Panem Events (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thecircus2015-01-28 08:53 pm
etcircenses) wrote in thecircus2015-01-28 08:53 pm
Entry tags:
TEST DRIVE MEME
Welcome to Panem. You have been selected to participate in the 75th Annual Hunger Games!
Premise: Something has gone a bit wrong with the device, and it's pulling in more people than the Capitol had planned. Extras, doubles, or even the same exact version of someone already pulled into Panem, with or without their memories! It's a mess. But somebody has to clean it up. And what better way to do so than to have a televised death-match!?
This Arena is designed to be a small mock arena not all that dissimilar to the in-game arenas we run here at The Games. Our hope is to give new and prospective players a place to get their feet wet, and get a feel for the fun (and bloody) mess that goes on around here. This meme is open to anyone and everyone who would like to play. Current cast members, veteran and new, as well as anyone just wanting top drop in and have some fun!
How To Play.
Current cast members - you may tag into this arena in any way they choose. Even cast members who aren't or are no longer tributes. Since this meme is taking place between Arenas 12 and 13, you may play your character as though they have been sent into this arena after Arena 12, CR and in-game history intact. OR. You may play your character as having a clean slate; as though this is their very first Hunger Games. Or, at least the first one they can remember.
This meme may not count for in-game CR because it will not be considered as having actually happened, plot-wise.
Guests - welcome to Panem. This is your first time here. Your first Hunger Games. Run for the Cornucopia. Hide in a corner and cry. We don't care. Go crazy. Have fun. Make new friends. Profit.
***An important side note, as it is within the confines of the Area in-game, all powers are lessened/nullified to bring any character down to a vincible level. (I.E. Make more magical/super-powered characters easier to actually kill for a normal person).
The Arena.
Below, you will find a description of the setting for this arena as well as a few details regarding weapons, supplies and hazards.
Setting.
The sky above is a vivid and clear blue and the air is cool and thin; crisp and sharp with the distinctive smell of autumn. In the distance, you can see the peaks of tall purple mountains capped with fresh white snow but they are still many long miles from where you are.
To some, the immediate surroundings may seem slightly familiar, to others it is a strange place filled with peculiar and unstable structures scattered across roughly a square mile of clearly unmaintained concrete pathways. You are in an amusement park. Or what must have been one at some point in time. The rotted out husk of what once had been a Ferris wheel, and the weather-worn shells of old vendor stalls are the nearest things in sight. Some of their signs are even still legible; faded paint having not chipped off entirely. "Cotton Candy", "Win A Prize!" "Buy Ride Tickets Here"
You have been outfitted in a pair of heavy cotton denim jeans, a pair of high-topped black athletic shoes, a form-fitting grey long-sleeved nylon-blend undershirt and a heavier cotton shirt of the same colour to wear over the top, as well as a dark grey windbreaker with reflective white edging.
Shelter here is scarce but available. There are three brick buildings found throughout the park with restively intact roofs, all of them were once public restrooms that also served as tornado shelters. The plumbing in these buildings have long since been unusable. Ruptured pipes have damaged interior walls and floors. Several pools have formed in the lower areas of the ruined floors and the stagnate water is ripe with bacteria and grime. The southern-most building also has a very impressive infestation of rats.
Vendor and food stalls as well as storage and control sheds were not made quite of the same caliber as the restroom facilities, and though they are more frequent, they are also significantly less insulated. Though the wood from these places would be easy enough to break off and turn into firewood if you can find something to start a flame with.
Another key landmark is the sizable lake to the west of the park, man-made and stagnant, there is a peculiar odor that comes off the water if the wind is blowing the wrong way. A green and murky colour, the almost the entire surface of the water is coated in a thick layer of algae and bacteria. Though you can easily see from one shore to the next, the lake is deep and likely teeming with life below. Most of it... probably unpleasant.
Aside from the overgrowth of weeds that have begun to break through the concrete and twist around the bars of the rusted-out rides, there is very little vegetation here. A few thin trees have clung to life in their broken planters, and the boundaries of the park are thick with waist-high grasses, brown and dead in the near-winter of this place. In fact, the only real thing that seems to be thriving here is the algae floating upon the surface of the lake.
Supplies.
The Cornucopia is your first, most important resource. Around it are scattered the available resources:
Weapons:
-steel-tipped leather bull whip
-crowbar
-throwing axe
-six-inch serrated hunting knife
Equipment:
-day-glow orange backpacks containing the following items:
waterproof matches, high-tensile metal chord (12 feet), wool gloves, iodine
-small crate labeled "apples"
-chords of nylon rope
-metal quart-sized container presumably full of water
-small white plastic, containing the following items:
insect repellant, two strips of beef jerky, silver (reflective) emergency blanket
**IMPORTANT NOTE!!!!
Since this is a meme, we are going to allow each character the pick of ONE weapon and ONE equipment item, if you believe that your character would risk running for the cornucopia. Just remember. These are high demand items and we rather encourage you to fight over them ;) So long as you all remain civilized about it, of course. If things get out of hand, a mod will step in. Have fun with it, but be realistic too.
Immediate Hazards.
-The Cold. During the day temperatures are cool, but bearable. However, as soon as the sun drops behind the mountains, the temperatures plummet dramatically, lingering well below freezing until mid-morning.
-Debris. Broken glass, rusted metal, broken concrete, rotten wood. This place has been falling apart for years and you weren't given a tetanus shot before you came here.
-Insects. The stagnant lake is a ripe breeding ground for an alarming amount of insects. From giant dragon flies to tiny biting gnats, prepare yourself for a bite or two. Just hope nothing too nasty sinks it's teeth into you. You may not enjoy the results.
-The Water. Easy to acquire but bad to drink. Maybe you should pray for a rainstorm...
Wildlife.
**Cyprinus Acidus. These large bottom-feeding fish are abundant in the lake and though not recommended to consume raw, if cooked properly, could be eaten.
**Loxosceles reclusa granda. Aggressive and unnervingly large brown spiders native to the area and love to lurk in dark corners. Their bites are incredibly poisonous and will begin to rot away the surrounding flesh if not treated promptly.
**Rattus norvegicus. The common rat. Edible if cooked. Known to be carriers of diseases. (Especially if they were put here to do just that...)
Foodstuffs.
The aforementioned animals and some of the algae from lake are the only sources of food here, and they are not particularly good ones at that. Food and water are not easy to come by in the arena and will likely make for a miserable time for many.
As always, we here at The Games would like to wish you a very happy Hunger Games!
May the odds be ever in your favor.
Premise: Something has gone a bit wrong with the device, and it's pulling in more people than the Capitol had planned. Extras, doubles, or even the same exact version of someone already pulled into Panem, with or without their memories! It's a mess. But somebody has to clean it up. And what better way to do so than to have a televised death-match!?
This Arena is designed to be a small mock arena not all that dissimilar to the in-game arenas we run here at The Games. Our hope is to give new and prospective players a place to get their feet wet, and get a feel for the fun (and bloody) mess that goes on around here. This meme is open to anyone and everyone who would like to play. Current cast members, veteran and new, as well as anyone just wanting top drop in and have some fun!
How To Play.
Current cast members - you may tag into this arena in any way they choose. Even cast members who aren't or are no longer tributes. Since this meme is taking place between Arenas 12 and 13, you may play your character as though they have been sent into this arena after Arena 12, CR and in-game history intact. OR. You may play your character as having a clean slate; as though this is their very first Hunger Games. Or, at least the first one they can remember.
This meme may not count for in-game CR because it will not be considered as having actually happened, plot-wise.
Guests - welcome to Panem. This is your first time here. Your first Hunger Games. Run for the Cornucopia. Hide in a corner and cry. We don't care. Go crazy. Have fun. Make new friends. Profit.
***An important side note, as it is within the confines of the Area in-game, all powers are lessened/nullified to bring any character down to a vincible level. (I.E. Make more magical/super-powered characters easier to actually kill for a normal person).
The Arena.
Below, you will find a description of the setting for this arena as well as a few details regarding weapons, supplies and hazards.
Setting.
The sky above is a vivid and clear blue and the air is cool and thin; crisp and sharp with the distinctive smell of autumn. In the distance, you can see the peaks of tall purple mountains capped with fresh white snow but they are still many long miles from where you are.
To some, the immediate surroundings may seem slightly familiar, to others it is a strange place filled with peculiar and unstable structures scattered across roughly a square mile of clearly unmaintained concrete pathways. You are in an amusement park. Or what must have been one at some point in time. The rotted out husk of what once had been a Ferris wheel, and the weather-worn shells of old vendor stalls are the nearest things in sight. Some of their signs are even still legible; faded paint having not chipped off entirely. "Cotton Candy", "Win A Prize!" "Buy Ride Tickets Here"
You have been outfitted in a pair of heavy cotton denim jeans, a pair of high-topped black athletic shoes, a form-fitting grey long-sleeved nylon-blend undershirt and a heavier cotton shirt of the same colour to wear over the top, as well as a dark grey windbreaker with reflective white edging.
Shelter here is scarce but available. There are three brick buildings found throughout the park with restively intact roofs, all of them were once public restrooms that also served as tornado shelters. The plumbing in these buildings have long since been unusable. Ruptured pipes have damaged interior walls and floors. Several pools have formed in the lower areas of the ruined floors and the stagnate water is ripe with bacteria and grime. The southern-most building also has a very impressive infestation of rats.
Vendor and food stalls as well as storage and control sheds were not made quite of the same caliber as the restroom facilities, and though they are more frequent, they are also significantly less insulated. Though the wood from these places would be easy enough to break off and turn into firewood if you can find something to start a flame with.
Another key landmark is the sizable lake to the west of the park, man-made and stagnant, there is a peculiar odor that comes off the water if the wind is blowing the wrong way. A green and murky colour, the almost the entire surface of the water is coated in a thick layer of algae and bacteria. Though you can easily see from one shore to the next, the lake is deep and likely teeming with life below. Most of it... probably unpleasant.
Aside from the overgrowth of weeds that have begun to break through the concrete and twist around the bars of the rusted-out rides, there is very little vegetation here. A few thin trees have clung to life in their broken planters, and the boundaries of the park are thick with waist-high grasses, brown and dead in the near-winter of this place. In fact, the only real thing that seems to be thriving here is the algae floating upon the surface of the lake.
Supplies.
The Cornucopia is your first, most important resource. Around it are scattered the available resources:
Weapons:
-steel-tipped leather bull whip
-crowbar
-throwing axe
-six-inch serrated hunting knife
Equipment:
-day-glow orange backpacks containing the following items:
waterproof matches, high-tensile metal chord (12 feet), wool gloves, iodine
-small crate labeled "apples"
-chords of nylon rope
-metal quart-sized container presumably full of water
-small white plastic, containing the following items:
insect repellant, two strips of beef jerky, silver (reflective) emergency blanket
**IMPORTANT NOTE!!!!
Since this is a meme, we are going to allow each character the pick of ONE weapon and ONE equipment item, if you believe that your character would risk running for the cornucopia. Just remember. These are high demand items and we rather encourage you to fight over them ;) So long as you all remain civilized about it, of course. If things get out of hand, a mod will step in. Have fun with it, but be realistic too.
Immediate Hazards.
-The Cold. During the day temperatures are cool, but bearable. However, as soon as the sun drops behind the mountains, the temperatures plummet dramatically, lingering well below freezing until mid-morning.
-Debris. Broken glass, rusted metal, broken concrete, rotten wood. This place has been falling apart for years and you weren't given a tetanus shot before you came here.
-Insects. The stagnant lake is a ripe breeding ground for an alarming amount of insects. From giant dragon flies to tiny biting gnats, prepare yourself for a bite or two. Just hope nothing too nasty sinks it's teeth into you. You may not enjoy the results.
-The Water. Easy to acquire but bad to drink. Maybe you should pray for a rainstorm...
Wildlife.
**Cyprinus Acidus. These large bottom-feeding fish are abundant in the lake and though not recommended to consume raw, if cooked properly, could be eaten.
**Loxosceles reclusa granda. Aggressive and unnervingly large brown spiders native to the area and love to lurk in dark corners. Their bites are incredibly poisonous and will begin to rot away the surrounding flesh if not treated promptly.
**Rattus norvegicus. The common rat. Edible if cooked. Known to be carriers of diseases. (Especially if they were put here to do just that...)
Foodstuffs.
The aforementioned animals and some of the algae from lake are the only sources of food here, and they are not particularly good ones at that. Food and water are not easy to come by in the arena and will likely make for a miserable time for many.
As always, we here at The Games would like to wish you a very happy Hunger Games!
May the odds be ever in your favor.
Capitol Viewing
clara trueba-del valle ❇ the house of the spirits, capitol au
It takes several of the Avoxes days to arrange it all. At the end of it, the escort's quarters in District 9 have been transformed into a florid menagerie, every inch teeming with life. To any paying attention, the newest escort vanishes within the chaos and does not resurface once everything is settled.
The truth is, Clara had simply felt no need to set foot outside of her suites until tonight.
Dressed in a luminous gown that twinkles like sunlight on water and with a perfectly distracted look on her face, Clara navigates the crowded party with the same instinct that guides birds through the air. Anyone who stops to greet her is kissed warmly on the cheek or embraced with dreamy fondness, as if they were lifelong acquaintances of hers. She slips into conversations as easily as she slips away from them, laughing freely and never lingering very long before something else calls her attention. Names and faces alike escape her mind almost instantly; without one of her notebooks on hand or Esteban to keep her imagination somewhat tethered, she won’t be remembering much of this event.
While Clara’s reverie holds as she sails from room to room, uncanny awareness anchors her gaze anytime she meets someone’s eye. This is a woman who knows she is exactly where she should be in this moment. Currently, that place is beneath one of the great screens projecting the current arena from many camera angles... right in the way of several spectators.
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He watched the strange woman waltzed into the room and stand there. She didn't look like the typical fan, she looked ethereal in that gown of hers. Leo thought he recognized her, maybe her eyes or that striking face but he was sure he'd seen her before. For now, he left his plate with an Avox and headed towards.
"Miss, you're blocking the others' view of the Games. Come with me," Leo offered with a gentle tap to her shoulders.
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"There's no need to watch right now," she informs him airily as she steps in beside him, settling a hand over the one she had used to gently take his arm before he'd had a chance to offer it. Her head tips slightly as she regards him for a moment, a wisp of hair spinning free of her coiffure secured with combs of glass and crystal. "No deaths will occur tonight."
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"You seem so certain," he tried to make her wandering mind land on earth. He did catch that wisp and tried to push it back in place. "Do you like their chances?"
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"Only one tribute has a chance." She answers while running the edge of a marshmallow under each of the fountains. "Who that is, I cannot say." And it isn't for a lack of trying. In an effort to shed light on the arena's outcome, Clara had even visited the rooms of each of her tributes, but her intuition remained as muddled and silent as a night filled with fog. She wondered if it had something to do with the fact that they come from other worlds.
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oh hey, hope some assumed CR is okay
The Cornucopia parties tend to be Jason's least favorite of any of the social events an Escort is obligated to go to, and tonight's no different. Feeling out of place in an outfit that's clearly been worn far too many times for fashion or facade, navigating his way around Citizens who are stinking of alcohol, and all the while waiting impatiently for the ten-or-more hours of work he'll have to do overnight, he's simmering with resentment. It would burn off the last of his social graces if he didn't know that there were some people here willing to throw assi at his charges.
That's why his voice is just shy of rude when he talks to Clara. The frazzled expression he wears turns to one of surprise recognition when he sees her face. He remembers her. Her father, Severo, was an aspiring politician who occasionally came to parties or functions that the Compsons and the Reagans and that ilk put on. The Del Valles weren't prominent enough to come to all or even most of them, but when, as his mother had put it, the doors were open to the raggedy ones, that social climber father and his massive brood of children were in tow.
Jason had been a child or a teenager at all of these, stiff and sullen even then but not hammered into the hard form he is now.
"You're-"
Which one is she? He remembers the green-haired one, but not any of the names.
"Del Valle. The youngest one, right?"
i have zero objections!
Somewhere in her trunk of notebooks, there are pages devoted to describing Jason and his family and the way they functioned so differently to her own, as if stilts had been pushed up their sleeves and down their pant legs, controlled by a force even she could not see.
Though the Del Valle children knew to behave themselves, the sheer amount of them always turned heads, especially when their eldest seemed to have been summoned from the bottom of the ocean. Each of them understood that they were doomed to be spectacles, stuck on the other side of the invisible wedge separating them from the other offspring present. It would have been much less bearable if they had not had each other to seek refuge with.
Rosa’s death and Clara’s resulting muteness had marked the end of her appearances in public, because she was much more content to haunt her own home then. She had been ten years old then, just a sprout of the woman who stood before Jason now. He gets one of her easy smiles, though she cannot place him among who she knows.
"That’s right." She replies, head tipped inquisitively. "Can I help you?"
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And just like that, when she looks at him with those bright and yet glassy eyes, he remembers her - or, more accurately, why his mother stopped allowing the del Valles to come to events she was involved in planning. Remembers the youngest del Valle, po-faced and blunt, telling his father that he would lose both a son and a daughter in the next year.
A more superstitious person might believe that Clara herself cast the curse that ruined the Compsons, but Jason's never been one for black cats and broken mirrors. She probably just had that same clairvoyant sensibility that Benjy did when he realized from Caddy's smell that she'd been slutting it up and, having more brains than the great gelding, came to the obvious conclusion that a thunderhead of a scandal was brewing.
Memories start to arrange themselves like ice crystals in water. Jason's appearances in public ceased shortly before the pretty del Valle's death. Socializing had proven unbearable for his mother in the wake of Quentin's suicide and Caddy's dishonor, and Jason's father had been too drunk for polite company (or in Jason's opinion, any company), and the Compsons had all but receded from public functions by the time the widely-publicized assassination made the news.
Jason read about it, saw reports on the other daughter's muteness and the futility of the search for the murderer, and found some small comfort in knowing that other families, too, were weathering similar tragedies to his. It gave him hope for his own to weather it instead of sinking. He was seventeen, but the futility of that wish was equal to the search for the assassin, and it marked the death of what little optimism youth had given him.
So he doesn't have ill will for her when he looks at her. His gaze is narrowed, the corners of his mouth tight, but there's a certain collusive aura radiating from him, as if he knows he and Clara are in the same boat.
"I just asked if you could move so I could see. You gone deaf as well as mute?" His hands are in his pockets again. "It's been a long time. Last I saw you you were maybe, what, nine?"
Sadie Doyle | Thrilling Adventure Hour (Beyond Belief) | Capitol AU
She'd come to this particular party, one for sponsors to mingle with the escorts, stylists, and mentors looking to take advantage of their money, to dip her toes into the whole patronage affair. And, as luck would have it, she had been simply enamored with the newest arena from the moment she'd looked up from ordering her drink and seen it. So many little metal bit and whirly-woos! And then the highlight of the event had appeared as all the little tributes went scurrying away. It was, for perhaps the first time in her life, a fine thing the glass in her hand was empty, because her gin and gin over gin would have likely gone splashing about as she clapped her hands together.
"Clown! Oh, I certainly do hope there are no flowers which- despite their common appearance- upon close examination spray liquid into the eyes of the unwary!"
The barman placed the ordered drink on the bar beside her and, in a dramatic stage whisper, Sadie leaned in towards the person closest to her and confided:
"I secretly hope there are such flowers."
oh my goodness 8D
And so, when he leaves the green room of staffers, his back is straight and he smells like cologne instead of his favored camphor cigarettes. He doesn't drink, he never does, but he isn't casting judgmental glances at people's gin and champagne. The difference would be as obvious as two separate stages on a chart of human evolution.
"If there aren't, there should be. It'd serve them right for wasting time frolicking instead of getting around to the action." He stands next to her at the bar and orders a seltzer water. "Sorry, couldn't help but overhear. You got a favorite?"
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She trailed off, her attention now thoroughly removed from the games on the screens before them as a far more heinous event took her mind away from her newest dabbling into hobby-having. She looked at the bubbly water being poured with a heavy frown, positively disturbed by this latest development concerning this newest conversation partner. He hadn't quite caught what he'd been ordering, but she was certain this couldn't be right.
"Oh, darling, are you trapped in some terrible feud with our barman? He would appear to be playing a trick of rather poor taste on you."
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"Eh?" He glances from the drink back at her, realizing belatedly what she's talking about. "No, this is exactly what I ordered. It's to my taste, poor or not. I want to be sober to meet everyone here."
It's a lie through his teeth - he can't imagine anything more dull and irritating than listen to a woman like Sadie wax on about her favorite flavors of alcohol - but he can't afford to put people off him. His budget for his District only goes so far, and if he expects any of his Tributes to make it very far this time around they're going to need fresh water.
"Maybe I'm just bad at holding my liquor and don't want to embarrass myself too badly."
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"There is nothing but practice for that. And it may do you wonders for making acquaintances. There is something simply off-putting about a lone dry man standing in the midst of a flood. Slightly sinister."
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Hope this is okay!
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"Yeah, same. I love that stuff." He smirked at her, raising his own coke and rum. "Comedy gold. Shit like that is goddamn entertaining." He caught himself swearing, but it was too late. "Whoops."
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She liked this one, she could tell. His close proximity to the bar may have something to do with it, but agreeing with her had never hurt a soul. Thus she waved his 'whoops' away with one hand, raising her own glass to join in on the toast to comedy.
"A well placed banana peal is poised to be fucking enthralling. Though I suppose an electrifying hand-buzzer or two may be rather more in theme. Ooh- or a car which only becomes miniature once someone has climbed within it!"
Kurloz Makara | Homestuck | Stylist AU
But just as well. He has born enough blasphemy by the stitches over his lips. He will simply revel from afar. And perhaps, so he doesn't disturb the good favor of the Capitol on this night, seek out others.
Tonight he has every excuse to don the paint-- crisp and clean like his true alternate self. He takes to colors aside from indigo, but his surgically altered eyes remain as they are. He is beaming, smiling wide, and in this time, it is entirely genuine. If still very creepy where the threads pull.
A MOST RIGHTEOUS SPECTACLE DOTH BEEN GRANTED THEE. AS WELL TO I. SAYETH THUS, SPILL THE SWILL IN TOAST TO STARDUSTED STAGES!
The things he writes upon his notepad don't much help his case, for all he tries.
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But that's neither here or there. She's out of the Arena, and the Initiate is still in, along with most of the other people she spends time with. Linden is on another bender, and in the process of sleeping off his latest not-quite-overdose. Nill has been left to her own devices to find something to spend her time on, and though she doesn't exactly know this version of Kurloz terribly well, he hasn't really proven unpleasant before.
Nill returns his wide smile with a small, more awkward one of her own, before gesturing towards one of the screens. He's really enjoying this, isn't he? Then again the Initiate had seemed sort of pleased about it too. She hoped it didn't leave him more distraught than the norm after it was over.
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Of course, that didn't mean he followed that rule.
Her death had been, quite unfortunately, gruesome. He recalls many a fellow capitolite watching through their hands. He hadn't, but still.
He nods quite enthusiastically at her gesture to the screen. How could he help but enjoy the Carnival scene, even with the circumstances at hand? But to show his sympathies, he folds his hands together and gives a small bow before her. On rising up he gives a helpless smile and shrug. Perhaps next time, muted angel.
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It's probably not that hard for people to figure out that she never actually tries to win, but it's nice that he offers his sympathies regardless. The gesture and shrug are met with a small smile of her own before she moves to take a seat. Might as well join him. She gestures slightly towards his notepad . Could she borrow a page? Finding things around here to write with was never a problem, but paper was rarer.
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He slides the paper over to her with an eager smile, leaning in. He lifts his hands up, interlocking them so that he can rest his chin atop. All the while, he watches her, noting any makeup, what clothes she wears, the way her hair is done. He mentally picks it all apart and thinks of all the little ways he'd make to improve upon it, were she only lucky enough to be in his district.
Perhaps he can offer her help anyway, he thinks. It'd been done before, and she was such a lovely muse.
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Kaito Kumon | Kamen Rider Gaim, Victor AU
His suit is a riot of red and gold, though he wears no tie and his shirt is popped open. Vines are painted along his exposed skin (and likely on places currently unexposed, too), and his hair is wild and laced with carefully spaced sprouts of greenery. He has been made to wear far, far worse. That stylists have stopped delighting in dressing him in banana-themed getups is a small blessing in the middle of this cursed business. (He had eaten so many of them in his arena because they were there. Because Mai kept finding them and bringing them. Because he'd never had bananas until then. It was all perfectly serious, and yet they made it into a joke....)
You're likely to find him at the edges of the party, sizing up the other attendees and slowly putting away drinks... or, after having put away enough drinks, approaching the rich and pliable with a softening of his scowl and an offer of his hand for a dance. This, too, is a battle to be fought on behalf of his District. And if that's how he'll have to fight it, fine.
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The older Mentor is getting a refill of his own drink when he sees Kaito there angrily nursing his. Torin recognizes him. Victor from District 7, unfortunate enough that the media had seized upon the necessity of eating something to survive in the Arena as a signature gimmick. Torin gives him a polite nod.
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"I hear they used to glue feathers to you." He gives a quick arch of his eyebrows, gets a little bit into Torin's space, but then pulls back and settles into a nearby chair. "When did that stop?" Kaito Kumon, folks. A man with no manners.
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