thecapitol | Now, you shall deal with me, O Prince, and all the powers of Hell.

Who| Tim Drake-Wayne and OPEN
What| The dragon attack on the tributes is shown live at a party. Tim is forced to eventually witness Stephanie Brown's death. He is not happy.
Where| A random Capitol party. Feel free to claim it as something your character threw together, or make up details as you go.
When| Late evening. When the freaking dragon shows up.
Warnings/Notes| Probable extreme violence. The dragon nightmare will be on the viewing screens at the party. Characters may mention the Tributes getting burned, maimed, eaten, etc, as the dragon log itself unfolds. ALSO: If you want to use this thread to have two other characters watch and discuss what's going on, just let me know and I won't bring Tim into it.

Tim had begged to go to this one, as the gold-leafed invitation had proclaimed it to be an exclusive viewing party. He had hoped that there would be enough televisions that he would be able to keep a consistent eye on the games, and he was right. The ballroom - and it was a ballroom, albeit a small one, had televisions everywhere. All of the tvs were the same soft, buttery yellow that draws the eye without detracting from the beauty of the rest of the room. On the buffet tables, tiny screens sit amongst the serving platters and dessert towers, all of which hold skillfully crafted bite-sized portions. Custom-sized televisions were fit periodically into the paneling along the walls. Huge, 70" inch displays hung from the ceiling on chains that had been interwoven with ribbons and roses.

In front of these, there were U-shaped collections of comfortable chairs and loveseats gathered around round tables. This was not a party that has a focus on a large dinner, Tim surmised from the small size of the plates and tables. The party planner meant for each guest to regularly return to the buffet, perhaps meeting new people along the way, and find a different seat when they returned. By Capitol standards, the party was tame, with only quiet ambient music and no performers or dancers. A chance to celebrate on a Friday night without missing any of the late arena action while chatting about the Games, and that was the draw for the addicted attendees. The invitation had promised that all Tributes and Victors were invited, and, from the crowd, it appeared that not many had declined.

Tim had arrived an hour ago, not long after the party began, and had wandered around the room, waving occasionally at a stranger who caught him looking at them. He wanted to get the lay of the place and an estimation of the sort of Citizens who were in attendance. Wealthy was assumed, but he'd met plenty of rich at home who owed everything to the cleverness and connections of forefathers. Eventually, he had drifted to the food and then the tables, armed with two glasses of sparkling wine for the conversation.

When the dragon first broke the surface of the water, a woman screamed in shock and delight. Tim, returning to the viewing area with another glass of wine, didn't understand at first, until he looked directly at the television. A giant, black dragon was rising out of the river, water sluicing off its body. "Steph."

The flute cracked in his hand, and glass shards and wine hit the floor audibly, the room had gone quiet in awe of this show of Gamemaker ingenuity. Tim, who was slightly tipsy even if he had pretended to be worse, started to apologize profusely and was waved away from cleaning up the mess by a silent servant.

He can't stay here and watch this. It's worse than having them murder each other. That was violence that he'd seen before. That dragon would be ripping people apart in short order, Tim was sure of it. He didn't want to see it. He had to leave, now, and go anywhere that didn't have a television. Tim started edging away from everyone, towards the wall, in hopes of a discreet exit.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She sat down opposite him, curling her legs beneath her, tilting her head when he promised a secret. She liked secrets.

"Did you used to be having them?" She asked, "Did they be dying?" Because she knew that happened sometimes, she still didn't quite understand why adults would still have parents anyways, but they way he said it sounded like she should have thought he had.

"I did." He wasn't sure why he'd even started this conversation; it reeked of bad ideas and guilt. But she was sitting with him now, and that was useful. He didn't want to be anti-social after a friend died. Heavens, no, that's not in the spirit of the Hunger Games. "They died a few years ago."

In separate incidents. Both of which were his fault, in the end. Tim didn't want to go into detail really. "Is that what happened to your parents? Who brought you to the party?"

She blinked at him, not a trace of sympathy in her eyes but listening to the story as he told it. She shook her head, "No I did just no never be having them." She told him and looked around for her escort, once she spotted her she pointed.

"That lady with the blue and pink hair did be bringing me."

Tim raised his eyebrows at this. Well, that was a point in the Clone column, but the more reasonable explanation was that her parents had died or abandoned her when she was too young to remember. That was a shame, but it was probably less of a scarring background. There would be uncertainty, when she was old enough to start having those teenage to adult transition esteem issues, when she wanted to find out who she really was.

His head turned to follow her finger's path. The lady with the blue and pink hair - he'd seen an interview with her. She was one of the Capitol escorts, who kept their Tributes in the public eye. That meant... "You're a Tribute."

It was a good thing he'd had that drink. If he wasn't feeling so loose and tired, he might have lost his temper right then and there.

She just shrugged, she figured that like names, parents were just a thing other people had and she didn't need.

She nodded, wrinkling her nose again, "I do be. Do you no be remembering me?"

She was almost certain this was the same man, it had happened so fast though and if she hadn't been trained to take in detail quickly she might have never recognised him.

He would remember if he'd come across someone so young. He knew that he would have noticed her. Tim probably would have offered to help her, probably followed her if she refused to ensure her safety as best he could. She was so young.

"No, I don't. Did we talk?" Maybe she had only seen him from a distance or... He's not really sure what other explanation there could be. His head had been foggy after he'd fallen out of the treehouse and almost died, and it's not so sharp right now either, with the alcohol. He thought that there had only been Steph by him until it had cleared. Concussions can leave gaps in memory, however, and he can't recall the exact progression of events that lead to being injured and wet beside the canal. The aftermath is choppy. Maybe she found him then. He has no way of being sure. "We can meet again for the first time. My name's Tim."

[OOC: I checked the treehouse log - Pruna came onto the platform behind him. Tim never saw who landed on him.]

"No. We did no be talking." She wrinkled her nose at him, "It do no be mattering." She wasn't even mad at him any more, it was stupid.

"Tim." She nodded and shook her hand. Literally shook it from side to side, because Sandy had told her that's how people greeted each other here.

Tim blinked a few times at this odd gesture, not processing the visual as a shaking hand. That might have let him make the leap to a handshake, but he saw it more as wiggling. Tilting his head to the side, he imitated the motion, unsteadily and loosely. "What are you doing?"

"Shaking hands." She wrinkled her nose, "Do you no be having that either? Sandy did be telling me it did be a friendly greeting and they do be doing it here but it do be seeming a bit silly to me."

Shaking - oh. Someone should have been a little more specific when giving that particular instruction. To his credit, Tim did not laugh at her, although he smiled. He couldn't help it; she was a cute kid.

"No, we have it, but it's a bit more like this." Tim reached over and took her right hand in his, giving it two good shakes. "If you want it to be even friendlier and seem more heartfelt, you put your other hand over theirs, too."

He demonstrated this as well, resting the palm of his left hand over the back of her right hand before he released it. "Maybe it looks silly, but it's been a polite and professional greeting for over two thousand years where I'm from."

She was glad he didn't laugh at her, she didn't like how she didn't understand a lot of things here. She watched their hands as he showed her how shaking hands really worked. It still looked a little silly but no sillier than the gestures in her own world.

"That do be being a long time." She told him wrinkling her nose. "And you can be shaking hands with anyone? It do just be being a polite thing to be doing?"

"A very long time. Or a reeeally short one, if you look at how old the universe is," Tim said with a smile. "You can offer to shake hands with anyone. Most people do it when they meet someone for the first time. Some do it every time they meet the person or sometimes as a goodbye, but not often. When you meet someone you've never met or when you make a deal, those are the two times that you want to make sure to shake their hand. It's polite with gravitas - it makes something official and important.

She blinked, she didn't actually know how old the universe was. This one or any other. But she thought it must be a really long time. She knew the year of her world, 732 but Kant had said that just since people had began counting.

She nodded, "I will be remembering it." She wanted to know how to act properly here, since there were so many things she didn't know.

Now, you shall deal with me, O Prince, and all the powers of Hell.

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Yup I figured he would have no idea who she was

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