Staffer's Retreat

[whatisay]

WHO| Every Escort, Stylist and Mentor. Any Capitolites or Peacekeepers who might have reason to oversee or visit.
WHAT| A professional retreat for the overworked, underpaid, and super underappreciated Tribute Care Teams.
WHERE| A chalet in District One, easily accessible by train.
WHEN| Before the next death roll.
WARNINGS| Typical Capitolites being entitled asshats.
NOTES| I've put up some subthreads for various activities, if you want to add more just do so under the appropriate day subheader!

Staffer's Retreat. Mandatory. The teams for each District are given a handful of days to prepare for the weekend, which, they're told, is going to be scheduled for a weekend with no big shake-ups in the Arena and perfect weather for outdoor activities. On Friday morning, they're taken by train to a small chalet tucked into a mountainside. A few inches of snow covers the ground but the sky is clear, reflected in the beautiful lake at the base of the mountain.

Until Sunday evening, their days will be packed with "professional development". The schedule looks something like this:

Friday:
Icebreakers
Trust Falls
Hypothetical Scenarios: How to Be the First Person Chosen for a Bomb Shelter
Three-Legged Race
Self-Care Hour: Mandatory Yoga
Dinner
Breaking Down Stereotypes Workshop

Saturday:
Mandatory Mentor Group Therapy: PTSD is Not An Excuse
Mandatory Escort/Stylist Workshop: Building Trust with Your Tributes
Mandatory Sexual Harassment Training: Focus on Tribute/Mentor and Tribute/Escort Relationships
Lunch
Capture-the-Flag
Group Lego-Building
Dinner
12am Karaoke

Sunday:
5:30am Continental Breakfast
Compliment Circle
Journal Hour
Farewells

Comments

[cigne]

"'m not hungry," she whines, curling into a tighter ball and then burrowing her upper body under the blanket that had served as her pillow, until everything from her ribcage up is covered again. Without Jason's weight on the bed too, the mattress lacks the heavy feeling that had made it so comfortable all night, and the cold has doubled since he took the blanket away too.

"No one can make us eat, come back." She's mumbling, wanting only to extend how everything had been for another hour or two. Wanting to go back to the place where she could sleep, even if she had to be sick and share a bed with someone who didn't want her there anyway.

But it was sleep, and not dropping from exhaustion halfway through writing a thank you note to a Sponsor. Jason won't be willing to let her sleep curled in the corner of his bed if he's not here, and so he has to come back and sleep with her.

[whatisay]

"You don't have anything in your stomach, I know that for a fact." He prods her shoulder. "Get up, Swann. I don't want to have to drag you out of the bed, and don't think I won't."

He has to admit that he wants to lay down beside her, let her body heat keep the bed warm rather than face the cool morning air. They could rest a little longer - who would miss them? Is anyone really going to come looking for him if he doesn't show up for powdered eggs and concentrated orange juice?

He sits down on the bed next to her. He looks at the number dripping by in red digital readout on the alarm clock.

And he lays back down. "One more hour," he murmurs. No one will miss them.

He's asleep again before he even has a chance to pull the blanket up - or set the alarm.

[cigne]

Underneath her blanket, Swann smiles, because it is so, so very rare that she gets what she wants, particularly from people like Jason, the people who usually want things from her, even if it's only to do what they say.

He's out before she can even fully uncover herself, and since he has thrown away the blanket covering her, she takes the thinner one from behind her head to cover them, moving over to share the pillow and wrap herself around his warmth, arms wound around his neck. She clings to him like one might a stuffed animal, rather than another human, and soon she is just as sound asleep as he is, snoring against his shoulder, less deafeningly this time.

She doesn't really care if they make it to the next activity.

[whatisay]

They miss breakfast entirely. In his sleep, Jason is mostly still, allowing Swann move her octopus-like arms around him and grow over his body as if she were a particularly humanoid ivy. His muted snoring and the way one of his hands closes subconsciously over the nearest thing (her hand) is the only sign that he's not entirely comatose.