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

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He considered briefly, narrow-eyed, then nodded. "A fair trade. For the sake of my legacy." He took his hand from the rail to extend a hand to her palm-up, the gesture that marked the sealing of a bargain on the side of one receiving - usually he was on the other side, resting a closed fist briefly on the open hand of a customer, but here it was a joke, deferring to her as the one selling in a parody of a formal bargain. "I hope you can think of something to rhyme with Reyeth."

Edited 2013-05-01 14:34 (UTC)

"Do you doubt me?" she asked in mock insult. "When I've sung songs of Sunderlies and Greyirons, Volmarks and Botleys, Blacktydes and Hoares? Granted, the last lends itself easily to jokes, but I am no stranger to clever twists of the tongue. You'll get your song, Ser Reyeth." She glanced down at his hand, an amused smirk lingering around the corner of her mouth even as she tried to figure out just what he was expecting. "All that said, I've nothing written yet to hand you. But if you're wanting..."

And she drained the last of her cup before holding it out to his open hand.

Thank the gods - something to do with the awkwardly outstretched hand. He accepted the cup, his grin widening.

"A respectable repertoire! Now I'm curious." He caught the whiff of ale off the empty cup, and that was unusual-- coarser than he'd expected of her. Not off-putting by any means, though. A sailor, a singer, and drinks like a man. Not many of her kind in Ristopa.

"--Though as you'll be writing the words," he added, "I think it only fair that I should choose the drink. If you've no objection." Partly a reason to find out more about her - you could learn a great deal about a person by surprising them - and partly a reason to take a moment at the bar, where at least there would be a seat between himself and the gently rocking deck.

She was slightly surprised that he took the cup, but she was in no mood to turn away another drink, even if the choice of that drink was out of her hands-- the worst that happens is that he gives her a terrible drink.

(Well, the worst that happens is that he tries to poison her, but it was so abstract a threat here, where no one even knew of the Iron Islands or Seven Kingdoms or little brothers, and where she could take an ax to the gut and attend a party afterwards, that she had no fear of it.)

"Choose away, but choose wisely."

She had no intention of moving, however, so she planted herself firmly on the rail and raised her eyebrows to see him off.

Going alone was a blessing. His plan had been more or less to point at an unfamiliar bottle and declare "that one." He had a feeling she'd not be much impressed by something like the sweet drinks so popular in Ristopa when the sun was high and the river was low, but most of what was available here was still strange to him.

Moving was easier away from the rail; the lake had no proper waves, and the boat had no sails to catch the wind. The idea of all the water over which he was standing was still unsteadying, but nearer the bar he could almost pretend he was walking solid ground, and having a counter to lean on made the decision-making process a good deal more dignified. He put his own mostly-empty glass down before the barman and made his instruction "two of something involving this," because it had been smooth and sharp and burned pleasantly going down, and that would, he hoped, be hard to ruin.

He made it back to the safety of the rail without upending either drink, and offered one to her with an air of genuine pride (once he was safely propped against the rail again). "There-- may it please you." He lifted his own glass, a brief toast to himself-- "As you can see, I made it back without being tossed overboard, so there's no occasion to compose a dirge just yet. Consider it a down payment."

She didn't look away from him as he went off, the same smile on her face as she watched the way he walked. She could never imagine that first bit of unsteadiness; she learned to walk on the deck of a boat before she learned to walk on land. It's that that she chose to focus on, when she was overwhelmed with the strangeness, the unfamiliarity, being unsure. At least in some things people were still the same, even if they weren't her people. It was sad that the closest thing she had to something steady was how people still aren't like hers.

Her smile grew minutely as she took the drink from him, not glancing down at it as she nudged it towards him in acknowledgment and took a drink. She couldn't place the alcohol, but at least it was there, and she smacked her tongue in her mouth afterwards. "Not bad," she gave him, "I'll have to put more thought into it than I planned. How many times have you died here, my lord?" --the title not without a healthy dose of sarcasm-- "'Thrice' or 'twice' would be easiest to rhyme, but one never knows here."

The pleasure at having won her approval was short-lived-- killed swiftly by a sudden phantom pain in the side of his neck (and the memory of the clasp of a warm hand, and a whispered, I'm so sorry) - same as the one that kept hauling him out of sleep, the not-there ache and the ghost of the sick, plunging fear of the Arena. He put his glass to his mouth again just to buy time, to bring back to himself the lightness of the conversation before she had gone and dropped that between them. It's done and gone. Make nothing of it, and then it cannot hurt you.

He lowered his glass, gave an apologetic wince-- "Just the once, I'm afraid." He might really have been expressing his regrets for her rhyme scheme, save for the slightly too-fixed way he kept his eyes on her face, pointedly away from the ice sculpture twinkling in his peripheral vision. "Though I must ask that you spend as few lines as possible on that one - it was so underwhelming a murder that I have had a sponsor this evening pat my back and tell me she was sure I'd do better next time."

He drank, to cover a grin that suddenly felt to him too watery. (They like it better when you fight back a bit, dear, she'd told him, Not so much screaming.) Am 20.05.2013 01:16 schrieb "doesnotsew - DW Comment" < dw_null@dreamwidth.org>:

There might've been a moment there, and on a normal night she might've seen it-- she had to be aware of these things, when she had to maintain her position among not just her men but everyone else's-- but that night she was otherwise occupied, still satisfying her temper tantrum, and so she didn't notice before he had moved on.

"Then I hope what actually kills you is much better, or this song will be sadder than The Day They Hanged Black Robin, but only for how little it has to say."

But she considered the crowd behind him, with the so-called sponsors dittering about. What a strange people, strange customs. "They're funny, aren't they? Perhaps she should have given you a gift, if she wanted you around so much."

"I almost told her so!" She'd certainly been no help to him when he'd been bleeding out in the mud. Neffa moved a conspiratorial half-step closer to Asha, putting his back to the rail to open up their view of the offending Sponsor. "I'm already planning how best to impress her the next time," he added, with all the gravity of one discussing plans to rearrange a living room. "This conversation's been terribly inspiring - I was just thinking, perhaps I could drown someone. Do women here like that?"

He flashed her a grin as he said it, and it was solid, genuine, inviting. The black humor was, somehow, helping - maybe that was how the Capitol dealt with it, he thought. Maybe the absurdity made it all more palatable.

She followed his gaze to look at the sponsor, shifting slightly closer to him-- and also to notice how close he was to the water now. That distracted him quickly enough, at least until he remembers where he's standing.

"What woman doesn't want to see a man swallowed up and left breathless?" she asked, then in a play at innocence amended with a "by the water."

"But you'll drown yourself if you're not careful," she said with a smirk, eyes sliding lazily to the rail behind him-- which she slapped, enough to feel the metal ring under her hands. Metal, not wood. What a shame.

He had a witty remark ready in reply to that-- but the simultaneous reminder of where he was standing and the hollow vibration of the rail against his back startled it out of him. He planted his feet with undignified haste, taking a firmer death-grip on the rail with his unoccupied hand and only narrowly missing elbowing her.

"You're desperate to write that song, aren't you," he managed, once the priorities of don't actually fall overboard and don't upend your drink had been sorted out. "Really, if you're so determined to drown me..." His affront was as genuine as her play at innocence had been.

She laughed, leaning back against the rail and tossing her head back without a sense of discomfort. At least I can still laugh at that. It wasn't a mean one-- or, at least, it was as far from mean as one could get in this situation, when she had been the one to cause it-- but rather something to reaffirm that she was in her element, as much as possible in this place.

"I'll admit, I'm keen to show off my tongue."

After an evening of stiff conversation, false laughter, and frayed nerves, her laughter was like an antidote - it wasn't polite, it wasn't flattering, and Neffa found himself joining in, with less abandon but no less genuine. He gave the crowded deck a sweeping glance over the rim of his (near-empty) glass and considered that, magnificent as the boat was, the rest of the crowd wasn't going to hold much more interest for him tonight.

He turned his full attention back to Asha (this time with one hand on the rail and one eye on the water) and replied, with a not-entirely-innocent lift of his eyebrows, "Lucky for us both! I'm eager to hear you sing."

At least they could still laugh. She was still half convinced the entire proceedings were some hallucination, and she was still dying with a hand outstretched towards the pitiful excuse for a stream. If she had to come up with a nightmare to last the rest of her (undoubtedly limited, and fading fast) life, at least she put herself on a boat, with some wit to poke at.

"I can tell you I'm the best you'll find tonight," she said, eyeing the crowd around them. "Unless you're often told by women that you'll do better next time."

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sure did tag this a month later