thecapitol | harvest time

Who| Everyone in the Capitol
What| Harvest Festival
Where| A private venue near the base of one of the mountains.
When| A warm evening this week. Feel free to be time wobbly if your character eats it this week and you want to have them tag in.
Warnings/Notes| None atm. Please put a note in your thread header if anything comes up.

The whole side of the building looked like it had been taken out, and the bright gold aspens coaxed to spread down into the ball room, their yellow leaves shimmering at the slightest movement. In reality the ones within the building were fake, illusions that shuddered whether there was a wind near by or not. They reached tall, hiding the ceiling in their shimmering gold, leaves fluttering to the ground, covering it in a soft, gold carpet.

Everyone was dressed in beautiful fall inspired concoction of gold, burgundy, orange. No one was allowed in without a mask to hide their faces, gold being the trending style. A live string band played away, the music filling the whole room. Food was piled everywhere, fall favorites like pumpkin, apples, and corn, but all with a distinct Capitol twist- apple sushi rolls with thick pieces of tuna and sweet corn puree shots.

All this food poured out of a huge cornucopia in the middle, stretching up over a story tall, formed of metal, just like those in the arena. Party favors spilled out too, gilded aspen leaves and delicate glass blown pumpkins.

Whoever was throwing this party wasn't cutting corners.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

That one? Penny's face responds, lacing her teeth into an unspoken thought. Wesker?

Her eyelid twitches slightly, but she can't very well look jealous, even though that's what she is. Jealousy given a human form, given bone and flesh and a mouth that just barely molds itself out of a scowl.

She follows Katurian, but moves the hand on his lower back up to his arm, giving it a squeeze that's more fingernails than warmth.

Wesker's seen them, watched how the party goers scattered in their wake like shoals of fish, wheeling away in flashes of burgundy and gold from patrolling sharks. He saw how they circled - the a pair of them - gliding around the room, scenting the water.

When they set their eyes on him, he held his ground.

Sharks, Wesker knew, suffocated when they stopped.

Penny's nails are in someone else's back -- not his own. His own back is several dimensions away, separated by paper, pencil, ink. This jealousy is something that he'll pay for in the future, but that knowledge is also distant, a faint, buzzing blur in the corner of his vision.

"Mr. Wesker," he says. He doesn't shrink away like the first time they met. He doesn't stutter or twitch. The mask helps, but so does the drug, churning in his system like so many whirlpools. "You remember me, don't you? You remember who I am?"

He lifts his mask to reveal his crooked smile, his too-steady eyes.

"There's someone I'd like you to meet. Someone very special."

(Some of the flattery will always be automatic. Katurian knows how to survive.)

The compliment is just enough to keep Penny's rage at a throbbing hum rather than an explosion. Rather than her throwing her mask on the ground and storming off. The shape of the mask doesn't hide the jealousy on her features, the sneer on her lips and the tightness around her eyes. She just barely manages to relax it as she turns her attention from Katurian to Wesker.

"You've met before?" she asks Katurian, hating that she has to raise her gaze slightly to make it meet Wesker's.

Fascinating.

"Oh, yes."

Intrigued - amused - he purred the words, watching the interplay between them. The transformation in Katurian. Back straight, eyes bright, smile like a trap....

If Wesker were the type to believe in such things, he'd have called him a changed man.

"I'm quite familiar with Mr. Katurian. Both versions of him."

When his alternate self was in the arena, Katurian had been quiet about it, almost ashamed. Now that he was gone, he took a sort of sick pride in it, like a hero singing his own praises. His other self had suffered and died and lived and died, and yet he remained solid and unharmed. He took the proximal pain (as he always did) and made himself stronger with it. He arranged the blood and sweat and tears into a rainbow of brilliant colors. His own colors.

"He killed me," Katurian offers, rocking on his feet. "And it was incredible. Terrifying. It wasn't like anything I'd ever seen before."

He flashes a smile.

"He's a monster."

The anger in Penny is radioactive. It soaks her face like the rag of a Molotov cocktail. Her hand goes up Katurian's back again, up to the back of his neck, hovering just a fraction of a centimeter off his skin so he knows who the guillotine is here.

How dare he fawn over this Victor?

"That thing in your throat, Mr. Wesker." Penny purses her lips. "Care to explain it? I have an interest in the sciences."

His smile didn't widen, but it flashed there - all smug, amusement - in the red and gold eyes. Knowingly.

Jealousy didn't have a smell, clinically speaking, but there were moments Wesker could almost say it did. A sister to fear, pungent and bitter.

"Evolution."

The word was no less purred than any of the ones that had come before, but it was carefully chosen.

(He remembered her, her sharp fingers tightening on her glass of wine, the blossom of red across the table-top when her rage got the best of her. What else, could he make her break?

The possibilities delighted him.)

"I find, suits the process best."

harvest time

Re: penny will tag next

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