Swann Honeymead (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cigne) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-01-11 02:19 am
cigne) wrote in thecapitol2015-01-11 02:19 am
If you ever get to the place where the sun is shining everyday
Who| Swann and maybe you???
What| Gotta shape up these Tributes. And maybe have a drink.
Where| D8 Suites and also the bar in the lobby
When| TODAY
a. District 8 Suites
Swann enters the Suite with her heels clicking on the floor, peering around for any sign of life in here. She carries in her shopping bags, each labeled with the name of her Tributes. The bags overwhelm her tiny frame, the sheer amount of them and their size. Even her sky-high stilettos can't balance it all out.
She approaches the sitting room and carefully arranges the bags on the coffee table, placing them just so, very intent on the appearance. She wants everything to look just right when the Tributes come in, wants to see their eyes light up at how pretty the bags are, with their pristine edges and rich black shine and ribbons on the handles.
They have to show up first, though.
b. Lobby bar
All she needed was a single lemon drop martini, and she has it. Sitting on the high barstool, Swann looks out over the lobby, watching people come and go, watching the crowds ebb and flow as the Tributes enter and leave the building. It's interesting enough, made nicer by the drink, and the screens replay all the best scenes from the past Arena.
She occasionally fiddles with her communicators, checking emails and messages and the tabloids, making sure everything's in order while she dares to lounge for just a few moments.
What| Gotta shape up these Tributes. And maybe have a drink.
Where| D8 Suites and also the bar in the lobby
When| TODAY
a. District 8 Suites
Swann enters the Suite with her heels clicking on the floor, peering around for any sign of life in here. She carries in her shopping bags, each labeled with the name of her Tributes. The bags overwhelm her tiny frame, the sheer amount of them and their size. Even her sky-high stilettos can't balance it all out.
She approaches the sitting room and carefully arranges the bags on the coffee table, placing them just so, very intent on the appearance. She wants everything to look just right when the Tributes come in, wants to see their eyes light up at how pretty the bags are, with their pristine edges and rich black shine and ribbons on the handles.
They have to show up first, though.
b. Lobby bar
All she needed was a single lemon drop martini, and she has it. Sitting on the high barstool, Swann looks out over the lobby, watching people come and go, watching the crowds ebb and flow as the Tributes enter and leave the building. It's interesting enough, made nicer by the drink, and the screens replay all the best scenes from the past Arena.
She occasionally fiddles with her communicators, checking emails and messages and the tabloids, making sure everything's in order while she dares to lounge for just a few moments.
no subject
"So, your last Escort was a little... lax in their duties. But that's okay, because it really does give me sort of a clean slate! And I wanted to start by talking to everyone about how they see themselves, and how they want themselves presented to the public. I really want to help you win, and the best way to do that is by getting a good image out there."
Swann has not stopped smiling once, but it's a genuine smile, because she really is pleased to be here. The Avox sets the tea tray down, and she takes one of the two teacups, pouring quite a bit of honey into it before sipping.
"All you have to do is talk to me."
no subject
They are clear, observant, and stern. He doesn't want to let her know too much about how he feels. His life had been one of secrets, and here he hoped for nothing different.
"How I wish to present myself?" he asked, though it was really rhetorical. It was something to consider. "I don't present myself as anything other than myself. I never have wanted to do anything other than that."
True enough. He wasn't much for putting on a show for entertainment. At least not like this.
no subject
"And who are you?" she asks, head tilting a bit to the side. "Tell me about yourself. What you want me to know. It's my job to help you win, and I promise, I want that to happen! But I need your help. I don't want to just shove you all in little boxes and sell you as stereotypes. I want to Sponsors to care about you, not a generic role that the right face could fill. Does that make sense?"
no subject
He figures that the capitol knows a lot about him, anyway, and he has to bite his tongue to keep himself from saying so. "I'm from New York City, November 1962." And he realized that those things probably meant little - if anything - to her. "I'm a professor - teacher - where I come from. I don't enjoy killing, and would not ever make the choice to do so willingly."
Winning wasn't really in his plans, after all.
no subject
"Okay, well, a teacher. That's good! What do you teach, exactly?" Swann's envisioning a line of educational videos, perhaps. Photoshoots with Charles leaning against a desk and taking a bite of an apple, giving the camera a coy smirk. A rumor of a star-crossed romance with a student back in his own world, to catch the girls' hearts.
"You don't have to kill anyone to win, you know. It's probably easier, but there have been Victors who won with survival skills. Annie Cresta is the most famous, she swam through a tidal wave that drowned all her competition. She's from Four, so she was good in the water."