thecapitol | A Bloody Valentine: Dance Auction!

Entry tags:

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"No, no, I've got it." He does take her advice not to step so hard, more sliding his feet than stomping. He'd learned to dance only for Jet, prepared for that, and he's found that if he tries with anyone other than who taught him - he thinks of Jessica with a pang - or his husband, he gets nervous and forgets roughly half of what he'd learned. He manages after a minute or so, though, not one to let the lady lead, especially one so much shorter than him. It would just look ridiculous.

Though it doesn't stop him looking at their feet now and then.

"I'm sorry, it's just been some time since I danced." Not since his wedding, come to think of it.

"...we've both got it?" She ventures the question carefully, not entirely certainly, but then punctuates it with a giggle. It seemed that they were figuring out a way to get across the floor and through this song without causing each other permanent harm, and sometimes that's an accomplishment worth smiling about. It was nothing like dancing with Gary but...

...nope, not the time for thoughts like that. Smiles! Keep smiling!

"It's been a while for me, too!" And she smiles as though it's all okay, that nothing's wrong, that if they're both a little bad at this, she doesn't mind. She doesn't mind anything. She's gotten so good at pretending it. "It's still fun. To, to dance, I mean! Just... dancing." This is taking a rapid detour away from 'having a good time' to 'sounding like a vacant idiot', though, so steps deftly and tries to take the conversation back somewhere pleasant. "...you'll have to take Jet for a nice dance after this!" Yes, yes, go and be a happy couple. That much is real, in all of this artifice.

"No- well, yes. Of course." He gives an awkward smile, actually awkward and not just annoyed or putting on a farce for prying eyes. Speaking of, as much as she seems to be trying to keep it together, the Felicity seems to be slipping. A crack of sadness showing through the upbeat veneer. Albert averts his eyes a moment so she can pull herself together, but he wants to comfort her somehow instead. He's not sure how though, not knowing what's wrong, so he allows her to gather herself instead.

And then she mentions Jet and Albert's eyes dart across the room to his husband, also bought and paid for, sliding along the floor with grace that belies the mess the Capitol has made of his psyche, the pieces Albert's been trying to fit back into place.

"Perhaps I will," he answers distantly, a similar sadness to the one that had crossed her flitting across his expression too. Loss. Longing.

When he speaks again it's oh so quietly, barely air between them, much less able to be caught by any listening ears. "Who did you lose?"

Feelings are funny, slippery things. As good as she's become at wrangling them, they don't always behave how they should. She's not sure if Albert's look away to get her expression in order is lucky or done on purpose, but she takes advantage of it. The everything-is-fine face is back in full-form when he looks to her again.

"Promise?" It's a bit of silly teasing that she hopes comes across as silly teasing... but her careful face softens into something a little surprised and sympathetic. Why... why wouldn't a dance with Jet be a perfectly happy thing? What... what was going on with the Tributes, now? Between that thought and Albert's quickly-whispered question, it's a wonder that she can keep her expression as even as it is.

"...Gary. Gary Epps." And though part of her wants to rush to explain who he is and what he means and all of the complicated everything, there is just no time for it. She had been known as one of his more vocal fangirls, and even made the news for being one of the superfans at his makeshift park memorial... but all of what really mattered, the Capitol at large didn't know. And didn't need to. That was hers to keep. His. Theirs.

He remembers Gary. Not personally, but he remembers Gary as being one of the all too young victims of the Games, of the Capitol.

No. Lay blame where it's due. Of Snow's.

And perhaps Felicity is a victim too, in her way. The way the entire Capitol is, the entirety of Panem. None asked to be born here, none asked for a life of mindnumbing excess that hides obvious injustices. You can't speak up, can't speak out, not if you value the illusion of autonomy, not if you want to keep yourself safe.

First they came for the Socialists...

He smiles, a smile to mirror the one she gives at the silly jibe of 'promise?' but it's a tight thing that holds no mirth. If anything it holds sympathy.

"I'm sorry for what's happened, though I can't say I apologize for exactly what's happening because of it. You know, don't you?" Still quiet, still moving with her across the floor, keeping that smile up for appearances so they can have this candid conversation.

It's easy to smile when someone else is smiling, even if it's not a real smile. Her expression soon mirrors Albert's, slipping into that cover-up state easily. It's the Capitol, who actually has a real smile on, these days?

"Nothing you should say sorry for." Smile, smile... is that too much to even say with a smile? She loved to see all the heroic, funny, fascinating Tributes that had been brought in, but a part of her always knew that they suffered more than she could ever really know. "I... I can guess." And she gives a tiny little laugh, as though something funny and inconsequential had been said. "I'm so lucky to get to come here, and see everything, and dance, so... so I'll make the most of it until my luck runs out."

"You don't feel lucky though, do you." It's a statement, whispered in a barely there breath. He hates to come down on her like this, young as she is, but from up close he can already see her cracking. She could understand, given a push. He's not sure she could do anything, but she's still in a better position than he is to cause a stir and be paid attention to.

"Knowing Gary never deserved to be disappeared. He'd played the game as well as any of us, and yet..." He raises his arm to let her twirl under it, still smiling but it has an edge to it now. Not as wicked as a knife but still precarious, like a ledge over a sheer drop. "They do that a lot, especially these days."

Does she? She blinks uncertainly, arguments for both 'yes' and 'no' not quite making it past her lips. She's a kid from District 2 that's been double-saved from the possibility of death in an arena or in her home district's streets through sheer good fortune. Good fortune that's meant nothing but the worst luck for so, so many others, though. Her smile tightens and she gives a quick whisper back as she passes through that twirl. "Districters feel lucky when they end up here." Because he might not know. He might not really get it.

She moves gracefully and turns herself about, her own look keen and bright when she locks eyes with Albert again. "Games aren't fair." It wasn't fair for Gary, not at all, not the slightest bit. But... "All I'm good at is being lucky." ...if she's staring at the big scary precarious edge, she'll do it just like Gary would.

"I'm sure they do, but think about it. It's simply going from an obvious cage to a gilded one." He sways with her, foot to foot in a gentle motion that keeps them from rejoining the rest of the floor for a moment. "No matter the veneer, it's still a prison. The President hasn't just victimized non-natives, but his own people. Even the Capitol, though the Districts fare far worse."

He looks around them again, seemingly trying to find a way back into the circling dancers, having 'accidentally' led Felicity astray. "You can see it. All I ask is that you do not ignore it like everyone else."

To outward appearances, he leans in to place a kiss on her cheek, but in that lingering moment he whispers in her ear, too. "It helps if you believe we are all on the same side."

There's a lift of her eyebrows and a widening of her eyes, and the slightest little tilt of her head, hopefully saying a silent 'don't you think I know that?' as she steps in time with Albert. Her grip gets tighter, though, nervousness hitting her. What is he asking? Not for anything that she can actually do. Not for anything that's genuinely in her power.

Her face goes red at that peck and her expression is all overwhelmed surprise, which is a reasonable reaction to such a thing, isn't it? She can't stay silent for long, not when there's that closeness and the time to possibly safely say a few words in her own defense. "What can I even do? I'm no one. I see it just fine, but..." There has to be something else to say. More words. The moment won't last.

"Anything. Make a stand. Propoganda is a powerful tool. You've seen the recordings for the Districts, what a message spread can achieve. From what I hear, thousands of people read what you write. You could do a lot of good, change people's minds, or at least start to." He speaks rapidly, quiet but with force, trying to drive home his point.

"I can't promise you protection for what might come of it." He softens when he adds this, not sure how she'll take it. "But neither can the Capitol if you don't. They came for the children first, then the off-worlders. How long will it be until they start simply taking everyone? If no one speaks out, nothing will change."

There's so much to take in and process, it's almost too much. How do you answer that? Well, no, how do you answer that safely? The things he wants her to do are things she does want to do, but that she'd have to be completely out of her mind to do. When he finally comes around to not promising protection and painting a bleak vision of the future no matter what happens, she smiles tightly and grips him tightly, too. "It's pretty bad if you're asking me, isn't it?"

Her grip loosens, her smile sweetens, and the dance continues on. Her eyes drift away, out to the floor, expression growing a little dreamy. "....I've got things I've been waiting to write about. I just need to get them right. Okay?" That is not a yes and not a no but it is a foot boldly forward into trouble.

"It is." His admission is soft, softer than any of the things he's told her thus far, and so tired. He hates having to do this, to involve the young, the impressionable, the innocent but for their place in the world. Felicity doesn't deserve this, none of the children do, yet it's always the children who suffer most. The first casualties either in death or in death of their innocence. And he's helping to facilitate that.

He'll have to pay that debt someday, one way or another, but for now he's gone to far.

"Okay." He manages a small smile in response to the glow of hers, trying not to feel an ancient fool for dragging her into this and failing miserably. "Thank you, and I'm so very sorry."

He falls silent as the music plays, swaying with her to the last strains of melody.

She was only joking. It did not do her heart any good to hear that things were actually terrible enough that little Luckyuro was being considered as an ally in this battle. Her face almost falls, but she catches it at the last moment and keeps on looking happy to be having this dance.

"...I'll write you something nice, okay?" That is not meant to imply anything, nor to promise that she'll pen some kind of revolutionary tract. It's an earnest promise that she'll write him a pretty story about the kind of good things that don't really exist anymore. About nice things that should be true, even if they're not. One last twirl, the music is done, and she half-reluctantly pulls away from him.

"..aw, nothing to be sorry about! You picked up on it right away!" That's said loudly, as she gives a purposeful curtsey, smiling a big, bright, too-cheerful smile. Now is no longer the time for talking about bad things.

She's good at that, the mask part of things. At holding that smile to her face as if it belongs there. Or rather, it does belong there. She should be able to keep it, but earnestly instead of as a facade.

He smiles too, a gentle thing that only crosses his face for children and his husband on certain occasions, when she says she'll write him something. He has no idea what, but the way she says it speaks of idealism. Maybe not what he'd encouraged, but welcome all the same. He nods and twirls her out, then lets his smile turn sheepish for the act he's supposed to convey instead of the private conversation he'd been having.

"Kind of you to say. At least I didn't step on your feet too much."

It's a nice smile. She likes that smile. It's the kind of smile she's going to have to stop and find the right words to describe, when she writes that nice story for him.

One last twirl, and she laughs. "Just the right amount! Just enough to keep it interesting." There's more laughter, as though she'd said something really funny, there. And aah, now the dance is done, so it's back to mom, and for him, off to whoever else has him for the rest of the evening...

"...good luck." With the dancing, and the fighting, and with.... the other things. Whatever things he'll need luck for.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A Bloody Valentine: Dance Auction!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw: holocaust parallels

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject