A Big World Out There Like the One I Saw On the Screen [OPEN]

[vissernone]

Who| Eva and any Escort, Stylist, Mentor, Sponsor or Avox
What| Mentor green room party!
Where| Training center
When| As the arena begins.
Warnings/Notes| None yet.

Watching the Cornucopia isn't for the faint of heart, and even after years of seeing it, Eva has to be a few drinks in to see it in company. She's already on her third glass of wine when she arrives at the Tribute lounge dressed in a red and brown dress decorated in antler, vertebrae and a pelvic bone. With all the Tributes gone, the lounge is open to Stylists, Escorts, Sponsors and Mentors, and Eva's hosting a little get-together.

By 'hosting', she mostly means she's bossed the Avoxes around into bringing up enough wine and crackers to get her through the evening. She has her fingers crossed that few people do show up - Elias, Cinna, Ariadne - and that a few invitees don't - Baron, Billy.

She settles onto a couch, careful not to catch her unwieldy outfit on anything. At the very least, it should keep people from sitting right next to her. A television's counting down - five minutes until the Arena begins.

[OOC: please go forth and mingle!]

Comments

[bangbangkerpooow]

When the night is mostly through, after a good number of the guests have left and many of the tributes lay sleeping in their shelters, Billy finds Ariadne. He's new to all of this other world nonsense, at least from the perspective of a mentor. Sure, he watches the new matches just like everyone else, but the people up there on those bigs screens are strangers. He sees none of the children from his District, no daughters and sons of family friends or relatives. The people in these last matches, they feel less real.

He knows them in the same way that he knows television characters.

"Well, well, well," he says, and although he holds an empty wine glass, he's completely sober. He clicks his tongue. "Arena Four. How's this fine evening treating you? "

[buildingreality]

"Three," she corrected carefully, dragging her eyes away from her cursory scan of the televisions for her Tributes and over to him. Ariadne had seen him around the odd time, but she couldn't put a name to him. Her own fault, she supposed. Still, if he was going to call her by which Arena she won, she'd feel less bad about it. "But it's fine. There's nothing I like more than these screening parties," she deadpanned with a mild smile, just to soften the comment.

[bangbangkerpooow]

"Arena Three," he says, drawing out the 'eeee,' playing with it on his tongue as though it were a piece of gum. His smile goes crooked just slightly, the only part of his expression that acknowledges the mistake. "People call me Billy. Comes from my initials, BIL." Every initial is enunciated with care. He speaks like a performer. A radio personality. "I also accept Best in the Land."

He slouches backwards onto the counter, supporting his body with one arm and extending the other for a handshake.

"Belated congrats on the whole mass-murdering thing."

[buildingreality]

"I see," she replied, vaguely amused at how he was toying with the word. He wasn't all there, Ariadne decided, not that she was all that shocked; it was rare to find older Victors who were completely sane. There was something about the winning process that really messed with a person. Not that she was all there any more either. She knew that. "I'm Ariadne. It's nice to meet you."

Sort of.

"Thank you. I think."

Because how else did one respond to that?