thecapitol | [PARTY POST]

Who: Glinda Upland and OPEN
What: A support group for people who've lost their powers in the Capitol.
Where: A suitably swankified meeting room in the capitol.
When: Sunday afternoon/evening.
Warnings/Notes: It's a support group intended for those who've lost their powers but there's nothing to say that other characters wouldn't hear about it and want to come along. Glinda wouldn't have anyone removed that wasn't invited. Feel free to use this as a party post and talk to other power nerfed characters.

The invitation had been sent to the Capitol escorts with the intention of them passing it on to the correct people in their groups of tributes. It was clearly intended for people who'd had their powers taken by the Capitol with no way of using them, though a few got given to those that shouldn't have received them.

Glinda's invitation. It's pink with charmingly fancy script. It invites the tributes to a gathering of 'likewise' people.

The meeting place was tastefully but sparingly decorated with lots of comfortable chairs for sitting and tucked away corners that would be perfect to discuss matters privately if an individual was shy about their particular power. Every care had been taken to ensure that the tributes would feel at home in the small cosy meeting hall and Glinda would take every care to ensure that she spoke to each and every tribute to welcome them and learn their name. She had been slacking in her self appointed duty of caring for those who needed it most and there were some here that definitely required her attentions.

After everybody had been sufficiently welcomed in and it seemed no more tributes, mentors or escorts were to arise the witch took to the pupil. "My fellow tributes. I can only thank you all for attending as gracefully as I might wish to though it pales in comparison to the gratications I feel toward you all." She pressed a hand to her heart. "I have brought you here as I know I am not the only person within these walls that has had her powers taken from her for her own protection and that of our gracious hosts; the Nation of Panem and President Snow. I am sure each and every one of us understands deep in our hearts the depth of feeling that the nation holds for us as it's tributes. And it's sincere wish to keep us safe when not competing in the arena." A subtle warning to the more foolhardy in the audience.

"But, for once I wish for us to have a unique opportunity that we have brought about ourselves. There is many a person in this room whom you have doubtlessly never spoken with before." She spread her arms. "Let us speak and know each other better. For we should be there to support our fellow tributes who have lost what so many believe to be an essential part of ourselves in the Capitol's rightful strivances to protect both us and it's citizens. I suggest that perhaps we might learn that we are in fact more than what we have had taken. But most of all, I wish that you all might find close friends and good fortune here."

And with that charged little speech she gestured to little crowd of avoxes who began circling with food and drink and all were encouraged to socialise among themselves whilst polite music played in the background.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Mister Initiate Fraysong." Having questioned her escort thoroughly and for a good hour before the party had begun the witch found herself no more enlightened as to the nature of just what exactly 'trolls' were. But the odd colour of their skin reminded her of a certain witch and the horns upon their head were almost unsettling in their obviousness. Almost crude and Animalistic - Animal rather than animal thank you very much - in the way they were so very well flaunted.

"I do hope I have gotten your name right, it seems to be a topic of much debate among the staff." She commented. "Please do tell me if I am incorrect in my address."

“CORRECT SHE WOULD BE," he says, though he wonders now which names this staff of hers apparently knew, now that the Signless had blurted his wriggler name out for all. "Other names belong to a future and a past. AND A PAST was to stay dead, as it motherfucking should."

He gives a pause and a tilt of his head. "AND YOU are the witch." He gives the numbest and smallest of bows to her, keeping his long horns from coming to close to piercing. She does her writing in pink and claims herself a witch. She didn't speak like any sort of alternian empress but he was not about to test. "WOULD UP AND GET ASSUMPTION ON FOR HER TO BE, in any motherfucking case."

And now the ghost of a smirk begins to show.

Glinda blinked, cheeks pinkening swiftly with the shock of hearing such openly crass and impolite language. Never before had somebody used words like that so casually in front of her.

Snapping out of her startle she offered him a polite curtsey in reply to his bow, eyeing those horns rather warily. "I- Yes. I am the Good Witch of the North in Oz." At least she had gotten his name right. "But please do call me Glinda."

Unfortunately for her, so long as she is speaking with him, she will likely hear much, much more.

The grin becomes apparent. Perhaps in his future, bows and curtsys would be something he'd see more of- and expect- when he'd be dubbed the Grand Highblood, but as of yet, it's mostly amusing to find the gesture returned.

"SISTER GLINDA, she shall be then."

"That suits me quite well, Mister Freysong." A peculiar name. Perhaps he was a singer on his world? After all, that was the main reason her family had been named the Uplands, due to them living on the upper lands of Gillikin.

"Might I be as impertinatiuous as to ask what your ability is?" Glinda eyed him horns as politely as she could without staring. She never had seen horns on a Man before. Man with a Capital letter after all.

"VOODOO, WICKED SISTER. Chucklevoodoo. HARSHEST MOST BLESSED OF MIRACLES," he says and grins slow and wide, teeth like razors. He speaks in a momentary hush, "what ability is, Sister, is fear."

She so very pink, so very much like fish folk, but he cannot help himself. The prey is too sweet and the taunt is too fun.

"I CAN MAKE AT A MOTHERFUCKER FEAR WHATEVER I WISH THEM TO, EVEN NOTHING AT ALL. Death, life, motherfucking existance. I COULD TASTE WHAT FEARS PLAGUE A PINK ONE'S PAN ALREADY AND REALISE THEM. And would you know it? WITH FEAR, a brother can do anything. BECAUSE MOTHER FUCKERS WILL DO ANYTHING if fear drives. COULD PLACE WHATEVER THERE WAS WANT FOR IN ANOTHER'S NUG. If there is life in a fucker, there is fear. IF THERE IS ALL TO BE FEAR, far as one could get concern, I'D OWN THEM." He pushes luck and moves slowly to her through his telling, until he is right up to her, grinning down. He shakes the show away then, and says nonchalant, "But that was being before here."

Glinda had no doubt whatsoever that Mister Freysong was talented in striking fear into the hearts and minds of those around him. He was certainly doing a very good job at frightening her. But Glinda was a lady and an Ambasadoress of Oz as well as it's leader. She smiled as politely as she could manage throughout his explanation.

When he moved closer she really had to concentrate on keeping the polite veneer of a smile on her face. Once he was really a little too close she flicked her pink silk fan open between them, making a good effort of fanning herself in an effort to seem nonplussed. "I could only assume that you would be ever so good at it, Mister Freysong, I certainly wouldn't wish to be the subject of a such harshly blessed miriciation." She borrowed his own words and gave him a wide smile.

Her cheeks however has gone a bright shade of red through her embarrassment at hearing his foul language. Perhaps it was simply thought of as more acceptable to speak that way for his people.

The borrowed words and attempt to remain un-affrighted earns her a note of approval and a grin of the same.

"THAT WOULD ALL BE MOTHERFUCKING SO, SISTER SWEET," he agrees with pride, stepping back some to reform the space between them. "A most useful ability at for many things. BUT NOT HERE." The red of her face is curious; he knows that the blood of humans runs mutant red, with both the high and low of them, but it's strange to see, too pink to be mistaken for maroon but not pink enough to be a true tyrian.

"Would it be fair then of Brother to seek exchange? WHAT POWER PRAY-MOTHERFUCKING-TELL DOES SHE HOLD TRUE TO? And in note of other regard, is she aware what color marks her face?" He gestures with long clawed fingers to her cheeks, beyond the flap of her fan.

"I--" She started, taken aback by the comment about her face, putting both her hands to her cheeks and feeling the heat. Glinda immediately fretted that she had gone entirely red in the face. "Oh. My apologies. It is frightfully warm in here." She replied, clearly mortified. She was no ruddyfaced fishwife after all, she was a pale and fair lady and to be turning such a colour was such a terrible embarrassment.

She swallowed and forced herself not to focus on it, instead fanning herself in a new determination to cool herself down. "I am a sorceress. The Good Witch of the North." Glinda informed him. "I can use my magic as to my will. Primarily I prefer to use my magic for the betterment of others but I shall also use it to protect myself if it is needed." At last she was beginning to go back to her normal colour.

And just like that, all illusion of her highblooded-ness dissipates. Maybe she's not low, but she's nowhere near high. No highblood ever apologized for their hue.

"GIRL. He ain't about to up and take offence at for show of color, in place where all your kind share hue alike. NOT RUST NOR EMPRESS. But neither is she a mutant. WHAT COLORS HER VEINS, what hue flows in them, IT DON'T GOT THE MOTHER FUCKING MEANING, YOU KEN?" He says.

He doesn't understand the purpose of 'bettering'. A person was meant to better themselves or die. But a witch was a witch, and that earned some respect. He says, "Sounds all to be a range stretched far and true for what miracles a Sister may preform. HE WONDERS IF THIS IS COMMON OF HER WORLD. Or is she particularly... exceptional."

Edited 2013-07-29 23:31 (UTC)

Her brow crinkles. Did he just call her a mutant? Surely he didn't. But words did not lie and it seemed that he had called her a mutant after all. That and he was being even more confusing than before. "I really don't understand the question you are asking." She commented. "Though, my dearest friend once said when we were girls that if you pricked me I would bleed pink." Elphaba had always been so very scathing during the Shiz years.

"No. I am one of the most powerful Witches in my land. My main rival in exceptionality was killed. By an unfortunate bucket of water."

[PARTY POST]

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oh no cute

she specialises in cute. and abject horror at the real world.

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