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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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?

["Choice"? She looks at him -- a rather calculating look.]

It is the odds which decide. And a person can submit their names as many times as they wish. SOME submit dozens of times.

[Said as though this were proof that the children wanted to be selected. Not revealing that some put their names in more than once to earn extra food for starving families.]

And what's their motive for essentially courting suicide? Hunger? Over population? Desperation for a cure to something that only the rich can get? Or just desperate to get whatever the privileged are given for free because they'd never get to see it any other way, even if it was something as simple as decent food, clothing, and shelter so that they were less likely to get ill or wind up in squalor?

...Or will the government raze their homes if they don't submit?

[That's all said quietly, casually, with a look that...almost matches. It's a very mild expression...for a predatory one.]

You're overthinking it! [She snaps this back at him, annoyed. Clearly.] They cherish the moment to shine in the spotlight! To represent their district with pride! They crave the adventure and the distinction!

Is that really what they believe? Or is that what they learn to say so that they don't get killed that much faster? Have you ever bothered to ask one of them when there was absolutely no risk of retribution for them? Or is that even possible for you to do?

[He looks back out at the now empty room, regretting he'd ever left it to talk to this woman, but he's not ready to stop. He would either be heard, or she'd stalk off and he'd never have to worry about her again. Either was fine with him.]

Tell me, Effie, if you can even imagine it, what would happen to you if you fell from favor? If all your contacts, and privileges and protections were taken away? Would you wind up in the streets with all these supposedly willing sacrifices? How would you live? Would you share their fate, or something similar? Are you even allowed to wonder about things like that?

[She wouldn't live. It would be death. One didn't disappoint one's superiors.

She turns to go. Coldly:]

I've wasted enough of your time, Mister Bliss. Good day.

Good day.

[Pause]

I'm not doing this to be mean, Miss Trinket. But you might want to think on it a little. Technically, right now, you're in the street. And although most people here won't do to you what would happen to you back home? This isn't the place to try and bring home into the equation.

Take the opportunity to learn, while you don't have to worry about the guys in control back where you come from. You might be surprised at what you find. You might even like it. Added bonus is that you won't even remember what happened when you go home, and they won't even know you went anywhere, so you won't have to worry about getting in trouble for going past whatever it is they tell you not to do. It's a good opportunity. Don't waste it.

[He'll turn his attention back to the console again. Maybe he should go ahead and pick the sim back up. He probably needs the stress relief now.]

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