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

[president_evil]

It was a neat little cut, that purposeful distinction. Clean enough that Wesker had to give her a point for it. Not because he bought it for a second, but because at least he had an armed opponent.

There were duller tables he could seated at.

"That's true, you've enjoyed time in all of Panem's varied Districts, haven't you? ...Tell me, how did you find District 11? I wonder what it was like - before."

[clotting]

"I think most places lose their luster once you've spent long enough in the Capitol, but at the time I thought the orchards were quite nice. The people, not so much. Districters are the same everywhere, Mr. Wesker." The pokes at her salad. "Uncivilized."

Start Wrapping Up?

[president_evil]

"My sight-seeing was limited," he replied. "Inclement weather, I'm afraid."

The standing peacekeeper force and the curfew went unsaid.

"But I do have a certain fondness for orchards myself." He didn't imagine Temple would acknowledge the joke even she did recall his victory - that imply she found anything about him important to recall - but he made it anyway. There were bound to be a few sponsors watching. "I'll make a note to seek them out, during my next visit."

Sure!

[clotting]

"You could have seen any twenty things more marvelous in the Capitol. Don't waste any time regretting your loss."

Temple hasn't watched the Games in years, aside from her occasional forays as a resident Mentor, which have decreased in frequency since her marriage and the birth of her Capitol-Citizen children. "Why not stay here, in paradise?"

[president_evil]

"Something else one misses," Wesker purred, almost idly. "Traveling, simply because one wishes."

At least when the world had gone up in flames, it had been prudent to lock themselves away. Not because the government wanted to keep its skeletons buried away.

Then the waiter was approaching, their plates balanced carefully and he smiled, as if it really had been nothing but a passing fancy.

"Someday, perhaps."

[clotting]

"One person at this table, at least," Temple says darkly, thinking of the guns in a ring around her District, pointed inwards though supposedly to protect them from wild beasts. And with that and the arrival of the meal, she shuts off, like a house with its windows suddenly shuttered, impervious to conversation.