Panem Events (
etcircenses) wrote in
thecapitol2015-06-16 06:11 pm
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
Entry tags:
- ! mod plot,
- china sorrows,
- derek souza (panem),
- ellis,
- event: blind date,
- harley quinn,
- james sunderland,
- karkat vantas,
- leonidas cora,
- linden lockhearst (l),
- meulin leijon (panem),
- peggy carter (panem),
- porrim maryam,
- quintus falxvale,
- sigma klim,
- terezi pyrope,
- the signless,
- wesker,
- ✘ gary epps,
- ✘ gritta,
- ✘ jane,
- ✘ kurt wagner (evo),
- ✘ luke,
- ✘ nick (twd),
- ✘ shilo wallace
Oh, this is the night and the heavens are right on this lovely Bella Notte
Who| Everyone who signed up for blind dating!
What| An evening of romance, or disaster, take your pick.
Where| The Swift Cut restaurant
When| 16th June
Warnings/Notes| The course of true love never did run smooth. Remember that if your character was not rolled in arena but you signed up for them to be here, you will need to mark their death on fatality reporting.
The atmosphere at the Swift Cut this evening is bustling. It's clear from the moment one enters the restaurant that they have pulled all the stops out for this televised extravaganza.
Every fire is lit and the air is filled with the scent of the roasting meat on spits over the flames; boar, beef, pork, venison and more. Pots bubble with the smell of hot stew, vegetables are being roasted in ovens and from giant casks around the room beer is being drawn. The staff are in full 'barbarian' getup, consisting of skimpy furs on both the male and the female servers but luckily for you they don't seem to expect a similar dress code from their guests.
Tribute's stylists may have had other ideas, of course.
The giant room has been clearly divided. Tribute's will find themselves directed to one side while trueborn citizens of Panem and petitioned out individuals are brought to the other. It is left up to them to find their table with the number they will be handed upon entering the restaurant. Whether they are the first to arrive at their table is a matter of chance but they can be sure that a cameraman will always be there to capture the moment of realisation on both participants faces when they realise who their date is.
Once everyone is seated the music will begin the play. Minstrels strum lutes and harps, their voices filling the air softly with traditional medieval ballads. There is a space set aside for dancing if anyone is in the mood.
Throughout the evening, and certainly at the end, Tribute's and Capitolites will find themselves sporadically approached by the show host to be asked questions about how they feel the evening is going. It's up to them how honestly they answer, though they should remember the camera's are always watching.
What| An evening of romance, or disaster, take your pick.
Where| The Swift Cut restaurant
When| 16th June
Warnings/Notes| The course of true love never did run smooth. Remember that if your character was not rolled in arena but you signed up for them to be here, you will need to mark their death on fatality reporting.
The atmosphere at the Swift Cut this evening is bustling. It's clear from the moment one enters the restaurant that they have pulled all the stops out for this televised extravaganza.
Every fire is lit and the air is filled with the scent of the roasting meat on spits over the flames; boar, beef, pork, venison and more. Pots bubble with the smell of hot stew, vegetables are being roasted in ovens and from giant casks around the room beer is being drawn. The staff are in full 'barbarian' getup, consisting of skimpy furs on both the male and the female servers but luckily for you they don't seem to expect a similar dress code from their guests.
Tribute's stylists may have had other ideas, of course.
The giant room has been clearly divided. Tribute's will find themselves directed to one side while trueborn citizens of Panem and petitioned out individuals are brought to the other. It is left up to them to find their table with the number they will be handed upon entering the restaurant. Whether they are the first to arrive at their table is a matter of chance but they can be sure that a cameraman will always be there to capture the moment of realisation on both participants faces when they realise who their date is.
Once everyone is seated the music will begin the play. Minstrels strum lutes and harps, their voices filling the air softly with traditional medieval ballads. There is a space set aside for dancing if anyone is in the mood.
Throughout the evening, and certainly at the end, Tribute's and Capitolites will find themselves sporadically approached by the show host to be asked questions about how they feel the evening is going. It's up to them how honestly they answer, though they should remember the camera's are always watching.
luke | (for ellis / china / emily)
Fresh out of the arena - in body at least - his expression is blank and preoccupied, hands jammed into his jeans pockets as he paces, thoughts drifting from Nick to Jane to Rochelle and back again as he wonders dully if they were finding something to enjoy in all this. And so soon after their stint in the arena came to a screeching halt. He can only hope so.
They're all human, something too easily forgotten after scraping by in a world slowly killing you piece by piece, and one near-constantly unable to meet the most basic of needs. Food, warmth, touch. It takes courage to open up to the possibility of finding some good in a glittery prison like the Capitol and he feels the stirrings of admiration - and that much greater respect - for his people for taking that chance. They deserve to know happiness. And may the odds be ever in their favour.
no subject
She was watching when he died, of course. He may not be one of hers, but China's always been a fan of the games and now she has the added duty of scoping out the competition. As she glides toward him, her smile is soft and sympathetic.
"How are you holding up, dear? I imagine this is quite a jarring transition."
And quite a contrast to what any friends left in the Arena may be going through, though she refrains from stating that obvious little tidbit.
no subject
“M’fine,” He answers carefully. “Thank you.”
Certainly wouldn’t be the first jarring transition he’s gone through. He’s here in the Capitol, caught between a rock and a hard place - only this hard place doesn't have teeth. With a soft, easy shrug, he adds:
“Ain’t nothin’ that hasn’t happened before.”
no subject
She tilts her head to one side. "Are you not enjoying your date? Or is there some other reason you've strayed?"
She smiles playfully, fully aware of the fact that she can't talk; it's like they're sharing in mischief.
no subject
“It hasn’t started, actually.” A laugh bubbles up despite himself, a small, breathy thing, and he passes a hand through his hair, smoothing it over his neck. “S’jus’ nice to get some air first.” And space. He glances her way after a moment, taking in her teasing little smile. “Guess I could ask you the same thing.”
no subject
"I thought I'd give Quintus a break for a moment." The way she comfortably relaxes her stance near him suggests she's not allowing Luke the same charity.
"Are you nervous for yours?"
no subject
“Don’ have too much to feel nervous about. Either it works or it doesn’t.” A soft shrug. “...Ain’t a matter a’ life or death.” He adds wryly, too distracted by the jarring bits and pieces of arena-memories his mind spits out at him to be much aware of the dull clench of his gut at the thought of meeting someone new. Well, meeting someone for the purpose of judging compatibility - and having fun - rather than reliability in survival situations. After so long, dating feels like goddamn novel concept.
no subject
The remark invites the obvious quip that those people should spend some time in the Arena to learn what real fear is, or something like that. China doubts that anyone would be foolish enough to say that out loud, but she leaves an opening for a response of any sort for now--any reaction can be telling.
no subject
"...Well, ain't so sure I'd call it that."
His days of easy, comfortable exchanges with strangers and taking the hand of someone he had only just met at a party and jumping headlong into something fun were long behind him. But despite the pressures of the world he's known hammering and tempering him into a somewhat different man, for the better and for the worse, he doesn't think he'd ever let nervousness get in the way of chasing daydreams and asking someone out. If he felt the drive in the first place.
"M'probably gettin' a li'l too old for butterflies anyway."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
"Aren't you a dapper lookin' fella," El complimented to snap Luke out of the blank stare. One of the advantages of dying in the first day in a traumatic way? The brain easily repressed it.
no subject
Everyone has their masks, he thinks, and with the cameras rolling there's no better time than now to wear and perfect them. No one can be that upbeat after being chewed up and spat out of an arena; he’s sure it takes considerable effort and makes one of his own to offer a small, short-lived smile. "Well," He huffs softly, sure the guy's just playing with him. Just about everyone is decked out in fancy, smartly-cut duds and here he is in a Henley and jeans. Not that he's ungrateful - quite the opposite. "I don' know about that."
no subject
"Oh I'd know, yer stylist did good." Without the survival aspect to bog their mind, Ellis talked much more freely. "Waitin' fer yer date?"
no subject
"Heh, yeah.” A hand rakes through his hair and settles at the nape of his neck, rubbing. “…Guess I am."
Candlelight dinners and playing footsie under the table, flowers and chocolates and deep, lingering kisses on the couch. The traditions and rituals of dating are part of a world that doesn't exist anymore, feeling strange to him like tugging on old clothes and finding that they don’t quite fit the same. You took what you could get these days. The careful brush of fingers against his arm, a hungry, needy, too-quick kiss. Gestures of affection so few and far between. You devoured every last pity-scrap the world tossed your way, always expecting to be robbed the next day of the chance to feel human for small spaces of time. He hasn't come into this with any expectations - it's a Capitol-run event after all - but it's surreal all the same, being here.
“You runnin’ from yours?” It’s said goodnaturedly, a gentle nudge of a joke.
no subject
"What? Did ya get set up with someone less agreeable? I can getcha a drink or two if ya need it?"
He wasn't back away from the man but there's a wistfulness about the date as a concept, that they were allowed to be like everyone else. That the world didn't end.
no subject
“Don' know who I’m supposed to meet yet… but your date or mine sees us hangin’ ‘round drinkin’ an’ it might give ‘em the wrong idea.” He glances over, a hand still on his neck, too tired to tell if Ellis’ eagerness is a guileless desire to be helpful or a come-on. Could be both. “…’less they got us paired together…?”
A breathy little chuckle creeps up on him -- though the looming presence of cameras never too far away has a way of dampening his amusement.
no subject
It's this tireless optimism that helped the mechanic recover quickly and even allowed him to flirt with anyone he tried to. The Green Flu taught him something important: if the going is good and there is any sort of spark, pursue it and see if that person would be a good ally to keep. In other words: he barely had any shame before the zombie apocalypse, it was destroyed.
"Relax, Luke."
no subject
“Wow.” It comes out in a flatly incredulous way, but he’s more amused by it than he expects to be. Having once had pick-up lines and flirting down to an art form (laughter had often served as the icebreaker,) it’s rather interesting to find himself on the receiving end of it, in jest or not. “You serious right now?
He doesn’t answer what follows but his smile fading at the edges and the mirth slowly draining from his face says enough. You could pluck a survivor out of a living hell but that hell then lived inside them, a burden they carried every day into every interaction and that was there every waking moment of their lives and waiting for them when they closed their eyes at night. Such is a price of survival.
He looks away, absently considering something in the distance.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
*vague GAH my typo in the last tag tho'
dont worry about it! <3
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
Her face fills with concern as she sees Luke, thinking that he looks about the same as she feels.
"Hey, are you okay?"
no subject
He’s quick to turn his head to the sound of a voice he can’t immediately place, and it takes a moment before a twinge of recognition becomes something more. She had been a guest speaker lauding the Capitol’s generosity and their important contributions to the development of youth education (ha). Only so much propaganda he can take being shoved down his throat in one sitting, but at least he can step away when he’s tired of it and find something to do. He isn’t chained to a desk and forced to listen to some variation of it day in and day out.
“M’fine.” He says simply after a beat, his go-to answer. Doesn't really know what to make of the look on her face or the fact that she's taking a breather out here as well. “Thank you.”
no subject
no subject
"S'alright, I'm, I'm good.” He lets out a slow, quiet sigh after a moment, aware of the dull throb of tension in his chest. "...District 7, right?"
He hates the idea of it. Districts. Everyone neatly tucked away into little labeled compartments.
no subject
no subject
He nods distantly. Beth's one of hers.
He's never sought out his own Mentor for advice and, proving himself resourceful and accustomed to stretching food and supplies to their utmost limit, he has a good idea as to what they'd likely demand of him if he did: to break away from his people and focus all his energies into putting his own survival first. His own survival above that of his friends-turned-family scattered across the districts. As far as he's concerned that's not up for debate.They were the people he lived for, the people he'd die for.
"I'm Luke," He says. "Representin' 2." A wry huff of a laugh follows. "Though m'guessin' you might already know."
Word can travel fast -- and rumours that much faster.
no subject
no subject
“...Merlyn?”
Luke knew of him, Merlyn easily being the oldest fellow on his floor -- and he's caught word of him engaging in spirited diatribes against the Capitol. Setting one’s jaw and keeping one’s head down while seething with the injustice that all under the Capitol's thumb faced is, at times, a fucked up thing to do - he’ll be the first to acknowledge that. But that old man’s in danger of losing more than his tongue; it seems like it’s just a matter of time. His lips press thin. It's terrible enough that he's thrown into bloodbaths with the rest of them. Maybe this was some manner of warning of things to come.
“I seen 'im around. Don’ know him personally, though.”
(no subject)
(no subject)