Oh, this is the night and the heavens are right on this lovely Bella Notte

[etcircenses]

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.

Comments

[shiningeyes]

In that minute of deliberation, she has time for a little deliberation of her own. Should she order soup as a starter, or a proper appetizer? She hasn't quite made up her mind when the shouty boy speaks again, and she lets out a little startled sound and lowers her menu. And then closes it and sets it flat on the table, though her hands don't leave it.

"I see." And now it is a little clearer, having gotten an explanation from a fellow tribute rather than a staff member. His perspective is one she immediately sympathizes with, to be in the position to help rather than to make her way to her goal through sheer force. There's a slight upturning of her mouth, though those eyes of hers look no less sad. "Some are made for fighting and some are made for other things. That's an idea that I am very familiar with." Then she inclines her head slightly to the side. "I think I see how people would come to like you." And give him what he wants. Which he can then give to who he wants. That's smart. She should think of how to do that, herself....

"Gritta. I'm Gritta."

[crabmunicator]

Karkat shrugs emphatically. "Then that puts you a step above me! I still don't know why these people like seeing me flail around and drip emotions like a cognitively incompetent living melodrama. I'm just glad they do, because it helps me, and I guess the fans get what they want from that in turn."

His gaze lowers from her to his menu again, this time to study it more seriously instead of the excuse to block her from sight it served as earlier.

"Gritta's a good name. Most of these human ones I can never figure out how to spell without asking, and they have too many letters or too few. There's no sense to them."

[shiningeyes]

Karkat's confusion gets a giggle out of her. Though she'd like to try and explain why he seems so likable, it's something that she herself can't quite put her finger on, or put into words. It's a feeling. Beneath all the yelling and vulgarity, she'd almost say that he shines.

"Is it? Are they?" What a funny sort of thing to say. She quirks her head curiously as she picks her menu back up as well. "Are troll names different, somehow?" Another look at the menu does settle it for her. She will start with the soup.

[crabmunicator]

"Six letters per name, first and last," he says as he browses. "Until a troll reaches adulthood and earns a title for themself. Titles can be multiple words, but the rule there is eight letters, barring special circumstances like the Grand Highblood or Her Imperious Condescension."

It's about now that their waiter comes back over. Karkat orders some appetizer to nibble at, and she'll take Gritta's soup order too.

"And it's something in the sound, too. Gritta sounds... It doesn't sound like a human name." He motions at her. She's obviously not human anyway, but that's not really what he's getting at. "How do they work wherever you're from? In fact, tell me about it in general. I've never seen one of your species here before, and I'm talking as another minority."

[shiningeyes]

"Oh. That's very specific. Shadow names aren't like that at all. Although when you talk about titles..." She gives the slightest of shrugs, and then there's a pause while appetizers and soup are ordered.

"If you're a rank and file Shadow, you're named for what you do. If you're noble, your name is more unique. My mother is Madame Noire. She was always at odds with Baron Nero. And I... I knew a General Schwarz." She pauses a moment there, folding her hands. "...a proper name should be dark and elegant." Quite literally. They're all words for 'black' in other human languages.

[crabmunicator]

With the waiter gone he folds his arms, attention back fully on Gritta and her answer. And linguistic themes go past his head; English is the only one he knew, enforced now by however it is the Capitol makes them use it. Elegance was never his domain, anyhow.

But a noble? His arms don't leave the table, but his head lifts higher; his posture goes more tense. He never would have guessed, but then he's utterly ignorant to Shadows and their culture.

"I'm as far from nobility as it gets," he admits. "Dead last on the social totem pole, he who deals with whatever falls from the vaunted rungs set higher than his. Actually, no--I wasn't even on the pole, I was on the ground looking up, determined to climb my way to recognition if not for something called the Reckoning."

A pause before he adds, "That's a metaphor, by the way. It was all biological and consequently the dumbest thing I have had to put up with, save maybe some of my costumes. How does it work for Shadows?"

[shiningeyes]

Hearing that Karkat is the absolute opposite of noble isn't a huge surprise, but it's maybe a little alarming. It obviously means a lot to him, not even being on the metaphorical ladder. But just about everyone that she has encountered has not been on the same level of technical social standing. Does it really matter that much, here? She'll have to think on it.

"Not at all how it works for trolls. We're born from the darkness itself... but it's sometimes more complicated than that. Sometimes another Shadow wants to draw one out, and sometimes a truly powerful one forms in the deep darkness..." And though it's not at all subtle, she casts a sidelong glance to Zed's table, where he's busy drinking wine and being suggestive at some poor man.

Better not stare too long. Her eyes go back to Karkat. "We all work towards the same purpose. More or less. I don't imagine trolls are anything like Shadows, in that way."

[crabmunicator]

His eyebrows press in at the middle as he listens, curious though it's nothing close to anything he's heard of before save perhaps in fiction. Which is its own thing, if what Dave said about Tony was right--but he's not going to bother overthinking that. Alternate universes are weird.

He follows her glance, but doesn't say anything to it.

Instead he says, "Not really, no. I mean, after we hit adulthood we were expected to contribute to conquering the galaxy, but there were all different parts to that, and not everyone agreed with it." His ancestor, for one, though he lived in different era.

"We're not made out of shadow or anything like that. I mean, the trolls here are different because of complex shenanigans that would take their own lengthy explanation, but typically trolls are hatched out of eggs laid by the Mother Grub. Then there's individual strengths and skills and shit, and powers that tend to go with certain castes..." He frowns some here. It's not his favorite topic, but it's hardly a secret here in Panem, especially not when his ancestor is also a Victor. "But it's blood color that determines overall social status. If you have the right blood, you're basically entitled to rule over everyone lower on the hemospectrum, at least by societal standards."

[shiningeyes]

Gritta makes a little hum of consideration. "Conquest isn't easy. It's not easy keeping everyone on the same page, either. Everyone seems to have an agenda. Or everyone's on some side or another." And the rest is taken in with what he may find to be a surprising lack of shock. It's different, but it doesn't strike her as particularly morally repugnant. There's nodding, and soft "Aaah"s of understanding, mostly.

"It's certainly different from the human world... this place must be an awful large adjustment for you, too." That, she can be sympathetic about. And it's a safely universal kind of statement. "I'm still getting used to the sunlight being safe." And that, she demonstrates a little flusteredness over. Brrr, light is terribly dangerous. What could they have possibly done to her to make her immune?

[crabmunicator]

"Uuuugh, don't get me started," Karkat whines, slumping forward. His forearms lay out straight at either side of his place setting, his head propped in his hands. "I never even got to space - never would have in the first place - but I had my own team of assholes to direct in this game we played, and not one of those fuckers wanted to listen. Eleven of them, all different castes, all with their own stupid drama and everything. Do you know how hard that was to coordinate? How little sleep I got that perigee? And we still won, because I get shit done." He thumps a fist loosely against the tabletop, rattling his silverware.

Finally straightening, he goes on more calmly. "The sun part was easy next to the rest. Their star must be weaker, or it's something with the atmosphere, I don't know." His hand waves. "And I had three years living with a couple humans before I came here, but let me tell you it did not prepare me for Panem. Their Earth wasn't anything like this, and none if it came with warnings about the constant media attention."

He turns to wave in pat acknowledgement of a camera.

"Say, do you think that waiter's got our appetizers yet?"

[shiningeyes]

"That's... that's impressive." It's not feigned, it's not polite patter. Gritta is genuinely impressed with what Karkat claims to have done. He's certainly not date material, but he's a lot more interesting (and possibly useful) than he seemed to be at first glance. She absently moves her silverware back into place as he continues on.

"I... think the sun is just as strong, here? Shadows..." She trails off, realizing that she should be more evasive about possibly letting drop a weakness to those that can't figure it out for themselves. "...Shadows don't care for any bright light. I only wish I'd have been able to see more of Earth, myself, to make my own comparisons." And she, too, glances at that camera. Aah, yes, people are watching, aren't they?

"...I would hope they have our appetizers. We've been waiting an awful long while, haven't we?" And she gives a little huff. Maybe it hasn't been that long, but there's some merit to showing some disappointment, sometimes. Sometimes it gets you what you want.