trinkett | First Dispatch. How Utterly Dreadful. Voice.

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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[That's when the shrieking starts from the basement as the last three decide that they're done with the waiting game.

Derek hears them, glancing beneath him as he sheathes the sword. He knows he is not in the best position here. One vampire, one goon? He can handle on their terms. Three, with one of them possibly a master? Time to get back to the safety of the sun.

It's when he's climbing out of the second story window and onto the porch roof when he catches sight of something in the sky. Something bright and not quite matching with the clouds and blue and...

He makes it out, slides down the singles, and lands solidly on both feet as the first of the remaining vampires attempts to burst through the front door. But the sun is still up, although starting it's evening arc, and the creature, all teeth and howls and burning flesh, retreats into the house once more.

Derek only gives it a cursory glance before he starts to brush dust off of himself, returning his gaze to the sky.

Where Effy was standing.]

End simulation. Save at point twelve, five thirty P.M.

[He's still staring at her when the holographic images fade away.]

[And he'd done all that without any sponsors at all. Highly interesting.

Effie pulls her hands away from the glass, leaving behind two slender prints which quickly evaporate. She simply nods down at him.]

[He nods too, then makes his way to the door and then up to the room controller where she's standing. He's still eye-ballng her. Or rather, her outfit. It's like Cyndi Lauper's closet got drunk and fucked Liberace's closet. Or else the 80s were really unkind to fashion on her world.

He will give her a polite nod--he's not connecting who this is, just yet.]

You needing the simulator? I'll clear it for you.

I believe I already told you, Mister Bliss. I am not a fighter, and have no inclination to be.

[She folds her arms over that stiff, shoulder-padded uniform of a fuchsia blazer. While Liberace's closet was far too gay to be of interest to Cyndi's closet, his closet would at least have been Cyndi's Sassy Gay Friend and he would have told her NOT to wear this but she would have worn it anyway because she's so unusual.]

Though it would seem you weren't lying.

[Both closets need a talking to, man.

He gives her a sharp look; one that shows he does recognize her now...and he's determining just how he wants to deal with this.

Finally, he just nods, turning his gaze to the console screen.]

So you did.

[He takes a few moments before he answers the second part.]

I save the lying for vampires. Generally speaking, living folks deserve the truth. If I can't tell them the truth, I won't say anything.

[He glances at her for a second.]

I apologize for the hostile greeting earlier. It reminded me too much of people from my own world that I'd rather not associate with. Life comes cheaply to them. And it's my job to try and save lives. It puts me at odds with that type of mindset.

From vampires. Vampires are not real. We have troubles with vampire bats in District 9, but that is only because the crossbreed invaded the native population and got out of control.

From vampires. From my world, not yours. That's what I had in the simulator down there.

[He's keeping his voice quiet, steady.]

Do your people have anything like quantum physics? Mobius strips? Alternate dimension theories? That's pretty much the scale of what you're dealing with here.

The Scientific Institute deals with that sort of thing, but they are kept apart. Mobius...strips? No. They sound delightful I'm sure. [She nervously peels back one glove, then the other.] I studied a bit of physics but it was never my primary subject.

There aren't vampires in THIS world, are there?

If you've ever seen the symbol for 'eternity', you've at least seen a Mobius strip.

[He shakes his head.]

As far as I know, no vampire from my world has ever been brought here. Although someone infected with the virus at the time was brought in for a little while, a few years back.

I'm hoping that's as close as they ever get. Even with as powerful as some of the people here are, it wouldn't be something to mess with. It transmits too easily.

As for vampires from other worlds, you'd probably want to ask a lady named Buffy about that. She's one of the ones who's been here the longest. Works at Good Spirits.

[No, she has never seen this symbol. And she has not been conditioned to ask questions about artifacts that aren't Approved by the Educational Council, so she will let it lie.]

Buffy? I had a poodle named that when I was a girl! She must be delightful.

[That will actually make Derek chuckle. Oh, he hopes Effie doesn't present that thought to the slayer. Although the possibility of fur flying as a result almost sounded entertaining.

Almost. He wasn't quite suicidal enough to want to see it happen.]

Smart as poodles can be, ma'am, Buffy definitely isn't one. She's a slayer, a job from her world that's similar to mine. Although in her case, I think it's more of an actual calling.

If you ask me, it sounds like both she -- and you -- would make excellent tribute-trainers.

[He gives Effie a quick, speculative glance.]

And what exactly would we be training 'tributes' for?

[Careful, Effie...]

For the Hunger Games, of course! The most widely-celebrated event in Panem!

[Or at least in the Capitol.]

[He'd been hoping that she'd actually taken his advice and poked around a little, given some thought to what he had said. Hell, even if she had come to the conclusion that although she knew she was right but should probably keep her mouth shut around the 'savages', he would have been good with that, too.

This? Pretty much told him she was still in total, clueless denial and hadn't heard a damned thing anyone had tried to tell her.

He pressed his lips together. He's not going to yell, but he is starting to feel the first stirrings of anger. His voice is low and controlled when he speaks.]

If you tell me you want me to teach people how to fight in an arena for bloodsport, you can turn yourself around and get out of my sight right now.

I only said you'd be good at it. You survived that, after all.

[She points down at the now-empty simulator. But there is a grain of decency in what Effie is saying. She has always wanted her tributes to survive. It's often hard to force herself to forget her feelings for them. She has learned all too well over the years to steel herself against those emotions, when they do make an appearance.

They rarely do anymore.]

You'd help them win.

[Derek is quiet for another minute before he relaxes, shakes his head.]

That's a lot of years of training. Been at it since I was seventeen, which is fifteen years. Doesn't include what I was learning for recreation before then. I have a feeling your...students...don't get that long to train.

[He kills the simulation for the day. He's too worked up at this point. He'll glance at her again, lips still pressed and his jaw muscles working out the agitation he's feeling.]

Listen, I'm sorry. You left a hell of a first impression, so I'll admit I'm more inclined to think you're still applying your world's rules here and snap. If you wanted me to train people to keep them alive when the Malnosso get hold of them, I can do that. Just...not what you were talking about.

[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.]

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.

There was only rock-bashing in that ONE Games, a few years back. [Defensive, again; giving the Tributes only rocks to fight with hadn't been that great.] And some are trained from babyhood to fight.

[To kill.]

Though I suppose with vampires it's different. [Changing tacks again.]

[Considering we kill vampires to protect people so that they can keep living and not be sport for monsters? Yeah, you got that right, lady]

What's the purpose of the Games? Why do you run them? Don't give me the polished version; just tell me what they're for.

[Nope, not budging yet.]

I don't run them. [Hedging.] I only perform the Reapings and escort the Tributes.

[IS there an unpolished version? Not one that Effie's able to articulate at this particular moment.]

[That's all right; if there's one thing Derek is good at, it's asking questions until the other person is likely to strangle him. He's weirdly patient that way.]

I'm going to guess the 'Tributes' are the ones that end up fighting.

What are the 'Reapings'?

You are correct. The Reapings are ceremonial, really: they determine who the Tributes shall be.

It's a lottery.

[He has to stay quiet for a minute, just to come up with something that isn't biting and aggravated.]

Do people get a choice to volunteer for it, or do you just put everyone's name in the equivalent of a hat and draw from there?

First Dispatch. How Utterly Dreadful. Voice.

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