thecapitol | (no subject)

Who| Katniss and anyone from District 12 + Those plans have been made with. Drop me a plurk or PM if you wanna jump in so we can plot something.
What| Katniss meeting her tributes, and a few new people.
Where| Within the training center.
When| Since the crowning. Before meeting with Cinna.
Warnings/Notes| None atm

The usually reserved Girl on Fire was everywhere around the Tribute center in the day after the arena, greeting people, sociable (for Katniss at least) as she sought out her Tributes. Peeta was right that she should spend some time with each of them, and after thinking on it, Katniss was ready to dive in.

She had ditched the tablet thing Effie kept pressing on her for a simple notebook, each tribute having their own page, name printed firmly at the top. On each page, she had already scribbled down some thoughts on each tribute. Now she just needed to track them down and talk to them. Given that she couldn't usually get anywhere without being stopped several times, she had a feeling this was going to take a few days.

The crowning had shaken her, but she wasn't going to just shy away from it. They had to be ready.

For what, she wasn't sure. The arenas, of course. But, hopefully, for more.

Threaded | Flat

Sandy popped out of her room for only a moment in the most simple clothes in her closet...which happened to be her training suit. She had paint on it and a thin piece of fabric hanging off her neck like an ascot.

Grabbing a glass of purple and pink juice [she had no idea how some of these things were created] she gulped at it greedily and only then did she look up to examine the room and spot Katniss. There was a flicker of vague recognition but nothing more solid then that.

The Signless knew Katniss on sight, not because he saw her around the building much, but because Karkat had forced him into watching the recap of her Games so many times. He was in the training center when she approached him, taking a break from sickle training to work on something he wanted to practice -- camouflage. When all he was really good at was surviving, it wouldn't hurt to have an extra edge. He wasn't terribly good at it yet, though. Painting had always been the Disciple's specialty.

"Hello."

Prim isn't a tribute - or a mentor... really, she isn't sure what she is or where she fits in. That's part of why she's been so focused on learning medicine, of late - she feels a need to do something in this place, separated from home.

But there are two thing that are constant, even here - she is a member of district twelve; and she is Katniss's sister.

So here she is. Looking around.

It was unusual for Enjolras to spend time at the training center. He had no distaste for exercise, although it hadn't exactly made it into his routine often since moving to Paris. It was simply that being in the presence of so many people he'd seen die (some of them more than once) was unsettling to him. Philosophers may spend their days preparing for death and dying in the metaphysical sense, but this took that sentiment to a far more pragmatic place the likes of which made him intensely uncomfortable.

Nevertheless, no one could be immune to nagging forever, and, at the insistence of the various mentors, stylists, and hangers-on which floated around his District's suite, he'd dragged himself from the city with its varying interests, to the training center and its singularity of purpose. He had, naturally, brought along a book to which he clung whilst debating the merits of practicing fencing alone. It hardly seemed productive.

It was during this distracted contemplation when he spotted Katniss and her notebook. He didn't make a habit of studying the Games outside of their abstract significance in the political structure of Panem, but she was, of course, impossible to escape. The image and the story of the Girl on Fire who had defied the Capitol for love (which was in itself mildly ridiculous, but he was willing to disregard that rather harsh reaction for the moment) was a favorite among the people. He spent a moment watching her with fascination over exactly how unassuming she was in reality, without the fury of the Arena around her, or the makeup, feathers, and other peculiarities the Capitol forced on them.

"From the way they speak of you, Mademoiselle, one might have believed you to be more than human. I'm relieved to see that isn't the case." There was a wry note to his voice but the comment itself was sincere. If such an unassuming girl could stand up to the tyrannical system (even if it were for, in his estimation, the wrong reasons) there was hope for the rest of them.

The Avoxes on the twelfth floor had been given broader assignments in general. They were still there on a regular and predictable schedule, cleaning late at night and setting out meals, but they were less and less available to pamper the tributes and answer their random requests.

Darius was mostly there in the early hours of the morning, like a dawn ghost cleaning the common room and setting up the table for breakfast for those who preferred to eat in the semi-privacy of the penthouse. The dim lights of the early morning suited him - he'd seen his face. He didn't like the looks it drew.