Parties certainly aren't Emily's thing, and Capitolite gatherings even more so, but she figures she should put in an appearance, to try to shake off a little of the antisocial picture the magazines like to paint of her, knowing that her District need all the good publicity they can get at the moment. She's pretty appalled by the idyllic image of District Seven given in the room dedicated to it, and wonders how many of the party goers believe this is what it's really like there, biting her tongue as they coo over the deer and eye up the lumberjacks, keeping her responses to any questions she's asked as concise as possible, focusing on trivial details such as the smell of the trees and the quality of the lumber they exported. After a while it becomes all too much for her, she finds herself at once repulsed by the display and feeling incredibly homesick even at the Capitol's ridiculous imitation of Seven, and wanders back out to see what else is on offer.
She has to pass through the central area as quickly as she can, as soon as she realises that there are Avoxes everywhere, serving as nothing more than human furniture. Emily's grown accustomed to the ones serving in the District Seven suite, but they always serve to creep her out, especially in large numbers, and she feels uncomfortable and guilty that that's her default reaction rather than pity for them. She makes a line for one of the other doors, picking one seemingly at random, hoping for something a little quieter, but knowing that at a party thrown by Stephen Reagan, quiet is unlikely.
She's absolutely taken aback, then, when she goes through the District Nine door and finds herself surrounded by fields of grain as far as the eye can see, gently waving in the breeze. It feels like they stretch on forever, as though the horizon is something intangible and the Capitol is worlds away. The irony of feeling as though she's a bird without a cage for once in the middle of a Capitol holographic projection is not lost on her, but she'll take what little she can get. She also finds that she doesn't particularly care that District Nine is probably being misrepresented as badly as District Seven was, something that also sits very uncomfortably within her. She's learning a lot about the sort of person she really is since she came back to the Capitol, and none of it is pleasant to her.
Emily | Open
She has to pass through the central area as quickly as she can, as soon as she realises that there are Avoxes everywhere, serving as nothing more than human furniture. Emily's grown accustomed to the ones serving in the District Seven suite, but they always serve to creep her out, especially in large numbers, and she feels uncomfortable and guilty that that's her default reaction rather than pity for them. She makes a line for one of the other doors, picking one seemingly at random, hoping for something a little quieter, but knowing that at a party thrown by Stephen Reagan, quiet is unlikely.
She's absolutely taken aback, then, when she goes through the District Nine door and finds herself surrounded by fields of grain as far as the eye can see, gently waving in the breeze. It feels like they stretch on forever, as though the horizon is something intangible and the Capitol is worlds away. The irony of feeling as though she's a bird without a cage for once in the middle of a Capitol holographic projection is not lost on her, but she'll take what little she can get. She also finds that she doesn't particularly care that District Nine is probably being misrepresented as badly as District Seven was, something that also sits very uncomfortably within her. She's learning a lot about the sort of person she really is since she came back to the Capitol, and none of it is pleasant to her.