trinkett | Fourth Dispatch: It's Not What You Think. Voice.

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Fourth Dispatch: It's Not What You Think. Voice.

Dear Fellow Residents of Luceti,

Wouldn't it be entertaining to put on some Games here in Luceti? Not that the Cultural Fair wasn't amusing, or any of the other activities going on here -- but true gladiatorial games. The pitting of one creature against another! Think of the thrill and drama and the release that goes along with that sort of entertainment! And here in Luceti we are ideally suited for a very exciting Games indeed.

Who would you sponsor or volunteer for this entertainment? Or would it all be...

[There is a pause here.]

Pokey-mans? I find human beings MUCH more interesting to watch, personally.

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Ever think that maybe there shouldn't be Tributes in the first place? That sending children to fight to the death is fucked up. Wrong?

[He snorts softly, shaking his head.]

You can look forward to it because you're sucking up to the Malnosso and because you think killing is entertainment. And because you don't even try to consider that anyone else might have a point.

[Another of those crazy changes in topic. Leaves his head a little reeling.]

Dogs? I like them. Got one of my own.

[HANG ON HANG ON SHE HAS TO LEAVE THE DOG THING FOR A SECOND SHE WILL COME BACK TO IT. IT IS RELEVANT. PROMISE.]

You think I haven't considered?!

[Her fear is mostly submerged again; indignation is taking its place.]

How DARE you say that?!

"For a good cause, babe! I'm halfway to getting a television!"

"You can be SO---!"

What was that word she was thinking of again?

[Clint is still calm. It takes a lot to ruffle him and Effie isn't it.]

Because you seem pretty much blind to anything else except your desires. If you have considered, you don't do a good job of showing it. Otherwise you wouldn't have had so many people jumping down your throat.

"... incredible? Amazing? Heroic? Badass? Achingly handsome?"

"CONFOUNDATIONAL."

It wasn't even a word. It was a word Effie had to specially make up for Jack Horner's ability to be achingly infuriatingly amazingly incredibly sexily jerkwadish.

"Con-foundational? Does that mean more than foundational?"

You didn't hear me mention helmets?

[Now she's definitely riled.]

OBSTACLE COURSES?! With...with rules? And no killing? And HOCKEY? And football? And FASHION? No one LISTENS here except a flying horse with a rainbow-covered head and that poor young bald child!

[She means Rainbow Dash and Aang.]

Edited 2013-06-28 01:48 (UTC)

"It means I think you owe me a delicious steak dinner."

You said gladiatorial combat. You said that 'a little blood never hurt anyone'. You talked about how it's fine because death isn't permanent, and how you'd volunteer people to take part in combat.

If you have that many people getting the wrong idea, maybe your wording leaves a lot to be desired.

"Hm. I'd consent to that. And then you can have me as dessert."

And I'm to be murdered over my wording. [Her voice is ice.]

"Is that the sound of a man with very high expectations?"

Of course she'd have him as dessert. Probably covered with whipped cream, no less.

"Effie, you've never once heard me with low expectations."

When people know what your world is like, then yeah. People are gonna get pissed. Too many people here have seen too much death to take that suggestion lightly.

Well. I'm getting a dog, you know. A LARGE dog. A large dog who loves me and protects me.

[She says this in the manner of "So you better not get any ideas."]

If I die, it won't be over this.

[Clint just gives her a look.]

Sweetheart. If I wanted you dead, an army wouldn't protect you.

[It's statements like that that terrify Effie Trinket. Too much like home.

She fumbles around on the ground, trying to pick up her fallen hair accessories. Silk irises. They don't really match her dress, now that she sees them in this light.]

I'll stay inside, then. Or go on missions. They'll be needing me, I'm sure.

"Jack, I've a question...

Why do you like me?"

Thankfully I don't want you dead. There's enough of it 'round here without adding to it.

[He sighs and starts to check over his equipment, checking arrows and bow for damage.]

There's some research missions that might suit you. Careful which you choose. Some of the combat missions are pretty rough. You should try doing a bit of training though. The Malnosso don't care who they send on the drafts.

They won't send me on drafts.

[They will. They'll send me. They're going to send me I can FEEL it and I'll die.]

They think I'm too valuable to them for my public relations skills.

[The wig is a total loss; she pulls it from its rakish angle and tucks her silk flowers inside it. Beneath, her blond hair is tied up in a neat bun.]

Edited 2013-06-28 02:13 (UTC)

...you just pissed off and alienated half the Compound. Unless that is their goal, which, to be honest, they do a good job of anyway with their shifts, then I think they've probably given up on you.

[He gives her a serious look, gaze piercing.]

Listen to me. They do not care who they send on drafts. They have sent children on those drafts. Kids five or six years old. They will send you because they do not care whether you live or die.

Oh. One of those questions. Jack had heard this asked a million times before from simple dirty peasant girls, to high born noblewomen, to actual goddesses. Every so often, he'd be stupid enough to answer honestly. Mercifully, Jack was clever enough not to make this one of those times.

"Because underneath that pomp and makeup, you're quite the woman. You've got smarts and beauty all rolled up in one. You don't get on my case for not being some saintly hero like half the jerks in this place do. You say what you mean and do what you want, no matter what the rest of those assholes think."

And to Jack's surprise, his web of lies to make her feel appreciated ended up with nuggets of actual sincerity in there. They were sprinkled with praise, but it largely was exactly how he felt about her. But it was still a lie, of course. He liked her because she was having sex with him and in his mind, that was enough.

[They do not care whether you live or die.]

I...don't know how to train.

[This was the very first time Effie Trinket had verbally admitted to ANYONE in Luceti that she might be a tad wee bit nervous at the thought of being slaughtered in battle.]

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Fourth Dispatch: It's Not What You Think. Voice.

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