trinkett | First Dispatch. How Utterly Dreadful. Voice.

[Anyone who meets Effie in this post will meet her in full Capitol fashion and makeup. She landed in the shop, you see. A stiff turquoise-blue structured gown, fortunately, landed beside her.

And the wig -- thank the Senate! There were plenty of wigs and there was HER wig, tight and blond and curled and fabulous -- and the new violet wings sprouting from her shoulders were quite irregular but one never drew attention to one's irregularities. If anyone asked, they were Fashion. With any luck everyone who was anyone in the Capitol would be wearing similar ones, soon.

The makeup took a bit longer. Effie finally settled on green because green is one of her Power Colors and it IS almost spring, after all. She drew her lips in a pursed bow to reflect her dissatisfaction with everything.

It had only taken a quick readthrough of the Guide for Effie to grasp somewhat what was going on. It wasn't terribly shocking, but it was highly disappointing. She'd wanted to be in the Capitol for Katniss and Peeta, not transferred to a new post just at the height of a possible professional and personal triumph. Her charges were brilliant! Cinna had shown their fire to everyone. The sensation had been rampant and her promotion near-assured. Effie Trinket's star had been rising in the Capitol, the heart of Panem and civilization.

And then Someone had Bumped her. It was the only explanation for all of this business of waking up in a clothing store in what was obviously a cheap, outlying serfdom of Panem. A lesser woman would have called that Bumping Someone a dirty word, but Effie had dignity and would find other ways to trample that usurper into dust once she got back on her feet and back to the Capitol.]

Attention, Attention:

[Her usual rather chirpy voice is a bit tempered by the fact that she has only recently awakened in a clothing shop in a strange town.]

Would any available Peacekeepers in District Luceti please report to the Clothing Emporium? I repeat: any available Peacekeepers. The Diplomatic Escort for the Tributes requires a full compliment of Security. [Yes: she was still clinging to what she assumed was her now-stripped title and position.]

Thank you.

[[[[IMPORTANT NOTE: While Effie WILL be in full Capitol couture clothing and makeup for this post, some of my icons are simply those of her PB, Elizabeth Banks. I will probably try to MOSTLY use the icons from the Hunger Games movie but just assume she's all made up and dressed to the very weird nines even if you get a plain Elizabeth Banks icon! THANKS.]]]]]

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[Her first reaction is to deny that. Two and a half years? How was that even possible?! But what comes out is no denial. It's an affirmation:]

You survived it?!

She was really hot. Her eyes were the same blue-green as her tail. Hair like sea foam.

[Deliberately missing the point.]

Trinkett! Effie Trinkett.

Ah, nothing quite like going through town with a woman on your arm. If she wasn't so dolled up, he might feel downright good about this. As it was, he felt only somewhat hopeful. It would suck if she was ugly underneath all that.

"I come from the big city. Skyscrapers, subways, and quality restaurants. This place doesn't even qualify as being the boonies."

[She does follow, chatting as they go. The prospect of getting settled in here is welcome, considering she has to start working on a way OUT and a way up. From scratch, it would seem.

She won't let that get her down.]

Of course! I suppose our ways will strike strangers as different, but I assure you, it is all in the name of culture and excitement and history.

[She tries to relax as well, but it's hard around him. She's seen him kill, now. It makes her edgy to not have the barrier of an Arena between herself and a trained killer.

Though she would never admit it, it's something that makes her uncomfortable about Haymitch as well.]

They get all the best training before they're sent in.

[Defensive.]

"Permission!" Effie bristled. "Why, she'll welcome me with open arms! We're old friends, Katniss and I! She looks up to me for her moral well being, not to mention her morale!"

[There's a lot of sputtering at this point.] TAIL?!

"This place resembles the true wilderness of my world," she agreed, patting him on the arm. What wonderful muscles he had!

Or, at least, she hoped. It would be so unfortunate if it was just some kind of padding.

[Max smiles blithely at her, as though it were an entirely polite enquiry.]

Mmm, yeah. Mermaid. Lillian. Or at least, that was as close as we could get to something that I could pronounce. Met her on holiday a few years ago.

He rested a palm on his heavy cavalry sabre's pommel. And he inclined his upper body just enough that it might almost be mistaken for the shallowest (and therefore cheekiest) of bows.

"...Bugger it, but that explains an awful lot." At least, he thought that no wonder Katniss gave herself such a hard time if this woman was in charge of her morale.

Jack was deceitful about a lot of things. But he fortunately was really just as muscular and attractive as he looked. All natural. A perk of being a Fable.

"I've seen wilder. But you're not wrong. It's a dump." As they stepped out into the plaza, he considered locations. South, perhaps, would be best. Show off the rec center, the battle dome, and the barracks. Then it would be back to the shops and then to the bar.

DAMN HIS CHEEK.

Control. Control.

"Agreed. She's come a long way since I took her in my charge, though we all must admit she has a long way to go til she's perfect."

But how do you...with a tail? HOW?!

Very creatively.

[His smile widens into something entirely lascivious.]

But seriously, I'm not the kind of guy to kiss and tell.

...Well, Jesus wept. That wiped the smug right off his mug. With a growl that surprised even himself: "The girl's wonderful just how she is, aye?"

Sharpe wouldn't go so far as to use the word Effie had used. Perfect. It was a word that frightened him, truly. But he couldn't stand such criticism. Not after the heartfelt conversation they'd shared in the mountains. Not after all he'd been told.

"My district is much worse," she confided, sliding her fingers further up his arm. Ooh. Nice.

"Coal-mining is its primary industry."

Oh.

[There was disappointment in that "oh." Effie was curious.]

That is mannerly of you.

He realizes now that this was more than a simple touch of the arm. Oh no, she was taking a nice long admiring exploration of his upper arm. He carefully flexed in a way that would give her something more to enjoy, but without being obvious.

"Sounds like the pits. No pun intended. But a classy lady like yourself, you don't ever have to go down into them, do you?"

[History, at least, catches her attention]

Oh? What makes your ways so distinctive?

Unfazed: "Not in the eyes of her would-be sponsors, now, is she? Tell me this, Major Sharpe: if Katniss should be mortally injured in the Arena -- if fire, for example, scorches the skin from her body, or a fellow Tribute lodges a dagger in her breast -- whom do you think will be there to deliver her?

Sponsors.

She must shine brightest."

Or as much as you can before you send them in.

[Derek shakes his head]

In my line of work, in vampire hunting, we tend to grab people who have already trained for years in another profession that requires knowledge of weapons, fighting, things like that. Occasionally, you get a young kid, but it's hard to get them trained well enough to keep them in one piece during their first hunt.

Most don't make it, even when the team they're training with pulls together to try and keep the kid protected.

I don't doubt that you do the best you can; they lose, you lose. But comparatively speaking, that's an awful lot of time they don't have while trying to learn. Probably makes it all the more impressive for the audience when they make it through, but I'd be willing to bet a lot of it is luck and sheer survival mode. And if they're not allowed to back out, they're going to do anything they can to survive.

Bashing each other over the head with rocks isn't skill; it's desperation.

[Okay, that was not entirely the reaction he was expecting. it takes the wind out of his sails for a moment, before he shakes his head.]

I'm a real gentleman, yeah.

...He was shocked by how much these threats -- as latent and as indirect as they were -- troubled him. Particularly the one about daggers and breasts, for he remembers what Katniss told him about Clove. About a murder. About a suicide. Sharpe channelled his unease into a brief, breath-like laugh. A nervous habit; a way to hide his emotional response.

"You're late, Miss Trinket. Our Katniss has already outshone the lot of'em."

"Oh, Heavens no! I spend most of my time in the Capitol! I only travel to Twelve for the Reapings. They're entertaining affairs, you know. The entire country becomes gripped by the drama of it all!"

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