thecapitol | [OPEN] ain't no party like a D̴̡̀R̶̵̶A̷̵̡̛͜G̷͟ ̀҉̸̀͢Q͝҉͟͏U҉͘͟͜͡Ȩ͜҉͞E̷͢Ņ ̷̷̕Ṕ̷̧̛͞A̷͟R̸̛̕Ţ̀́Y̵̴

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[OPEN] ain't no party like a D̴̡̀R̶̵̶A̷̵̡̛͜G̷͟ ̀҉̸̀͢Q͝҉͟͏U҉͘͟͜͡Ȩ͜҉͞E̷͢Ņ ̷̷̕Ṕ̷̧̛͞A̷͟R̸̛̕Ţ̀́Y̵̴

Who| Oceana Gunn and all you party people
What| Oceana's throwing the craziest party of the year to celebrate the end of the Arena, and you're invited. Feel free to mingle, post open starters, and tag around to your heart's content!
Where| Her bachelor(ette) pad in the Capitol
When| Post-Arena, pre-Crowning
Warnings/Notes| Uhhh. Drugs, alcohol, sex, language, etc are all possibilities within!

It's high time that someone threw a really great party in this town.

Oceana's been laying low, working on costumes for the upcoming Crowning and watching her babies kick ass in the Arena, but after a while she gets an itch. An itch to invite hundreds of strangers to her penthouse apartment, dress up in her most sickening clothes, and let the booze pour. So that's exactly what she does. Invitations are sent out, crates of liquor are ordered, food is catered in, and the lights are dimmed way down low.

Her apartment is spacious, minimally decorated because it looks fucking cool and she's barely around anyway, and full of dark corners. The living room has a huge table full of finger foods along one wall, a champagne fountain, and a full bar with virtually endless liquor. The music is loud as hell, and the drag queen has even gone to the trouble of paying people to come early and dance, so that the dance floor is never empty.

The hostess herself will be mingling all evening; the glass of vodka in her hand is never empty, and always garnished with at least six olives. She may not be the classiest bitch in the capitol, but it's apparent by looking around that she knows how to throw a killer soirée.

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The queen shrugs her bony shoulders, trying and failing to look modest and nonchalant. "I mean, I totally could, don't get me wrong. But I'm a taken woman, now, so my wild man-eater days are over."

She leans in conspiratorially. "But it doesn't mean I can't still have a good time, you know?"

"If you were going to do my hair with anything more than a comb, I'd be stock-still. Or unconscious. I'd rather not have to get my ear replaced." He takes an olive, pretending that he would still even have the money to have an ear grafted back on. Odds are he'd just have to go through the rest of his life lopsided.

Perish the thought. He half-smiles. It's almost like Jason's trying to flirt but failing miserably.

"I guess I can't complain that they trust me to control nine Tributes. It's not like I need to rely on anyone else to do the job for me, so long as I get to complain about the challenge of it."

She has to control herself, control the impulse to reach out and run her talons through Jason's hair. Because damn. "Oh, trust, I wouldn't come near your hair with anything more than a comb." Oceana smiles. "You've got great hair." She sniffs, sipping at her drink.

"But I resent the implication that I'm dangerous. I'll have you know I'm fucking talented with a pair of shears."

His last comment has her snorting. "Complaining is the best part. I encourage you to do it liberally, 'cause otherwise you're gonna go insane."

"You just said you're deadly as a giraffe on stilts. Maybe you need to consider exactly how heavy a giraffe would be if it fell down on top of someone." He does the hair-raking for her, and the resultant poof is just on the fashionable side of bedhead. "I'm fond of it."

He leans back against the bar, nursing his glass of water. "If that's an invitation, I might just have to go down the roster and complain about each Tribute one by one."

Cue a gigantic eyeroll. "Queen, please. Don't get it twisted, okay?" She'd go on disabusing him of his notion that she's anything but an expert hair stylist, but she's too busy watching his hair poof just so. Shit. That's good.

Casually, the queen leans right next to him, raising an eyebrow. "Please, be my guest." She's not at all looking for some hot Tribute gossip to spread, noooo.

She drew closer to match Oceana's conspiratorial nature expecting some kind of juicy gossip about her current romance, but what she heard was enough to set her cheeks flushed and start her laughing gleefully.

"Well I should hope so! What's the point of being with someone if you can't have fun right? I mean love and lust are two great tastes that go great together but they work as appetizers too...or should I say Appa-teasers?" She burst into giggles at her own stupid joke as per usual.

Oceana laughs, swaying backward a little bit. Mostly because she still hasn't forgotten that, as far as she's concerned, Harley's off her nut. She's nice and all, of course, but still. Probably best to keep her distance, physically speaking.

"Good lord," she scoffs, teasing, "how much booze have you had? Do I need to have the bartender cut your ass off?"

"Don't be sorry for me, be sorry for him. I got plenty of tail out here, but I doubt he gets much of the no-pants-dance in there." Princess matters aside, it would be weird. Maybe she's been keeping her distance out of respect for what looks like a budding relationship, maybe that's just the excuse she's using to avoid him for her own drama.

"Yeah." Jolie snorts. "McDreamy. That's the one." The stupidly tall, sexy voiced, tattoo covered one that goes against all of the criteria she's set for dating lately. At the question, she rolls her eyes dramatically and narrows them incredulously. "Gurrrl, he's not into me. Even if he was, it'd be awkward as hell. Tributes from other districts are one thing- sleeping with a teammate? No ma'am." She shakes her head, as if talking herself out of it too. "It'd all go to shit."

Luckily, Jolie is only marginally fueled by the enjoyment of other people when it comes to jokes. It isn't always presented as something funny that people should laugh at, it's just a manner of speaking that has navigated her through many Capitol parties.

"They don't teach 'em right, I'm telling you. They barely gave us a handbook of frequently asked questions and then they're throwing these offworlders at us and neither of us know where to begin. It's like the guy with the toaster, right? He doesn't get it, so he just keeps jamming the knife in until something happens. Doesn't help that half of them are mentally deficient." She holds up her hands and shakes her head as if she is so unbelievably done with the Tributes. As if she hasn't somehow narrowly escaped punishment from being involved with Lonestar.

"A pretty face goes a loooong way, I know. You can market ugly as something new and different, but you have to work those angles way harder. Most of mine are alright, though. We're starting to get so many burly guys you'd think we were the lumber district and not fabric, though." She twists her mouth in confusion. "Sometimes I wonder if they sort them by criteria or just stamp them and send them into any open slot."

Edited 2015-01-17 11:19 (UTC)

She held up her drink to indicate just that one and she winked.

"You don't need to be drunk to love stupid jokes. And I don't plan on flying off the rails too far tonight. I may be a bad girl but I'm coloring within the lines. I don't wanna be dragged outta here tonight."

Because the tabloids had a nice series of photos in stock labeled "Harley Quinn being thrown out of parties."

"It's a new year and I'm a new me!" She declared rising to her feet and drawing an X on her chest with her finger. "Cross my heart."

He made a deep 'ugh' sound, feigning a deep shudder.

"You have absolutely no idea how much I hate him," He said in an incredibly passionate whisper. "But mad enough to see me in some deep trouble, most likely."

It did give him pause. Deep trouble for him meant deep trouble for everyone else, as well. Including Maxwell. He sighed. "I suppose I can suffer this a little while longer."

It had been a terrible idea. He knew that, looking at it objectively, and not just for the trouble it would cause with the escort.

But still... there was a twinge of regret. Small and selfish. He pushed it away as quickly as he could and turned back.

"No, we wouldn't want that," he said, expression softening. He turned back, took in Dorian's face, and willed a small smile. "...But there's no harm in standing here quietly, picturing him on the receiving end of one Sera's bee jars, is there?"

Edited 2015-01-17 18:08 (UTC)

Gary would have to agree that, yes, this sort of party is exactly what he needed. Not the formal Capitol banquets, not the Tribute Center impromptu video-game-and-Doritos hangouts, but real, crazy parties, the ones you can feel in your skull and taste the day after. An invitation to such a gathering is not one Gary would ever turn down, even if he didn't know what he was getting into when he saw it. Now that he's here, of course, and had some time to really integrate himself into the proceedings like a stain integrates itself on an unfortunate couch, it's about time for Gary to find the hostess and thank her properly for such a spectacular, welcoming venue.

It's not by choice. He's on the dance floor when he quite literally bumps into her, a stray nudge of his hip that is just enthusiastic enough to be potentially disruptive. "Hey!" The teen sounds playfully ruffled, though he doesn't stop dancing. Terrible, terrible dancing. Gary is so bad at this. "Damn girl, you'll hurt someone with those looks! Too sharp for your own good, you know?"

Gary's snorting at his joke, too, because it was a good joke and everyone should be laughing at it. Or at least they will be, once he finishes it. The culmination of bodies and manic air have made keeping a poker face surprisingly difficult (not, interestingly enough, the cup of vodka in his hand, which even Gary has to admit is a little too strong for him to do more than cautiously sip from when he's feeling brave).

"And--And then I said--'Are you nuts? That's my sister!'" Cue raucous laughter. It might all be from Gary, though, because he hasn't kept track of if anyone was listening. But surely Jolie was! Gary turns his attention to her, still cackling as he wipes the tears from his eyes. "Ahh...shit. Gets me every fucking time. Did you get it? You got it, right?"

Taken, skmaken, as far as Sergius is concerned. But then again, he's pretty far removed from his man right now, and what Val doesn't know won't hurt him. Right? Right?

"Well, if you need another sweaty body to grind up against, I'll be at the bar." With that he gives a cheeky grin. "You want anything, hostess?"

Edited 2015-01-18 03:26 (UTC)

It doesn't surprise Jolie to find Gary in the middle of things and mingling, great big flirt that he is. Or little thing. Whatever. It's been a while since they spoke, so she's happy to approach him and listen to his stupid joke. The snort is sincere, but partly because he's adorable.

"'Course I did." Actually she lost track as well, but she's been drinking a bit. She bravely takes a long sip of her drink, dragging long fingers into his locks affectionately so she can ruffle his hair slowly. "Nice to see you again, toots."

"Mentally deficient or from backwater worlds where a damn lightbulb is some kind of revelation. God knows I'm glad I didn't end up with many of those."

Jason feels genuine relief at that, that he doesn't have to wrench people's arms out of toasters before they electrocute themselves. It's enough to keep them from making fools of themselves, but he can't imagine he'd have the slightest bit of patience for the suicidally idiotic.

"Send some of those burly guys my way - not in the way that sounds, that was bad phrasing, I don't swing that way." He raises his eyebrows, unsure if he just tread somewhere he shouldn't have, having reached the limits of his skills socializing. "Not that there's anything wrong with that. But I'm trying to dress up people who haven't so much as lifted an axe as lumberjacks. If I thought they weren't sent to us randomly I'd be convinced it's a conspiracy to make us all look as stupid as possible."

Jason's gaze closes off slightly, as if he's wrestling a rude comment that could be trying to make a break for it out of his throat. Mentors aren't untouchable the way Avoxes or even Tributes are, and different circles of the Capitol see them either as quaint lovers or perfect genetic donors. The idea of ever having a relationship with someone who had been in an Arena, from a District, makes Jason's skin crawl, but he also understands he doesn't share the majority Capitol view on that; nor can he truly differentiate between whether it's the idea of having children by a Mentor in general or being a father in general that so disgusts him.

"Can't say patience was ever my strong suit, so I'll have to ride on intensity. You have a better outlook than I do." He brings a hand up and absentmindedly rubs the leg of the spectacles poking out of his pocket, stopping himself short of pulling them out and fiddling with them - Cal would certainly recognize them to be off-brand. "I keep thinking every Hunger Games is a chance for me to get a better roster. It's like playing dice."

Oceana cocks an eyebrow. "Guess so. Kind of awkward, fucking someone you might have to off in the next Arena anyway." She shakes her head, feeling vaguely guilty at the thought. At least it's loud enough in here that she doesn't feel like she has to whisper anything vaguely anti-Capitol in sentiment.

Her eyes roll right back at Jolie. "I think a bitch doth protest too much," she counters. "Besides, I'm pretty sure the D5 escort is fucking at least one of her Tributes, which is waaaay more off-limits than fucking a Mentor. I say go for it, if you have the chance."

A pause.

"Wait, but who would even top in that scenario?"

Oceana's in her element, grinding her ass up against some sexy off-duty Peacekeeper's groin, eyes nearly shut as she rides the wave of sweaty bodies that has taken up residence in the middle of her living room. Or at least, she's in her element until some rude little shit bumps his bony fucking hip into her. Her eyes fly open, ringed in smokey black and purple with rhinestones dripping down her cheeks to resemble tears, and narrow at the really shitty pick-up line she's being graced with.

"Sorry," she yells over the music. "I've already got a twink in my life."

Oceana's mouth drops open just for a moment, before being replaced by a cat-got-the-canary grin. "You're a smooth talker," she purrs, letting her hips sway to the movement. "I like it."

His question gives her momentary pause. "I'd love a Screaming Orgasm," she says finally, grin widening. "Think you can handle that, baby?"

It's a fine line to walk, getting a much-deserved bitch session on and realizing that the gossip could ruin his Tributes' chances of getting desirable Sponsors. Jason takes a drink as he concocts a slew of complaints that, while accurate, are liable to help rather than hurt his brood.

"Where to even begin? Both of my girls, Greene and Thorston, have pretty much eschewed femininity and decided they'd rather hack stuff up and shoot it instead, and while that makes for a great show it makes the easy money with hair products and facepaint pretty difficult. Unfortunately, none of the boys have your tendencies." He pulls a sheepish face at Oceana. "The closest I have is Dorian, and I'm convinced he'd go butch just to spite me if I so much as suggested he wax his mustache better.

"Cassian and Nick, on the other hand - well Cassian's literally a perpetual child, but that's a liability more than anything unless I can get him to steal Dandy Mott's trains for a photoshoot. And jury's still out on Nick until he hopefully gets rid of the other Nick without a surname.

"I've got one Tribute who insists that he's an actual god and throws snitfits like a sulky cat if you so much as point out that that's about as worthwhile as a used theater ticket here. Honestly, my only hope is Shatterstar, and that's just because I haven't seen him yet so he hasn't had an opportunity to drive me crazy." Jason sighs. "They shouldn't even bother putting them in the Arena. Just put a camera in the District Seven common room and there'll be entertainment for hours."

Stephen laughs when Jason says that bit about we were the enemy. It must be a laugh at how ridiculous the idea is. It must be. It certainly isn't an I can't believe you just said that seriously laugh.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Stephen says smoothly, keeping a light tone. "It's always difficult at the beginning. These Tributes need a different approach than the ones that came before. They're not frightened children, Jason."

"Oh, I can more than handle it." Sergius gives her a cheeky grin before disappearing a moment. He returns a couple minutes later, drinks in hand. "What kind of orgasm did you want again?"

It is an unspoken truth that relationships and sex are 100 percent harder when you can't be too sympathetic about Tributes and all the shit that gets heaped on them. Jolie is used to the delusional Capitol folk because damn if she ever wasn't a huge idiot before, but she's pretty sure if she saw the light then Oceana would follow suit soon. They're connected, it's real cute.

"I thought it was a Mentor and a Tribute, actually. Plus, y'know, they have more in common and all that. With the murder stuff." She drums her fingers on the glass as she pulls her lips into a skeptical frown.

Then she raises a brow.

"You know what that is? That is none of your fucking business." She gives Oceana's ear a flick, then tucks her legs under her to get more comfortable. "And he would. Duh. He's 6'4." She shrugs her shoulders lazily.

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[OPEN] ain't no party like a D̴̡̀R̶̵̶A̷̵̡̛͜G̷͟ ̀҉̸̀͢Q͝҉͟͏U҉͘͟͜͡Ȩ͜҉͞E̷͢Ņ ̷̷̕Ṕ̷̧̛͞A̷͟R̸̛̕Ţ̀́Y̵̴

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runs in 15 minutes late with starbucks

I hope this isn't too late!

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not at all!

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as long as there's booze in that cup

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