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.]]]]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The Guide is pretty thorough when it comes to it. Only kind of government is the Mallies and they aren't exactly forthcoming.

Max Woodville. Nice to meet you.

As well they should be. Or...not be. The Malnosso Organization, I mean.

[Effie drops a smooth, Capitol-mannered bow/curtsy as she introduces herself.]

Effie Trinket, and it is a pleasure to start meeting my new compatriots.

Right. You do realise you're as trapped as the rest of us, right?

[She has the wings and probably the barcode to prove it.

Oh wow, a curtsy. Shame he's made a point of forgetting all of his courtly manners.]

Well, Welcome to Luceti, I guess.

It is not quite as welcoming as I would find in the Capitol. [NOW there is a tiny bit of bitterness beneath the sweet tone. Effie's still unhappy about her perceived demotion.] But I suppose outliers don't worry terribly about ceremony. What is your role here?

[She needs to slot everyone into their proper echelon, role, class, organization, etc. Effie needs to know the pecking order.]

Captiol? The capital of where?

[He blinks at the question, giving her a bemused look.]

Me? I'm a mage, amongst other things. There's not really money here so jobs are kind of... voluntary.

Panem. The Capitol in Panem. [She doesn't feel too uncomfortable explaining this. Effie has at least some understanding that she has been ousted to a very far-away place indeed. It makes her all the more determined to somehow regain her former glory.]

And what sort of jobs have you volunteered for thus far?

I swear if you start talking about Big Brother and Freedom is Slavery, I am walking out.

[He rubs his forehead for a moment.]

Never heard of it. I'm from England myself. Part of the Commonwealth.

[Jobs... well...]

Well, I added something to the wards around a couple of places. And research, I've been doing plenty of that. Why does it matter?

[She files this information away in a tidy place in her mind: that bit of brain that keeps track of people and their place in the world. It's a very important part of her brain, to be certain.

Also she has no idea what all of this "Big Brother" and "Freedom is Slavery" stuff is about. Effie gives him a brief, quizzical smile. She doesn't want to be impolite just in case he turns out to be Someone Important. Or to KNOW someone important.]

Of course it matters! One wants to be recognized for one's achievements. Tell me the function of a ward?

[Magic does not really exist in Panem.]

[He catches the quizzical look and shrugs it off.]

It's a book reference. 1984. About a totalitarian government and constant government surveillance and... stuff.

...it was required reading for one of my classes at university.

[He shakes his head. Ugh achievements. Like he didn't get enough from his brother about living up to his potential.]

It's protection. A shield to protect against attacks, physical and magical.

[University educated! She smiles more naturally; relaxes. Congratulations, Max: you now possess the Sheen of Elitism.]

That is a wonderful, useful talent! So you place these ward protections on people?

[Oh Effie, you have no idea. And the sudden change in demeanour is a little strange.]

I can do, if people ask. Usually linked to a piece of jewelry or something. But buildings too. Places.

[Huh. Effie leans back against the countertop behind her and begins picking over a small basket of socks.]

And do places need protection here?

[She'd read about an invasion...did that sort of thing happen regularly?]

Sometimes. Everywhere needs protection sometimes. I've heard about attacks.

Some people just like to feel like they're safe.

[She selects a pair of ankle-length socks covered with pink and white stars and examines them.

They're VERY flashy.]

Safety is so important I find. You never know who might be lurking out there; what dangerous sorts there are in the world. Things are safe in the Capitol, of course, but everywhere else one needs protection.

[Those may be the most terrible socks in history. He keeps his mouth shut. And his brother said he failed at diplomacy.]

Well, most of the people in the village are friendly enough. It's mainly the bastard Malnosso who cause the problems.

No city is ever one hundred percent safe.

"Bastard" Malnosso? [She looks alarmed, dropping the socks.] You had better hush, Mister Woodville!

[Max just looks at her.]

They dragged me away from my home, dumped me in this prison, tortured friends of mine. I think I'll can them whatever the hell I want.

SHHHHHHHHHHHHH! What do you mean by this? Be quiet.

Wow, seriously? Bastards is about the least insulting thing I could call them.

[He grins a little devilishly.]

Should I demonstrate?

I think you should keep your mouth discreetly closed, for both our sakes!

Oh, discreet, yeah, never quite got the hang of that. S'why I didn't follow my brothers into the Diplomatic service of the bureaucracy.

The Malnosso are arseholes. You'd do well to remember that. They're not well thought of here.

You are GOING to bring them down upon us. Upon me -- I who am perfectly well-behaved and innocent in this matter!

[Max rolled his eyes, managing to look thoroughly bored.]

If they're the type of people who'd come down like a tonne of bricks on someone innocent, then they really are the type of people who deserve all the names I can come up with.

The Malnosso are not your friends. They don't care about behaviour when they choose people to torture.

[Effie returns her attention to the socks, selecting a sparkly gold pair along with the original pink and white ones.]

I find your casual discussion of torture to be highly distasteful, Mister Woodville.

I mentioned it once. I'm just telling it like it is.

...and technically it's Sir, not Mister. [Since she seems hung up on position and all.]

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