thecapitol | Boom boom boom

Who| ALL people who call the Tribute center home, and anyone who might have been there on business.
What| Lock down
Where| Around the Capitol, and in the Tribute Center.
When| Feel free to tag in if you died any time in the first 3 weeks. (So if you die tomorrow, you can feel free to back tag in, if you like)
Warnings/Notes| Use this post both for threads before, around the city, and after the Peacekeepers and Avoxes gather everyone. More information about the state of the city after this will come tomorrow in the Deathroll. If your tribute character is out and about, they should expect Peacekeepers to escort them back within 15-20 minutes (and you can feel free to handwave the peacekeepers)

The people lurking around the docks, wearing plain clothes, rough clothes, might stand out among the Capitol Citizens if 'District chic' wasn't a style that came and went on a regular basis. As it was, they barely stood out, people trying too hard to look like they didn't belong and that they did, at the same time.

Sorta like everyone else around them. It was hard to act suspicious in the Capitol.

It was a bit strange, people getting on the Shore to Shore boat dressed like that. Not normally what anyone would consider club wear, but 'normal' was not highly regarded around these parts.

However, it wasn't long after the boat had left the dock that it made it's grand exit.

In an explosion that sent a fireball high into the night sky, lighting up the bay, and sending high waves lapping at the shore, the boat was obliterated. Rescue operation were swift, but there just wasn't much left to rescue.

Siren's filled the city, automated voices urging people from every street corner to return home, lock the doors, stay inside. And for the Tributes wandering the city, it was more then automated urging. Those in the Tribute training center were gather up by Avoxes, and brought down to the common room, the elevator refusing to work for anyone who wasn't in the process of gathering up Tributes, Mentors, Stylist...anyone lingering in the building.

Those Tributes not already at home found themselves flanked by Peacekeepers and escorted back, deposited in the same common room, and told to wait.

Eventually, hours later, everyone was cleared and the elevator opened, although the front doors still refused to allow anyone out without a special clearance no one was being offered. A recorded voice told them emergency alert instructions would be available for them in the morning. And then their doors locked behind them for the night.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"You look a little put out." Eva leans against the wall next to Clint and makes a 'tss' sound as she presses her fingertip and thumb together, as if illustrating snuffing a candle. "You okay, after the first revival?"

Clint looks at her like she just pointed out that rain falls downward. "Oh, yeah. Sure. I bite and get brought back all the freaking time."

"Oh, good, so you're already all adjusted!" she says, faking peppiness to convey sarcasm.

He rolls his eyes to show just how much that's appreciated.

"So is this the kind of thing I can expect to happen all the time?"

Eye-rolling is marginally better than sulking. And Eva would hate for Clint to get the notion that he can hide in a corner and not be noticed. They're always being watched here.

"Generally. I'd say it gets easier with time, but I wouldn't know. I played back when they didn't bother to put people on ice afterwards."

Oh, he's not in the corner to hide, he's there to get a better vantage point on the rest of the people here.

"Why the switch?"

"Foreign talent's more exciting, maybe?" Seeing as she doesn't know Clint, and as anyone could be listening in, she's not about to explain that there have been whisperings of rebellion since the 74th games. "Maybe we wanted to see people more skilled than the average teenager attack each other."

"Right. Because doing this to kids just isn't as satisfying," Clint quips, rolling his eyes again.

"Well, nobody likes to wrestle with their conscience before their morning coffee, and the networks wanted airtime at six a.m.," she quips right back.

"People here have consciences? I think I missed that in the briefing," he says back dryly.

"Of course they do, and they don't like it. What do you think all the drug use and partying around here is for? It's just anesthetic."

"It's anesthetic everywhere, only where I come from, we don't have government sanctioned death matches."

"Lovely for you. When can I book a cruise?" She picks at the skin around her fingernails.

"Just point me to an exit. I'll make my own arrangements, thanks."

Eva twists at a lock of her hair, looking over the other tributes. Hers isn't here right now, and the others are still alive in the arena.

"When I find one, I'll let you know. In the meanwhile, I should ask, have you met your Mentor yet?"

"Nope," Clint says. "Not really a priority."

"Well, you can keep dying in the first week, if you want. It's a valid strategy."

"If they're gonna keep bringing me back, what the hell difference does it make?"

This is the guy who, for his interview with the gamemakers, just sat down and stared at them until they got uncomfortable and told him he could go.

"If you win, you don't have to play anymore." Eva brushes her hair behind her ear and frowns. "Not that winning doesn't come with its own set of challenges."

He shrugs. "Damned if you win, damned if you lose. Seems like not playing is the best option."

"There's always that option. You could call it an act of rebellion, not that I approve of that." The last bit is fake and tacked on, but she does a good job making it seem genuine.

He gives her a look that pretty much says he's not buying that, but all he says is, "No, of course not. Rebellion's a desperate option."

Boom boom boom

no subject

no subject

no subject

*bite it Ugh. Typos.

Re: *bite it Ugh. Typos.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject