The shocking and thrilling adventures!

[gamemakers]

Who| Everyone
What| The Capitols oh so exclusive interviews~!
Where| Primarily the common areas, but the interviews would be on every TV everywhere.
When| This evening, at 6 pm sharp
Notes| Use this post to ICly react to the interviews (if you don't make plans of your own!)

The advertisements hit hard today. Tune in at 6 o'clock, you won't want to miss this special! Everywhere a person could look, it was there, and the city was clearly excited for whatever this mystery event was.

As if that wasn't enough, escorts were encouraging Tributes to be in the commons, and a small feast of finger foods was laid out along one wall, extra avoxes available for drinks.

And, as promised, at 6 pm sharp, all the TVs flickered to the ever flashy Caesar, on an equally flashy tabloid-tastick reality style "interview" of the tributes. All the TVs in the common area light up with it, as well as the Districts suites, even if the TV had been off before.

Hope you all enjoy your dose of fame!

Comments

[lessthanelementary]

It's hard to bow sitting down, but he manages it, with an exaggerated tip of his head. "What more can a magician strive for than usefulness?" He congratulates himself with a long drink.

"You're lucky, you know," he adds, looking at her with deep mock-seriousness over the rim of his wineglass. "In Ristopa, people pay good money for my services. I don't conjure wine for just anybody."

[doesnotsew]

"Do they, now?" In my world, magicians get fed to each other when they think to refuse a Greyjoy. But that thought was too dark to share, and it was just the tip of the kraken lurking beneath the waters that is Crow's Eye, so instead she takes a sip of her drink and considers.

"On the Iron Islands, we don't pay good money for anything worth having, so I'd say we're even." Better to do things your way than mine.

[lessthanelementary]

Iron Islands. There was a cheerful name. Iron wasn't a particularly rich-sounding word - not a Gold Island, or a Silver Island, but a cold iron one. He raised an eyebrow, as though he couldn't conceal his suspicion of such a system. "Why? Not fond of paying good money, or nothing worth having?"

[doesnotsew]

"Truthfully, we're not fond of paying any money at all, but the latter applies just as well." Not when they were nothing but a collection of stony shores, sand with no nutrients for cropping and men with no sense of when to stop fighting. "That's why we sail so much, to get away from it," she jests, taking another swig of the wine.

[lessthanelementary]

Well, you're as far from it now as you're ever going to get. "If I had a ship - and the ability to keep it afloat - I'd just leave," he says. His tone is of one imparting some piece of obvious wisdom, but there's a self-deprecating quirk to his mouth, of one who knows full well he has no idea what he's talking about. "Find somewhere a little more... tropical. Why not, if you could sail anywhere?"

He drinks again, so that he doesn't have to think even briefly about what's hiding under that casual statement - they're hardly free to sail away now, are they?

[doesnotsew]

“Now there’s a thought,” she says with a smirk of her own, eyes sharp and sarcastic. “Pull up anchor for greener pastures—or hot, muggy, disgusting ones, whatever you may prefer,” she grants with a nod in his direction. Better go to the Summer Islands and fuck all day instead of staying, and watch it all slip away. “Where have you been, my lord, you’ve shown my people the errors of their ways. However shall we repay you?” She gestures overdramatically with her glass, the insides nearly sloshing out—but not quite, as she’s not yet ready to waste so much.

[lessthanelementary]

He accepts her gratitude with an equally exaggerated bow, making up for being seated with extra flourishes. "A pity I wasn't born into your world. I missed my calling." Otherworldly real estate, there was a path to consider-- amazing the Capitol hadn't already capitalized on it. "If you're serious about payment, however, know that I usually take coin, and credit only under the conditions of certain contracts. Though my rates are--" with a pointed sidelong glance-- "flexible."

[doesnotsew]

"You wound me," she says with mock emotion, a hand on her heart. "To hear you talk now, you'd think there was never a day when I purchased your goods with naught but the sweetness of my song." Her voice grows lower the more she jokes, turning into more of a mutter between friends under the chatter of the crowd; more than just another step in the game, there's also an awareness that others can hear. It wasn't hard to remember, not right after the love stories she's seen played out on the screen in front of her. "How much more will you take, after my sweet tongue?"