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анзие (Anz)
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blitzit| P A R T Y H A R D ; o p e n (tribs/gms/victors) Jun 19, 2014 2:05:44 GMT -5

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Post by анзие (Anz) on Jun 19, 2014 2:05:44 GMT -5

[newclass=.LeonKTable]width:350px;height:500px;position:relative; overflow:hidden;[/newclass][newclass=".LeonKTable .LeonKSlider]position:absolute; left:0px; top: 0px; bottom: 0px; -webkit-transition: 0.4s ease-in-out; -moz-transition: 0.4s ease-in-out; -o-transition: 0.4s ease-in-out; -webkit-transition-delay: 0.7s; -moz-transition-delay: 0.7s; -o-transition-delay: 0.7s;[/newclass][newclass=.LeonKTable:hover .LeonKSlider]left:-350px;-webkit-transition:0.6s all ease-in-out; -moz-transition:0.6s all ease-in-out; -o-transition: all ease-in-out;[/newclass][newclass=.LeonKScrolly]background:none;[/newclass][newclass=.LeonKScrolly ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]border-radius: 5px; background-color:transparent!important;[/newclass][newclass=.LeonKScrolly ::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 1px;[/newclass][newclass=.LeonKScrolly ::-webkit-scrollbar-track] width:1px; background-color: #D3E2B6;border-radius: 5px;[/newclass][googlefont="Mr De Haviland:400"]

[attr="class","LeonKTable"]

the sea wants to kiss the golden shore

[attr="class","LeonKScrolly"]

As days go by Leon recognizes the kind of silence he used to find back home blanketing the twenty-four tributes. (Except this isn't home, so he shouldn't feel the chill as tributes instinctively retreat from one another, barricading themselves behind walls he usually finds around himself.) It's dark and depressing and Leon hates it (hates the fact that not a day ago he was preparing to trap all twenty-two tributes in a massive net with Nocturne, hates that before it he and Charlie had been easily jabbing each other with pointy elbows and pointier words, and he wants what might be the last few days of his life to be happier than it is.)

So he plots and plans and ends up dropping notes beside tributes, sliding them under their doors, sticking them in tribute's pants (to be fair it was only one tribute, and Darius Radler didn't even seem to notice; Leon ended up sliding one under his door just in case the other boy didn't realize he had a papery buddy down there). On the note was a simple scrawl asking each tribute to join him in the lunch hall at a specific time (seven in the evening, not too early that tributes will be stinking up the room from sparring, not too late that the mentors and escorts will go bat-shit over their precious darlings losing sleep.

To be perfectly honest, Leon could care less about sleep right now).

He ropes Sonja into helping him decorate the lunch hall, and pesters the food-delivery machine-thing to give him a whole large cake (chocolate, plain but delicious). He's pretty sure Owen, Aelia and Charlie wonder where he darted off to after lunch, but they don't question it, at least. Good thing too, because he doesn't really have time for questions.

When seven rolls around and tributes start to filter into the dining hall with a range of expressions, Leon rubs his hands together nervously and glances at Sonja. Guess I owe them an explanation. As soon as enough people are in to consider it a crowd, Leon clears his throat. "Hi," he says, voice ringing clear through the hall. "Well, um. I'm Leon from district four, some of you already knew that. I was thinking that this whole... Games thing was a little. Dark, you know? And I figured we needed some lightening up." He scans the room for Siren, recalling the night of lightening up on the train. A smile pulls at his mouth. "Some of you might think this is a stupid idea, but I think it'll help us all, in the long run."

He strides over to the drinks table and picks up a glass of juice, lifting it to toast his fellow tributes (and it looked like the mentors had decided to drop by, too). "If you have something to perform, or say to everyone... the stage is yours. Happy Hunger Games... and may the odds be ever in your favor."

the sunlight warms your skin

[attr="class","LeonKSlider"]

Blaise Napollyon Krigel

your heart is on my sleeve

Any posting order, you may jump in whenever as long as you don't double-post. Fire away, tribs. Fire away.

Last Edit: Jun 19, 2014 2:07:54 GMT -5 by анзие (Anz)

[ retro gm ] angel lí ✨ made this. she is my spirit animal.

basic table guide

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blitzit| P A R T Y H A R D ; o p e n (tribs/gms/victors) Jun 19, 2014 11:46:23 GMT -5

Quote

Post by gm bourgeois decadence [aya] on Jun 19, 2014 11:46:23 GMT -5

Cowboy Dan Johnwayne

take a little walk
when the worst is to come

Had Dan Johnwayne known that the small handwritten note that he'd found under his door, requesting his presence in the dining hall at seven, had been a mass invitation, likely he wouldn't have bothered to show his craggy face. As it was, however, he'd thought the note was one of Jem's not-so-sly tactics to get the District Two boy to show a bit more skin; as such, Dan found himself in a crowd of tributes, listening to the blonde chum bucket from Four spew nonsense about how the Games needed some 'lightening up.'

He rolled his steely eyes so hard at the notion that it physically hurt him. And he couldn't suppress a snort when the little whelk acknowledged that it was a stupid idea. Yeah, no shit. It was when he suggested that "it'll help us all, in the long run" that Dan could not contain himself anymore.

A little too loudly, he found himself murmuring, "Any run longer than a week and we'll all be dead or maimed." No exceptions. Whether or not the District Four had heard Dan's flippant remark, he could not say, but the speaker pressed on, inviting the other tributes to speak or perform. Like they were at some goddamn talent show.

Dan almost stormed out of the room right then, outraged by the mere prospect of it, but it occurred to him that he had fuck all to do outside of those doors. Besides, with so many tributes packed into such a small place, what better opportunity did he have to intimidate the bulk of them at once. He sulked over to the table of drinks, growing cross when it occurred to him that there was no way the Capitol would authorize them anything with a significant alcohol content. That was probably a bad idea, anyhow. He snatched up a glass of water, found a seat, and glared over it, not trying very hard not to be hateful.

{fuck everything}

{characters}

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stranded in "beach" "city"
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blitzit| P A R T Y H A R D ; o p e n (tribs/gms/victors) Jun 19, 2014 12:13:44 GMT -5

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Post by admin kay on Jun 19, 2014 12:13:44 GMT -5

None of us are promised to see tomorrow, and what we do is ours to choose
Forget about the sunrise, fight the sleep in your eyes

News traveled fast anywhere in Panem, most especially in the Capitol. The truth was that the whisper of a party didn't need to travel anywhere at all. The announcement of it rang simultaneously through the security footage of the Training Center, alerting both peons and the Gamemakers at once. Glamour watched Leon Krigel make his preparations. It wasn't nearly the affair he had hoped it would be - the one he could throw with his pinky finger - but it would do. Glamour snapped his fingers twice to call on his styling team, and together they fashioned him a new outfit from various ones he'd worn over the last two weeks of training. Studs from a jacket, paisley pattern from a shirt, and leather. Leather everywhere.

In the end, the studs lined the sides of his tight-fit jeans, the paisley turned into a scarf tie, and the leather had been stitched roughly together to form a coat that stretched from his wrists, to his shoulders, and down to his high-heeled boots. It had no buttons, no zippers, no closures of any kind. It hung open, revealing his smooth-as-a-baby's-bottom chest. "Let's not forget the most important part," he said, with a cackle.

The pink glitter adorning his hat stole the fluorescents, creating a spotlight of sorts as Glamour paraded into the Dining Hall. He'd heard the echo of Leon's speech in his earpiece, all the more grateful that someone in his arena would be articulate. It was so damned hard to string a story together when the tributes wouldn't talk to one another. He tipped his glittery stetson to the District Four boy first. "Marvelous, marvelous. You just keep those odds for yourself." But he wasn't here to see Leon. There was something too young, too straight-as-an-arrow about him to entice Glamour. Oh, he did enjoy a challenge. But not one so unwilling.

It wasn't hard to find the only real Cowboy in the room. He made his approach painfully obvious, catwalk taking him in strides. He didn't bother to occupy the seat across from Dan Johnwayne. Instead, he leaned his hip against the table, dropping a few fingers into the surface to keep him upright in his heels. "You were a little off your mark," he purred, running his index finger down his sternum until it hit the welt that Dan had made days earlier. "Heart's to the left. I think you'd know that, given all your scars." Glamour smirked. "Oh yes, we had cameras installed on the roof sometime ago. But don't worry. Your secret's safe with me."

Oh so safe, until just the right moment. He glanced towards the other tributes, just beginning to trickle in. "Is that who you're waiting for? You look positively bored. Score like that, I don't see how anyone could be so morose." He licked his lips, wetting the purple paint, before locking his gaze with Dan's. "What's it going to take to turn that frown upside down?"

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blitzit| P A R T Y H A R D ; o p e n (tribs/gms/victors) Jun 19, 2014 14:08:24 GMT -5

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Post by hesper hart 🐺 d9f on Jun 19, 2014 14:08:24 GMT -5

gavin {♔} barker

The idea of a party seemed both ridiculous and genius at the same time. Sure, I was willingly parading myself into a room full of soon-to-be corpses and people that couldn't wait to watch it happen, but this was as good of a chance as any for me to prove myself to the others, maybe establish a relationship with a few of them. Who knew, maybe it would keep their blade pointed at someone else's throat, at least for a little while.

I walked in a bit early, a few petty decorations and even fewer people already claiming seats. I noticed Dan first, his huge form hanging over the table he was sitting at like the pine trees back home, their ample trunks bending in the wind, branches reaching forward to grasp what they could. I missed the forest more than most of anything since I volunteered. In fact, it came second only to Rowan. Just mentioning her name brought a familiar shock to my lips, where only once, only for a second, her own lingered.

I considered sitting by Dan, but he seemed to already be enjoying the company of Glamour Kinkade. I could hardly blame him. Honestly, I probably would have been the first to talk to the rhinestone-cowboy that stood so proudly in front of the boy from Two if I had the chance, and I would get that chance eventually, but for now I decided to grab a drink and take a seat, and hope that Tiger would come in and help pass the time.

^{I AM A GARDEN OF BLACK AND RED AGONIES}

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blitzit| P A R T Y H A R D ; o p e n (tribs/gms/victors) Jun 19, 2014 14:32:31 GMT -5

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Post by Sage on Jun 19, 2014 14:32:31 GMT -5

Fuck that, I can do anything

Seven in the evening You read the small note tucked carefully under your door in the training center. A tribute party perhaps. Your eyes light up in delight, perhaps you could make some allies here, not that you'd had trouble with allies, two girls almost falling over themselves to be your allies but still, it was never a bad thing to have connections, especially in the arena where an ally or at least a truce could be the difference between life and death. You looked at yourself in the mirror, smiling your cocky grin before fingering through your wardrobe to see if you had anything to wear that was decent. I could always go shirtless but then again, don't want to draw too much attention to myself

After a few moments, you finally decided on a tight fitting orange shirt and black cargo pants, no use in really dressing up although, you could probably get away with painting on your tiger stripes like you did back home. Your eyes searched for anything that could work as black paint and finally, you settled on black eyeliner (Why the hell they'd leave black eyeliner in your room was beyond you but anyways). Carefully, you drew on some tiger stripes over your face, even giving yourself whiskers for an added touch. Staring back into the mirror, you grinned, feeling fierce.

Checking the hallways, you made sure that nobody would see you before slipping out of your room and to the crystal elevator. You took it down to the gym where you could already see some of the other tributes had gathered and stopped dead in your tracks. Was that Glamour Kinkaid, the head game maker for these games? What the hell was he doing here? You had never actually met the guy but as the head game maker, you knew that he controlled who lived and who died basically. He could make your life a living hell in the arena.

You stare for a few moments before realizing that this is a talent show, like they had last year, at least, you'd assumed they'd had one last year because people seemed to know each others talents fairly well during the games. You could perform but what could you do? You weren't super strong however, you were flexible like a cat, perhaps, you could fit yourself into a small space. Plastering a grin on your face, you stalk up to the stage, looking down at the audience. "Hello fellow tributes, game makers and mentors. I am Jix as most of you probably know and I will blow your mind with the things I can do" you smile, your eyes going to Glamour. If you could impress him, perhaps you had a shot at winning. "First, I need a small box, something that should be almost impossible for someone of my size to fit into." you say, your voice taking on the purr of a cat.

An avox comes forward with the box you've asked for and you smile at him, looking at the box. it was small, just as you'd asked but you knew that you could bend your body to fit. You twisted your body and bent it until you'd managed to fit your entire 6'3" frame into it and flashed the game maker a devilish smile. You were not what you seemed and you would not be underestimated.

Does my heart on my fist take you by surprise fighter?

template by anzie

Last Edit: Jun 19, 2014 14:33:13 GMT -5 by Sage

Ani's Performers
Elegant: oh darling do you really think I was 'gone' gone?

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Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

blitzit| P A R T Y H A R D ; o p e n (tribs/gms/victors) Jun 19, 2014 18:31:42 GMT -5

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Post by Loony on Jun 19, 2014 18:31:42 GMT -5

everyone's

a

rager

The note was inconspicuous, simply a white sheet of paper lying on the floor. The instructions were simple, and spoke of a party at seven. There wasn't much to it, and I liked its simplicity. I think briefly about who it could be, maybe Jacinda, or May. They were the only people who I had a big enough of an impact on to result in a invitation like this. There is a possibility of it being a cruel trick of the careers, in an attempt to lure us into a trap. My steps almost falter at that thought, but the elevator door closes with a thunk and sends me down to the training center.

When I see the boy from 2, Cowboy Dave, or something, I panic. Of course it's a fucking trap, and you fell for it. But the appearance of a gamemaker next to him puts my mind at ease. Even an idiot like this guy wouldn't dare break the sacred rules in front of some one powerful like that. Even so, I take a wide arc around them, as Dave is still an idiot and the gamemaker's eyes speak of lust and deceit.

I arrive to the boy from 4 admitting to setting up this little get together, to lighten the mood. With that I almost leave, because at this point of the week, "lightening the mood" is something that I have no interest in doing. Why would I want to lighten the mood in the days before my death? But the thought that my friends could be somewhere nearby is what keeps me firmly planted in my seat. I want to talk to them before we get into the arena, to make some last second decisions and say goo-byes in case I don't see them.

While waiting I spot a table supporting a few bottles of what looks like champagne. Why should I never get the pleasure of trying alcohol before my death? Quietly I grab a bottle and head to the men's room. Once there I turn on the faucet to cover the sound of the bottle being opened. With a smile I take my first sip... and almost gag. There are a million bubbles bursting in my mouth, and the fizz is almost unbearable. I let out a small cough before forcing down another sip. Better, but still not enjoyable. I head outside gripping my bottle tightly, and continue my search for my friends, as the boy from 12 fits into a scary small box. Finally, the sips of bubbles become manageable, and I begin to feel slightly light headed.

Cadman

GErtz

District 3

434

John-Alan Slachta

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Last Edit: Jun 19, 2014 18:32:28 GMT -5 by Loony

Music is a moral law.

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анзие (Anz)
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blitzit| P A R T Y H A R D ; o p e n (tribs/gms/victors) Jun 20, 2014 10:24:25 GMT -5

Quote

Post by анзие (Anz) on Jun 20, 2014 10:24:25 GMT -5

[newclass=.LeonKTable]width:350px;height:500px;position:relative; overflow:hidden;[/newclass][newclass=".LeonKTable .LeonKSlider]position:absolute; left:0px; top: 0px; bottom: 0px; -webkit-transition: 0.4s ease-in-out; -moz-transition: 0.4s ease-in-out; -o-transition: 0.4s ease-in-out; -webkit-transition-delay: 0.7s; -moz-transition-delay: 0.7s; -o-transition-delay: 0.7s;[/newclass][newclass=.LeonKTable:hover .LeonKSlider]left:-350px;-webkit-transition:0.6s all ease-in-out; -moz-transition:0.6s all ease-in-out; -o-transition: all ease-in-out;[/newclass][newclass=.LeonKScrolly]background:none;[/newclass][newclass=.LeonKScrolly ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]border-radius: 5px; background-color:transparent!important;[/newclass][newclass=.LeonKScrolly ::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 1px;[/newclass][newclass=.LeonKScrolly ::-webkit-scrollbar-track] width:1px; background-color: #D3E2B6;border-radius: 5px;[/newclass][googlefont="Mr De Haviland:400"]

[attr="class","LeonKTable"]

the sea wants to kiss the golden shore

[attr="class","LeonKScrolly"]

Leon doesn't plan on taking center stage again anytime soon, so he makes himself comfortable as the nearby wallflower - he's all set with the drink in his hand. Non-alcoholic, of course, because he'll be damned if the fucking Gamemakers will let them stumble around the arena hungover. Of course they'd avoid that. It'll take all the Capitol's fun out of things, he thinks wryly.

Speaking of the 'fucking Gamemakers', it looks like one of them - and for some reason this one has stuck to Leon's head like some kind of memory leech or something - has decided to crash their party. Leon can't help but eye the blue-clad man somewhat hatefully - if it wasn't for them, he wouldn't be here.

Though of course they'd say it differently - that if it wasn't for our rebellion, we wouldn't be here. Wonder if it's occurred to them that we weren't even alive when that happened.

Leon watches the Gamemaker put his moves on... Is that Johnwayne? Leon's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he watches the scene with a tad more interest. Who would have thought, he mused, twirling the stem of his glass between his fingers. I wouldn't have pegged him as someone interested in the bulkier sex. Then his lips twitch up and Leon shakes his head ruefully. I guess many people wouldn't have pegged me as that, either.

Out of the corner of his eye he notices Jix Everwild folding himself into a tiny box. Leon tilts his head to watch. Huh. Could be useful in getting out of tight places... or getting into them. He shakes his head again. This is meant to be de-stressing... thinking about strategy won't exactly help anything.

Huffing a breath, Leon scans the room for Owen - but of course the other boy is nowhere to be seen. Neither is Charlie, nor Aelia, for that matter. Jeez, thanks for the support, guys, he thinks wryly. Then, Whatever. I'll talk to someone else.

He spots Gavin Barker nearby and pushes off the wall with a healthy interest in pursuing conversation. "Hey," Leon says when he's close enough. "Gavin Barker, right?"

the sunlight warms your skin

[attr="class","LeonKSlider"]

Blaise Napollyon Krigel

your heart is on my sleeve

[ retro gm ] angel lí ✨ made this. she is my spirit animal.

basic table guide

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blitzit| P A R T Y H A R D ; o p e n (tribs/gms/victors) Jun 20, 2014 13:54:42 GMT -5

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Post by Deleted on Jun 20, 2014 13:54:42 GMT -5

owen {♔} bowers-fox

To say that I’m out of my element in the crowded room is an understatement. Most of the faces that drift about the room don’t have a name to match, the only exceptions being Gavin and Leon. First instinct sends me walking towards the latter, but before I can get to him he begins his speech, so I hang back and lean against the wall. He ends his drawl with that dreaded phrase, and I all but roll my eyes at him as he makes his way around the room.

My focus on Leon is broken by sarcastic words flying across the room. The boy that they’ve come from is none other than Dan, the boy from District Two who had received the highest score of the bunch. My eight was something I was proud of, especially considering what I did to earn it. However, the room soon falls silent again, so I continue my advance to Leon, only stopping when I see him caught in conversation with Gavin. I find a seat nearby and turn my attention from the pair to the boy who introduces himself as Jix (he’s from Twelve, isn’t he?). My thoughts range from confusion to being impressed in the slightest.

I tap my fingers impatiently on the table, attempting to catch Leon’s gaze so that he can save me from the awkwardness I’ve so easily driven myself into. However, he seems consumed with Gavin for the moment, so I take a drink from my glass and yawn, eager to find someone—anyone to amuse myself with (even if that someone happens to be Charlotte).

Last Edit: Jun 20, 2014 19:21:04 GMT -5 by Deleted

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blitzit| P A R T Y H A R D ; o p e n (tribs/gms/victors) Jun 20, 2014 14:52:45 GMT -5

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Post by Deleted on Jun 20, 2014 14:52:45 GMT -5

charlotte {♔} brownings

The immediate reaction of receiving an invitation from Leon Krigel himself was to throw it away of course, no way in fucking hell was she attending some gaudy get together with nearly twenty people she had never even thought of talking to, nor wished to. Plus, watching a scowl grow on that delicate face was a sure fire way to curl the corners of her's, but her inner-Owen convinced her to be a bore and crumple it into her right pocket (she still shot out some select words to make her father blush in his grave, but it was her life, for at least the next few days.) Despite her reluctance to attend the party, deep down her mind kept flipping back onto the note and wavered between skipping or not. Of course she wasn't getting much out of it, but at the very least she could get free food from it, so it wouldn't be a complete waste of time.

However, like most things the capitol tried to offer, it failed to live up to what she thought the minimum to be; some tacky festive lights strung up and people, people, scattered everywhere, but at least the food selection seemed to be decent, the only thing redeeming this shit hole. Bulk of the crowd looked like a bore as well- that district six lady beaming in the corner, Leon being distracted by some guy who obviously doesn't understand what a haircut is, even talking to Jem seemed like a decent idea except he was fuck knows where and he probably loathed her existence. Some idiot was busy fitting himself into a box, which she nearly choked on just by thinking about, what a joke, but a more interesting matter was the epitome of gaudy wallowing near split-tongue; Glamour Kincade. Irresistible chuckles hiccuping through her throat, what an even bigger joke, how does somebody even put on that much leather without dying a little inside.

Catching an eyesight of Owen sitting by himself however, forced her eyebrows into an arch before drawing her closer to the smart ass and catching his face under the crook of her left arm, struggle strangle but more friendly. A blunt "Hey Foxes," leaving through her mouth before following back into the seat right of him.

"Nearly broke my heart, watching you sit alone," the phrase coming out more wholehearted than she wished leaving her slightly unimpressed with herself, but hell, at least she wasn't gonna be stuck wallowing in food for the entire time; more or less a better decision.

Last Edit: Jun 20, 2014 17:06:50 GMT -5 by Deleted

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blitzit| P A R T Y H A R D ; o p e n (tribs/gms/victors) Jun 21, 2014 0:06:19 GMT -5

Quote

Post by L△LIA on Jun 21, 2014 0:06:19 GMT -5

Nocturne Vargas does not need a reason to crash a party. Invitation or not, he'd be there. After all, this is what he does: wheedling his way into any kind of event that promises to fill the blank space within his head with memories — whether they're his own or someone else's. This time around, the slip of paper tucked beneath his door actually has his name written across it and it's enough to widen his already perpetual grin.

Lepitera insisted that, if he absolutely must wear the fur coat he's been cheekily sporting since the train ride here, then he would trade in the tiara he'd discovered the same day for something she deemed more appropriate. He requested green patent leather dress shoes and she countered with a brocade vest. The face he responded with was less of a no and more of a I'll be taking my tiara back now, so his stylist immediately broadened her horizons. Somewhere between watch fobs and sequined bustles, the two of them somehow settled on a rather nondescript pair of sunglasses. Mostly, Nocturne got bored with goading her and she surrendered any hope for him leaving the District Nine suite as anything more than fashionably late. It was almost like compromise.

By the time he walks into the party — looking more than a little conspicuous — the festivities are already underway and he doesn't bother searching around for a familiar face, more at ease with strangers than anyone else in the room. Slipping into the nearest circle of Tributes, as if he'd been there the whole time, he doesn't bat an eyelash as he slips his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose just enough to be something of a smart-aleck as he makes eye contact with the person next to him. "I was expecting more..." Trailing off, the left corner of his lips hitches itself up into a crooked smirk. "Bravado."

Last Edit: Jun 21, 2014 0:08:08 GMT -5 by L△LIA