Panem Events (
etcircenses) wrote in
thecapitol2015-06-16 06:11 pm
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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.
Table 13 | Kurloz Makara & Sigma Klim
He is already mute, must he really be blind to his dates as well? Truthfully though, he doesn't mind this. If anything, this may truly be fun, and even if it went poorly, he could still look nice for it. Though the medeival theme is ever tempting, it is important a date sees the person as they are, which in this case meant a spined gown, a dark neck piece, a crown of bones, elegant shoes, and matching makeup. His hair has been curled precisely, and his hands and arms made to look like the afters of burned out stake and witch, all blackened charcoal, the makeup sealed so it will not smear or spread, feeling like a second skin. To match theme in other ways he has brought ink and quil pen for his paper pad, just in face he should need it.
With legs folded, he almost starts on feeling giddy. Until he notices Meulin across the room, sitting at another table. Of course she'd be here! It was the prime opportunity for gaining gossip as per her article. This is not the issue. The issue is who dared to seat themselves with her.
He is intending to watch and see, when his own... date arrives.
Well then.
no subject
Overdressed for the warm, smoky environment, Sigma is sweating before he finds his table. Though attending places like these were a privilege of his status, he cannot help but feel, as he stalks through the restaurant, as though he is wearing a stranger's skin. His last hope for a reasonably good time is to be set up with a lovely lady... perhaps China Sorrows, for instance. But when Sigma's eyes fall on the other tables and he notices men paired with other men, he cannot stop himself from feeling a little discouraged. He had been quick to assume that the dates would be coupled by opposite sex. His mistake. He'd been raised in a different time, for certain.
This thought does not prevent him from growing confused when he arrives at the ominous Table 13. The Stylist Makara was, apparently, occupying his seat. For a man in such a detail-oriented job, Sigma thinks this lapse is out of character even for a ghost, and wonders how this has come to be. Following a brief, uncomfortable silence, Sigma opens his mouth to apologize for the misunderstanding... when reality sets in.
As discreetly as he can manage- an impossible thought, as all eyes were on him- the Gamemaker turns his head towards the other tables to double check their numbers. Table 12, Table 14... He had the right place, but surely, surely, this was a joke...
no subject
It's not as though he doesn't owe plenty to Sigma, he does, truly. But Sigma was the furthest thing he could think of from dating material. Their personalities couldn't possibly match, their interests couldn't be the same; he doesn't know this for sure, but he thinks it must be so. Sigma was a man who had sold out a rebel with his face and called that rebel his child in equal measure. Sigma was motherfucking old. He is fairly certain Sigma is older than his uncle and father both.
There is no way in mother fuckin hell this date was set up for them out of kindness. And that's when he realises-- someone must surely have done this to make a fool of him, set him up for rudeness or a relationship most taboo. Well fuck that. He need not make this romantic to show respect and he'd be damned if he wouldn't find some way to have a good time. He would prove he was still worthy and they, quite fuckin frankly, could suck his dick.
He does a wide dramatic shrug. Well, what can you do? Don't ask me why. Then he gestures out before him to the chair there. Might as well take a seat.
If one thing could be said, Sigma and their current situation shared have successfully distracted him from scoping out Meulin's date.
no subject
Sigma resigns himself to his fate long enough to take a seat, folding his hands together and placing them gently on the table. This is to keep himself from wringing his napkin into shreds of monogrammed fabric. "W-well, good evening, Mr. Makara," Sigma begins, all nerves. It is the first time since his promotion that he has spoken anything unrehearsed in front of the cameras (at least, cameras intended for the public eye). As it turns out, speaking to a live audience is nowhere near as easy as leaving a prerecorded message.
Nearly shaking with frustration, Sigma knows that as a Gamemaker he has an unspoken obligation to put on a show. If they run through the motions and leave without incident, perhaps their date would be too boring to edit for television and none of this would reflect on his career. Either of their careers, in fact. "Your outfit is..." Feminine. Unusual. Theme-appropriate? "...Creative." Ah, yes: Sigma Klim, former romantic. Was that the best he could do? "...I mean to say it reflects your style. You have done great work in this Arena."
And, dear God, is he thankful he decided against bringing roses.
no subject
He pulls his paper to the center of the table to be seen properly, then brings the ink quill to touch upon its pages, a light smile upon his face.
A FINE EVENING TO YOU AS WELL, SIR. MUCH GRATITUDE TO BE BESTOWED. BUT MR. MAKARA IS A MOTHER FUCKIN EXCESS AS THE APPELLATION OF MY FATHER. MIGHT I INSTEAD BE GIFTED SOBRIQUET?
The paper is turned around just as Sigma finishes moving along to the next statement. There's a raising of his brow and the slightest trace of a wry smirk-- more real than his normal smiles-- for Sigma's hesitant pause. But his only written comment is; THANK YOU. I WOULD SPEAK TOO OF YOUR WORK BUT I AM NOT SO CERTAIN TRULY OF WHICH PIECES THIS ROUND BEAR YOUR SIGNATURES MOST RIGHTEOUSLY.
He looks Sigma over and extends that thought further; YOU HAVE NOT DONE THIS PRIOR TO NOW, HAVE YOU? He means the blind dating, of course, but if his statement is read wrong he won't claim that fault of his own.
no subject
While Kurloz prepares his reply, Sigma continues, tone gradually softening: "Perhaps we shall leave that a mystery for the time being. You are a bright man... I have no doubt that you will deduce my signature before too long." In truth, he has no desire to talk about work - and has remembered the cameras are listening. "As for your question..." He's a touch too angry to rationalize what the stylist has asked. Was his date making a dig at his age, or merely reassuring his nervousness with a sarcastic quip? Sigma misinterprets it either way, generalizing it as a date at a fancy Capitolite restaurant, surrounded by cameras. "The last time would have been a year ago now, I suppose. Even then I was not the young man I once was." He imagines a particular redhead sitting across from him and his heart sinks in his chest like a lump of stone. Some days he found it difficult to convince it to keep beating.
no subject
I WOULD GIVE PREFERENCE TO THE SIGNATURE OF WHICH I WAS BORN WITH, AS YOU OUGHT KNOW THAT IT BELONGS NOW ONLY TO ME.
And should always have. But he'll not let his irritation turn all of what he has to say into threat.
HOWEVER, DUE TO CURRENT CIRCUMSTANCES, I WOULD BE WILLING TO ACCEPT ALTERNATE CASUAL MONIKER. DO YOU PARTAKE EVER IN THE BEQUEATHING OF NICKNAMES? I WOULD OF COURSE REQUIRE ONE RESPECTABLE. I WILL NOT TAKE KIND TO AN ALIAS OF CARLOS. SOME WOULD CONSIDER ME "STITCH". OTHERS HAVE CLAIMED MORE UNSAVORY NAME. MAKARA ALONE HAS BEEN USED. I WOULD REQUEST "K" BUT IF I RECALL, THAT HAD BEEN APPELLATION OF YOUR TRUE SON AND I SEEK NOT TO BRING YOU FURTHER MOTHER FUCKIN DIFFICULTIES.
He is denied the knowledge of which parts belong to Sigma, but just as well. He does enjoy a challenge and prides himself on his intelligence. Unlike fakes who got by on brutishness.
It seems their nerves are both running a little more wired than they had anticipated or desired. Thankfully, that is another thing he prides himself on; his control of emotions serves him well, and he is able to smile and write his next message with the original intent he'd had in mind.
LET ME TO TELL YOU THEN. DO NOT ALLOW YOURSELF TO BE FUSSED BY THE CIRCUMSTANCE DEALT TO YOU. I AM AWARE THAT MY SELECTION AS A DATE FOR YOU IS NOT A THING OF COMFORT. BUT UNDERSTAND THIS; THERE IS NO RULE INSISTING ALL DATES MUST BE ROMANTIC. THERE IS NOT REASON WE CANNOT SPEND A BRIEF EVENING OF TIME TOGETHER IN A WAY THAT COULD BE DEEMED MUTUALLY SATISFACTORY.
And there in undertone, from his words to expression, let us fuckin show them we will not be halted by their whims.
no subject
But he can allow none of this to show on his face. He knows in his heart that the Stylist is right... he is creating a scene and that the longer he indulges in his petty frustrations the worse it will be for the both of them. His personal life was not meant for anyone else's eyes and he can at least allow Kurloz the respect of his own privacy, as well.
He closes his eyes. He must mentally prepare himself for the blasphemy he is about to commit, convincing himself his date just happens to be an individual who shared a name with someone else. After all, there were many other Kyles and Dianas in the world, and that fact was easy to accept. "...If you prefer your given name, then so be it. Kurloz," He almost breaks his teeth on the word, but it's spoken without resentment, "I accept your proposal. Please, do not allow my boorishness to ruin the remainder of this meal." It's as close to an apology as he will get after having the audacity to mention Kyle - at least the Initiate could live long enough to be outraged on his own behalf.
He is eager for another change of topic. "I know so little about you," he deflects bluntly. "Tell me about yourself, if you will. Anything you would like to share." Casual date banter. Benign and open to interpretation. The Stylist could share as much or as little as he was comfortable with.
no subject
He watches and smiles. He imagines a flipped table, a lifted knife. He imagines if happening to someone beside him, and then imagines it befalling him, without anyone around lifting so much as a finger to stop it and he would not be the least be mother fuckin surprised. He spoke too much. He should put the paper away. He should snap his pen in half.
But instead he gets a name. He doesn't realise he's been holding the pen crushingly tight, but all at once his grip eases. His smile hides the fact that his eyes are searching him over for deception-- or so he thinks. Sigma all but admits he was bothered. Sigma is not some random Capitolite, but a Gamemaker, the people with closest chances for gaining a politician's ear. He ought be more careful.
He doesn't want to tell more of himself. He'd prefer not to speak anymore at all now. He beams at Sigma and nods to say, okay, he will do just that, and thank you.
WITH PRYING INTO YOUR WOUNDS, RIGHTEOUS RECOMPENSE SHOULD THEN COME IN THE TELL OF MY OWN ILK. I HOPE YOU WILL FORGIVE MY TRANSGRESSION, SIR.
I HAVE PRIOR REGALED OF MY FATHER, MR. MAKARA. HE IS A DISTINGUISHED MEMBER OF PANEM'S HONORABLE PEACEKEEPING FORCE. MY MOTHER AND HE ARE OF NO RESEMBLANCE IN CHARACTER BUT MY UNCLE TO HIM IS LESS SO. HE IS SOFT-HEARTED, BUT A GREAT MOTHER FUCKIN FOOL OF A MAN. IT IS OF CONSIDERABLE POSSIBILITY HE HAS SEEN YOU ABOUT AT SOME TIME OR OTHER.
I AM THE ELDEST OF SIBLINGS TWO. MY DEAREST BROTHER IS MORE OF MY BLOOD AND IMAGE THAN HE IS OUR BEGETTERS. HE IS A MIRACLE BORN FOR GREATNESS. HIS SMILE IS TO SHAME THE STARS.
IN OUR YOUTH, WE TRAVELLED THE SHORES OF DISTRICT FOUR TOGETHER. HAVE YOU TRAVELLED MUCH IN YOUR YEARS, SIR?