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"They make drinks wrong, so I brought my own." Hestia held up the wine bottle with a wide grin, proud of her own resourcefulness. It was nearly impossible to get something at the Capitol bar that wasn't gaggingly sweet, and didn't leave her with an incoming headache only halfway through the night. "It's a white. Do you like white?"
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Holland had borrowed the snake from the Panem Zoo. Her name was Flower Petal -- a stupid name for a snake -- but perhaps it would endear some of the Capitolites in attendance to her. There really was no goal in having her here, rather it felt like it completed her Medusa look. "Do you want to hold her? It's okay, she doesn't bite."
Hestia. Miller. Dahlia. Medea.
Nothing had quite gone to plan tonight. And while her fight or flight response had quelled, she was now steeped in exhaustion, as one running on adrenaline and champagne might be. She was ready to leave, and halfway to doing so -- to finding Slate, to coaxing him away from the festivities (which would have taken very little persuading on her part) -- when, through the glass doors to the patio, she spotted Link, sitting alone outside.
"This certainly looks like an eventful scene," Cress commented as she approached, sliding money with a heeled foot across the synthetic turf, looping around Link's right side. "Not exactly one I would have placed you in, but I do enjoy being surprised." Then she saw Link's expression, a battle-worn reflection of her own. It seemed they had both been having a night. "You know, I think the campiest part of this whole event was that it was supposed to be fun. And yet--" she shrugged, taking a seat on a bench nearby. A moment passed. Fire crackling, fake crickets, the dull roar of the party inside. "Are you alright?"
@linkcache
"Remember when we were talkin' about the ideal afterlife? Yeah, it's you, in that dress, on a saddle -- which, remember, is me -- and...now? All of that, but you're also covered in this shit," Mahlon pointed to his plate, licking icing from his lips from a slice of Slate's cake. He was already a little high, and even if he didn't trust Hestia's kid, his costume had come in clutch tonight. Too many sponsors, and buyers, and bullshit niceties. It felt good to be outside, sitting on some fake-ass log with Cat, looking up at the sky. Mahlon was teasing her, tugging at her wrist while attempting to smudge her mouth with icing, just so he could have an excuse to kiss it off. "Come here, let me put some on you so I can take a proper bite."
@catmillers
Everett was pretty solidly wasted. What had started out as a boring ball had taken a turn somewhere around the fifth shot, and while he and Greer had been sticking close for awhile, he'd somehow last track of her. He wandered out onto the patio, lit by fairy lights, though it had seen better days, as the later it got in the night the more trampled the fake grass looked. Someone had toppled over several of the logs and he went over to right one of them, picking it up before looking to see who was sitting on the log next to it.
"Oh, you," came from his mouth unbidden. Alder. Of course. They had parted ways after a strange conversation the day before, one that had felt almost civil. How could that be? "Weird talking to you yesterday." His thoughts were coming from his mouth without permission or pause.
@alder-reid
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"If I'd known they were gonna provide cake I wouldn't have bothered to bring my own," Slate said, finding himself standing next to the dessert table. "Oh well, ours is better." He loaded up his plate like any good starving orphan would, with plenty of mac and cheese and sausages, and held in his hand several skewers of s'mores kebabs. "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em I guess."
Cress looked beautiful, and he almost wasn't sure what to do with that. He'd never in his life been on anything that could be classified as a date, and he didn't know if he was doing this right. They were dressed to the nines and then some and were definitely getting looks, though whether the looks were because others were wondering what Cress was doing with a nobody or if they were due to the outfits, he wasn't sure.
@trainer-cress
It was nearing close to the end of the night and Mason was feeling exhausted. He was tired, his feet were hurting, and really his outfit was starting to get more and more uncomfortable as the night went on. Deciding it was time to take a small break, Mason had grabbed a piece of cake and a drink before he took a seat at one of the tables. Only getting one bite in, he looked up and saw his brother walking towards him. This was the first time he had seen him all night, except for when he spotted him across the room when he was speaking to Medea, and he was excited that Miller had made time to spend with him. "Hi Miller!" Mason said excitedly, waving at him. "I only grabbed one piece of cake but I could quickly grab you one, too?" The boy offered.
@millerbrick
@trainer-cress
"You're going to have to stop squirming if it's going to sit right."
Bobbi felt oddly in her element here, a cascading dress engulfing Cress' slight frame. A pincushion on her wrist, a small pin between her lips... this was where Bobbi had always felt like she was home.
Of course she had jumped at the opportunity to design a dress for a fellow Victor for the ball. It was an atrocious time, of course - the celebration of the destruction of their lives - but Bobbi knew in her heart that this was where she could make her difference. These people, this kind of money... this is what she wanted to bring back to Eight. And if enough people saw? Saw her designs in action? It could be a big night for everyone involved.
"I'm serious, Cress - stop moving. Your body is... sensational, but I still have to make sure it fits like a glove."
