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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Yes yes I know all that.

[Impatient, dismissive: she's read the Guidebook, after all. But Effie is still all manners.]

And the Peacekeepers do not bail me. I am neither a ship nor a prisoner, Mister...?

Derek Bliss.

I'm just letting you know what the score is. There may be individual people willing to help you, but if you're looking for the social structure you had back home, it's not going to be here. And if you try to enforce one, the populace itself is going to either ignore you or take you down if you get too pushy about it. There's too many worlds with too many social structures of their own for one person to force theirs on everyone else. It's peaceful here because the villagers live and let live.

It is a place where you're better off learning some of the skills I mentioned for yourself, because there also tends to be a habit of the people you depend on most disappearing and not coming back. At least not for a while. And usually at the worst possible moments from what I can tell.

[It's not computing to a very large extent.]

So: like savages.

No offense ma'am, but any society that puppets its people to only amuse and bolster the higher ups is a lot more savage, and decadent, than anyone who has an idea of self and self worth and the worth of the people around them, regardless of so-called rank.

Anyway, since you didn't pay attention:

This is Luceti.

It is far away from the homes of anyone here, including you, and there is no way to return home intentionally.

You are considered a prisoner, an experiment, and sometimes a soldier by the people who run this enclosure, who are called the Malnosso. If you offer your services to them they will at best consider you a useful tool, and that's about it. Usually, that isn't what happens.

There is another set of people beyond the shields of the area called the Third Party, who will happily sacrifice you to one of their rituals should they get hold of you. No, they won't care who you are back home either. They'll just kill you.

Don't try to remove the wings or any part of them, because at best you will hurt yourself badly, at worst, you will kill yourself.

And the sooner you learn you're on an even level with everyone else here, the easier it'll be on you.

Enjoy the stay.

Hmph. Remind me when next we meet that I have a few things to teach you, Mister Bliss. And you will be all the better for them.

[You are so getting clicked off, Derek. She'll have to deal with you LATER.]

I doubt it, lady, but you're welcome to try.

Dear Mister Bliss,

I am certain that there is much you could learn about speaking to a lady, particularly one of position.

Regards

Ms. Effie Trinket

Dear Miss Trinkett,

I afford a lady the respect she is due; I, however, do not waste such kindness on fools or the ignorant, both of which you are proving to be. At such time as you remove your cranium from your posterior, I will reconsider your 'position' and act accordingly. Until then, your claim to both 'lady' and 'position' is laughable from my point of view.

Next lesson, ma'am; don't judge a book merely by sight. I am a lot more familiar with this waste of a social game than you think I am. You might want to quit while you still have the illusion of being 'ahead'.

Regards,
Derek Bliss

Dear Mr. Bliss,

Never -- never -- have I been spoken to in such a manner! I did not reach the position I earned through ignorance or foolishness. However, I see no need to prove my worth to you. Clearly the only social waste here is you. Until you have something worthwhile to say, you had best keep your remaining thoughts to yourself and learn not to spread them about where they are not wanted.

Ms. Trinket.

[On some level she can't believe he dares to say these things PUBLICLY. WHAT WILL THE MALNOSSO THINK?!?!?!??!]

[He really should be better than this. He really should, but...]

Dear Miss Trinket,

You may want to get used to it. There are certain folks here that will coddle you in your delusions. Unfortunately for you, though, not many. And there will be people who will be a lot harsher on you than I am if you continue to act this way.

And you've already 'proven' you're a downright idiot. It's a wonder you managed to survive leaving your rooms even in your own world.

That must be what the guards you don't have here are for, correct?

By the way, the only way people can be shut up is if there is an oppressive force in attendance to do so. The fact that the Malnosso have not cut my feed to you should tell you something about the lack of said force here, and just how much they don't value you for anything except what I've already told you about. They monitor these journals pretty closely.

Sincerely,
Derek Bliss

[She's fairly certain that the Malnosso have some kind of Black List and Derek Bliss is on it. So she's not going to spend a lot of time arguing.]

Dear Mr. Bliss,

Bless your heart! Let's hope so, for your sake.

Ms. Trinket.

[Sadly, she's probably overestimating his importance to them to an impossible level, especially since he hasn't attacked any of their scientists this time around when he wakes up in their labs.]

Dear Miss Trinket,

I know so. I just hope it doesn't scar your psyche too badly when you've realized just how wrong you were.

As for blessings, I'm already good on that score, but thank you.

Derek Bliss

P.S--If you should come to your senses, and decide you might want to learn a more useful skill than being an overpaid figurehead, I will try and help train you, if you have no other options. I'm at least that much of a gentleman.

Have a nice day.

Dear Mr. Bliss --

I'll let you know, shall I?

[NEVER EVER. NOT EVER. UGH. Of course she doesn't realize how Bon Jovi you look yet, but still. NO.]

Sincerely,

Ms. Trinket

As you wish.

Yes. Now you're getting it.

[This little note is left later. A tiny needleprick of a note, or so it is intended.]

That was sarcasm, ma'am.

~~Which flew right over your head just like everyth~~

[He stops, crosses that last bit out once or twice more, and starts over. This bickering is no better than trying to bash both of their heads against a brick wall, and he'll end up wanting to strangle her on sight if they keep this up.]

Tell you what; pretty sure we both have better things to do, so how about we leave it at this, all right? You go try and prove me wrong, and I'll leave you alone until you have all the facts straight. If you feel like it, you can come back to me later with it all. Give it at least a week before you do. Maybe longer. Some of it might take a while.

Fair enough?

I have never accused you of being unfair.

[It is not a yes, it is not a no.]

Anything else you wish to say should probably be said in person.

[Translation: These journals can be read by others and thus could be dangerous.]

Like I said; go learn what you can.

If you think it's worth talking about later, you can usually find me at the battledome in the mornings.

If I'm not there, just let me know over the journal where to meet you. Or leave a note at my apartment door. CH6, 6th floor, 26th room. Other than that, I doubt we have much to talk about.

Go get settled in; it still gets pretty cold at night right now. Goodnight.

I shall be QUITE WARM ENOUGH ON MY OWN, thank you. I am more than capable of looking after myself!

Battledome. Really. Next you will be asking me to walk into the arena.

[Yes. This Derek fellow? Obviously a gladiator of some sort. Cheap entertainment. Cheap life.]

[Whatever she may think of him, or whatever he may think of her last response, he will make her none the wiser. There's nothing more than the 'click' of a journal being quietly shut after he reads her last response.

Ball's in your court, Effy, if and when you decide to pick it up.]

[How can one of the Panem elite pass up a visit to the Battledome? Effie can't. Derek has more than piqued her interest in it. And if there IS a viable Arena in Luceti, perhaps they can get a Luceti Games started! What fun!

So it is after she is settled that she comes around the Battledome, prepared to size up just what kind of facility it is and what it has to offer.]

[Having recently recovered from his leg injuries, Derek is still 'taking it easy' on himself, if for no other reason than because he's keeping mindful of Adele's...request, to stay out of her medward for a while.

Of course, 'easy' for him means he's set up a daytime hunting scenario; small nest, the members scattered in random places around the desert and under the dilapidated farmhouse in some backwater New Mexico county. With two hours to find them all before the sun goes down.

He's in the process of digging one up when Effy arrives, staking it and beheading it as it all but explodes under the sunlight, sending flames shooting off in every direction. He watches it burn until it's nothing but ash, then inspects the pile to make sure the heart was gone as well.

That one done, he's gone into a crouch; he's working on the farmhouse now, and with the cover of shade, it's only too likely they're aware and waiting. So, like the hunter he is, he's stalking, too intent on the job to pay much attention to anyone who may be watching from above.]

Edited 2013-03-17 21:46 (UTC)

[What Effie sees when she arrives is a very attractive man fighting...horrors. She can't explain it any other way. Effie has never seen cadaverous monsters like that before.

Well, there was one time in District 6; an old woman, ill from cancer, had been left in the street to die. The Peacekeepers had forced all potential helpers to pass her by.

She hadn't looked very nice at all.

But THESE creatures......and Effie marveled at the man's speed and agility in fighting them. More than anything else, though, she was impressed with how all of these horrors were projections created by the Dome.

She watched, her fingertips pressed against the observation window. Analyzing. Calculating.]

[The dome changes as Derek enters the farmhouse, showing the interior now as it adjusted to his position. The first floor was clear enough, and he made sure to bust all the windows open to let the light stream in. he gave the trapdoor in the kitchen floor a glance as he passed it, but left it alone for right now, instead, headed for the second floor. He had to secure the exit before he trapped himself in the basement with the rest of them, or he'd 'die' fairly quickly.

This, too, was clear, but in the level above, a vampire, well protected by the eaves of the attic, was shadowing Derek's every move. Sprawled on the dusty wood, skittering across it like a spider as it followed in the hunter's wake below. Waiting for its chance.

The sudden creaking of the attic's wood boards was like a gunshot in the silent house. Derek immediately crouched, peering up at the ceiling, also waiting...

[Effie stands very still. Her fingertips are leaving little prints across the glass; her breath fogs it, and impatiently she streaks the mist away so she can see more clearly.

It looks very much like this man is outmatched. That is, of course, how all of the most successfully entertaining battles are constructed.]

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[Text for when she opens the book back up later]

[written] XD

[written] These two are gonna really hate each other

[written] SO. MUCH.

[written] Heheh

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aww heck ACTION.

[Action] Should we be arranging for a medic? Or at least an Adult?

PROBABLY

*Dials 911*...oh yeah--[Action] or something like that

XD

Dials 911...oh yeah--[Action] or something like that