87th Annual Trainers Tournament Opening Gala | [TT]
Jan 19, 2021 1:32:49 GMT -5
Post by gamemaker kelsier on Jan 19, 2021 1:32:49 GMT -5
Azazel Fenwick stood at the top of the room, eyes on the double doors at the other end. They were currently pulled wide open to welcome a constant stream of guests that never seemed to end. Glamour had done a real number on the room. Golden ribbon cascaded from the wall in low-hanging swoops and glittering table runners lined every flat surface. Highlights from last year's tournament played on one wall while the 86th' games took up the other.
He lifted a glass of champagne off of a passing waiter and moved towards a small risen platform nearby. A glass podium stood under a solitary light, the mic waiting for him, expectant as always. Zel still questioned why he'd been chosen to open the festivities, his speech from his campaign hadn't been anything special.
Still, the Fenwick name had always gone further than currency. No matter how far he ran from it, there it always was in front of him. He'd given up sometime ago.
The Ex-Gamemaker reached the podium with little incident. A few generous smiles there, a shaken hand here and mouthed thank-yous that the crowd greedily took with them. No one could work a room as Zel could. Despite his demeanour and his often sickly appearance, he somehow still managed to be charming. It felt as if his smiles were a prize, reserved only for a select few. Perhaps they were, he was usually so solemn.
The room quieted as he stepped up to the mic a glass of champagne raised high, "Friends," he said softly, even as the mic had his voice soaring across the large room. "It is my pleasure to welcome you to the 87th Annual Trainers Tournament Opening Gala sponsored by Plinth Munitions, and proudly brought to your screens by Fenwick Broadcasting Incorporated." Azazel paused to let the applause die down.
"Now, as every Gamemaker knows," he began and raised his glass briefly to Glamour in the crowd, "A Game is nothing without the hard work and dedication of our trainers." Thunderous applause again and Zel gestured towards last year's tournament winners. "Truly, wonderful work this year, you should be proud." Azazel joined in with the applause for awhile and then smiled at the crowd to try and communicate that they should be quiet.
It didn't work. He waited for another moment.
"Please enjoy the festivities tonight, but not too much, doors close at midnight and you will be removed at three," he said. It was hard to tell if that was a joke or not and Zel's expression did not offer any hints. "Now without further ado," he said and held a hand up towards the now vacant doorway, "I am proud to introduce you to this year's contestants."
Azazel let their entrance take the spotlight. He stepped down from the podium, the champagne flute empty. A waiter quickly replaced it with a full one and then he made his way to a set of glass doors against the sidewall. He hated public speaking and the balcony promised solitude with everyone focused on this year's trainer pool.
He lifted a glass of champagne off of a passing waiter and moved towards a small risen platform nearby. A glass podium stood under a solitary light, the mic waiting for him, expectant as always. Zel still questioned why he'd been chosen to open the festivities, his speech from his campaign hadn't been anything special.
Still, the Fenwick name had always gone further than currency. No matter how far he ran from it, there it always was in front of him. He'd given up sometime ago.
The Ex-Gamemaker reached the podium with little incident. A few generous smiles there, a shaken hand here and mouthed thank-yous that the crowd greedily took with them. No one could work a room as Zel could. Despite his demeanour and his often sickly appearance, he somehow still managed to be charming. It felt as if his smiles were a prize, reserved only for a select few. Perhaps they were, he was usually so solemn.
The room quieted as he stepped up to the mic a glass of champagne raised high, "Friends," he said softly, even as the mic had his voice soaring across the large room. "It is my pleasure to welcome you to the 87th Annual Trainers Tournament Opening Gala sponsored by Plinth Munitions, and proudly brought to your screens by Fenwick Broadcasting Incorporated." Azazel paused to let the applause die down.
"Now, as every Gamemaker knows," he began and raised his glass briefly to Glamour in the crowd, "A Game is nothing without the hard work and dedication of our trainers." Thunderous applause again and Zel gestured towards last year's tournament winners. "Truly, wonderful work this year, you should be proud." Azazel joined in with the applause for awhile and then smiled at the crowd to try and communicate that they should be quiet.
It didn't work. He waited for another moment.
"Please enjoy the festivities tonight, but not too much, doors close at midnight and you will be removed at three," he said. It was hard to tell if that was a joke or not and Zel's expression did not offer any hints. "Now without further ado," he said and held a hand up towards the now vacant doorway, "I am proud to introduce you to this year's contestants."
Azazel let their entrance take the spotlight. He stepped down from the podium, the champagne flute empty. A waiter quickly replaced it with a full one and then he made his way to a set of glass doors against the sidewall. He hated public speaking and the balcony promised solitude with everyone focused on this year's trainer pool.
ooc: the gala is now open. Feel free to participate with your capitolite or trainer nominee!
This is a short event so blitzing is cool asf.
