"Ah, Alder Reid,” Maverick said, sidling up to Alder’s side, taking on a slightly nasally tone, the one they used to imitate Capitolites, “are you dressed as a god or a monster tonight?” He was hardly feeling in the mood for joking around, but the drinks helped, and the fact that Aspen was still alive. Still, things were a bit grim, inside and out of the Arena, and maybe a little fun wouldn’t go amiss.

@alder-reid​

It was an assumption; a stupid one at that, but Pluto tended to trust her gut and the mental record she kept in regard to her darling cousin’s behavior. She had gone back to the tower, excusing herself briefly making veiled statement that she needed to ensure that her daughter had made it home okay. She was really checking up on Micra. A knock on her door was all it took, but she was concerned, so she let herself in. “Sweetheart, are you home?” Pluto called out as she walked in.

@micradupont​

“Which one of you bastards punched my son?!” she demanded, marching up to the bar, eyes flashing and spitting fire. Slate wasn’t innocent-- of course-- but she’d deal with that later. “I don’t care that the Arena is exploding, nobody hurts my kids!”

Emilia glanced up at one of the viewing screens at the sound of a rumbling and shaking in the arena. "I called it." When the earthquake had happened the day before, she'd felt it had something to do with the smoking mountain in the distance.

His life had completely fallen apart in a matter of 24 hours. Selene had set it all up, set every part in motion, pulled the rug out inch by inch, so slow he didn’t even know it was happening. Today was the final yank, sending him tumbling to the cold, hard floor. He was broke. He was a nobody. He was publicly ruined now, thanks to Selene. He took a deep drink from the cocktail he knew he couldn’t afford, and knew he’d have many more of them before the night was over too. Who fucking cared, what was a little debt on top of this shit show? He slumped over a little further when Everett joined him, staring at the syrupy dregs at the bottom of his glass. “Here to rub it in?”

@everettlance​

She’d ordered a drink based solely on the fact it had wine in the title. Wine she could get behind with her whole heart, but when it’d been handed to her and it was black, she thought surely that was just a play on her by her eyes and the fact it was so dark in this room. A sip later confirmed that by the gods, it was not just wine. “Ugh, this tastes like the nasty candies my grandmother always had.” She muttered, pushing it back. 

Slate was glad that Twelve’s stylist had had some time left over after prepping everyone else, and had been able to put some makeup on him. Actually, more than some -- quite a lot of makeup. He wasn’t drinking tonight, but rather, putting all his energy into pretending that he had not gotten beaten up by a drunk Capitolite and had Carol Eyre of all people come to his rescue.

“Weather’s nice tonight,” he quipped, sipping at his extra-virgin tea.

“I hope you’ve dropped the ridiculous notion you approached me with at the last ball,” Colette said, placing her skull carefully on the table between the two of them. She was pleasantly buzzed, not just on the Nectar and Ambrosia drink, but on the experience of visiting the Arena.

@caroleyre​

Everett was not having a good time. And he was doing everyone around him the good service of not pretending to have a good time. He stood beside a candelabra in the monsters room, watching as the flame flickered first blue then green then red. He hadn’t wanted to be in attendance, was only here because the word mandatory was not thrown around lightly, and when he sensed a presence beside him, he said, “Cool tech they have here,” his tone sarcastic enough that surely it could be sensed from across the room.

@plutodosimetre​

“Where’ve you been all night?” Lilith questioned as she approached the other woman with a drink in each hand, one for herself and one for the blonde. “For you.” She smiled, offering one of the drinks to Pluto.

@nothing-is-safe​

She pulled a chair out at the table he sat at and placed herself into the chair with an air of poise before leaning forward, elbows placed on the table top and looking at the elder mentor. “How bad do you think that ash is for their lungs?”

“Is that any good?” She peered at Moxie’s drink, a little jealous. She didn’t enjoy the balls, exactly, but overly sweet cocktails and the sense of letting go a little was more critical to her surviving the Games than she’d initially realized. Worse, she’d been struck with an intense craving for pickles over the last hour, and none were able to be found despite the mountains of food and servers in both rooms. “Maybe they’d make a virgin one?”

@moxiepitlock​

@treelish

Emilia couldn’t rid herself of the uneasy feeling she got any time she looked at the doorway leading into the next room. But she’d been told that was the only place a bar resided and so she’d been left with a dilemma. She had stared at the doorway for several moments before casting a forlorn look around the room. Her gaze landed on Addy and she hesitated a moment before moving towards the younger woman. She wasn’t sure she wanted to ask a favor of Addy, especially one that was the result of such a irrational fear, or one that wasn’t absolutely necessary. “Hey Addy,” she spoke softly, rady to let the girl say no and let it be, “can I ask you a favor. You can completely say no.” She hated that the avoxes had little say in what they could or couldn’t do and didn’t want to exacberate that. 

“Hello,” Gamma greeted, holding out a drink that she’d just been passed thoughtlessly by an Avox, who seemed to see empty hands and automatically fill them. She’d been too saddened by the sight to reject, but she wasn’t interested in drinking, so she offered it to the next person who neared and didn’t look absolutely horrible to talk to. She was keeping an eye on Jeannie-- and Everett-- but she did find herself a little more relaxed at this ball, knowing what to expect now. And she’d learned that, just maybe, not everyone in the Tower was awful either. “Do you want this? It’s too... Well, alcoholic, but I’d also add it’s too blue for my taste.”

@nothing-is-safe​

“What are the sponsors saying?” He was anxious after Thea’s death the night before that, somehow, the story about the murder was going to wrap tighter around Aspen and make things even worse. It took very little for the Capitolites to run away with theories, and the whole team had been working tirelessly to try to spin a version where Aspen wasn’t even involved. “All of mine have brought up the... you know.” He didn’t even want to say it. He took a rather large pull from his drink, eyes darting around nervously.

@ashchane​

“Hey,” Slate said, tapping the woman who was dressed like a nurse on the shoulder. “Either you grossly misinterpreted the theme or you are an actual nurse. And if you are... I have a question. Say somebody got the shit beat out of them, and their face is swollen.” Which she could clearly tell with one look that Slate’s was. “What’s the uh, what’s the fix there?”

@micradupont​