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

[meravas]

There are only two descriptions The Iron Bull would use for the outfit that was chosen for him for the evening event: awkward as fuck and over the top. He could never imagine sitting through a handful of hours in the ridiculous get up of darkened, almost bronzed golds and greens (sans staff). The cape follows him with dark green taffeta and heavily beaded, his knee-high decorative shin covers making noise no matter how lightly he attempts to tread, which might be impossible with his impressive build.

The only cool thing about the entire ensemble is, of course, the eye patch of small chains and beaded gems to match the cape with the same fashioned colors and metals.

By the time he counts off in his head the tables and spots his assigned seat in the distance, his height adding to an advantage for him, he's ready to lose the cape already sick of it. The meat at least smells amazing, the sounds of the music adding to the atmosphere, everything reminding him of Skyhold - of home. He could do, however, without the people and their camera devices following everyone, including him, around.

Bull doesn't want to think back on what had happened in the arena at the cornucopia. He simply grunts each time he catches a replay.

Shit happens, is what he would always say. And that was exactly what had gone through his head upon waking up after everything. Since then he's been keeping an eye on the screens and every member of the Inquisition, keeping score of who's in and who's out.

"Eighteen?" asks the eight foot tall horned Qunari as he holds up the little card. A tiny human, in comparison to him anyway.

[cowcatcher]

It's not her first time laying eyes on The Iron Bull; Jane watches the arenas too closely to have missed him. However, this is the first time she gets a real idea of how enormous he actually is. She's never seen someone who could compare, not even here in the Capitol. It's honestly enviable; she doubts he struggles when it comes to gaining sponsors. When it becomes clear he's headed her way, she straightens from her slump, downing a gulp of her drink that makes her spine tingle before setting it aside. There's only ice in the glass now, which hasn't even had time to melt.

Her gaze is direct, figuring there's no point in hiding the fact that she's been sizing him up. She's glad he's the first one to say something. It's going to be a while before her social skills aren't barbed around the edges.

In response, Jane meets his gaze and lifts a matching place card for him to see, raising her other hand high so she can flip off the camera panning in their direction to capture the moment. She even smiles, just a bit.

"Yup." There. How's that for fireworks?

She'd keep her resentment for the Capitol more carefully under wraps if she weren't fresh off the current arena, but it's bubbling too close to the surface tonight. The fact that she's been drinking isn't helping her in that regard.

"Hope you don't mind I got started without you." She gives her empty glass a flick, and the ice cubes clink.

[meravas]

Sponsors have come and sponsors have gone; the help's been nice, but Bull could do without the little show that's required of him in return. He's never had to do much in proving his worth, to show that their sponsorship would be put to good use. His size and the horns do it all, his humor, his attitude, likeable to most and winning them over with his charm.

Bull had seen the way she had straightened her posture and had finished her drink. He wishes he'd thought to grab himself one along the way. Could help in the way she's blatantly checking him out, although seeing her middle finger fly in the direction of the camera does make him chuckle low in his throat.

Clearly she has no love for the Capitol. Bull can't blame her for that.

"You might need more than the one," he answers as he pulls out the chair and lowers himself down, muttering about the cape, draping it over the side. "What was it?" Bull nods to the empty glass, leans back in the chair as he tosses the place card onto the table.

[cowcatcher]

Jane's glance flits to her drink at his suggestion, and a smirk settles in place on her lips. Her head's already swimming, which makes it all the more easy to say screw it to the thought of pacing herself. District 10's stylist had made a point of reminding her that she should enjoy herself tonight before turning her over to her Peacekeeper escorts, and that's exactly what she's going to do.

"I think you're right." She had died slow, died pinned under a wall of rubble with Luke and Clem just out of her reach. She'd had to lie there, cold and crushed and bleeding out into the dark of the catacombs, listening as her friends try to comfort one another, comfort her, while they struggled with every breath. The sounds of their breathing, shallow and reedy, won't stop replaying in her head. Her eyes narrow, features pulling into a hard expression that suits the sharp lines of her face too well.

"Not strong enough." Her own card joins his in a little pile at the center of their table. Where he leans back, she leans in, crossing one leg over the other and propping her jaw on her knuckles. She's watching Bull again, almost expectantly. It wouldn't hurt to get a little friendly tonight, she decides.

"You gonna let me drink alone?"

[meravas]

The Iron Bull flashes her a grin, all teeth. "I like the way you think. Get to know me well enough and you'll find out I don't ever leave anyone hanging. Ally or enemy."

He stares across and studies the angles of her features, the line of her jaw and her lips, the way she had narrowed her eyes. He likes that she had leaned forward while he was getting comfortable, shows to him that she's not afraid of the big horned Qunari, that maybe she sees him as a bit of a challenge.

That, or she's had a few too many tonight.

"You want the hard stuff? What's this place carry anyway?" An arm goes up, his left one, the missing tops up to the first joint of his last two fingers showing as he tries to flag down a server.

[cowcatcher]

"Guess I'd better make you my ally, then." The words are cool, a seamless continuation of their banter, but they stir a twinge of unrest in her all the same the second they leave her mouth.

Her survival tactic, for the most part, hasn't changed: You survive on your own. There are three people here she's been bending that rule for, and she'll keep bending it for as long as she or they are here. Trust isn't the word she'd use to describe what she feels towards them (at the end of the day it always more closely resembles the leaden weight of obligation in the pit of her stomach she used to feel for Jamie), but if they're here, they come first without question.

She doesn't have to imagine that Bull has his own people, his own priorities, because she's seen it. The group he runs with is from his own world; they have that in common. No one chips in with a stranger unless they're desperate. He'll have to be down a lot of people and muscle mass before he ever has to, and somehow she's been in shittier situations than this.

With neither of them in a position to be allies or enemies, the usual pressure has been switched out for something more tenuous. It's ignorable, but disorienting. She's still getting used to encounters happening without a Mexican standoff, just like she's still getting used to being in a room this crowded, this full of people who are actually alive. It's hard to remember what this was like - what she was like before everything became about survival.

Her reply comes late, distracted. She's been looking around the restaurant again.

"No idea. They'd probably bring us shots of tracker jacker venom if you asked nicely."

[meravas]

"Couldn't hurt. Who knows, you might like having me around."

It can never hurt to have more allies, not that he has many outside of his little group. He likes his people, he's reminded of Skyhold. Of the Inquisition. But it's never hurt him in the past to do some favors and have those favors returned when the time's needed.

Trusting anyone here is an entirely different matter, something that doesn't come as easily, but that's where improvising comes in handy.

"Hard liquor can't be any worse, you'll end up two ways: sick as a dog, or dead. No real contest there." The servers were busy flitting around from table to table whenever summoned, they might be waiting a while. In the meantime, "So, you got a name?"