Stephanus "Stephen" Reagan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
capitolprivilege) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-04-27 11:04 pm
capitolprivilege) wrote in thecapitol2015-04-27 11:04 pm
I get dizzy when I think of all the ways we try to hide our maladies [OPEN]
Who| Stephen and anyone who isn't actively participating in the break-in!
What| A big, big party to celebrate the soccer match, and also to celebrate Stephen being much less of a disgrace than he was. This is the party that made it into Celebrus, people. The Capitol elite is invited, and so is anyone involved with the Games! ...except for the people Cyrus crossed off the guest list behind Stephen's back.
Where| An event hall in the Capitol
When| Backdated to the Binding plot, the night of the break-in.
Warnings/Notes| Capitol gilding-over of atrocious things. Disney-ified portrayals of the Districts. Avoxes being used as furniture. And what you bring with you.
For having such a short time to plan it, Stephen and Porrim have really outdone themselves. The event hall is round, with a hallway leading to a large, circular, central room and smaller rooms ringing the outside. The main area is half ballroom, half dining area: the dance floor is off to one side, large enough to accommodate anyone who wants to dance, but with the lights low enough to make it feel intimate and un-intimidating even if only a few feel like dancing. The translucent mist that whirls around the area helps with the intimate atmosphere without impeding visibility badly enough to make dancing difficult. The other half of the room is round tables, kept clean and refreshed with food by wait staff who will bring the guests just about anything they ask for. The wait staff are all perfectly groomed, polite, and in possession of their tongues.
The decor is soccer-themed, but soccer as it would have been imagined by the ancient Greeks. Marble statues of athletes (clothed or half-clothed or with strategically carved folds of cloth) are tastefully placed around the low-lit room. The Greco-Roman aesthetic characterizes the whole room: carved pillars hold up the sound system and the tables, embossed vases whose figures are animated adorn the tables as centerpieces, and the wait staff is dressed in sporty chitons and peploses. It's Classically classy, but the sports imagery and the popular dance music that's muted enough in the dining area to allow people to talk make it informal enough to be comfortable.
At even intervals around the center room are twelve doors. Each one has a Roman numeral on it. Step through any one of them and it will take you to a recreation of the corresponding District that's both full of real props and holographic images. The technology isn't as good as Gamemaker illusions and certainly doesn't feel as real as the dream tech, but it can be interacted with, even if it doesn't "feel" real. You can "pick up" a dandelion in District 12 and blow its seeds away. You can run a hand through the water of a District 4 beach and pier and watch the ripples spread. Each District room has comfortable seating, themed food, and appropriately-dressed wait staff; there are even cast members re-enacting District life around the dining areas, giving each room a sense of authenticity. It looks, sounds, smells, and tastes like the District it's imitating, just -- better. Cleaner.
Oh, also, those who participated in the soccer game and won will be given laurel crowns made of solid gold.
District One is a balcony of a manor house, overlooking a perfect view of manicured gardens. You're not outdoors, but it sure feels like it. The tableware is sparkling gold, the chairs made of silky fabric that is a joy to touch but doesn't seem to stain, and being there will make you feel like a prince or princess.
District Two is clearly built into the inside of a mountain. There are broad, open windows, of course, letting in plenty of fresh air, and the walls and floor and ceiling are impeccably carved, but it's all made of natural stone. Outside, down in the valley, you can see Careers and Peacekeepers training.
District Three isa charred husk no, not at all, that would be tasteless. Three looks like Tron: Legacy. Glowing LED lines run through the walls and furniture, and it all looks so clean and spotless it can't be entirely real. The tables are angular, unnatural, and around the dining area are color-changing glow pools.
District Four is a broad pier that juts out from a beach into the ocean. The sand is real, but the water is not -- don't worry, you won't ruin your clothes if you fall in! The sun is setting, painting the sky beautiful colors, and there's no mistaking that sea-salt smell. Off to the side, attractive fishermen and fisherwomen work to bring in the seafood the Capitol enjoys so much. Rough-hewn but splinterless wooden tables and comfortable canvas chairs are on the pier, with an awning above to keep the sun off. Part of the pier is made of glass, so you can look down and watch the tiny fish as they swim around.
District Five is a power plant, but an elegant one. Lightning crackles across the walls and ceiling, leaping between metal rods in a dazzling display. But don't worry: it's not real. You can touch it if you want. It'll cling to your fingers for a few seconds before sparking out. The hum it makes is quiet and unobtrusive white noise.
District Six is lovely, if Stephen does say so himself. It's a series of luxuriously-furnished train cars, with realistic-looking, picturesque scenery rushing past that reflects the geography of all twelve Districts. The floor hums gently; it feels like you're really moving. In one of the train cars can be found one District 6 Mentor, Linden Lockhearst -- usually. He's been part of the party's marketing: he has promised to, at this party, disprove fortune-telling completely. Come talk to him! You'll be surprised at what he can tell you about you. ♥
District Seven is a tree house! It's about a hundred feet up in the crisp, pine-fresh air, affording a gorgeous view of the surrounding forest. Birds sing, deer frolic below, and stunningly attractive lumberjacks can be seen going past, hard at work. They're also very attractive. Look, Stephen and Porrim planned this party -- what did you expect? Go watch the lumberjacks. It's worth it.
District Eight is artistic. It's divided into sections, almost mazelike, with walls made of cloth, but it's kept from feeling claustrophobic by the fact that the ceiling -- also made of cloth -- looks like the sky. No, really. Clouds are scudding across it, blown in the same direction as the light breeze that flows through the room, keeping it from feeling stuffy. The cloth walls are similarly illusory: touch them and they feel real, but projected onto them are broad plains with great lakes not too far distant. The chairs and tables are all cloth and wooden frames.
District Nine is grain. It's hard to make grain interesting, but Stephen's given it his best shot. This is the room with the most open-air feel. Grain, amber waves of it, as far as the eye can see. There's a trick to this room: walk out into the grain, and you won't hit a wall. You're on a moving sidewalk that responds to you, and the holograms will bend to give the illusion of distance between you and the tables in the crop circle in the center of the room. D9's bigger on the inside.
District Ten doesn't have real farm animals. Goodness, no. Too unpredictable, and the smell would detract from the Old West charm of this room. The door leads out onto the expansive porch of a ranch house, where the tables are. It overlooks paddocks of horses and fields of gentle cows. Two or three playful but impeccably trained herding dogs are the only real animals here: they are impeccably clean and will only approach if you call them over. Their handlers in cowboy hats and jeans aren't far away, keeping a watchful eye. Somewhere, Wyatt Earp wants to die.
District Eleven is an idyllic orchard. The apples can be picked and eaten. You won't be punished for stealing food, because you're from the Capitol! Ha, ha. The wait staff is dressed as sexy farmers, with straw hats and coverall-shorts and plaid shirts artistically tied up, talking in easygoing drawls. It's all very charming, like it's right out of Song of the Goddamn South. This is some unfortunate fucking shit.
District Twelve is probably the most ordinary out of all the rooms. The feel is of small-town Appalachia. Coal miners with impressive arms can be seen going to and from work along dirt tracks that wind between the little houses, a man plays a banjo and sings a little ways off, and pine-covered mountains rise in the distance. The food is rustic but delicious: warm baked bread, goat cheese and strawberries, roast goose with herbs -- you wish you lived in this dystopia.
Oh, and one more thing... In the main room, there are statues that are dressed more classically. Togas, chitons, flowy robes, bangles, sandals -- they're holding trays of food, trays of drinks, baskets of bread and fruit, all classically beautiful, all with -- very realistic-looking hair and eyes, now that you're thinking about it -- oh god they're moving. Cyrus Reagan has been involved in the planning of this party from the start, and he'sBUTTED IN put a few of his own touches on it without talking it over with Stephen. Hand-picking Avoxes for their looks, dressing them up, and commanding them to stand perfectly still so they can be the tables, he felt, fit the theme perfectly.
What| A big, big party to celebrate the soccer match, and also to celebrate Stephen being much less of a disgrace than he was. This is the party that made it into Celebrus, people. The Capitol elite is invited, and so is anyone involved with the Games! ...except for the people Cyrus crossed off the guest list behind Stephen's back.
Where| An event hall in the Capitol
When| Backdated to the Binding plot, the night of the break-in.
Warnings/Notes| Capitol gilding-over of atrocious things. Disney-ified portrayals of the Districts. Avoxes being used as furniture. And what you bring with you.
For having such a short time to plan it, Stephen and Porrim have really outdone themselves. The event hall is round, with a hallway leading to a large, circular, central room and smaller rooms ringing the outside. The main area is half ballroom, half dining area: the dance floor is off to one side, large enough to accommodate anyone who wants to dance, but with the lights low enough to make it feel intimate and un-intimidating even if only a few feel like dancing. The translucent mist that whirls around the area helps with the intimate atmosphere without impeding visibility badly enough to make dancing difficult. The other half of the room is round tables, kept clean and refreshed with food by wait staff who will bring the guests just about anything they ask for. The wait staff are all perfectly groomed, polite, and in possession of their tongues.
The decor is soccer-themed, but soccer as it would have been imagined by the ancient Greeks. Marble statues of athletes (clothed or half-clothed or with strategically carved folds of cloth) are tastefully placed around the low-lit room. The Greco-Roman aesthetic characterizes the whole room: carved pillars hold up the sound system and the tables, embossed vases whose figures are animated adorn the tables as centerpieces, and the wait staff is dressed in sporty chitons and peploses. It's Classically classy, but the sports imagery and the popular dance music that's muted enough in the dining area to allow people to talk make it informal enough to be comfortable.
At even intervals around the center room are twelve doors. Each one has a Roman numeral on it. Step through any one of them and it will take you to a recreation of the corresponding District that's both full of real props and holographic images. The technology isn't as good as Gamemaker illusions and certainly doesn't feel as real as the dream tech, but it can be interacted with, even if it doesn't "feel" real. You can "pick up" a dandelion in District 12 and blow its seeds away. You can run a hand through the water of a District 4 beach and pier and watch the ripples spread. Each District room has comfortable seating, themed food, and appropriately-dressed wait staff; there are even cast members re-enacting District life around the dining areas, giving each room a sense of authenticity. It looks, sounds, smells, and tastes like the District it's imitating, just -- better. Cleaner.
Oh, also, those who participated in the soccer game and won will be given laurel crowns made of solid gold.
District One is a balcony of a manor house, overlooking a perfect view of manicured gardens. You're not outdoors, but it sure feels like it. The tableware is sparkling gold, the chairs made of silky fabric that is a joy to touch but doesn't seem to stain, and being there will make you feel like a prince or princess.
District Two is clearly built into the inside of a mountain. There are broad, open windows, of course, letting in plenty of fresh air, and the walls and floor and ceiling are impeccably carved, but it's all made of natural stone. Outside, down in the valley, you can see Careers and Peacekeepers training.
District Three is
District Four is a broad pier that juts out from a beach into the ocean. The sand is real, but the water is not -- don't worry, you won't ruin your clothes if you fall in! The sun is setting, painting the sky beautiful colors, and there's no mistaking that sea-salt smell. Off to the side, attractive fishermen and fisherwomen work to bring in the seafood the Capitol enjoys so much. Rough-hewn but splinterless wooden tables and comfortable canvas chairs are on the pier, with an awning above to keep the sun off. Part of the pier is made of glass, so you can look down and watch the tiny fish as they swim around.
District Five is a power plant, but an elegant one. Lightning crackles across the walls and ceiling, leaping between metal rods in a dazzling display. But don't worry: it's not real. You can touch it if you want. It'll cling to your fingers for a few seconds before sparking out. The hum it makes is quiet and unobtrusive white noise.
District Six is lovely, if Stephen does say so himself. It's a series of luxuriously-furnished train cars, with realistic-looking, picturesque scenery rushing past that reflects the geography of all twelve Districts. The floor hums gently; it feels like you're really moving. In one of the train cars can be found one District 6 Mentor, Linden Lockhearst -- usually. He's been part of the party's marketing: he has promised to, at this party, disprove fortune-telling completely. Come talk to him! You'll be surprised at what he can tell you about you. ♥
District Seven is a tree house! It's about a hundred feet up in the crisp, pine-fresh air, affording a gorgeous view of the surrounding forest. Birds sing, deer frolic below, and stunningly attractive lumberjacks can be seen going past, hard at work. They're also very attractive. Look, Stephen and Porrim planned this party -- what did you expect? Go watch the lumberjacks. It's worth it.
District Eight is artistic. It's divided into sections, almost mazelike, with walls made of cloth, but it's kept from feeling claustrophobic by the fact that the ceiling -- also made of cloth -- looks like the sky. No, really. Clouds are scudding across it, blown in the same direction as the light breeze that flows through the room, keeping it from feeling stuffy. The cloth walls are similarly illusory: touch them and they feel real, but projected onto them are broad plains with great lakes not too far distant. The chairs and tables are all cloth and wooden frames.
District Nine is grain. It's hard to make grain interesting, but Stephen's given it his best shot. This is the room with the most open-air feel. Grain, amber waves of it, as far as the eye can see. There's a trick to this room: walk out into the grain, and you won't hit a wall. You're on a moving sidewalk that responds to you, and the holograms will bend to give the illusion of distance between you and the tables in the crop circle in the center of the room. D9's bigger on the inside.
District Ten doesn't have real farm animals. Goodness, no. Too unpredictable, and the smell would detract from the Old West charm of this room. The door leads out onto the expansive porch of a ranch house, where the tables are. It overlooks paddocks of horses and fields of gentle cows. Two or three playful but impeccably trained herding dogs are the only real animals here: they are impeccably clean and will only approach if you call them over. Their handlers in cowboy hats and jeans aren't far away, keeping a watchful eye. Somewhere, Wyatt Earp wants to die.
District Eleven is an idyllic orchard. The apples can be picked and eaten. You won't be punished for stealing food, because you're from the Capitol! Ha, ha. The wait staff is dressed as sexy farmers, with straw hats and coverall-shorts and plaid shirts artistically tied up, talking in easygoing drawls. It's all very charming, like it's right out of Song of the Goddamn South. This is some unfortunate fucking shit.
District Twelve is probably the most ordinary out of all the rooms. The feel is of small-town Appalachia. Coal miners with impressive arms can be seen going to and from work along dirt tracks that wind between the little houses, a man plays a banjo and sings a little ways off, and pine-covered mountains rise in the distance. The food is rustic but delicious: warm baked bread, goat cheese and strawberries, roast goose with herbs -- you wish you lived in this dystopia.
Oh, and one more thing... In the main room, there are statues that are dressed more classically. Togas, chitons, flowy robes, bangles, sandals -- they're holding trays of food, trays of drinks, baskets of bread and fruit, all classically beautiful, all with -- very realistic-looking hair and eyes, now that you're thinking about it -- oh god they're moving. Cyrus Reagan has been involved in the planning of this party from the start, and he's
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It's important to Stephen to communicate to the cameras that are absolutely everywhere that it's the atmosphere he's worried about, not the fact that forcing a human being to stand perfectly still holding trays laden with food is torturous.
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"It certainly gives off a different impression than we'd aimed for," she settles on. "Colder by far." There. That sounds like her concerns are the correct ones, doesn't it?
Time for a change in subject. She reaches for his hand, studies the laurel ring on his finger. "I like this. Classy. You look good."
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He could bring up the fact that his clothes tonight were Cyrus's idea, too, but honestly? Stephen's tired of talking about his brother. He lets her take his hand, then laces his fingers into hers, turning it so that it's her hand he's holding up.
"And you look divine," he says, turning the compliment back on her with a nod to her costume's theme, holding her hand warmly.
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Breathing is nice, every once in awhile. So is distracting herself from what's going on in another part of the Capitol by indulging in some nice conversation.
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"You make both look absolutely stunning," he says, bringing her hand back in closer -- an invitation for the rest of her to follow if she likes, a tacit suggestion that she would not be unwelcome in his space. If she's not interested, she can take her hand from his easily enough, no harm done.
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"Flatterer," she replies. "You'd know a thing or two about stunning, wouldn't you?" After all, nobody pulls off a glitter-encrusted tuxedo like Stephen does, she knows this from experience.
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"Maybe I do," Stephen says, making eye contact and holding it as he runs a light finger over the underside of her jaw. "I could show you, if you like."
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He'd parted from his brother after their conversation about the Avoxes, to shake hands and exchange smiles with other people who ran in their circles - much different circles than they had once been, intersecting only at a few points anymore. Cyrus had moved through the various District rooms, noted with pleasure his own touches in the corners, exactly as he'd ordered them - little pieces of proof that Stephen was doing as he was told. As he was supposed to.
And then he'd stepped out of the District Two room, glanced across the circular central chamber, and seen the two of them framed in the doorway of District Eight - seen Stephen draw Porrim in closer, and recognized even at this distance what Stephen looks like flirting. It's a sight he knows well, even without having to see that light touch to her face, the smile Stephen trains on people he wants closer to him. He finds (though he wouldn't have considered it before, hadn't come here with the intention of making Stephen behave, really believed that he had trusted Stephen not to do this) that he doesn't think it particularly becoming of the party's organizer.
He calls out to Stephen as he steps through the doorway, raising his own glass to catch Porrim's eye over his brother's shoulder, a wide and friendly smile on his face. He doesn't bother hanging back, steps in close enough that if they don't move apart, it will have to be awkward. "There you are," he goes on, resting his hand briefly on Stephen's shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze. "And Porrim Maryam. I don't think I've said hello yet tonight. You look stunning."
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"I'd like that very m--"
Porrim jolts, hand dropping at the voice calling Stephen's name in a manner that she can't help but think is slightly manic. And--oh, yes, of course, here comes Big Brother, quite literally, swooping in to be a nuisance.
A cockblock, really.
Her eyebrows shoot upward, but she manages to resolve her expression into something neutral and pleasant as Cyrus wastes no time in getting right up in her space and Stephen's. Wonderful. Just as she's trying to get it in with someone who's quote-unquote in her own class, this happens.
"Cyrus," she replies in a tone that's at once cool and manages to sound pleasantly surprised. "Thank you. So nice of you to drop in."
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"Oh, brother," he mutters in an undertone to Porrim, too quiet for Cyrus to catch. It's not a joke with much heart in it, as the wince that passes across his face shows. It, too, is gone before Cyrus can see it, his own face falling into pleasant surprise as he steps away from Porrim, deciding not to fight this one.
He's quiet, for now, looking from Cyrus to Porrim, letting the two of them talk for a moment without interruption.
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"I'm only sorry I didn't catch you earlier," he says, and who knows how he means that. "We haven't spoken lately-- or, anyway, not off the network. It's a shame, to be working in such close quarters and only see each other at parties."
They've never been particularly close, of course, but that's a Capitolite game - pretending a closer friendship than the one that exists is far from unusual or unaccepted. In Cyrus' case, it's almost aggressively pleasant - a snatching of the conversation back from Porrim and Stephen, a setting of the scene on his own terms.
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It's all she can do not to cringe. That was stupid and she certainly doesn't find the idea appealing. Ah, well, she's said it now and there's no taking it back, really. She shoots Stephen a look that's vaguely apologetic.
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--which doesn't prevent him from letting out a small snort of laughter at Porrim's comment. It's less than professional, but he can't help it. She just said that.
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Not that it shows in his face, unless it's in a very slight shortening of his smile; a brief second's pause, to allow whatever's hanging in the air between them to clear out of his way.
"I think you're right," he says, breezy and pleasant still. "How does that sound, Stephen? At the estate, you think? Livia's always telling us to bring back more guests. I think she and Ms. Maryam would get along well."
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Right on cue, she tilts her head at Cyrus, ever so politely and inquisitively. "Oh? And who is Livia?"
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The name might or might not be familiar, depending on how much political history Porrim knows; Livia was a socialite, a political genius, who was instrumental in the consolidation of Reagan influence in the Capitol.
With that out of the way, he can go back to handling the current situation. "Well, if you're willing to extend the invitation," Stephen says to Cyrus, being careful to get his attention and keep it away from curling his lip or whatever he's about to do to Porrim over not recognizing Livia Reagan's name, "I'm up for it. But you know how Grandma would take it. She'd think we were already engaged. That dinner would turn into an interview."
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"And we wouldn't want anyone thinking that," she supplies helpfully with a little laugh. Oh, god, she can only imagine. "But I'd be charmed."
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"I think we can make her understand," he says, with a conspiratorial smile. And then a pause-- and he looks between them, eyebrows raised. "...There is no engagement planned, right? I haven't missed something?"
It's a joke, of course. You can tell, because he's laughing.
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"No -- no engagement," he says cheerfully. "I don't think there's any danger of that. I don't think I'm man enough to get Porrim Maryam to settle down."
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Really, the idea is ridiculous. She's very vehemently not the marrying type, something she makes little mystery of. If she ever did decide to settle down, he or she would have to be...something else, to say the least.
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"All the more reason for you to meet Livia," he says to Porrim, with a glance at Stephen-- Back me up, here. "She's quite the independent-- why, she was running most of the family affairs even before Grandfather died. Hasn't slowed down since." A grin-- "I think you might get a lot out of a meeting. Hell! I'd like to see that."
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"Are you trying to start a rumor that we're serious?" Stephen asks, gesturing to himself and Porrim, and the words and tone are playful, teasing. "You know how many people I've brought home to meet family. You can count them on one hand. A hand with missing fingers."
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Of course, the survival rate of the relationships that have taken that rare and vital step is still zero.
"Well, considering all the work he's been doing changing that reputation, I think maybe the time is right," Cyrus says, lightly teasing, with a brotherly shove to Stephen's shoulder.
(That's what he's doing, Stephen. He's dooming this as surely as he knows how; tangling this up so it can't be the casual thing he's positive they hoped it would be. The sabotage might not even be fully conscious; but the message is clear nonetheless. You pursue this on my terms, or you don't pursue it at all.)
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"Well, in that case, darling, I'll be expecting that rock any day now."
Is this conversation over yet.
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