thecapitol | The shocking and thrilling adventures!

The shocking and thrilling adventures!

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!

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It was old fashioned, but Cindy respected it. She'd lived through it herself, and while she had the time to evolve into how she was now, the older people got thrown into this lifestyle and it wasn't good. She's keep as much distance as she could, but she couldn't stop being herself. And she liked to touch people.

She wasn't a huge fan of people touching her, though. Hypocrite, much? She was surprised when he put his hand over hers, looking down, eyes widening. That was unexpected.

"Maybe they did already destroy them. Who knows?" She looked up, eyes sad. "Maybe we should start writing our own books."

Fortunately for Cindy, his bravado regarding the closeness is fleeting and as soon as Enjolras is sure that he hasn't appeared frightened or overly concerned for her honor, he removes the hand, letting it rest again atop his knee. Her own discomfort at the touch went more or less unnoticed between his efforts at appearing nonchalant.

"Do you believe we would have any hope of them being published without revision?" He smiled sadly and turned away. Of course, his esteemed Rousseau had thought similarly and had his work preserved. Perhaps there was hope, even in the most unlikely of situations.

She's going to need awhile to figure this guy out. She knows his viewpoints, his beliefs, but those were not only what made a man, no matter what anyone else might say.

A child-like phrase, the need to turn that frown upside down. But he was right, wasn't he. How could they write a book and then go about getting published without someone going through it and crossing everything out? This place wasn't going to let that happen.

Or. Or. Cindy's hand shot out, grabbing Enjolras' arm. "This isn't the place to talk about any of this in depth, but back home, do you have pamphlets?"

The smile turns from sad to conspiratory and almost devious in no time flat. Of course they had pamphlets, and while he was no Desmoulins, Enjolras had contributed to enough of them to consider himself something of an old hand regarding the subject. Pamphlets had come about because of censorship, in his time. Of course, they could be used to oppose censorship and revisionism here. Presuming, of course, that they could pry the people away from their computers long enough to read them.

"We do. I have written a few, though they were never my particular medium." Which was true enough. He knew the mechanics, but Enjolras also knew that his style of rhetoric was generally more oratory in nature. Still, he could learn and refine that particular skill if it meant actually doing something here.

She was going with the impression (a hopeful impression) that if people rarely read books here, then maybe they'd never heard of the idea of pamphlets. So if they just talked around the subject more then directly on the subject, they could talk about it a little, here.

"I've read plenty of them over the years-- in books, back home," Cindy added the second part quickly. She'd actually read them as they came out, back when she was stationed in Europe during the time period, but couldn't say that.

"But they seem like a fairly easy thing to read. They're not that long, after all. Each page is about the length of a letter you would write to a loved one, back home. Or one of one's many fans, here."

[ooc: OKAY OBVIOUSLY this would need mod approval, but this idea came to me suddenly as we were doing this thread. And basically, those pamphlets with revolutionary ideas in them like "Common Sense" and the like. But they don't have to especially long, I mean, they could be ten pages, so long as they get the idea across. And they can be written by "anonymous" or with a pseudonym, since they can't really give their name to this thing. But say, if it's ten pages long, and each page is about the length of a letter, they could take one page to 10 different printer/copy places and say something along the lines of "I need a hundred copies of this letter to my fans, so I can sign my name to it and I don't need to write a specific letter to each one" and well. Things like this always start small, right? So that's sort of the idea I've got going which can obviously be changed at any part, but I thought, well, I can't do this by myslef, my character wouldn't do this if she was by herself, and. Yeah!]

It didn’t take much effort to devise her meaning from there. With the restriction of the presses and anti-Orleanist sentiment, Enjolras was more than familiar with sneaking around to take care of would-be Revolutionary business. This, really, would just be an extension. Tributes were more closely monitored, of course, and the Capitol itself had far more sophisticated ways of tracking anyone, but he was confident. Or hopeful, at the very least.

And besides, wouldn’t his Escorts be thrilled that he’d finally decided to acquiesce to their wishes? Perhaps pretending to do so would make it even easier.

“I have read both shorter and longer, but yes, a page is an entirely reasonable length for a pamphlet.” Desmoulins were longer, generally, Robespierre’s shorter. Condorcet and Rousseau’s letters both could hold the tone of a lecture or pamphlet and would be useful material to which he could refer, if only from memory. “But, Mademoiselle Cindy, do you really think people here would take the time to read something like that?”

[This is awesome. :) Maybe as the Arena winds down we can talk to the mods about working this in? It might be reasonable for them to spring it out of the Date Auction plot? Like “I want to send thank you letters to the people who bid on me”, or something like that.]

Ordinarily, Cindy wouldn't think about doing this. She might have revolutionary thoughts, but it was always the way she did it, going through the back channels. She wasn't a writer, beyond emails and letters. What she did was always whatever would help Fabletown. That's what she did, that's what her job was.

But maybe this was something she could do. She'd never be the one in the front of a group of people, making speeches, inspiring everyone. But hiding in the shadows, making sure people saw something they wouldn't ordinarily see? This she could do. Fabletown wasn't here, so now she needed to put her allegiance, and her talents, somewhere else. And it sure as hell wasn't going to be the Capitol.

Cindy paused, just for a moment, before smiling mysteriously. "I think, if someone finds something left on a park bench, and nobody claims it, well. Why not take a look? I've picked up plenty of harlequin romance novels that way. People love free things."

[ooc: I think this could be really cool. Oh, man, I think if we were able to get this started from the date auction, that would be perfect, it would fit in really well. Do you have AIM or plurk or something? Might make it easier, since if we have it figured out a little bit more, we could go to them and... yeah. But if you have AIM, I'm on liljewishgoy, like, all the time!]

He didn't know exactly what she meant by a harlequin romance, other than a quite literal interpretation of the two terms --quite honestly, they didn't seem to fit very well to Enjolras, his lack of regard for such things notwithstanding, but he could definitely agree with her on the point about free things. How many times had he set about reading something merely because it was readily available? It would take effort effort to create an environment like that in Panem, but, given diligence and maybe a good cover story, it certainly wasn't an impossible goal.

An educated people would eventually realize the shortcomings of their government. They would seek to improve their circumstances, to deliver themselves and their fellows. Despite his, well, lack of understanding of much of her terminology, Enjorlas found himself nodding along enthusiastically. This he could do, projects, he could do. "I suppose, then, we should set about finding the addresses of our fans. So that we might be all the more convincing."

"Maybe something will come up in the future, that we can use to help us," Cindy smiled slightly, giving a small shrug. "Probably best if we ask our Escorts for them. They love it when you do something that's along the lines of taking their advice."

They just needed the right opportunity to make this happen. Soon, they would be going into the arena, and all thoughts of rebellion and doing something like this would have to be set aside. Then, once they were out, they could continue.

But they needed a catalyst. A jumping off point. If one of them won the games, that would be the perfect way! Cindy would try to win, to get this started. "Better brush up on your writing skills," She have Enjolras a wink.

They would indeed need a jumping off point. For his part, Enjolras couldn't think it would be realistic to expect either of them to win the Games. Him, for lack of motivation, and frankly, everything he knew about Cinderella led him to believe that she was perfectly intelligent, but otherwise unremarkable. Intelligence simply didn't count in such a venture.

He frowned, not for lack of approval over her thoughts, rather for the glee with which he was sure the escorts would perceive such actions. "I have no doubt they will be more than happy to help us."

Oh well, some sacrifices had to be made. It was simply unfortunate that his pride apparently had to be one of them. "Anyway, people here find my discourse rather... Lengthy. Perhaps you will be willing to edit them for me. It would do no good for us to go through this level of effort only for people to ignore the writing itself because they found it too trying."

Unremarkable was exactly what she was going for. It would make her time in the arena easier if no one took notice of her, or gave her another thought. Because then she could do what she did best, and that was everything the arena was probably good for. Sneaking around and not being seen was one of her strongest points.

You couldn't have pride when it came to some things. She took pride in her work, and took pride in the people she worked for. But having the escorts being happy with her; that made everything easier.

"They won't have anything to complain about when it comes to us," Cindy gave a soft laugh at that, looking down at the champagne glass she still held. When she looked back up, she had the slightest smirk.

"You wouldn't know it by looking at me, but I'm a pretty great editor. I helped that zombie kid write a love letter to his girlfriend, how much harder could it be to help you cut down on some things, right? I can edit with the best of them, is what I'm saying."

The comment about R brought him back momentarily to Javert and the last state in which he'd seen the spy. Despite their differences, it wasn't a pleasant memory even if it did leave an impression, and he struggled to maintain his amused expression. It wasn't as if his enthusiasm for the project was fading, far from it. Rather, Enjolras simply had a challenging time rectifying the good things he'd heard reported about their resident zombie with the havoc he (intentionally or otherwise) wrought in the Arenas. Still, he smiled back, albeit thinly. Distantly, he wished he had a glass of something himself, if only for the distraction.

"I'd like to hope I'm more capable than that fellow. Nothing against him personally, of course, but he doesn't seem the literary type." Courfeyrac was better at using humor to mask any element of discomfort. Perhaps it was a skill Enjolras should've spent more time studying while he could. "There isn't much time before the next Arena. We should either work very quickly, or plan to execute this project at the next break."

She needed to start watching more of the arenas, but it wasn't really her kind of reality TV show. She preferred it when everyone was stuck in a nice house and they got drunk all the time, and slept with each other, and had fights-- oh wait. Cindy was good at reading people, since she had to in her business. Someone could bring out a gun suddenly, and you were up a creek if you didn't see that coming.

But, she also knew when to not call someone out on it. "He's really not, but hey, I'm not going to kill someone's dream like that. It could be worse." Cindy could also hide what she was feeling, usually, but in this instance... it was better to look as uncomfortable as she felt, when she thought about being in the arena. "I think we'd have a better chance after the arena... if we're both in a state that we can do that, don't you think?"

Nodding slowly, he again pulled himself away from thoughts of the Arena. They'd be there soon enough and then he could relive and reconsider the meaning of it all. Now was the time to make plans and actually set about (hopefully) changing thing. "I agree. There isn't the time now, and the Arena may actually give us something to work with. While the escorts and stylists talk about our presentation within the Capitol, the people are truly influenced more by how we behave in the Arenas."

He carefully avoided the word performance as his own performance was nothing to be excited over. Enjolras knew he didn't stand a chance of winning going in, and so his battle tactics, while meticulous at the barricade had been non-existent within the Arena. "I didn't believe them at first when they told me that everyone watches it. I have become convinced."

"You're right on the money with that. If we do well in the arena, well, good for everyone involved, right? Especially us, if we get to keep on living." Cindy definitely was going to try, but... sometimes things happened.

Giving a shrug, she finally took a sip from her glass. "We'll just do our best in the arena, and do better when we get out. Seems simple enough, even in process. Besides, once we're in there, we won't have time to think about whatever we'll be doing out here."

She raised her glass a little. "Cheers, then, to the future? I really hope it turns out like we want."

There was truth to that, at least. Within the Arena, they'd at best be trying to survive, at worst well... Enjolras knew what he would do within the Arena, he wasn't prepared to pass judgment over anyone else for their choices, so long as they weren't purposefully cruel. More and more, he was coming to the conclusion that Panem, and particularly the Games were areas were normal morality didn't apply. The best one could do was to act according to their own definition of virtue and be satisfied with that.

Unable to return the gesture as it was, he tilted his head in agreement. "As do I. To the future, as you say, Mademoiselle."

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The shocking and thrilling adventures!

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holy shit I had an amazing idea/plot regarding this

oh I think I see where this is going and I like it, tell me more.

Basically I've rewatched the movie Casanova a few dozen times

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And you already know how I talked to a mod about this and yeah xD

Oh? Now that we're connected on plurk we'll have to pow-wow. c:

Yessss :D Yes yes yes

c:

:>

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