itscalledfashion (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
itscalledfashion) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2015-05-27 07:55 pm
itscalledfashion) wrote in thecapitol2015-05-27 07:55 pm
Evacuate the Dancefloor
Who| Cassian and YOU.
What| The new D7 stylist is here putting his grubby hands all over everything,
Where| Various places in the Tower
When| The first week of the arena.
Warnings/Notes| Hamming it up?
Entrance
This was it. He didn't blame them for wanting to have him enter after the arena started--Let the old stylist go out with a bang and a last hurrah, getting to make the costumes for the current arena. But now that was over, and the old was out, and the new was most certainly here and in charge now. He took a deep breath, and pulled out his phone, pulling up an appropriate song for his entry into his new job. After all, first impressions were everything, and he intended to leave the best one that anyone had ever seen.
As soon as the song started (sounding suspiciously familiar), he threw open the doors, striking a long practiced pose, one hand leaning against the door, hip sticking out as he surveyed the lobby, then started in, hips swinging with the music, heels pounding rhythmically on the floor. It was perfect in a way that could have only been achieved with a great deal of practice--And it was. He had practiced for a week, and everyone in his household was utterly sick of him and his stupid music.
He stopped right in the middle of the lobby, hand artistically placed on his hip as he looked around, lips slightly parted, eyes lidded. This, it could be assumed, was also practiced. Right at the perfect part of the music, he would start again, sashaying off to the elevators.
It didn't matter who had seen him. It didn't matter if no one had. He knew that he had made the perfect entrance.
...Besides, they recorded everything here, right? Maybe he could bum the videos off the people in charge.
District 7 Suite
Anyone who had died early, worked in the district 7, or was just hanging out there for whatever reason would discover that Cassian was pretty much instantly making himself comfortable. And by comfortable, he was blasting even more music, and theatrically dancing around the suite, swinging around like he owned the place.
If that wasn't quite enough, in between singing the lyrics and swinging his head around, he appeared to be redecorating. Luckily, this was aided by avoxes, who seemed to be doing to bulk of any actual work, while Cassian pointed at different pieces of art and decor, moving some around, having some whisked off, and new pieces brought in. The change would be instantly obvious. For some reason, the new stylist seemed to take a liking to strange pictures of whales and dolphins flying through neon colored starry skies.
"Yes, perfect, no--NOOO." He managed in between spinning around to the music, gesturing enthusiastically to get the avoxes to get the picture just right, it has to go right under that light, or it throws off the balance. Once balance is realigned, he goes back to dancing and spinning around the suite. It's a little more chaotic, less practiced and just going with the beat than the movements in the lobby. This place is mostly empty, after all, right? Who cares about a little butt wiggling.
The Roof
Not even the roof was safe from his music, though this was a lot calmer. Here, he wasn't trying to show off. He was still perfectly poised, wearing that mask of perfection and confidence, because anyone could stumble up here, and he had a presentation to give. Being a Capitolite was like being stuck in a constant TV show, and you had to be ready to put on your acting face.
Of course, it was night, because who the fuck would play this during the day. But he still enjoyed the quiet--What passed for quiet for Cassian, at least. Despite the beating of the music, it was peaceful, at least. He spun around, humming thoughtfully as he twirled. The stars were beautiful tonight, and his hands reached up for them, as though he could touch them if he only stretched tall enough.
This was what he wanted, wasn't it? This feeling of being on top of the world. It felt almost literal here, on top of the tallest building in the city. And he belonged here. He had done it, he had worked his ass off, and it had finally paid off. And looked up at the stars, he had to remind himself, look at it. Even this building wasn't the tallest thing. Look at those stars. He hasn't peaked yet, he has so much further to go.
Not until he's eclipsed even the stars.
What| The new D7 stylist is here putting his grubby hands all over everything,
Where| Various places in the Tower
When| The first week of the arena.
Warnings/Notes| Hamming it up?
Entrance
This was it. He didn't blame them for wanting to have him enter after the arena started--Let the old stylist go out with a bang and a last hurrah, getting to make the costumes for the current arena. But now that was over, and the old was out, and the new was most certainly here and in charge now. He took a deep breath, and pulled out his phone, pulling up an appropriate song for his entry into his new job. After all, first impressions were everything, and he intended to leave the best one that anyone had ever seen.
As soon as the song started (sounding suspiciously familiar), he threw open the doors, striking a long practiced pose, one hand leaning against the door, hip sticking out as he surveyed the lobby, then started in, hips swinging with the music, heels pounding rhythmically on the floor. It was perfect in a way that could have only been achieved with a great deal of practice--And it was. He had practiced for a week, and everyone in his household was utterly sick of him and his stupid music.
He stopped right in the middle of the lobby, hand artistically placed on his hip as he looked around, lips slightly parted, eyes lidded. This, it could be assumed, was also practiced. Right at the perfect part of the music, he would start again, sashaying off to the elevators.
It didn't matter who had seen him. It didn't matter if no one had. He knew that he had made the perfect entrance.
...Besides, they recorded everything here, right? Maybe he could bum the videos off the people in charge.
District 7 Suite
Anyone who had died early, worked in the district 7, or was just hanging out there for whatever reason would discover that Cassian was pretty much instantly making himself comfortable. And by comfortable, he was blasting even more music, and theatrically dancing around the suite, swinging around like he owned the place.
If that wasn't quite enough, in between singing the lyrics and swinging his head around, he appeared to be redecorating. Luckily, this was aided by avoxes, who seemed to be doing to bulk of any actual work, while Cassian pointed at different pieces of art and decor, moving some around, having some whisked off, and new pieces brought in. The change would be instantly obvious. For some reason, the new stylist seemed to take a liking to strange pictures of whales and dolphins flying through neon colored starry skies.
"Yes, perfect, no--NOOO." He managed in between spinning around to the music, gesturing enthusiastically to get the avoxes to get the picture just right, it has to go right under that light, or it throws off the balance. Once balance is realigned, he goes back to dancing and spinning around the suite. It's a little more chaotic, less practiced and just going with the beat than the movements in the lobby. This place is mostly empty, after all, right? Who cares about a little butt wiggling.
The Roof
Not even the roof was safe from his music, though this was a lot calmer. Here, he wasn't trying to show off. He was still perfectly poised, wearing that mask of perfection and confidence, because anyone could stumble up here, and he had a presentation to give. Being a Capitolite was like being stuck in a constant TV show, and you had to be ready to put on your acting face.
Of course, it was night, because who the fuck would play this during the day. But he still enjoyed the quiet--What passed for quiet for Cassian, at least. Despite the beating of the music, it was peaceful, at least. He spun around, humming thoughtfully as he twirled. The stars were beautiful tonight, and his hands reached up for them, as though he could touch them if he only stretched tall enough.
This was what he wanted, wasn't it? This feeling of being on top of the world. It felt almost literal here, on top of the tallest building in the city. And he belonged here. He had done it, he had worked his ass off, and it had finally paid off. And looked up at the stars, he had to remind himself, look at it. Even this building wasn't the tallest thing. Look at those stars. He hasn't peaked yet, he has so much further to go.
Not until he's eclipsed even the stars.
no subject
"Nymphs are like fairies, right?" She only knew the term as a vague description used on Capitol shows; mythology wasn't seen as an essential to be taught in the Districts. "They might have had their fill of fairies after this Arena. Although if they're not too similar I'm sure it will be just fine."
no subject
But Cassian was sure that if he could get them to use their imaginations, get carried away by them, they would be far more interested. A forest fairy was more interesting than a lumberjack.
"I'll start sketching things up. Of course, this probably won't be used for the crowning, depending on the winner. Oh, I hope someone with some nice taste wins. Well, I'm supposed to be voting for our district, right? I suppose Alain or Dorian are the best chances for that, though the girl...Ruffnut, or something? She seems like she could, but goodness, I'll have to do something about her hair...and eyebrows."
He glanced up at Emily again, a wry smile on his face. "Well, we'll figure something out. I'm looking forward to the coronation, no matter what! It'll be my first chance to show off my skills to the public."
no subject
"Right, the Crowning will be your big debut. I know you'll do great. I guess the challenge now is studying all the Tributes left in the Arena to try to anticipate who'll win and what theme the Crowning will take. It could be practically anything."