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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[There are some voices that she misses from home. That she'd give anything to hear again. At least, that's what she wants on a good day. On the sort of day when her nightmares haven't kept her up most of the night, on the sort of day when she isn't drowning in self-pity and self-deprecation.

Today isn't one of those days.

And this voice? This voice isn't one of those voices.

For a few moments, Katniss can't possibly believe her ears. But there's no mistaking that accent, that Capitol trill. How many years had she and Gale spent mocking it? Mocking her. And she was here. Effie Trinket was here.]

Damn it.

[...whoops?]

[She is not in the condition to answer. This has remained for over two weeks, now, but this is still something that would need her attention. She will still have to answer.]

This is SPARTAN-023. [...] You are not in your world anymore.

[Max manages to enter the clothing shop just as Effie is making her announcement. He can't help it; he stares for a moment at the woman in the clothes and hair and makeup and wow, she's never heard of the natural look huh?

There's a slightly amused smile on his lips as he lets the door close behind himself.]

Hate to break it to you, but uh, there's no Peacekeepers here. Everyone pretty much takes care of themselves.

[Derek can tell already this is probably a New Feather he's going to wind up avoiding, if for nothing else, the very Big Brotherish feel of her tone.

Still...yeah. Maybe if they all set her straight from the outset...]

Sorry, lady. No peacekeepers and nothing to be a diplomat for. If you don't know how to fight for yourself, you're probably going to have to learn.

The good news is that chances are, no one here will know you well enough to want to hurt you.

[Of course, since he doesn't know Katniss except for one recent conversation, he could be woefully wrong on that count...]

Edited 2013-03-16 07:37 (UTC)

[Well this woman was dressed up like a Domani whore, with her strange clothes, but her demeanor at least caused Moiraine's eyebrows to knit very slightly. Peacekeepers? Was that not what the guards in Tanchico were called? It bore investigation, at least.]

I'm afraid you'll find no town guard here to help you, Lady. But if you require assistance, perhaps I can?

[If only to learn more of you.]

Edited 2013-03-16 08:26 (UTC)

... [ She blinks to herself a little, thinking as she stares at the journal. ]

Are Peacekeepers people who stop bullies..? [ Her tone is pretty blank. As if it's difficult to tell the emotion in it. ]

Richard Sharpe knew he shouldn't stare. Not staring was about as basic as common courtesy got, and even the most common of commoners understood that fact. And yet, all the same, he stared. He watched the woman in wild-coloured clothes and he didn't stare because it was odd -- after all, he came from a world that allowed for wigs and elaborate hats and structure. But unless at court or else in a prostitute's dressing room (and Sharpe's been in both), he'd never seen something quite so...elaborate.

A woefully insecure corner of his soul demanded that he stand a little taller and straight a button or two on his dark green uniform. At least it had been recently patched by Miss Long. He had that going for him. And since moving in to Katniss Everdeen's house, he'd had a chance to learn how those dreaded laundry machines worked. Until now, he'd been dousing his things in water from the common kitchen sink back in the old apartment. But he had a hosuemate, now, to make proud.

A housemate who'd also spoken of Peacekeepers and Districts and Tributes. So, when Sharpe heard the strange woman chattering on about those things, he turned fully and began to stare at her a little more intently.

[Effie, this is Kotetsu. He enjoys long walks in the city and wearing the same wardrobe day in and day out. Kotetsu is also entirely unhelpful; can you tell by the look he's flashing the camera? It's like the high school student who wasn't paying attention being asked to read a passage out of a book he forgot to bring.]

Eh?

[Katniss was here as well? Katniss Everdeen?! How was this possible? She'd only just left her to face her fate in the arena! Right at this moment Katniss Everdeen should be playing. PLAYING. Bringing her District glory!

Or not.

For the moment all Effie can think to say is]

Tone, Katniss Everdeen! Tone.

[Well the Guidebook had SAID something about worlds and transport and pish-posh. Effie GOT that. She was working for the Malnosso Organization now, and it was a humiliating demotion.]

And what do you know about this, Spartan? What are your duties here?

[Perhaps this Spartan was one of the Elite, here, and could show her the ropes.]

No Peacekeepers?!

[She gives Max a highly disapproving look.]

So in other words, no order. No wonder they've brought me here.

[Fight? Effie Trinket? Effie Trinket prepares fighters, she doesn't do the actual fighting herself. That is what Tributes are for. And hovercraft gunships. And actual guns. And the Secret Police.]

I'm sorry, but I do not associate with rebels, freedom fighters, or Separatists.

I'm not interested in any town guard.

[Did the Peacekeepers not keep a presence here? What was the world coming to? Well. Mustn't look a gift horse in the mouth.]

What kind of assistance are you offering?

[Max gives her an unimpressed look.]

Hey, I didn't decide on the policing for this place.

Haven't actually needed anything like that, as far as I've seen anyway. It's hardly chaos outside.

And diplomats don't usually have much to do with policing anyway. [He should know. His brother is one.]

[Peacekeepers ARE the bullies. Honestly.]

They stop everyone who poses a threat to the Republic.

Well well well THAT fellow looked quite dashing in that double-breasted brass-buttoned green coat! Green must have been his power color, too.

And those trousers...something very je ne sais quoi about them.

"You stare, sir."

[Goodness could no one SPEAK properly in this world?! She replies brightly:]

It is called "elocution" and one might do well to study it!

Then you're going to be in a world of hurt, because that's probably all that's here, according to your world view.

You're not in your own home, ma'am. You're not even in the same reality. The people you're used to bailing you out? Not here.

Getting shocked isn't my idea of a good study session...

[mumble mumble sigh

Oh well, time to extend a helping hand. Even if she's kinda weird.]

I was sorta' a... 'peacekeeper' back home, if you need some help. You just showed up here, huh?

The heels of his boots snapped together quite smartly, and being addressed directly brought him into a stiff posture indeed. But he didn't stop staring. If anything, he only squinted harder.

"My apologies, ma'am," and he hesitated while reconsidering what her grand costume might say about her station. Sharpe corrected himself: "My lady. But I couldn't help overhearing your -- ah -- demands. Such as they were."

Thank goodness! Yes, I was just transferred here. I am now attached to the Malnosso Organization and work in Public Relations.

[She assumes.]

What District did you support in Panem?

"Trinket. Effie Trinket. Malnosso Public Relations."

It was the only explanation she had for being here after reading through the Guide.

"You think a demand for Peacekeepers odd?"

Oh but she did enjoy stiffness and formality in a man.

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...?

I will contact the Ministry for Security and Happiness as soon as I find the proper stationary. Any small village that is not properly peacekept will soon turn to fire, wrack, and ruin, mark my words!

[She should sound more upset about this and less...chipper.]

His mouth opened and he was about to tell her that -- no, he didn't find the demand all that odd. But his echoic memory ticked over. Malnosso Public Relations. It was enough to prompt him to step back and seemingly defer to the woman with that much more respect. Sharpe doubted such a claim was trustworthy, but he wasn't about to spoil the broth by behaving as though he doubted. It was the first lesson any sergeant learned when he first earned his stripes: yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir.

Or, in this case, ma'am. And a quick enough mind could assume that, given the terminology in common, this ma'am was from that place that Katniss and Clove called Panem. And if she was from that wicked world, he wanted to be careful. He wanted to protect the girl.

"Miss Trinket," he started again -- half-wondering whether the name was indeed somehow familiar. "What little I know of Peacekeepers is enough to tell me that the Malnosso don't use'em. They have their own troops. Called something else."

He sucked a breath in through his teeth. "But if you say you're Malnosso," he offered blithely, "then it must be so."

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