marcus greenstone (philistines) wrote in colosseum, @ 2014-02-09 10:46:00 |
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Kennewick had arrived with drink in hand. It wasn’t such a big deal to be asked to an event for sponsors, even though he kept checking his tablet to see what was going on. Pere had said she would let him know straight away if something happened and he trusted her to and it wasn’t that he didn’t like these events. Girl’s arm still had him worried and he didn’t know if Boy was going to take anymore teeth. The worst part about being a mentor was being out of control even though everyone else in 4 was more than competent enough to handle any situation that would arise. And besides, this was for the tributes, he would be getting more sponsor points and he told himself to relax. It would be fine, well as fine as things ever were in the Games. “What do you think the party’s for?” Kennewick asked Marcus, who had also been invited. However before Marcus could finish the pair of them were whisked away to what looked like a staging area. "--oh! It's true," the green-haired woman crooned, hand curling around Marcus's forearm, clutching it in a vise-like grip as she and a blue-haired man man dragged him and Kennewick behind a set of lustrous curtains. "You do look just like him, Marcus," she continued. "It couldn't be more perfect. You're so pale! And oh, the cheekbones..." her papery, dry hand reached up to caress his face. "Just like who?" Marcus asked irritably, trying to disentangle himself and shooting Kennewick a look of pained irritation. Ribbon-cutting for a theater, galas, orphans, mingling with the Capitol's moneyed elite -- these were all the regular kind of sponsor activities Career victors did, and he hadn't checked twice for what he would be actually doing here upon getting his schedule from Quince. "It's a pity we can't actually take your eye out," the woman sighed, silver lips curling into a pout. "I prefer realism, but your escort wouldn't let us. But I guess we can make do." Marcus froze. The drink slipped from his grasp to smash on the floor; half the room went dark as they forced the eyepatch over his face. A chill ran down Kennewick’s spine and someone took his drink from him before he could drop it and there was a flurry of activity around him. Someone was putting something around his neck, but he was turned to figure out what Marcus was doing. Someone jerked his face back towards them; the expression they got as a reaction was enough for them not to try it again when he turned to look at Marcus once more. They -- no. No this was not going to happen. There was no way, there were so many things wrong with this. “Oh no, your tattoo this isn’t very realistic at all,” a high-pitched voice lamented and he felt warm hands on his back. “Marcus, be sure that no one sees it.” Kennewick could hardly move, but he looked over the woman who was buzzing about him with lilac hair and could just stare at Marcus. "And you'll need spears," another woman added, thrusting one into Marcus's hand and one into Kennewick's. "Feel free to make it gory." Craning his neck, Marcus could see that other stylists had descended upon Kennewick, wielding sponges and makeup that looked realistically blood-like; when they backed away, the silvery gleam of a token -- a necklace -- was visible around the other man's neck. The look they exchanged was part humiliation, part horror, and part resignation. (After all, both had been through much worse.) "Try to stay in character," the woman advised Marcus and Kennewick. "You have to know what I mean -- the doomed muscular bravado of District 4." She fluttered her eyelashes and then turned away, tottering on high heels towards Marcus, where she began to paint tracks of blood and dirt on his face. She stepped back, picking up the champagne flute and beaming at her work. "Don't forget the last words before you close your eyes, Marcus -- 'come join us.'" One lacquered finger reached out to gently trace around the eye patch. "That kid really was a freak, wasn't he?" “No, he wasn’t,” Kennewick murmured as they were moved along. He didn’t know if he meant it or not, but the kid was dead, for fuck’s sake. Some things you just never got used to. --- Royal was really uncertain as to what people had thought when they had made this casting decision. Sure, he had done plenty of reenactments throughout his fifty year span as a victor and he enjoyed them rather thoroughly, but he wasn’t prepared for the role of one Dory Skipjack. Though he was up for the challenge and made sure to get into character for the role. Since later on he learned that he would be doing the fight against Jet and Marlin. Oh, he remembered that fight well. And now, the evening of question was upon him. He had a red wig upon his head, even though he looked rather silly with the facial hair still on. But it was obvious he looked too old and masculine to play the role of Dory, though the show must go on. Besides, given the target audience, it would be worth a good laugh or two. Kennewick was not pleased, this was borderline ridiculous and even if worse things had happened to him it didn’t mean that he was happy about this. It was just too much and he rubbed his face before he looked at his tablet again and then when he looked up he caught sight of someone much older in a red wig. So they hadn’t even gotten Dory to play Dory, but he was a bit pleased. At least - well at least Dory wouldn’t have to see how they had turned the most important moment in her games besides the finale into a joke. “This is fucking ridiculous,” Kennewick muttered just loud enough. He closed his eyes though and reminded himself that it was for the two people in the arena. If he remembered that he would get through this and hopefully no one would ever bring this up again. "Sit over here," the lavender-haired woman was informing Marcus, dragging him to a rock on the side of the stage. "Try to look like you've been hallucinating, but with some gravitas. After all, you're about to die, tribute!" She clapped her hands lightly, beaming at the three of them in the semi-darkness of the stage. "We're so lucky we could get Royal to join you two on stage. It's all for the orphans, of course! What a wonderful opportunity!" "Of course," Marcus said flatly, voice entirely devoid of emotion. "What a wonderful opportunity." Yes, enthralling was the word to say the least. He wasn’t even sure as to why they had thought that. They could get someone more female to play the role of Dory, not him. But still, this was something that wouldn’t end up in his scrapbook, though he was sure that the Capitol would be all over this once news leaked out. “Come over here,” one of the women informed him, dragging Royal to the corner of the stage. “You’re going to need act out of breath if you want to do Miss Skipjack’s role justice. Then again, I guess we will have to make things do.” Unfortunately. So, with his place took and everyone in position the emcee for this event boom. “Children, we are pleased to bring to you a reenactment of an infamous fight in the 55th games. Any closer and it’ll be like you’re in the arena yourselves.” And with that, the curtain rose and the show...well, fight was about to begin. |