thecapitol | Boom boom boom

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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.

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Eponine looked reproachfully at Valeria. Did she really have to put her whole head under? Well, it'd probably wash the dirt off her face at the same time...

But she answered Valeria's questions first.

"Whores in fashion, Madame? Can they afford such? Where I am from, it is only the desperate women, and those who are told..." Like herself.

"I don't like it, Madame. It never leads to good. It means I will be up against a wall, or hit, or arrested, or made to steal..." Or have her heart ripped out and trampled on.

"Well they get paid don't they?" said Valeria, amused, ignoring the reproach. It was hardly her fault they were stuck here for the moment, was it? She ran her fingers through Eponine's hair as well as she was able, just trying to rinse out the worst of the dirt and...debris first, speaking loudly enough to be heard over the water. "I suppose you wouldn't have gotten much sense of the place hiding in bushes, but this is a very different sort of city than where you're from, dear."

Said the woman who hadn't even glanced at the section of Eponine's file that stated where she came from. All she knew was what Eponine had told her, and honestly it sounded like the overblown, obviously untrue horror stories about life in the Districts.

"Now," she said, indicating with a press on the girl's shoulder that she could remove her head from the sink. They were probably going to get soap all over the floor in this next step, oh well. "If there's anywhere to learn the value of touching, it's here. You can save the hitting and stealing for the Arena, and since you're one of mine, I hope you'll be the one hitting this time."

"Pennies, Madame. I was paid three francs, once." Eponine gurgles from beneath the tap. She closes her mouth quickly, and her eyes for good measure, and just lets Valeria do her work. It actually felt quite nice to have someone stroking through her mop. She stood straight as soon as Valeria indicated that she could, and follows her to the soap dispensers.

"I don't want to hit. It isn't - it's not good. Madame, in my life, I have done so many bad things. I have stealed and lied and broke into places. I have conned blind old men and I have lain with others for a franc or so as I say. My - Montparnasse has told me to kill, but no. He's shown me - but I do not want to do such a thing. I am bad enough, you see?"

"Well," she said, blinking. "You are definitely going to need to become better at selling yourself from now on." Metaphorically speaking, of course. "I mean, I can't say anything about your prowess personally, but no one can be that bad."

She deposits a generous amount of the soap onto her hands and starts briskly lathering it into Eponine's hair. She's silent for a moment, not sure what to say. She is not exactly skilled in empathy and comfort. "You know the Games are a great honor, right," she tried eventually. "It's a very important tradition to us, there was quite the scandal when they decided to bring outsiders in. Perhaps you were chosen to, ah, repent? Make up for the bad things with service to the Capitol, you see?"

"They pay cheap because I was desperate, Madame. They know they can do it."

Though really, what Eponine knows amounts to holding still, closing her eyes and singing songs in her head to escape.

"So I am to die over and over for stealing? I must let them hurt me because I'm a bad girl? And I have to let you dress me in such clothes? I like that I can have my hair washed and such. We had no soap in Paris. But it is hard to die each time."

"Well there you go," she said dismissively. "That's the problem right there--we need to teach you the meaning of the Hard Sell."

She lathered the hair up probably more than necessary, lost in her thoughts for a moment. "Well, you only die until you win, so really, they're giving you a chance at a good life. Several chances, in fact. You just have to work for it. That's more than they ever got before." Which is not something Valeria is comfortable thinking about. "Time to rinse again."

Eponine stood patiently as Valeria rubbed the soap into her hair. She was actually quite enjoying this, having someone fuss over her.
But she has to laugh at Valeria's suggestion.

"I am never going to win until everyone else has already won. They gave me just three, Madame. But I am better than that. I can slit throats. I can use a knife if I want to.

[She doesn't though. Not really. Still, she stands straight and heads back to the sink for Valeria to rinse her off.]

It's been so long since she's been a part of this process, generally leaving the prep work to, well, the prep team, and Valeria found she rather enjoyed it. Of course, it's been also a rather long time since she's had a real conversation, and this may be technically work-related but it does remind her of how much she enjoys just chatting with people.

"Oh, never say never and all of that. We've had long shots win before, you know. Anna...something or other, from District 4, for example." She's not so good with names or faces, but even she remembers the spectacle of the girl who won by floating the longest."

She turned the water back on, letting it warm for a moment in a rare instance of thoughtfulness. "Really, if you can use a knife you're a step ahead of some, whatever your score."

Warm water is so lovely. Much nicer than the cold of before.

"My papa and the gang taught me long ago. Madame, it is about the only crime I have not committed. I don't want to be a murderer... Though I suppose it is better if the person I kill comes back to life? It is almost as if we pretend..."

"Yes, that's it exactly," Valeria nodded, rinsing the soap out briskly. "It's hardly real at all, and anyway, even before they were brought back nobody every held what happened in the Arena against the Victors. That would just be silly. It's like a whole other world, the same rules don't apply."

Eponine waited until Valeria let her stand up before answering again.

"Perhaps I will not be sent to prison or beheaded for murder... but it is still the same here."

She touched her chest. "It makes me feel bad. It would make me feel horrible towards the person I killed, you know? Madame, I don't have many friends - and I don't want to lose the ones I have if I kill, you know? It would be better if we all just refuse to kill, no? Then the games would end!"

"I don't think that's how it would work," said Valeria slowly, after a long moment. "The Gamemakers...well, for one thing, I'm sure they've chosen plenty of people who like to fight. And, well. The Games. The Games are important. We don't really want them to end."

"No... and it is what you want that matters, I see that." Eponine sighs.
"It will never work, Madame. But I do wish I could just stay here and not fight. I like it here. I like the food and the clothes and - houses. My BED!"

"You'll just have to win then," she said simply, turning the girl around and attempting to comb the worst of the tangles out of her hair with her fingers. "I'd certainly appreciate the effort."

"Next arena, I'll try for you, Madame." Eponine promised, rashly. But Valeria was one of the few women she had spoken to here - and the woman was trying to do her best by Eponine. It was right, really, that Eponine tried to give back to her in turn.

For now, she tried not to wince as Valeria combed her hair.

"Good!" said Valeria, feeling strangely pleased by the sentiment. She got the worst of the tangles out then tied it into a loose ponytail with a tie from her own hair. "That'll have to do for now. Can't do much without a comb, or while it's wet, and I don't trust these hand dryers not ruin all the progress we've made."

She turned the girl back around and fussed with her bangs for a moment. "Well," she said absently, "This certainly killed some time at least."

"Do you think they'll keep us here long? I don't understand really, why we're here anyway. Are we in trouble? Are we going to jail?" Eponine watched Valeria closely to make certain that she wasn't going to lie or sugar coat the situation. Eponine preferred to know EXACTLY how much trouble she was in before she ran as far from it as possible.

"I don't know," said Valeria helplessly. She barely paid attention the politics behind the Games even before it all became terribly confusing. "It's not about being in trouble though, I mean, I don't think it is? I couldn't say why the Gamemakers choose who they choose, it used to be a random draw. They're not going to throw you in jail of course, I'm sure of that at least, that would just be silly."

She smiled at Eponine in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. "Really, if there's one thing you should learn, it's that there's simply no safer place than the Capitol."

"And that is why the policemen marched me here and have locked us in, no? Because we are not going to jail? I would understand me; I did not play the arena by their rules, Madame. If it were my Papa's game, he'd have beat me by now. But here are men auch as Draco who play properly - and even you, Madame. You are with us. So it seems that you are in trouble too. If we are. And if not - what is going on? Did this used to happen?"

She doesn't believe Valeria for a second. But Valeria seems to believe herself. Was Eponine being paranoid? Overcautious?

"We're not here because we're in trouble," said Valeria, dismissing Eponine's fears with a wave of her hand. "There was an explosion or something, they want to keep us safe. They're a little overzealous, certainly, but you get used to that. They only want the best." Valeria couldn't actually remember a lockdown of this degree, but surely this wasn't the first time? There were always people who simply weren't satisfied with their lot in life.

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