back," he said, without preamble, all politeness forgotten in the wake of the news.
carnagecarnival: (Nothing is the only thing.)

sdjhgg Perfect

[personal profile] carnagecarnival 2014-06-30 03:44 pm (UTC)(link)
He throws a spin in that time. A full motherfucking twirl up in that shit before he lands, arms out. And then he turns around, readying for the next go.

And Stephen is there.

He blinks. He looks from the chandelier, Stephen, then back again.

"Look. NO ONE UP AND SAID HE MOTHERFUCKING COULDN'T," He starts. Just a small brush from his shoulder, like there's seaweed there to be removed. His face is flat and he walks real casual on over. "And now that all he's checked it as being for you, a motherfucker can be sure of its strength and so its motherfucking value up in this. YOU ARE MOTHER FUCKIN' WELCOME."

Now. Just to walk real casual on out.
hit_girl_mindy: (Stare (Mindy))

[personal profile] hit_girl_mindy 2014-06-30 05:45 pm (UTC)(link)
"To three," she said solemnly, and drank it slowly. God, it burned, all the way down too, and she could already feel her body warming up. But she didn't turn it away, just put the shot glass down for the moment, closing her eyes. She looked over at him.

"A whole district gone. That hasn't happened in a long time. Hell of a way to get rid of a disease."

She was daring him to give a spin, to tell her she was making the Capitol sound fucked up.

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