thecapitol | (no subject)

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Who| Timaeus Nadir and all his guests. If you are in the Capitol, you've been invited!
What| A spectacular Viewing Party and opportunity for tributes to get sponsorship
Where| The Victoria Ascendant, on the lake
When| After the most recent death roll!
Warnings/Notes| Probable skeeviness of the Nice Guy variety.

Welcome to the Victoria Ascendant, latest in the Ascendant line of luxury yachts as built by the Nadir company. Tonight, the Victoria Ascendant is the stage set for a spectacular party, also paid for by the company and specifically designed and organised by a team of event specialists overseen by your host for this evening, Timaeus Nadir- wealthy eligible bachelor, melodramatic heir apparent to the company chair, frequent sponsor of the Games. The Victoria Ascendant is fully equipped with every obscenely luxurious item imaginable, and practically drips opulence.

When first welcomed aboard you will be assured that your every need will be seen to, your every desire catered for. Staff are on hand to answer any questions you might have or guide you to various areas of the ship, provide you with food, drink, or suggestions of how best to take advantage of the Victoria Ascendant's many amenities- they are here as hosts, but also as salespeople for those of the guests with money to burn- this party is serving more than one purpose. Tributes who responded to their invite will also receive a delicate, hand-written note in a golden envelope as they board- the content of which will be posted as a reply to their response to this post.(I'll do this once your character turns up.)

Although the Victoria Ascendant has a magnificent dining room for formal, sit-down occasions, the food for the party will be circulating the various lounge areas and decks. There is also a buffet table, for those of you who prefer to help yourselves, and a fully stocked bar. Provided are a baffling variety of foods and beverages, seemingly unconnected- but each tribute will find that if at any point during their stay in the Capitol they have requested a particular food or drink item, it is available here. Or, at least, the closest approximation the catering staff could conjure up. Seating is provided in intimate groupings around tables for the most part, though there are large, sprawling couches against the walls. Central to the dining area is a magnificent aquarium filled with brightly coloured fish. Anyone looking closely enough will recognise them- varieties of piranha- but don't worry, they've been more than adequately fed and the glass is thick.

While there are various screens displaying the Games throughout the ship, Viewing is also taking place on an enormous screen, set up in a seperate lounge area with full floor-to-ceiling windows all along one side. Here, staff wait to take bets or help organise the giving of sponsor gifts. Large, comfortable couches line the room, and the central table overflows with a spectacular arrangement of edible flowers and fruit.

Later in the evening, you will be told that the firework display is about to begin, and invited to go up onto the main deck to watch. The fireworks themselves will be launched from smaller boats across the lake, and the display is set to be truly spectacular. It will be set to some music that Tributes may find familiar- various melodies pulled from the most recent Arena. The large swimming pool on the deck is open, but it is too early in the year to be comfortable to use. Instead, it is being used as an unusual centrepiece for the evening. Floating in the illuminated water is a gigantic iceberg, sculpted into a stylised model of the current arena and populated with frozen figures. Eagle-eyed Tributes may be able to spot themselves depicted in ice- more often than not, the moment of their deaths are the pose of choice, if a little tweaked for the sake of a more dramatic scene.

Enjoy!

Adachi · Ariadne · Asha · Atticus · Beck · Blaine · Calico · Callista · Chris · Diana · Don · Eddie · Eponine · Eva · Gaila · Glinda · Harley · Howard · Julie · Kurt · Marty · Maximus · Momoko · Neffa · Parker · Peeta · Phil · Pruna · R · Sigma · Some · Thane · Timaeus · Topher

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

R grunts at that, mouth working behind his muzzle. "They...bite. They'd...have a...field day...with...you."

He realizes once he's finished moaning that might not be the most reassuring thing ever. R hurries to cover it up with an introduction, his hand slowly flopping up from his lap so he could aim at her, like he wants a handshake.

"I'm...Rrrr. Hi."

Eponine's barely paying attention to what R says. Instead, she's looking in alarm at him. Why is he moaning? He sounds like a dying man.

"M'sieur? Does your costume hurt?" Even still, she moves closer so she can gingerly take his hand. Is he ill? He looks like some of the ill people she has seen in Paris, dying of goodness knows what.

"You have the plague?"

After a brief pause though, she grasps his hand more fiercely. "I'm 'Ponine, Monsieur."

The look R gives her about the costume is lost, like the words don't click and in a way, they really don't: he can't register hurt or discomfort or anything in between in the same way she does. The zombie grunts as she finally takes his hand and squeezes after a tentative second, his flesh cold to the touch, slightly stiff and gray even in the warm lighting of the Victoria Ascendant.

"I'm...yeah. Dis...eased." That's the polite way of putting it, R guesses. He knows for a fact he's still a carrier. "Nice to...meet you...Ponine."

He squeezes back, not as tight as hers, his handshake limp. The zombie's eyes finally seem to look at her and not around her.

"Did they...make you...study too?"

He points at the Arena's Greatest Hits on-screen.

She knew it. He's dying. She's seen the symptoms before. She'd let an old man, feverish with plague, believe that she was his grandchild so she could rob him of every penny he had.

Will she become ill now? It didn't seem quite right to ask... "Can they not cure you? They make us come back to life; can they not make you better too?"

She looks back at the screen when he points. It's showing a Tribute she doesn't recognise dying.

"I was told to. But I don't want to really. It is... I do not want to see my death over and over. I don't want to see me eating Howard."

"I don't...know. Maybe it's more...fun like...this?"

You're asking the wrong corpse.

R stares at her when she drops enough details for it to finally click, even for someone stuck in the slow lane like a zombie. Her name. Eating Howard. R finding Howard looking like another Dead tried to make friends with his face. What he feels confuses him, sends R's brain stuttering to a stop. Anger? Pity? He's finally meeting Howard's girl of the century? Amazing set of choppers? R's gape is hidden by the muzzle as he gives out a low, thoughtful grunt, trying to jumpstart his brain again so he can say something at all.

"That was...you? Howard...didn't say...who did that," R sounds almost bored, not judgmental. He stares right at Eponine, fixed on her with that unblinking zombie gaze. It makes staring contests totally unfair.

That stare is unnerving and Eponine shifts uncomfortably.

"I did not mean to do it, Monsieur, so do not look at me in such a way. There was a magic on me byy another man."

She drops his hand and her eyes, so that she stares at her knees. Suddenly, she wishes she could just run away, but that isn't her way. Rather, she brazens things out.

"He lived, though. He lived and I died there."

R has no idea what to say to the "magic made me do it" defense. Does it count in court if the court's been eaten by zombies? What does magic even look like? Anyway, he can't not look at Eponine that way; sucks, but he's Dead and he's basically stuck with that look on his face. The best he can do is shift his eyes away.

"Howard said...you were...girl...friend. Are...friend?"

Give the zombie a second or two to process this because if she was here and Howard was here, wouldn't that make them both dead? Dead but alive again? Was the slate wiped clean?

"Howard asked if he could court me, Sir."

She still feels vaguely anxious of R's expression, but she knows that much is true, at least. Howard had, for some reason, forgiven her, asked to court her.

"Truly, I do not understand why. But he has forgiven me, at least."

So please do the same, because she recognises the name as someone Howard has declared a friend, even asked to teach Argot. But Eponine can't see this man lasting much longer in this world; he looks as if he's about to die.

So now he was "sir"? R doesn't think he's sir material, not with his awful posture and cold fish handshakes.

"He's...guh...good people," R hunches his shoulders in another one of his shrugs that he dishes out like candy. "Be...good...to him?"

If Howard doesn't have a problem with Eponine, then R guesses he's on the same boat then. Zombies are easy like that. The word "grudge" isn't exactly in their dictionary. R sways slightly where he sits as he stares across the couch at Eponine. She does look sorry, if he's reading her face right. R believes her.

Edited 2013-05-02 23:17 (UTC)

"He's too good for me, I think, Monsieur. But perhaps he will make me good as well."

And he is less good than Marius and therefore more attainable. Which comforts Eponine somewhat.

"I will try to be good..." She looks at him in concerned. Why do his words come so slowly?

"Sir? Can you breathe behind your... face... hat? Shall I undo it? It is good not to listen to your stylists."

Crap, what does he say? Yes? No? Nothing? There's way too many options, R's brain shutting down as he stares at Eponine, lost all over again.

"Ugggh....I-I...."

He thinks he agrees with her because he's tired of sea foam teal and being hosed down with perfume. On the other hand, removing the muzzle would be a Bad Idea for people like Eponine who like to keep their body parts attached.

"Sir?"

Her alarm is growing; she hates to see people dying. It's so... Painful.

"Shall I do it?" She's already on her feet, tripping over her dress as she moves behind R to fumble with the straps.

R's mouth works and flops behind his muzzle as he trips over his tongue on his way to coherency. Eponine moves faster than he does, decisive, Living, and she's already behind him, R starting to think maybe he should've said no instead of a staring because maybe, just maybe, saying nothing counts as a "go for it".

(Un-luckily) for Eponine, the straps are fairly easy to remove, just as beautiful as the rest of the muzzle.

Her fingers work deftly, and within minutes, the muzzle is lOosened.

"What a strange hat. I've never seen... It's such a lovely colour, though."

It occurs to her then. "Can you breathe now, Monsieur?"

The muzzle's actually quite pretty up close, with incredible detail work that's wasted on R. It sparkles in Eponine's hands, winking at her as R shifts away from her and starts to run around.

"I...think..." R's not sure what he's thinking. The zombie turns toward Eponine, his teeth clicking as he stretched his mouth and -

"What are you doing!"

His Escort rushes over in a furious trail of teal ruffles and jangling bracelets, snatching the muzzle out of Eponine's hands. Despite tossing back cocktails and giggling with all the sponsors, somehow she had eyes like a hawk and spotted this from across the room, booking it in her killer stiletto heels. Next thing R knows, he's getting the muzzle put back on as his Escort shoots Eponine a stare that would look pissed if she wasn't worried about appearances. They are, after all, being watched.

She smiles sweetly over R's head, speaking between her teeth. "As happy as I am to see you making friends with R, it's best you leave that on, dear."

Eponine lets go of the muzzle in alarm as they stylist begins to scold her, but she steps closer, hissing,

"He cannot BREATHE, Madame. You cannot make him wear something that will kill him. Your clothes are silly if he cannot breathe."

She immediately goes to undo the muzzle again. Unlike the stylist, Eponine has completely forgotten about the cameras possibly watching her and she wouldn't particularly care anyway. This man was almost a stranger to her, but he was Howard's friend, and that was enough. She'd help him if she could.

R opens his mouth to say he's past the point of suffocating when his Escort huffs over his head, offended, and looks like she's seconds away from slapping Eponine's hands away audience be damned.

She instead settles for not-to-subtly shifting him out of the girl's reach like R's nothing more than decomposing luggage. Her smile becomes even more strained.

"He's fine! I'm his Escort, I ought to know!" She buckles on the muzzle tight, movements so fast she could chip a nail if she isn't careful. R's tried to take nips at his Escort enough in the past that she takes that part seriously. "It stays on or I'm afraid I'll have to have a word with your Escort, honey."

R wants to sigh. Between his Escort trying to fend off Eponine, he feels like he's in the middle of a zombie tug-of-war.

Eponine scowls. By the end of this party, she can see she's going to be in a lot of trouble with a lot of people... plans to swap dresses, stealing door knobs - stealing a BOAT! Was it worth getting in trouble for Howard's friend as well?

No.

She steps back a little, an ugly look still on her face.
"Your clothes are silly and uncomfortable. He is in pain - can't you see? Or do you not care? That is it, I think."

And then she looks back at R. "Why do you not speak up for yourself?" She doesn't want to fight his battles for him.

The scowl isn't a good look for Eponine. It's the kind of expression you wouldn't want your face to get stuck in.

"But...I'm not...in...pain," R gives Eponine his usual unfocused stare. It's almost touching she was worried about a stranger, though. "I didn't...have...anything...to say."

As much as the muzzle gets in the way, R can see why it's there and he'd rather have it on if it means it'll stop him from taking chunks out of people like Eponine. Sure, he hasn't been starving like back at the Arena. All the same, it can't help to have a little extra insurance. If it wasn't for the perfume clogging up his nose, he probably could smell that Life radiating off the girl and maybe his Escort wouldn't have arrived in the nick of time.

"Then... why do you breathe so strange, Sir? You sound like you're in pain."

She gives the escort another scornful look before she goes to sit down again. Let them talk about her. She doesn't care.

The Escort returns the stare, tosses her head slightly, and decides to give them space, wandering off to a table a few feet away but close enough to hover and watch (and possibly eavesdrop). R slouches against the couch.

"Always...sound like...this. It's...okay," R tries reassuring Eponine. It's hard to sound encouraging when you're gasping and wheezing behind a muzzle, but he tries. "I don't want...you in...trouble."

She shrugs. "What can they do, Sir? They already kill me in their Games. I am not afraid."

She still looks concerned for R though. "Howard did not say... though I don't suppose he would... I am sorry if you are in trouble now, Monsieur."

That's a pretty good point, R stymied all over again.

"I'll...suf...suffer through...clothes she picks. Not...big deal," R tries to flop his hand toward the Escort. He decides now would be an awesome time to change the subject. "Howard...really...likes you."

"Do you think so?"

That makes her smile. It's a shy smile, but it's there nonetheless.

"I do not know why. He is a nice boy, Howard."

There she goes: Eponine's smiling now. It beats that look darkening her face from before. "You should...do something...special. You and...Howard."

Something just the two of them. Granted, no one told R about the boat stealing.

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Re: R || OTA

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Re: R || OTA

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Congrats, you made him bluescreen.

Whoops!! (do you want her to or no?)

If she wants to see his horrible dental hygiene :P His escort will probably sweep in to put it back

Don't think she'd notice. She doesn't have a healthy tooth in her head! Sounds good though

gotcha!

Re: gotcha!

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