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

[fusshionable]

Porrim grits her teeth. Poor Swann is clearly very embarrassed by all this, and she's sure her own confrontational manner isn't helping with that. But she's not about to stand by and let this dickhead perpetuate his own sense of entitlement.

"Never in a thousand years, Sergius. Don't be so disgusting. You're making everyone here uncomfortable."

She strides on long legs over to where Swann is standing, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. It's almost comical, the way she towers over the other Escort. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

[cigne]

The level of tension makes Swann tremble and wring her hands, unable to resist the panic she feels during any situation that makes her even the least bit uncomfortable. This is her fault, she's sure, and she's ruined yoga and now Porrim will be angry about having to defend her and Sergius will hate her for... well, surely for something. Swann can't exactly pinpoint that one.

"It's all right." She's so quiet, looking up at Porrim with big doe eyes that sparkle with tears. Barefoot, she's actually under five feet, and it makes her even more prone to give in to the instinct to run, despite the fact that she doesn't believe anyone's going to hit her. "He doesn't mean it. You didn't embarrass me."

[sergius]

Wait, seriously? Is she seriously about to cry. All jokes aside, Sergius doesn't actually have a nasty bone in his body, and he wouldn't tear into someone if he didn't think they could take it. Now he actually does feel bad. Not angry, just bad.

"Hey now, Swann, don't be like that. It's nothing to cry over, right?" He gestures to the occupants of the room in their ridiculous yoga outfits looking ridiculous doing yoga. "This is yoga. It's not supposed to be stressful. In fact, I'm pretty sure you're supposed to be relaxing."

[fusshionable]

Porrim can't help but feel a bit bad; she's derailing this whole thing more than it needs to be. But the raging feminist in her refuses to let poor Swann go defenseless. She squeezes the other Escort's shoulder in a comforting manner. "It's alright, Swann. You didn't do anything."

She shoots Sergius a glare. "Are you seriously not even going to apologize?"

[cigne]

Swann shrinks from both of them, wanting nothing more than to disappear into thin air. She shakes uncontrollably, like a small dog, and opens her mouth to say something but then closes it again from fear of crying.

She sort of wishes the building would catch on fire, just so that they'd all have to break apart and evacuate.

[sergius]

He gives Porrim a look of disbelief. "No. Why?"

But of course, he caves as soon as Swann starts to quiver like that. He just can't fathom how this has happened. How the fuck did this all get so out of control. "Swann, c'mon. Please don't cry. I think you're great at yoga. And you should be proud of that. I mean, you've obviously worked really hard. Why not enjoy the attention, yeah?"

[fusshionable]

That earns him an eye roll. Good lord, men. "If you can't understand why, then--well, I can't help you, honestly." It's probably not his fault, even. He doesn't seem too bright, but maybe that's just her feminist rage talking. She can't even bear to listen to him try to sweet-talk Swann. "Namaste," she tosses over her shoulder, bending to roll up her yoga mat and stalking out of the room. She doesn't normally lose her temper like that, but sometimes it's exasperating having a broadened worldview. And somehow yoga has lost its appeal. She needs a drink, and a strong one.

[cigne]

"Oh... namaste."

Swann watches Porrim leave, still shaking, arms wrapped around herself, then glances back toward Sergius.

"It's okay. I'm sorry she got so mad at you. I didn't mean to cause a fight."

[sergius]

"I'm not worried about her." He rolled his eyes as he watched Porrim leave. "Look, if I pissed you off, all you gotta do is say something, I mean, look at me. I'm stupid. But I want to be less stupid. So it's okay to get mad and tell me to stop and shit. You're allowed to speak up for yourself, Swann."

[cigne]

"I'm not mad," she says immediately, though her voice is still soft and shaky, like her body. "And you're not stupid. It was my fault."

To her, it's terribly obvious. She shouldn't have reacted at all, shouldn't have blushed or gotten embarrassed, none of this would have happened if it wasn't for her.

[sergius]

It's obvious, even to him, that she's not being totally honest here. Sergius tilts his head, then lets out a heavy sigh. "Swann, no. Come on. Stand up for yourself."

[cigne]

She does the exact opposite, backs up a step even, shaking her head. "I don't have anything to stand up about. Really, everything's all right."

Even if she were going to stand up for herself, what would he want her to do? Hit him? Scream? She's not capable of it.

[sergius]

Seeing how utterly useless this has become, he at last retreats, shaking his head. "Okay, okay. You win. You win. Everything's fucking rad, okay?"