(no subject)

[gamemakers]

WHO| Anyone in the Capitol. Mentors, dead tributes, and the new future tributes (if you like)
WHAT| Game viewing party
WHEN| Ongoing, as long as the weather holds and the Game's don't end
WHERE| The roof of the mentor's headquarters
WARNING/NOTES| none right now.

The roof lavishly decorated, dripping with flowers, brilliantly colored blown glass bubbles and fountains that cascaded down into a small wading pool that ringed the roof. Cabana's were dotted here and there, surrounded by flowing curtains for privacy, and lounges covered with large, ornate pillows made sure there was plenty of places to sit.

Along one edge was a buffet covered with delicacies, all finger foods geared toward the warm weather. Rare fruits chilled on ice, delicate sheets of raw fish curled up on tiny piece of bread, chilled dips and many more. Iced, fruity drinks flowed freely, with a handful of Avoxs around for any needs the guest may have.

TV's were everywhere, and a guarded door lead back into the mentor's headquarter's, in case they needed to slip back in to help their tributes. If they have any left.

Comments

[talkaboutme]

Kevin sat alone, idly peeling a piece of fruit as he watched the screens. When someone looked at him, he'd smile politely, otherwise he sat there staring - nearly unblinking - enthralled in the Games.

He hadn't seen any deaths yet. Apparently he missed the real bloodbath at the beginning before he arrived here, and at this point you could go a few hours, or even more than a day, without seeing anybody die. What a shame. Made the actual game last longer, he supposed. The thrill of the hunt must be savored.

He takes a bite of the half-peeled fruit and then continues tearing at it.

[nofunandgames]

"You one of the new Tributes?"

It was odd, having new Tributes before a game had even started. Still, Alias knew he might have another one showing up soon, so he was trying to stay on top of all of these things. Taking a seat next to the boy, he glanced up at the screen.

"I guess they decided to let you all have a taste of it first..."

[talkaboutme]

"Yep," he answered, looking up from his fruit for only a second, "I guess I get a chance to compose myself before being flung into the fire. Lucky me."

But he seemed pretty composed as it was, despite not having been here that long. If he were thrown right into the games, his mood would likely be similar, although he wouldn't be bothering with the slight gestures of politeness he was putting on for the Capitol.

"You live here?"

[nofunandgames]

Elias tried to think back on to his time going in. Had he been this mellow? No way. Then again, he had seen many tribute who just...shut down. It wasn't exactly the worst strategy there was.

"Currently. I'm a past victor, originally from District 10." He extended a hand. "Elias."

[talkaboutme]

Past victor. Now he's a bit more intrigued. He didn't find the average Capitol citizen all that exciting, despite their unique fashion sense, but someone who'd survived a game before was at least potentially interesting.

"Kevin," he said, accepting the handshake, "Apparently from District 4. Never actually been there."

[nofunandgames]

"It's a fishing district. You have a few mentors around, they are a Career tribute so have a history of winning."

He knew he shouldn't tell another district tribute too much, but all of this was general, basic information. Most of it would be the first things out of Finnick's mouth.

[knottherapy]

Finnick walked into the party wearing a black suit with a blue button up shirt under the stylish jacket. He spots the young tribute he recognizes from the file that had been handed to him the day before. The kid had been assigned to District 4 despite never having even been there. Strolling over to him with a drink in hand the first thing he noticed was the intense focus on the Games on the screen. Usually tributes didn't arrive and watch the Games prior to going into the arena, but he would have assumed most would either not watch or stare in fear. However this wasn't fear in the kid's eyes.

"Kevin?" He addressed him before attempting to sit down. His hand is offered, "I'm Finnick Odair. Your mentor."

[talkaboutme]

No, not fear. If anything, it was boredom. Come on, somebody, die already. But he didn't want to miss anything, just in case. However, he assumed he'd get some sort of cue, even if he wasn't looking, either by the sounds of the arena or the reaction of the audience.

"Oh," he said, returning the handshake limply, "Yeah, that's me. So what're you supposed to be mentoring me in?"

Oh, he was looking forward to this. If there was one thing he loved it was being told what to do and then not doing it. Of course, this type of training was valuable, but that didn't mean he had to go easy.

[knottherapy]

Finnick welcomed himself to the seat across from the kid after receiving the weak handshake. He sipped his drink when he did, inspecting Kevin more closely now.

"In how to stay alive in there." He nodded towards a nearby screen. "At least as much as I can considering we have no idea what sort of arena you'll be thrown into." Finnick made direct eye contact the entire time he spoke. "Also how to get sponsors while in there. Or when you're here- this whole tributes in the Capitol walking around freely before the Games is a new concept around here."

"So what's your...world like?" What an odd question to be asking.

[talkaboutme]

"It was there," he said, and that was really his only opinion on it, but he figured that Finnick wanted elaboration and would likely ask for it so he might as well get it over with, "Kind of like this, but with less-advanced technology and no government-sanctioned fights to the death. I lived in a fairly big house with my parents and sister, went to school, and all that."

He left out the part where he was about to go to prison. That could come later. He would've made a snide remark about Capitol fashion, but he himself was wearing clothes a couple sizes too small and didn't want any 'pot calling the kettle black' analogies coming his way.

"You've won one," he said, giving a nod towards one of the screens.

[she_was_a_gift]

River had watched as much as she had cared to, by this point. Enough to get an idea of the terrain she'd be expected to make her way through, when it came time for her to step forward. There was strangely no dread, no creeping fear of what was to come, though she was certain if she should slip even once it would be a bloody, painful end for her.

She just felt numb as she waited. All of this might as well be some dream of hers, and she wasn't entirely sure parts of it weren't. It hardly mattered one way or another. The basics were the same, mass and physical properties of it, even if the colors and the exaggerated masks of those around her were her brain's way of processing the horror.

Well, everyone wore masks. Perhaps not usually this distorted and colorful and twisted up on the inside. She was avoiding them anyway, skirting the edges of the party and fixing anyone who got too close with her dark stare.

It proved enough to keep people unnerved and at bay, so she could nibble on the fish in relative quiet.

[slowlydrowning]

Annie tries to avoid the parties as much as she is able, but that particular morning, her stylist had pulled her out of bed, brushed her hair to a shine and shoved her into a pale aqua coloured sundress. A pair of heels had been shoved on her also, but Annie had taken them off almost the moment she'd found a place on one of the lounges to sit. And that had been hours ago.

Mostly, Annie had been occupying herself by feeding bits of fruits and crackers to birds. She was fairly certain that the other guests nearby didn't appreciate it. But no one said anything to her about it, either. 'Oh, it's just Annie Cresta. Let her be... she's not all there.' they would say.

In truth, she was far more 'there' than people tended to think. But birds were better company than most of them. And birds were far less likely to expect her to talk about the Games than the other guests were. But she had run out of crackers to feed the birds, and all the sunshine had made her thirsty, so she wandered up to one of the buffet tables to find something else.

She sees the other girl; doesn't recognize her though. Not that it means much. Annie has made it sort of a habit to not know the people that she meets in the Capitol.

"Try the mahi mahi," she suggests to the girl nibbling from the fish spread, because if there is anything Annie can say she knows about, it's fish. A victor and mentor she may be in title, the 'poor mad girl' in reputation, but Annie has been a fisherman's daughter from District 4, all her life. "The Capitol always gets the best catches."

[she_was_a_gift]

The best catches. Yes, that would be an accurate statement, wouldn't it.

"Didn't see the nets coming," she murmured behind her curled fingers, gaze shifting to the aforementioned plate of fish with scrutiny. It wasn't that she didn't trust the girl's recommendation...she just had a lot of things on her mind, at the moment, and they all swam thick and uncertain inside her skull. "Now we're just treading water until the time comes." Her teeth nipped the tip of her thumb, her fingers twitching slightly as she continued to ponder the fish.

"A fine meal for the masses."

Her skin prickled with a sudden chill as that reasoning became a little too visually vibrant inside her own head. Her eyes closed briefly, pushing it away. She had to work at this, letting her mind settle and go as blank as it could. She'd need to focus, to stay alive. With all that waited for her, it was hard to keep an appetite.

The girl had tried though, hadn't she? River spared her a glance, dark eyes darting quickly over her as if she were a book to read. Then, quietly, she reached with her other hand for a plate of the fish.

[slowlydrowning]

Annie blinks, half-horrified as the girl speaks. A swell of fear chocking her as she tries to push back the flood.

The water rising so quickly that the sounds of the snapping trees mingles with the sounds of cannon fire; a dozen dead and she doesn't even know it. And there is nothing she can do now but swim until death comes.

She doesn't know her. Can't remember if she's ever seen her face. But the girl is young. So, if she's a victor, she's a very recent one. But... that doesn't seem to quite fit. Regardless, Annie doesn't believe she's only talking about fish. What she doesn't understand though, is if she is talking about Annie, or worse. Is she talking about herself?

She can't bring herself to ask. She doesn't want to know. Doesn't think she could handle knowing. She fumbles for a few pieces of crackers and a handful of plump red strawberries, because that was what she had come here to do. But her hands are clumsy, suddenly not her own, and she drops one of the strawberries on the ground. It leaves a red smudge of juice behind on the concrete before it rolls away. And all she can do is stare at it.

A meal for the masses.

"They eat what's fed to them," she says. Because that was true for food as well as entertainment. The Capitol craved its extravagances and excitement. "It doesn't mean they have good taste."

[she_was_a_gift]

Her ability to reach out and let those thoughts run through her fingers like strings is muted. That doesn't mean that she can't see the sudden panic in Annie's eyes, the sort of panic that says the girl knows exactly what she means. Even if she doesn't understand the particulars, she comprehends.

She parts her lips as though to say something more, but Annie looks rattled. Her fingers twitch as the strawberry falls, but she lets it, the two of them staring almost humorously in unison as it rolls out of reach. Strawberries. Her heart twinges and she thinks of Kaylee, who would marvel at all this fresh food that people eat half of and then toss aside. The world of excess she dreamed of.

It always comes at a price.

And then Annie speaks again, and River finds herself almost smiling in wry agreement. "Means they never go hungry. Never want for anything. Just nod and smile and clap and die when you're told to, and you get to dream your life away." River reaches for another strawberry and offers it up delicately to the other girl.

[ssa_derekmorgan]

Derek hadn’t planned on accepting the ‘invitation’ to the so-called ‘party’. It was sick, really, to be celebrating this competition of survival based on murder. But then he’d realized that this might be an opportunity he couldn’t afford to miss if he had any hope of winning once he got in there.

So, he’d gone up to the rooftop, but couldn’t bring himself to watch the slaughter. He’d instead spent his time profiling the assortment of people joining in the celebration and sampling the variety of delicacies laid out – he’d been hesitant to eat them at first until he realized that there would be no point in poisoning him before he’d had a chance to play the Game.

In a quick glance past the screen, on his way to looking at something else, he caught sight of a raven-black ponytail bobbing
in an all too familiar way. He did a quick double take and felt his heart drop.

“Emily,” he whispered.

But he quickly steeled himself – he couldn’t let these people know that she meant something to him or bad things would happen to her. He did his best to play it off as if nothing had happened and hoped no one noticed his reaction.

[cowardfacinghappiness]

Sequestered in a corner of the rooftop, her plate piled high with sweets from the dessert table, Momoko could definitely see why the Capitol Citizens were so hesitant to rock the boat. This was a hedonistic way of life that even the people of Rococo would find a little overindulgent.

She was just the littlest bit in love.

But of course, for herself at least, this pleasure was fleeting. Momoko was here to watch the Games and, more importantly, her fellow viewers. Sponsors were an important tactic in the Games--or so her mentor had emphasized, making Momoko suspect nobody believed she had a chance in hell otherwise--and this was a good chance to see what people found appealing in Tributes.

Or unappealing, Momoko thought, noticing one older man who caught sight of a screen and flinched. The first of that sort of reaction Momoko had seen so far, though the screen itself didn't seem to be showing anything different than the rest of the Games.

[ssa_derekmorgan]

That’s when he saw it – that boy...that bastard, shank in hand, plunging the stick straight through her gut. He almost felt it, the air knocked from his lungs. Déjà vu.

“Emily!”

He wasn’t even aware of the words leaving his mouth, hearing them in a detached, out of body sort of way. As he came back to himself, he became aware that he had slammed his fist down in a plateful of food. He could feel the stares of the other party-goers on his back. But he didn’t care.

He’d just watched his best friend die. Again. And there was nothing he could do about it. That kid would pay, he vowed. Just like he’d made Ian Doyle pay.

[cowardfacinghappiness]

That was the first kill Momoko had seen so far and she found herself as unaffected as when she was a child watching violent nature documentaries. Perhaps it would be different if she had any idea who these people were (but probably not).

Truthfully the outburst of the flinching man had disturbed her more than the kill onscreen, startling her into knocking over her sugary drink, which she didn't notice until she felt the cold wetness seeping through to her skin. She shrieked, springing up from her seat. For a moment she stared in horror at her skirt, then she scowled, looked back up, and threw her plate in the general direction of the man at fault.

Perhaps a bit of an overreaction--it's not like it was her own Baby brand clothes after all--but it had been a very stressful day for Momoko, okay? After everything she'd been through in the past day or so it had been just such a relief to get out of her ruined dress and into something comfortingly lacy and clean.

So much for clean.

[ssa_derekmorgan]

Derek was so focused on what was happening in the Games that he did not notice anything else happening around him until the plate shattered and sliced his feet.

However the physical pain was nothing compared to the mental anguish he felt as he watched his best friend - his Emily - die again.

He watched her eyes fluttered, beads of sweat sliding off her forehead and her hands covered in her own blood. It all came rushing back to him. History has repeated itself and once again, he could not save his friend.

[theworsekind]

Tate walked into the party. He usually could hold a pretty good poker face, but it was obvious that he was in someway thrown off by this whole place. He still wasn't head and that didn't phase him nearly as much as just this Capitol place. It wasn't too far fetched from modern day Los Angeles, but its was still strange. He already hated the people, able to smell their shallowness and cliche all over them.

The screens around the room were playing the rest of the Games and he figured he might as well grab something to drink and take a seat. No one bothered carding him so he made sure to get a tall one. Sitting at a tall table, his eyes went to the screen, not wanting to miss the moment that little blond bitch dies,

[talkaboutme]

Kevin had yet to find anyone here he was too interested in, even if annoying them was fun. But he recognized Tate, he'd seen him kill a few times, and he figured that there might be potential there. At least, Tate didn't seem like the other contestants. There was something intriguing about it.

"Hey," Kevin said, stepping up beside him, not bothering to introduce himself or any other such formalities, "I've seen you on the screens there. You were doing good."

He didn't start off with saying he was entertained by it, just in case Tate's murders were heat-of-the-moment things he felt guilty about now.

[theworsekind]

This kid wasn't a native, that much was obvious by his appearance and mannerisms. Despite not really having seen many of the other tributes in the arena, he didn't recognize the guy as a tribute who had been in there with him. Tate looked over his shoulder at Kevin after he spoke, not moving to actually face him.

"Yeah until that fucking cunt pushed me off that waterfall." He growled. "If we all come back here, I'll just get her then." He smirks, not caring that he's confiding this in a complete stranger. "And she'll just be crying."

[talkaboutme]

"It's stupid, most of these people don't seem like real contestants. They just seem scared. Or reluctant. I wonder why anyone picked them, except to be cannon fodder," Kevin said, "But if that's the case, they should at least have provided the good players with better supplies to start with."

He didn't worry about calling the participants 'players' here, seeing as his mentor wasn't around to get all offended about it. As far as he was concerned, it was a game and a game was something you played no matter how whiny people were about terminology. Pretty much everyone seemed to enjoy watching it, anyways.

[theworsekind]

"They're not." He shook his head thinking of the waste of people who can been chosen to compete with him. "Most of them are just thrown in there to die. It's not entertaining if no ones dying so they throw in a bunch of weak ones mixed in with the strong." He sipped his strange alcoholic drink.

He smirked finally looking directly at Kevin, "Tell me about it. I got a fucking bow without arrows." He shook his head slightly. "Would putting a gun or two in there be such a bad idea?" Tate already knew the answer to this. "Of course to do that would take away from the Greek gladiator and slaughter aspect of it all - and that's clearly what these people love to watch."

He may be a new arrival to the Capitol, but it was hard to miss a screen showing the current activity in the arena next to one that was showing constant recaps. Tate had even sat and watched his own killings before seeing himself die.