[MINGLE] Harvest Feast 🍂

[sixthiteration]

WHERE: 6I Inn
WHEN: 10 November, all day
OPEN TO: ALL - MINGLE POST
NOTE: Details can be found here.

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In the wee hours of November 10th, before even the earliest risers have roused themselves for another day, items begin to appear in the front room of the Inn. Decorations first — Boughs of autumn leaves in their reds and golds, wreaths of dried flowers and silken ribbon, flickering candles among the goards and berries and acorns. The food arrives next, the decadent aroma slipping up the Inn stairs to tempt those lingering in bed — Every imaginable harvest time delicacy, from roast turkey and ham to smoked salmon and oysters; fresh, soft bread warm from the oven to plum pudding and ice cream. And did we mention pie?

Once again, it's time for a feast. The bar is stocked, the coffee is brewed and the tables are groaning with food. Indulge, there's more than enough for everyone — That is, if you don't lose your appetite worrying about what it will all cost.

Comments

[fishermansweater]

Finnick and Annie eat well, for here. They know how to find their own food, and they -- when they're both well enough to -- work hard every day to make sure they and their birds have enough food. But working for your own food, or working for things to barter for food, even if you do it well, is harder work than preparing something you've bought, or the constant lavish meals given to victors at official functions or during visits to the Capitol. Enough food is enough, not extravagance, and in front of them is extravagance. More than that, it's things that don't exist here unless they're a gift: coffee, alcohol, puddings, ice cream ... better than most people in the districts would eat back in Panem.

He and Annie split up to explore -- and to load up their backpacks, but they come back together, as they always do. Finnick sets a cup of coffee down near Annie's chair and asks her to watch it for a few minutes.

When he's back, he's holding two bowls, each with a spoon sticking out of it, and a generous serving of pudding and ice cream in it.

"Here," he says, holding one out to her.

[treadswater]

Annie had been eyeing ribbons when Finnick appears, triumphantly carrying his prizes. The pretty ribbons in red, yellow, orange and gold, all silk and lovely and she'd been eyeing them last year, too. Last year, she'd been too timid to steal them along with the rest of the loot, all those fruits and nuts and meats (and candles, and occasional bottle of drink), but this year...

This year, she's more confident in that they can take anything from this feast and the village leaders won't mind. That those leaders will actually encourage it.

Besides, the dried flowers are also pretty.

Except then there is a Finnick, and plum pudding and ice-cream and she's distracted from petty theft.

"This looks wonderful," she says, gratefully taking the bowl from him.

[fishermansweater]

"I've missed ice cream," he says, in agreement with her assessment that it looks wonderful. Not that ice cream is a regular occurrence in the districts; the victors can afford electricity, but many other people can't, and keeping ice cream cold would be nearly impossible for most people. But, much as he hates the fact, there's a part of him that's been made into a creature of the Capitol, and that part does enjoy some of the food. He particularly likes some of the sweet things, and the ice cream and pudding do look good.

He settles himself into a seat next to Annie, and puts his bowl down next to his coffee. He takes a sip of the coffee, and follows it up with a spoonful of ice cream, enjoying the blend of flavors and temperatures.

He grins his appreciation to Annie.

"What were you looking at?"

[treadswater]

That's all part of the trap though, isn't it? Even those who would fight against the spender and opulence get tripped up by little things. Decent clothes that last, good food. Supplies to make enough to store. A pretty something that, suddenly, you can afford. A moment of generosity. Annie, while not overly indulging, didn't fight that hard. Everything else was too difficult. And, so, she's gotten used to things that not even over a year here can break her out of.

Besides, she's always had a weakness for pretty things.

"Um, the, the ribbons," she says, quietly. Shyly. Giving him a quick glance. "Pretty, right? With all the gilt and bright colours."

She was given ribbons with her new clothes and that damn, confusing rope, but there's that weakness there. That knowledge of just how well these colours would set off her hair.

[fishermansweater]

It's the whole point of the victors: they come from the districts, and most of them have lived in some sort of hardship for most of their lives, except the Careers from the wealthier districts, who are given enough food for their training that they don't go hungry. Finnick and Annie had both known what it was like to just barely get by, and even the Academy hadn't been exactly luxury, except in comparison to the conditions of other children in other districts. The Capitol bought them with luxuries they could never otherwise have, and Finnick knows he's a perfect example, even underneath his ostentatious displays for the cameras. He likes good food and sweet treats, but he also likes nice clothes and being able to look as good as his beauty should.

So he doesn't judge when Annie admits what she has her eye on. He likes sweet things and expensive clothes and Annie likes to be pretty, and to have pretty things.

He grins back at her.

"Yeah, they're pretty," he agrees. They're pretty, and the once-in-a-very-occasional-while ice cream is going to melt if he doesn't eat it soon, but it's Annie, and what Annie wants, so Finnick slips out of his seat and wanders over to one of the wreaths. Finnick isn't, and never has been, above exerting a little petty payback on the people who trap him in the victor's life, and he's not above doing to same to this place's Gamemakers.

Annie gets a wreath, complete with its silky ribbons, set down on the table right next to her plate.

"Enjoy," Finnick says as he sprawls back into his chair.