A Bloody Valentine: Dance Auction!

[etcircenses]

Who| Everyone in the Capitol!
What| Dance auction!
Where| The top of the Romulus Hotel in the Capitol
When| February 14th, in the evening
Warnings/Notes| None at the moment

It's the Valentines day gala come again, and moreover, it's been over two months since Capitolites have gotten to get up close and personal with their favorite Tributes. With all the curfews and restrictions and fear suddenly cropping up, everyone's due for a little time on the town. And you, the lucky soldiers (and hostages), get to take the briefest of breaks from the battlefield and get away from the Detainment Center for a few hours.

There is a catch however. Two. The first thing is that there can be no mention of war whatsoever to the Capitolites. None. Talk of war will result in talk of execution. Your execution. The second catch is that a number of you have been signed up for dancing auction! You will be expected to dance with your assigned partners (some people may buy dances for an offworlder to dance with another offworlder!), be respectful, and at least slightly enjoyable. Most of all, you are to be a distraction. These people cannot know there is a war going on.

Some years ago, a similar dance auction was held. On top of the tallest hotel in the center of the Capitol, there's just as much scuffle as back then to fit into the elevators, maybe even more so after the long absence of Tributes. Just as back then, the sky has been artificially cleared of clouds, with more stars projected upward in their place. It's chilly out here in the early month of February, but the very floor has been set up with a heating system, keeping the rooftop nice and cozy. The Games are aired and the narrators are nostalgic.

There's something tense about the party. Everyone is smiling too hard, trying their best not to seem nervous or cast too many side-glances over unspoken worries. Small talk is taken up with intense gusto, everyone more eager than ever to forget all worries and woes. What lies are told about what the Tributes have really been up to in their absences are swallowed entirely.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a booming female voice announces from nowhere, "Celebrus Magazine, in conjunction with The Romulus Hotel, are delighted to host the third annual Hunger Games Dance Auction for charity! As a matter of decorum, let us remind you of some ground rules. A guest's actions reflects on the hotel, and the Romulus reserves the right to remove anyone in any position of authority from the premises for any reason, including going beyond the boundaries of a dance auction. Any unseemly, fraudulent or presumptive action on the part of the guests will lead to their immediate dismissal. These Tributes volunteered for charity, and their wishes should be respected.

"You may bid as much as you like, on however many Tributes you like, but please don't promise more assi than you have on-hand. All donations will be taken at the time the winning bidder is announced. Get excited, but don't get too excited!

"And now… may the bidding begin!"

At no point does Celebrus Magazine indicate what sort of charity any of the money generated is going towards. It will be a good hour and a half before the bidding closes and the pairs are announced. In the mean time, everyone is welcome to mingle. And... should a few people slip away from the party for a little while, using the crowd to hide themselves, well, who would really notice? Be sharp and keep low and you may just get away with it. The rest of you may just have a new meaning to the job of being a distraction.

Comments

Mingle & Escapes

[etcircenses]

OTA

[porcelainandsteel]

Sansa loves parties, and she perfectly understands the need for one at a time like this. She has no idea what a Valentine is or why it has a day, but she doesn't much care. She's just happy to mingle, showing off her dress, smiling at everyone she meets, laughing at their jokes... This is her element, and she feels better than she has since Arya vanished.

She circulates through the throng, a glass in one hand, looking every inch the Capitolite.

[didnothing]

Luna's less comfortable in her skin than Sansa is, but she's at least somewhat practiced in pretending she isn't so she's able to mingle with the Capitolites despite her nerves. Still, she's drawn to Sansa early on. She feels easier around the girl, more able to be herself even if it won't do to talk about her true feelings in public right now. And besides - they're friends.

She smiles broadly when she does spot Sansa, and approaches the girl as soon as she's done talking to someone else. "Sansa, it's good to see you again! You look so beautiful today." They've seen each other frequently lately, something Luna's thankful for, but this is the first time in months that they've met outside of the Detention Center. Luna's not physically confined anywhere, but it still feels liberating.

ota!

[ursas]

Brienne can barely look at herself. The dress she'd been shoved into when she'd been taken from the Detainment Centre may have looked all right on someone else, but she might as well be wearing a sack for all the good it does her. She has nowhere to hide, broad shoulders and long limbs on display for the Capitol while she flushes red with embarrassment at the whole spectacle.

She grits her teeth and decides to just get it over with.

[molotov]

If anyone looks like they belong at this party, with these people, it's Molotov. Every inch of her is polished and perfect, from her head to her toes, but she's not here as part of the auction. She's here purely as a celebrity, inhabiting some kind of strange place between Tribute and Capitolite, one that spares her the humiliation of being up for 'sale', but not the glare and flashbulb pops of cameras, people staring.

"You look ridiculous in that dress," she says, coming to a stop next to the only woman in the room who's noticeably taller than she herself is. Molotov has a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other, and the diamond ring on her left hand is easily as big as an eyeball, sparkling in the light. Her eyepatch is made of white leather, with the same black netting from her dress stretched over it. "Have you considered not looking like you're actively contemplating suicide?"

ota

[conifer]

It was novel to Emily being on this side of the divide, one of the Capitol elite to dance and drink and simply enjoy the show, rather than the source of entertainment. She refuses to bid on anyone, the degradation it had brought to her still crawling through her at the slightest thought of it -- it was liberating to be able to opt out of that, for the first time in her life, even if it were on the side of the bidder rather than the object of bidding.

When she does dance, it's clear that she's not moving as agilely as she'd like, the damage from the blast in Seven not having healed completely - she wondered if she'd ever be fully recovered from that; it seemed the greatest irony to her, to be scarred physically by the Capitol when she'd finally moved into a position where she shouldn't have to suffer any more emotional trauma. She tries her best to keep a pristine smile on her face - something that comes easy to her after so long as a Victor - making small talk with anyone she comes across and inviting them to take to the floor with her.

She actively avoids looking at the footage of the past Games. When she has to glance up at it, it's the one time her façade cracks.

one day i may stop seeking out beckily but NOT TODAY

[beckstitch]

Beck would normally be the first to sign up for a dance auction, but she's dating now - and since their biggest argument was over Beck dancing with someone else, she isn't taking any chances here. She has Emily to dance with, that's what matters.

She comes up beside Emily, grinning, the chiffon of her gown floating in the slightest breeze. "Having fun?" she asks, with a smile.

OTA

[beckstitch]

Beck hasn't done a whole lot of partying lately, so this is a welcome opportunity to let her hair down. Her gown is in keeping with the patriotic red-and-gold she's been theming her outfits around since the war started, but she's looking forwards to an evening where that patriotism isn't needed. No talk of war, or propaganda, or her past.

She'll cheerfully elbow her way into conversations, or head towards anyone who looks like they're having trouble mingling. Life and soul of the party - that's always been her.

[69problems]

Signless is more grateful than ever for Beck at this moment. His thoughts are occupied as they often are lately and it's been harder than usual to slip on that easy smile and spout the nothings the Capitolites want to hear from him. Over the past several years he's grown practiced at playing his role but the weight on his shoulders has never been quite this heavy.

When she elbows her way in next to him it's a welcome reprieve. Answering the same couple of questions about his love life and his outfit has grown tiring.

"You know, the updo was Beck's idea," he says, nodding to her with a thank you in his eyes. "I have so much hair and there's only so much that can be done with it."

OTA

[contrarianlibrarian]

With all the stress going on lately, China might be tempted to drop her guard and revel in the things she loves about parties: the lavish dress, the excellent drinks, and the occasionally interesting company. But temptation and stress are precisely the reasons she can't, so she keeps her eyes open and alert as she flits about the party. Anyone could be forgiven for not noticing her unease, as she hides it rather well with her typical scintillating smile and cheery attempts at small talk.

At some point during the night, she glides up to your side. "Hello, darling. How are you enjoying the party?"

For this event, the tattoos snaking around her arms depict representations of the Districts the Capitol has held--sparkling jewels for District 1 and intricate textile patterns for 8.

[69problems]

Signless remembers the last date auction -- remembers it as if it were a dream, it was so long ago now. The faces around him are all different and there's something in the air that's different too no matter how the Capitol tries to mask it with perfume and music.

He's been on-edge and valiantly pretending that he is not all night. He'd drink but he can't afford to dull his senses now and so he sticks to nonalcoholic only and laughs it off as not wanting to step on his dance partners' toes later. How are you enjoying the party? He can laugh that off too, probably.

"I think it's going very well so far -- better than the last one, in fact."

OTA, only near the start of the party since she needs to sneak away.

[revvinguptheharley]

Harleen wasn't terribly comfortable with this affair to be honest.

She used to love parties in the Capitol. The people, the music, and so much wonderful food! But now she just stood idly to the side near the buffet table nursing a single glass of fruit punch that was mercifully spiked with something alcoholic. She wasn't sure how it would mix with the mood stabilizers she was required to take but she didn't particularly care at the moment. She needed to keep calm and there were eyes everywhere making that very difficult.

To be fair she didn't look bad at all. Clad in a shimmery pink dress that was conservative by capitol standards, the flashiest part of her was probably the heart shaped earrings, beaded necklaces and bracelets all adorned with hearts. A single green emerald heart shaped gem was pinned onto her breast which was secured to be prominent and on display. Thankfully she'd managed to talk the stylist out of a plunging neckline.

Sipping her drink she felt the subtle yet menacing urge to dance and pretend she was having a good time.

She could fake a small smile but anything more then that hurt her face and her heart.

Won't someone come sweep this little wallflower off her high heel clad feet?

[president_evil]

Wesker had been mulling over his encounter with Joan since his return to the Capitol. His own investigation into her information had been tentative and fruitless. Someone had taken great care to hide their tracks.

He could have pushed, it would have certainly resulted in the loss of his own painstakingly crafted cover. He would require assistance. But whom? He hadn't been lying, the options truly were limited these days. Both in general, and particular.

Harleen certainly wouldn't have been his first choice, in such circumstances, but she was a known rebel sympathizer. If caught, they would be far more likely to accept that she'd acted under outside instruction.

And that she was already half-mad was a convenient touch.

The Valentine's Auction is an inauspicious occasion for such a meeting, but it would have to do.

"Ms. Quinzel," he greeted as he suddenly appeared, as formed and birthed by the shadow of the wall. "Behaving ourselves this evening?"

[didnothing]

It's just a party, but Luna's nervous in a way she hasn't felt since before the war began - that is to say, she's feeling very self-conscious about being in public again. Dancing and auctions are far from the worst things she could imagine, but she's never really danced before (fantasies yes, reality no) and does anyone actually want to dance with her in the first place? That's not the most important thing, of course. She recognizes that it's all a diversion, but if the Capitol wants something from her she has to play along. She has no choice but to play along. The Nonary Game was good practice in that, at least up to a certain point.

So soon after the party's beginning Luna begins to smile and make occasional smalltalk and contain her nerves to a slight jumpiness, and she sees the same in others desperate not to talk about the war. That's familiar, and the passing resemblance to the mood of the Nonary Game is enough to bring out the kind of shy comments she'd give when solving puzzles with the others: "They carved these little sandwiches into hearts. Isn't that cute?" or "I've always dreamed about dancing with another person...but I never had a partner before today, maybe."

That Luna's unaware of any puzzle-solving that is or will be going on nearby is probably for the better. Under strict control as she is, she might be obligated to try and stop it if she knew.

[revvinguptheharley]

Harleen was already on edge attending this party, but after her conversation with Wesker she's positively terrified.

Thankfully she hasn't blown her cover yet. There should be a thin window between when she can leave and when she must be back and it will be opening soon. Until then the logical part of her realizes she needs to establish some alibis. People who will recall spending time with her at the party. People she's not too afraid to talk to...

...and then the heavens opened up and presented her with the one woman who might be more nervous then she is.

"O-oh good evening Luna. I...didn't realize you'd been um..."rescued."

That seemed to be a fairly safe way to reference the fact they were both once again trapped in the capitol being watched like hawks.

Meanwhile Luna might notice how much Harleen has changed since their talk in District 13. The loud confident woman is now meek and timid. She looks paler then when she had been living underground and her eyes lack that twinkle of mischief they'd once had.

OTA; closed prompt for Jet

[silberfuchs]

Open
Albert hadn't missed this. The unnecessary and overly gaudy pageantry, the ridiculous costumes, the vapid Capitolites spending their assi with no thought to the the decaying system of servitude they were perpetuating. He's glad of the more understated clothing he's been given, at least by Capitol standards. There are no pockets into which to stick his hands and the sandals show off his metallic feet so it's hardly comfortable, but at least he's not as peacocked as others on display for the buying of the gentry.

He tries to keep himself out of the public eye as much as he can, making purposely uninteresting conversation when he's caught. He's polite, perhaps even smiles just a little, but he does little to further any topics more for fear of making a social misstep and having others pay for it than anything else. Luckily for him, Capitolites do so love to hear themselves go on, and letting them is much easier when you're less inclined to talk.

With other off-worlders he's a little more... not relaxed, but less fictitiously amiable and more the real thing. They're all in this on the same side, after all, all with the same noose around their necks. He'll support who he can, when he can. If a fellow victim manages a moment alone, looking as if they need it, he may slide in next to them with a strong draught of punch and a kind word. It's the only thing he can do to help in this situation with his hands tied as they are, but sometimes a kind word goes a very long way.

Otherwise he lurks around the snack tables like a sapphire shadow, picking at the gold threads of his jacket and glaring hard at the sandwiches as if trying to figure out what sort of poison they're laced with. He's really not the best at parties, honestly.


Closed, for Jet
He doesn't dance save for with one single person, one he searches the room for ceaselessly until he's found. Jet looks somewhat better and whether that means he's truly improving or the Capitol just wants him lucid for this occasion Albert's still grateful.

"Hey," it's warm in the ballroom so Albert knows Jet can feel his cold fingers on the back of his neck. Jet had commented once that it was soothing when Albert did that, and so he does it here gently, a sign of affection and of comfort in knowing that even if Jet looks better, withdrawls of any kind leave one overwarm much of the time. It happened to him when Black Ghost weaned him from his painkillers, so he assumes similar here. "Care to dance? I'll even lead this time."

He doesn't feel much like dancing, truth be told, but he does feel like spending precious time with his husband and it's the only way he can think of doing so without being interrupted.

[metalicarus]

Jet hadn't been around this many people in what felt like forever. Thankfully, he was largely ignored when the few glances thrown his way were met with next to no reaction. He was too lost in his thoughts to play the Capitol's 'game.' He hadn't done it much before either, so that helped. At least he was fairly certain he hadn't.

That was part of where his mind was now, trying to figure out what was a real memory and what was a fake one. They all felt real, but some of them seemed fuzzy at the edges, as though half forgotten dreams, but was that the drugs or because they were made up? He didn't know and didn't know how to sort them out.

At least he could think far enough to try and sort them out now. They used him for what they'd needed and tortured Sam with it. They'd made another Cyborg soldier and didn't even know what they were really doing. Creating a weapon, more than likely, who cared if it ruined a man's life? It made Jet feel sick on top of the nausea the withdrawal was causing. Part of him almost wished he wasn't facing whatever reality this was now laid out before him if it included suffering of someone he loved thanks to his existence.

But then he was found in his corner, cold fingers pressing to the back of his overly warm neck and it drew him back to the room as he leaned into the touch. This was why he could face things, why he'd work to sort out his mind and figure out what pieces belonged where, this man needed Jet to be okay and Jet needed him. The facts were fuzzy, mixed, and most conflicted so badly he knew one of them was wrong and the other right, but he knew Albert was someone he could trust. A friend.

Jet mustered a smile for the other cyborg and nodded after a moment's hesitation. He did know how to dance, he was fairly certain. "Yes." Looking at Albert was better than looking at empty space. He let himself be lead to a spot just for them and fell into simple steps easily, second nature, so he could focus on lacing a sentence together with broken thoughts. "Al...I need your help."

Closed; for Sam Wilson post investigation

[silberfuchs]

It's been a long night, and while the absence of some of his fellows has been noticed, Albert's done what he can to cover for them without prompting or question; sedition is a dangerous game and while he can't help in more active ways out of fear - a sensation he's not used to entertaining, but he'd also made Jet a promise not to put himself in danger without prior discussion and since Jet is muddled right now, said discussion seems impossible - he does what he can to be a little more engaged while Sam is absent, hoping that will help him evade notice, even if that seems odd for the usually brooding German. In general, Capitolites tend to be as vapid as is expected of them by their government.

At last, Albert notices Sam is back, looking shaken if he can judge well from across the ballroom. He's forced to finish his conversation with another tittering Capitolite, saying how they so miss the Arenas and it would be so much better if they could just get on back to normal, before he can make his way over but when he finally does, it's with a heavy shade of trepidation. Whatever news there is, it's likely not to be good.

"Sam," Albert starts, always with Sam's name. It seems to keep him grounded.

[occasio]

When Phi first enters the party, she does so on the arm of Sigma Klim. The rumor mill is sure to get a kick out of this, but that's fine by her. The more people who see her at this party, the better her alibi. Sigma, she knows, is already prepared to vouch for her activities; but considering his status of being under suspicion, she doesn't think his word will go far.

The theme of the party is Valentines with all the trappings done up in shades of red and pink and white. Phi, meanwhile, has been styled into a white and blue bejeweled dress with each of the gems glittering like freshly fallen snow. Her make-up has been painted with the same color scheme, leaving her feeling like a proverbial ice queen. For once, she's rather pleased with her reputation for being cold. It certainly makes a statement for others to look but not touch.

Part-way through the night, Phi is busy mingling as much as possible when she spies one of the recently returned rebels. She's only known the man by name for a while, given what Sigma had told her in confidence. This was her first time coming across him face-to-face. Casually, she points him out to some of the Capitolites, inquiring about him with feigned ignorance. One of them takes the bait with a flourish of delighted chatter. Despite a meager but required amount of protesting, Phi finds herself being bought a dance with the German man. Just as planned.

She approaches him at the refreshment table, finding herself a good balance between reluctant and resigned. She observes his angry look fixed on the sandwiches before remarking: "They aren't going to talk to you, no matter how much you glare at them."

OTA

[talltaleteller]

It's been a while since there's been a 'proper' party, and Felicity thought that she'd been alright with that... but a part of her had missed it, all the dressing up and the nice food and the excited party energy. How lucky she was, still being able to come, what with dad's injury and the considerable tightening of the household's finances. How much did mom actually have tucked away...? No, no, maybe she shouldn't ask...

Her dress is clean and cute and comfortable, she has finally gotten the hang of running around in heels, and she's making her way around the party feeling just a teensy bit more mature than before. No need to take in every moment as though it might never come again. No need to take in every famous tribute or Capitolite in reverent awe. People were just people... and... well, maybe if it never came again, it would be sad, but.... the kind of sad that she thinks she can stand. She's weathered a lot of sadness up until now. She's getting good at it. What's a little more?

OTA

[quiethumerus]

Not even at his worst is it a difficult thing to coax Kurloz to a party. Though he could never be the spotlight, only ever a figure on the sidelines, he gets to dress himself with purpose and find that this isn't all out of his element at all. From here he gets to listen, observe, catch all the gossip and goings on.

Or, in lieu of such things, he can at least pretend nothing is wrong. And what could be wrong with that? No one likes a frowning face. What doesn't occur to him is that no one may much like his expression either, cold and sharp, even when he smiles all too wide.

He goes about the dance bowing and extending his hand out to those he recognizes, be they those of his family, his District (like Anna), or an old face of someone who snubbed him. He's not sure the reason for the selection of the latter. Perhaps some form of masochism. Perhaps he wants the excuse to snarl.

Dance Winners

[etcircenses]

The winners have been announced! Go forth and dance!

Closed; Leo and Signless

[69problems]

He's back and just in time, too. He tucks the twisted bobby pin from his updo into his pocket and tries to calm his rapidly-beating heart, or at the very least try to make it look as though his adrenaline is all due to hearing his name announced with --

Leonidas Cora? Oh, lord. Is that ship still sailing? Actually, no, it doesn't even surprise him. The forbidden -- the illegal -- nature of it was bound to make it a fan-favorite and now here they both are, reaping the benefits.

He turns to find Leo through the crowd, and gives a small half-shrug. It's not as bad as it could be, Cora.

Closed; Albert and Felicity

[talltaleteller]

Mom means well. Mom always means well. Felicity has always insisted that she couldn't possibly ask for a better mom. But still, even if her heart and wallet was in the right place, her aim was... slightly off. While she had been making a run to the bathroom to ensure that her fake eyelashes were still properly glued in place, Candy Yoshida had gone and gotten into a little bidding war for a dance with Albert Heinrich. And won. And had handed it off to her daughter with self-satisfied delight. "Isn't he one of your favorites to write about? Oh, go on! Go, go..."

She could not bear to tell her that she wrote about him in the context of making smoochy-face with his husband, or doing cool cyborg things with his husband, or both of those things at the same time. Her appreciation of the man was that of someone watching a really cool thing at a distance. Not... not being quite so up close. So she's visibly thrown for a loop when called up for her turn with him on the dance floor. But at least her dress is cute and good for curtseying with, which is what she does, putting on her best I-Am-A-Capitolite-And-Am-Loving-Every-Minute-Of-This smile.

Leo and Jet

[metalicarus]

He didn't know who'd bought it, maybe it was a pity buy for how secluded Jet had made himself the whole evening, maybe it was just a joke. Either way, just enough assi had been spent to get Jet dancing with Leo for a short time and only after he'd danced with the person chosen for him before. That was fine, Jet could wait, if only because he wasn't in much of a mind to do much else.

He stood at the sidelines, eyes vacantly watching Albert dance with a young girl and Leo dance with a troll and everyone else there mingle around like something wasn't terribly wrong. Not that Jet could be bothered, he couldn't even remember what was wrong when he wasn't sure which thoughts belonged in his head and which ones didn't.

It wasn't until man and troll finally parted that Jet went up to Leo, only half aware of himself doing it. Once he was in front of (his friend? Coach? Rival? Enemy? Someone important, he couldn't remember which wads right.) his eyes lit up a bit more and a smile ghosted on his lips as he offered a hand.

"May I have this dance?" This he could do, at least, he could dance as easy as breathing, thank god he didn't have to think about that one.