thecapitol | A Bloody Valentine: Dance Auction!

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A Bloody Valentine: Dance Auction!

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.

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She smiles and leans forward slightly, encouraging and curious. "The last one?" There's a nice little teaser for a story if she's ever heard one. "Refresh my memory; what mischief did you find yourself in then?"

She knows she hasn't personally heard it from him, and it's almost sure that she hasn't heard it through other channels. But, still, one must keep up appearances of being on top of all the important social buzz.

[ooc: Sorry for the slowness! Had a busy couple days.]

"I don't suppose you remember Adelaide Aldegona and Claudia Kishi? District one mentor, District five stylist? They haven't been out and about in public in... let's see, at least two years."

It's a mark of how long he's been in Panem and how many people he's seen come and go, both Tributes and staff, that he doesn't seem at all bothered. It helps him keep up the air of an unconcerned Capitol lapdog. That's as much good as it is depressing that he's grown so used to it.

"They pooled their money and both danced with me at once. I can't imagine why, I wasn't even a Victor then."

Granted it was on the heels of the initial Troll Craze, back when they were a novelty and every other Capitolite had fake horns and was painting themselves gray.

"I do. Hardly recent but not so far gone as to strain my brain." She smiles to show it's a jest. Capitol culture moves quickly, but China's not one to forget.

She inclines her head slightly. "My, but that's hardly a poor way for a dance to go--how popular you must be! At least they didn't fight over you or try to tear you in half."

He honestly wouldn't have blamed her for not remembering -- the way faces come and go in Panem it's a lot to keep track of, particularly when those faces aren't ones in the current arenas and therefore not in the constant spotlight.

"I wouldn't call myself popular," he says (so humble!). "My fans are a dedicated group but they're a small one -- not that I'm not fond of them. They're a good bunch. No one's tried to tear me in half yet outside an arena!"

Ha, ha.

She grins obligingly at the jest. "How kind of them. You must be one of the lucky ones."

With a quick toss of her head, she returns to his previous statement. "And how could you deny your popularity? I'm sure your stunning Arena exit has only fueled your shining star."

Though she knows just as well as any Capitolite how many Victors rise to glory and are quickly discarded. It's not really appropriate to say so, though.

"Oh, you liked it?" He'd hoped it would be memorable; he'd tried to engineer it in such a way to make it so. He could have just got in the bunker immediately, but the emotional argument in front of it and his best friend having to force him in-- now that was ratings!

And how fucked up was that, to think of it in those terms?

"I think if anything fueled my shining star it was being the first victor from 12 since the quell started. My only regret is we couldn't pull a third win after Stark." Now that would have been some publicity, making the hat trick.

"But of course. It had all the elements of a proper victory." He should be pleased. She watches him carefully for any traces of what he does feel about the victory.

Her light tone doesn't falter as she considers him with a sardonically raised brow. "Forgive me if I don't feel sorry for you." She did, after all, escort District 11, which had no wins under her. How unfair life is.

What he does feel? Well. He's good at hiding it, but there's no denying the tiredness in every line of his body. Even on his best days he looks like he ought to take a nap and is just being chipper because, after all, this is a job. He has to be 'on' in public. There's no choice involved.

"Oh, of course! I'm sorry, that was thoughtless of me."

Two is enough anyway. Especially after what happened with Tony Stark, because... wow. Yeah. Not to mention Katniss and Peeta. He's the only Victor 12's had in decades that's still around to schmooze at parties. How fucked up is that?

"I'm always surprised when 11 doesn't make a better showing. I think if Albert Wesker were my Mentor I'd have more of a fire under me. He was the very first Victor I ever saw crowned, you know."

She smiles. "I accept your apology."

Maybe it would be appropriate that she apologize as well for teasing, but that's never been her style.

Shoulders sloping with regret, she shakes her head. "You would think. Working with him personally, I can assure you that it's not for lack of expertise on his part. The inclinations of some Tributes to slough off any help offered them is stunning."

But tearing into her own charges in public isn't appropriate, even if it's to play up their mentor. She returns to her usual placid look. "I imagine such a crowning made quite the impression. Did it?"

He nods. It's strange to feel almost nostalgic for something that happened so long ago, but he was happier then. It's excusable.

"They made his throne from the head of the dragon the Gamemakers used in the finale stretch of the arena. Is he really that imposing in person? I've never exactly had the opportunity to sit down with him for coffee and smalltalk."

Which is something of a failing on his part and he knows it. Ah well.

She smiles brighter at the question, quietly imagining Wesker enjoying that. "I believe he'd be displeased with me if I answered that question with anything but a 'yes.'" Which doesn't actually answer it, but she's sure it's true.

"But he is regardless quite the gentleman. So long as you're prepared to hold your own in a conversation, you may find calling on him rather delightful. His wit and frank manner are... refreshing."

"I think at this point I'd find anyone who's frank refreshing."

Oop. There it is. He says it in such a way that it can be read as a harmless joke, perhaps at the expense of the more flittery Capitolites in attendance, but she's a staffer. No doubt she knows very well it's not a joke.

"I'll be sure to seek him out sometime. Conversation is one of the few things I'm good at. At least I'd like to think it is. You're not half-bad at it yourself; I think this is one of the nicest conversations I've had all night."

It's a sentiment she's heard whispers of before and one she's expressed herself once or twice. Something in her smile softens as she hears it, though she knows there's danger in the comment. "Then he'll be as a bucket of ice water to the face, I assure you."

She examines her nails as she responds. "You're so modest when it comes to yourself and so complimentary when it comes to others. People could learn from you." She looks up at him. "Flattery or not, I am glad to hear it. One can't let war put a damper on their conversational skills, after all. It may be all we have left at the end."

She knows she's flirting with danger for implying such a thing could happen, and she finds that lately she's been less inclined to care. It seems that all their lives and possessions are already at risk--she might as well enjoy airing just a hint of defiance.

He can well understand that sentiment. Often-times in the Capitol the only form of rebellion is one's words, carefully-tailored so that they can only be interpreted as rebellious by someone looking for it. It's a careful dance of never straying too far over that line but not giving in wholesale and losing yourself.

"I'm just trying to be sure fame doesn't go to my head. Being a Mentor isn't about me, it's about the tributes under my care and using my position to make things better for them."

And alright. In the Capitol of course it's also going to be about him, but it helps him feel good about himself to think he's still able to do some good in this awful city. It's why so much of his sizeable Mentor's salary went toward stocking the kitchens in District 12 after the Capitol stopped providing credit cards to its tributes.

"And I'll admit flattery gets me very far in that regard. Sponsors are much more free with their money after a few compliments. And if it truly is all we'll have, at least it will get me allies."

"How altruistic. I'd almost believe you." Nearly all of China's own good will is feigned. She imagines the same is true of most people, especially when it comes to fame and fortune. The pageantry of kindness is just another play for ratings.

As for his thoughts on flattery, she nods. "Wise. Battles--physical or otherwise--seem to be easier to fight when you have someone big and strong standing in front of you. And what else is an ally for?"

The question is said with a cavalier, joking air. Deep down, she believes it.

It's funny, because in that they are agreed. He'd say 'standing beside' instead of 'in front of', perhaps, but the sentiment at its base isn't too different. In a place like this you need a support network, whether that's emotional or physical or monetary. All three is best but he's not going to pretend money doesn't go very, very far when it comes down to it.

"No, no, I agree. I wouldn't still be here if I didn't have so many other people behind me."

Most of which are dead, or gone, or far away in a bunker in Thirteen.

"It works both ways. You don't believe me when I say that I care about my tributes?"

"I certainly wouldn't accuse you of lying, dear. It's only that your little statement there was so perfectly crafted. Did you rehearse it?"

She doesn't mean that in a mocking way and is truly curious, something her raised brows and attentive eyes back up. He is a Mentor, after all, and a successful one. That doesn't come without work.

That's true, and perhaps that's why he doesn't even look that sheepish. Heaving rehearsed statements here isn't exactly a bad thing; if anything it's an expected part of working Staff.

"I wouldn't say I rehearsed it, but I've said it so many times now to so many different people I may as well have. I've found it works in my favor to have most things I say about my job planned out at least loosely ahead of time. You never know who's listening, after all, or how they might reword you in the next day's tabloids. Once they edited an interview to make it sound as though I was threatening to eat my fellow tributes, back before I won. I'd like to avoid another disaster like that."

For goodness sake, some Capitolites are still convinced trolls eat humans.

She covers her mouth as she laughs. "Goodness. You have to admit, they are very creative, are they not? One would almost be tempted to avoid discretion simply to see what they could come up with."

"They may have thought they were doing you a favor. Were others more intimidated by you after that?"

On the other hand, it'd probably make him a target and probably an outcast, so anything good would likely be cancelled out.

"By me? Definitely not." He can't imagine anyone being intimidated by him, though logically he knows it must have happened at least once. Maybe.

"By other trolls, though, yes. I suppose they thought what applied to me applied to all of us. And between you and me? A few times I've given completely incorrect answers in interviews just to see what they'll make of it. Mostly they just leave it all out, which is a shame. I tried to convince them I was just a human in very well-done makeup once."

He kind of wishes that had taken. It would have been pretty funny.

He does seem rather sweet, from what she's seen so far. That by itself can be just as valuable or more than being frightening to others, if she's learned anything from being a Games fan all her life.

"Were I in your shoes, I would have been terrified to suggest such a thing. What if a particularly nosy fan tried to scrub off your 'makeup,' hmm?"

It's often the ones you least suspect. It's gratifying, honestly, being underestimated -- it played into his strategy pretty strong. When your public image is of a gentle pacifist who wouldn't hurt a fly it comes as a greater surprise when you pull out a knife. Not that he ever would have killed anyone willingly, but incapacitating someone long enough to get away? That was always fair game.

"Oh, they have, and worse. I keep up with the 'fanfic' they write about me, just to get an idea of what they think. It's been... an experience."

This is a polite conversation so he's not going to mention the fact that there seem to be at least three hotly competing theories about kind of genitalia his species has, but even just the mention of fanfic probably conjures up terrible associations without him having to. Unless she's managed to avoid it, in which case she's incredibly lucky.

"My. You are a brave one."

"I'm sure their creative efforts are admirable, at least. I admit such literature isn't quite my area of expertise, but I have heard a few snippets." She inspects her nails briefly. "Do you have a favorite? Answer honestly, I won't think you boorish for reading about yourself."

It's probably sad that he has an immediate answer to that.

"I'd say Bachman's work the most ... compelling?" He's not sure if that's the right word, exactly.

"It's probably because he produces so much of it and it's all so surreal. It's hard to find it unsettling when it's so..." He waves a hand descriptively because it's hard to put into words exactly what about this particular author's work is so... uh... special? "Of course I'm not the focus of those. He's primarily a fan of Roland's; I'm just along for the ride."

And yet, China notes that not all of that is exactly favorable. "That's a diplomatic choice of words. I'm sure his heart is fluttering to hear that praise right now."

[ooc: Sorry for the slowness. I'm actually going to be dropping China, but I can continue the thread at my usual glacial pace if you like.]

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69problems - 2016-05-18 04:26 (UTC) - Expand

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A Bloody Valentine: Dance Auction!

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np friend!

Thanks!

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