Jack Atlas (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
akingalways) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thecapitol2013-06-26 08:58 pm
akingalways) wrote in thecapitol2013-06-26 08:58 pm
Entry tags:
Ain't No Party Like A Capitol Party
Who| Jack Atlas and OPEN
What| Jack is throwing a party. And you are all invited to attend to watch the Games.
Where| The mansion of the Director of District 8 Commodity Control
When| The end of Week 1
Warnings| Jack's Sponsor being potentially creepy and Jack being...Jack.
He needed a distraction. After what happened, he had to show he didn't care. That he was no friend of Ariadne's, that he firmly sided with the Capitol as all good Victors should. So he began to plan a party, a costume party, much like how the Tributes were dressed.
He'd hoped to have it at .infinity, but of course, the Director caught wind, and immediately came up with his own idea: have it at his mansion. He insisted, of course. It had been quite some time since he or the Director had hosted a party at home. Not to mention it would be his first party since he'd returned to Mentoring, so it should be a splendid occasion to keep him in the spotlight. And, really, could a mere club really be fitting for a party the King of Victors threw?
It had been some quick planning, but the deed was done, and so the party was held at the stylishly Baroque mansion. It was three stories, and was of course walled in with an iron gate at the entrance. It was a massive complex, at least in Capitol terms, with a carefully tended (and geologically heated for year-round bloom) garden of genetically-perfected roses, hydrangeas, lilies and tulips, among others.
Those who hadn't been to the mansion in some time would notice a new, fern-like addition to the gardens, which perfectly complemented several of the bushes, the more astute would likely identify it as arrowhead. In any case, the gardens and its paths all circled an impressive structure, nearly forty feet tall. Several people sat in the chamber at the top to observe the stars, but of course, that was not why the Capitol came.
No - it was to watch the Games, all within the confines of the Director's gilded mirrored ballroom. Several of the mirrors on the walls were trick mirrors - as citizens passed by, they would find their visages projected, not within the ballroom, but in one of the two Arenas, courtesy of the television screens layered within them. Some laughed and danced, jumping around as they pretended to be in the Games with their favorite Tributes. Others danced on the ballroom floor proper, and still others simply stood around in the ballroom or the gardens.
Those who were hungry could take their time in indulging in edible gold-leaf corundas tinged with spicy red salsa, deep dish pizza with the crust made of edible gold, and, of course, the basabito, the kielbasa and plantain sandwich the King of Victors was known to love. The plantains were, of course, also leafed in edible gold. Other items, a la tapas, were also served by Avoxes, all silently cosplaying as they waved through the crowds. For desserts, chocolate wine, peppermint caviar, and pink-swirl, cocoa tinged truffles were served.
And then, of course, there was Jack himself. Dressed like a sun god from a myth - sandals, short toga, oil-shined muscles and all - Jack nevertheless managed to carry it off without being too goofy, at least to the people who mattered, as he moved about to work his magic on potential Sponsors. Of course, his scar was cleverly hidden by golden bracers which covered both forearms, making it a non-issue. Hopefully.
What| Jack is throwing a party. And you are all invited to attend to watch the Games.
Where| The mansion of the Director of District 8 Commodity Control
When| The end of Week 1
Warnings| Jack's Sponsor being potentially creepy and Jack being...Jack.
He needed a distraction. After what happened, he had to show he didn't care. That he was no friend of Ariadne's, that he firmly sided with the Capitol as all good Victors should. So he began to plan a party, a costume party, much like how the Tributes were dressed.
He'd hoped to have it at .infinity, but of course, the Director caught wind, and immediately came up with his own idea: have it at his mansion. He insisted, of course. It had been quite some time since he or the Director had hosted a party at home. Not to mention it would be his first party since he'd returned to Mentoring, so it should be a splendid occasion to keep him in the spotlight. And, really, could a mere club really be fitting for a party the King of Victors threw?
It had been some quick planning, but the deed was done, and so the party was held at the stylishly Baroque mansion. It was three stories, and was of course walled in with an iron gate at the entrance. It was a massive complex, at least in Capitol terms, with a carefully tended (and geologically heated for year-round bloom) garden of genetically-perfected roses, hydrangeas, lilies and tulips, among others.
Those who hadn't been to the mansion in some time would notice a new, fern-like addition to the gardens, which perfectly complemented several of the bushes, the more astute would likely identify it as arrowhead. In any case, the gardens and its paths all circled an impressive structure, nearly forty feet tall. Several people sat in the chamber at the top to observe the stars, but of course, that was not why the Capitol came.
No - it was to watch the Games, all within the confines of the Director's gilded mirrored ballroom. Several of the mirrors on the walls were trick mirrors - as citizens passed by, they would find their visages projected, not within the ballroom, but in one of the two Arenas, courtesy of the television screens layered within them. Some laughed and danced, jumping around as they pretended to be in the Games with their favorite Tributes. Others danced on the ballroom floor proper, and still others simply stood around in the ballroom or the gardens.
Those who were hungry could take their time in indulging in edible gold-leaf corundas tinged with spicy red salsa, deep dish pizza with the crust made of edible gold, and, of course, the basabito, the kielbasa and plantain sandwich the King of Victors was known to love. The plantains were, of course, also leafed in edible gold. Other items, a la tapas, were also served by Avoxes, all silently cosplaying as they waved through the crowds. For desserts, chocolate wine, peppermint caviar, and pink-swirl, cocoa tinged truffles were served.
And then, of course, there was Jack himself. Dressed like a sun god from a myth - sandals, short toga, oil-shined muscles and all - Jack nevertheless managed to carry it off without being too goofy, at least to the people who mattered, as he moved about to work his magic on potential Sponsors. Of course, his scar was cleverly hidden by golden bracers which covered both forearms, making it a non-issue. Hopefully.
no subject
"Cal." The next thing the older Victor might realize, there is a concerned Jack next to her. "You look awful."
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She gulped her gin before turning to him.
"Bloody Holiday got me twice before the damn arena. She's gettin' no supplies, no' a chance."
Then she blinked and looked at him properly.
"The hell are you wearin'?"
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"Come on, Cal." He gently went to take the glass away from her. "I think you've had enough for now. Let's go take a walk."
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She stopped talking and just watched as Jack moved the glass out of her reach.
"Gimme i', Jack. I'm gonna need it to get through this with your damn dictator."
But she groaned and got up, still managing not to stagger in her high heels.
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The taking of Cal out of the fire wasn't just for embarrassment's sake. It also was a way to get her out so she didn't say anything that would get her in trouble. And also, because she looked ready to throw up.
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She tripped after Jack, muttering darkly to herself, and pushing rudely past the idiotic Capitolonians jumping up and down in front of arena screens.
"Idiots."
Once outside, she leaned up against the wall, taking deep breaths of fresh air. It had been a while since she had been properly outside.
"Look at you, takin' care of your old mentor!" Calico drawled, laughing at Jack.
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"Go - go cosy up to your idio' - get Some an' Chris some supplies. No' Topher. Idio'."
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"No, Cal. You're not." He spoke quietly, gently. "You're about ready to collapse. And frankly, I'd prefer you fall into the back of the cab so you can sleep this off, than onto the ground where you will break your face."
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She leaned in closer. "You know wha'? He's bloody rich. Cosy up righ' and one of our lot could win an' I could go 'ome. Bu' not Holiday or Topher. Chris. Nice lad, 'im, Jackie. Cosy up an' get 'im some supplies, there's a good boy."
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"I'll be fine. I can handle him, Cal." Quietly, he motioned an Avox over. "Please call someone to bring Ms. Suere back to her place. She's taken a bit ill."
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She giggled as she ended up say in the dirt. Still, she dragged herself back up, completely beyond caring about the spectacle she was making of herself, of the confirmation she was giving to the rumours that she was an addict. She needed to laugh, needed to feel nothing. And if this was the way to do it then she would.
When her car turned up, Calico did not order it to return to the Tribute Towers. Nope... sorry Jack. She was off back to the same old seedy bar to numb that horrible feeling of betrayal that clutched at her heart.