Eva Salazar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vissernone) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2013-03-11 01:06 pm
vissernone) wrote in thecapitol2013-03-11 01:06 pm
Entry tags:
There's a High Wind in the Trees [Open]
WHO| Eva and everyone
WHERE| Training Center room and the District 9 living room
WHAT| Eva gets back from a night of greasing palms and hosts an advisory meeting. Also punches things.
WHEN| A few days before the next arena.
WARNINGS/NOTES| Some mention of the Sponsors.
Eva's hit another dead end. Any of her attempts to sleuth information about the recent attacks from the Peacekeepers have been shut down, or have come perilously close to making her look treasonous, so for her own self-preservation she's backed down and tempered those curious instincts.
She balms her ego by reminding herself that the rebels attacked are a particularly inopportune time for her; given that the new Arena is coming within the week, Eva's had palms to grease, and the meetings with Sponsors has left her running ragged. Not for the first time, she wishes her fellow District 9 Mentors were more involved with the Tributes, because she feels that hers have been neglected while she was cozying up to the rich and powerful.
Her makeup today is a splay of painted orchids dripping from her hair line down to create a mask around her eyes, a clever ruse to hide the dark circles forming there. She's wearing fashionable gloves to keep herself from picking at her lips and biting her cuticles; she's always been bad at hiding her fidgety impulses when she's tired. Thankfully, the elaborate makeup and beautiful embroidery on the gloves distracts from how functional her plain dark dress is, and to an extent how rumpled the fabric is. She didn't have time to change from last night's encounter with a Sponsor with some unsavory interests in one of her Tributes; the argument took them long into the night, and Eva ended up walking away with one less person willing to support District 9, but able to catch a few hours of sleep without guilt.
Prior to doing what she came here to do, she spends a little while in the Training Center, removing her gloves and wrapping her hands in tape so she can take a few swings at the punching bag. She's no longer in peak physical shape and tires quickly, but it's a good, healthy way to work the stress out. She restrains herself, focusing more on form than on power, and ceases long before she can work up enough of a sweat to make the fact that she hasn't showered this morning evident.
She's carved out a few hours today to talk with her Tributes, if they're willing. She goes up the elevator and waits in the District 9 living room with a plate of fanciful cheeses and some wine bottles, which she's inconspicuously opened and partially vanished the contents of already. While she waits she doesn't, in fact, have the television on, but reads a small book of poetry she's stowed in her purse instead.
[OOC: The District 9 party is open to her Tributes only, but her other subthread is open to absolutely everyone in the Capitol who wants to get some threading in before the Arena!]
WHERE| Training Center room and the District 9 living room
WHAT| Eva gets back from a night of greasing palms and hosts an advisory meeting. Also punches things.
WHEN| A few days before the next arena.
WARNINGS/NOTES| Some mention of the Sponsors.
Eva's hit another dead end. Any of her attempts to sleuth information about the recent attacks from the Peacekeepers have been shut down, or have come perilously close to making her look treasonous, so for her own self-preservation she's backed down and tempered those curious instincts.
She balms her ego by reminding herself that the rebels attacked are a particularly inopportune time for her; given that the new Arena is coming within the week, Eva's had palms to grease, and the meetings with Sponsors has left her running ragged. Not for the first time, she wishes her fellow District 9 Mentors were more involved with the Tributes, because she feels that hers have been neglected while she was cozying up to the rich and powerful.
Her makeup today is a splay of painted orchids dripping from her hair line down to create a mask around her eyes, a clever ruse to hide the dark circles forming there. She's wearing fashionable gloves to keep herself from picking at her lips and biting her cuticles; she's always been bad at hiding her fidgety impulses when she's tired. Thankfully, the elaborate makeup and beautiful embroidery on the gloves distracts from how functional her plain dark dress is, and to an extent how rumpled the fabric is. She didn't have time to change from last night's encounter with a Sponsor with some unsavory interests in one of her Tributes; the argument took them long into the night, and Eva ended up walking away with one less person willing to support District 9, but able to catch a few hours of sleep without guilt.
Prior to doing what she came here to do, she spends a little while in the Training Center, removing her gloves and wrapping her hands in tape so she can take a few swings at the punching bag. She's no longer in peak physical shape and tires quickly, but it's a good, healthy way to work the stress out. She restrains herself, focusing more on form than on power, and ceases long before she can work up enough of a sweat to make the fact that she hasn't showered this morning evident.
She's carved out a few hours today to talk with her Tributes, if they're willing. She goes up the elevator and waits in the District 9 living room with a plate of fanciful cheeses and some wine bottles, which she's inconspicuously opened and partially vanished the contents of already. While she waits she doesn't, in fact, have the television on, but reads a small book of poetry she's stowed in her purse instead.
[OOC: The District 9 party is open to her Tributes only, but her other subthread is open to absolutely everyone in the Capitol who wants to get some threading in before the Arena!]
no subject
She supposes she's been hit on by weirder people than people dressed like the dead - the Sponsors are usually a pretty repulsive bunch, and Eva would happily take decomposing over some of the other people she's been forced to spend time with. It's a convincing costume, though, and the hair on the back of Eva's neck starts to rise with the suspicion that it may not, actually, be just a costume. They brought a talking turtle here, after all.
"I'm Eva Salazar, and I've already won the Games, so I'm no longer a Tribute. Now I just get to sit on the sidelines with my popcorn."
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She shoots a toothy grin at Eva, "So you just get to watch us bleed out and die? Sounds like you've got a good gig going on. They pay you for that?"
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"Handsomely. I'll never want for anything in my life." That is, of course, a complete and utter lie. Eva will spend the rest of her life wanting.
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"That mean if I win they set me up with anything I want?" Karis could probably sympathize, if she were really all that capable of sympathy. She doesn't think she'll ever not have something hollow at the center of her.
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"At least if you've died once, you'll know what you're getting into."
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"I'll bet there is. Kinda like you, maybe."
She's going to keep this flirting thing up, just to see if she cna draw a better reaction. She rattles the claws on her fingers against her chin, the clink of bare bone against bone.
"I have to admit, it's not all it's cracked up to be. Painful, mostly."
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The wariness on Eva's face gives way to a sort of muted interest, to hide that she is, indeed, revolted. "Is it? So it's real, then, not a convincing costume?"
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"And yeah, it's all real, sweetcheeks. I'm a deader."
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The first part technically isn't a lie, but whatever. Karis pops her neck and then steps forward, "But if you're done with the bag, I'll take it."
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Those are definitely handy.
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