Angel of Death

Lavender Weaver

[angelusmcrtis]

[cade-bentley]

Cade groaned. "Ah man, come on. Don't kick me while I'm already down." He didn't know Lavender well, if... at all, really, but it was still nice to see she hadn't been blown to bits in the Arena. "Things were looking a little tough for you in there for a while. Glad to see you made your way back here. And then down here. What are you doing down here anyway?"

[angelusmcrtis]

"I don’t go down that easy," she stated, her voice low and edged with a smirk as she slid into the chair beside his cell. The movement was deliberate, graceful, as though every step she took was calculated for effect. She crossed one leg over the other, settling into the seat with the kind of confidence that came from knowing she held all the cards.

"Had a rough start in there," she continued, casually flicking her hair back, her eyes never leaving him. "But I always make a comeback. As you can see, I’m not just back—I’m better." She let the words linger, savoring the power in them, her smile widening ever so slightly.

Leaning forward, she rested her elbow on the arm of the chair, chin perched on her hand, studying him like a cat sizing up a trapped mouse. "I was curious, you know. I came all the way down here to see who could be foolish enough to get caught and thrown in a place like this." Her voice lowered, a soft, mocking purr. "Just... out of pure curiosity."

She tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "I do love a good mystery, and you? Well, you’re an intriguing one. Can’t decide whether you’re unlucky, stupid, or just begging for someone like me to come along and watch you squirm. Either way, I’m entertained." She leaned back again, crossing her arms with a slow, satisfied smile. "So, go on. Let’s see if you’re worth my time."

[fawndubois]

"Wow. You really do open your mouth and say things, huh." Fawn pulled her shoulder back, discouraging further contact. Most people - especially the smart ones - were wise enough to pretend as if they didn't view the untimely death of thousands as something to be capitalized upon. Not that she was necessarily stunned to hear Lavender say such things; Fawn had heard the rumours, and something told her the dark-haired woman relished the little chaos even more than she was letting on. "There are, by the way. People starving. And those people could still be called the lucky ones."

[angelusmcrtis]

"These things always turn out the same," she began, crossing her arms with a lazy elegance, letting her hair cascade over her back in a soft sway. Her voice was smooth, laced with a knowing amusement as if she had seen it all before—and enjoyed every second of it. "You’re young, so naturally you think you could do better. That you’d be different, that somehow you’d change the game."

She paused, letting her eyes roam over her listener, a subtle smirk playing at her lips. "But you wouldn’t. You can’t. You’ll stumble just like the rest, and it won’t take long before you realize how little control you actually have. It’s cute, though, this confidence you have." Her tone dripped with condescension, but she wore it like a charm.

"The truth is," she continued, leaning in slightly, her voice dropping to a sultry murmur, "no matter how hard you try, you’ll never escape the way of things. Power corrupts—always. And you can tell yourself all the stories you want, but when it’s your hands on the reins, you’ll find they don’t move as freely as you thought."

She shrugged with a casual grace, tossing her hair back with the motion. "At least the dead aren’t starving, though. There’s something almost... poetic about it, isn’t there? A final peace, where hunger doesn’t gnaw at them anymore." Her lips curled into a slow, predatory smile as her gaze lingered.

[ennalydonsbee]

Enna nodded, agreement honestly coming into her gaze. "Oh, I know. I'm fine, just a bit tired. I'm one of those people telling them to stop starving people, it's been crazy." She took a few steps next to lavender, her smile brightening with each stride. "You're right. We're bringing a better world. of course there's growing pains."

[angelusmcrtis]

"Every new regime stumbles at the beginning..." she mused, crossing her arms over her chest, a slow smirk playing on her lips. "But at least this one started with good intentions, I suppose."

She let the words hang in the air for a moment, savoring the weight of them before continuing. "Of course, good intentions only get you so far. Once the power sinks its claws into you, well... it’s only a matter of time before things fall apart. They all start thinking they can fix it—be the savior everyone needs—but by the end, they're as rotten as the ones who came before. It's almost entertaining to watch them unravel, really. Predictable, like a slow, inevitable train wreck."

Her gaze flickered with amusement as she leaned back, shifting her posture with a deliberate sway. "Good intentions or not, it’s always the same story. The moment they taste power, they forget what they came here for. And that," she purred, "is where the real fun begins."

[cain-gunn]

A halfhearted smile tugged at the corner of Cain's lips, but he couldn't get the expression to reach his eyes. The last few months had changed Cain— they'd changed everyone— but this version of him was tired and more distant. The Vox kept shuttling him out to the districts. His unit was deployed to Seven first, then to Four, and now he was back in the Capitol for a stint before he went back to Seven. Cain just kept telling himself it was all worth it, but he was less and less able to hold on to that ideal with each passing day. "Yeah, I guess so," he conceded with an air of deference. "We're fighting for the big picture, right? We're gonna push Tarrenfree back and Panem will be stronger than ever." But he was consoling himself more than he was asking Lavender.

[angelusmcrtis]

"It’s all the same in the end," she began, shifting her weight to one leg, her hip jutting out in a casual display of dominance. "They all crave power, but once they’ve got it, they never know what to do with it."

She smirked, knowing the truth of her words. Every regime in Panem had been broken, corrupt in its own way. Not that she blamed them—she wasn’t sure she’d do any better ruling a country this size. Power always came with problems, and corruption? Well, that was inevitable. She’d seen it with every leader she’d ever known.

[angelusmcrtis]

"Lighten up, darling," Lavender purred, a sly smile curling her lips as she reached out to gently push her companion's shoulder. Her touch was light, almost teasing, but there was an edge to it, a reminder of the power she wielded. "War isn’t all bad, you know. For some of us, it can be a good thing. Opportunities arise, fortunes change…" Her eyes glinted with a dangerous mix of amusement and calculation. "And hey, at least they’re not starving, right? There are worse fates than a little chaos. Sometimes, it’s the fire that forges something better—if you’re smart enough to see it."

[cade-bentley]

Cade had imagined himself ending up in prison many times over the past couple of years.

For theft of priceless Games artifacts. For participation in organized crime, even if he wasn't much of the "organized" part of that. Hell, for his attitude, if that was a charge they could lodge against him.

What he hadn't anticipated was imprisonment for loyalty to Panem. There was a certain irony to it, of course-- all of that crime, and he ended up in here for the only thing he'd been doing before everything in his life fell apart and he went to desperate lengths to stay fed and sheltered. His biggest crime was being a Bentley all along.

He'd tried to shift allegiance. However, Cade should have known the Vox caging up a Bentley was way too good to pass up. At any second, he wondered if they were going to give him the Nerissa Snow treatment.

He was sitting on the edge of his mattress, head in his hands, picturing all the different ways they might oust him for good. The main door opened with a loud snap of the lock and the metal door hitting the wall, signaling a visitor. He nearly ran to the bars, straining to get a good look at who might be coming. "Did you bring dinner?" he called, assuming it might be a guard. "I'm fucking starving in here!"

[angelusmcrtis]

The injury she suffered at the Cornucopia had nearly made her useless in the arena, much to her dismay. By the time the Vox freed them from the games, she was teetering on the edge of death. An infection had spread through her body, and her mind was a foggy mess when they found her—yet she had just enough wits about her to convince them she was a victim of the Capitol, hating it as much as they did. That little act earned her freedom and a full recovery under their care. But that didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy visiting the cells, memorizing the faces of those foolish enough to be caught by the incompetent leaders in power now.

Her eyes, sharp as purple sapphires, roamed the jail cells with a twisted sort of delight, her squared shoulders broadcasting her superiority to those trapped behind bars. The moment a familiar voice reached her ears, satisfaction curled her lips into a smirk. She turned towards the cell, lowering the hood of her jacket to give him a clear view of who he had just addressed.

"That’s no way to greet me, is it, handsome?" she purred, seating herself just outside the bars of his cell. "Seems you’ve lost all your charm in there. How sad, just when I was starting to like you."

[calliopesnow]

Calliope flinched at the sound of gunfire. Nerissa Snow, mouth set in a resolute line, is struck by several bullets in the ensuing spray, and scarlet blooms erupt across her bright, white blouse. The former president's body collapses to the ground in a droopy lump.

Calliope had conducted herself with admirable poise during her capture, pacing through the tower like a beast of prey. With the way she moved and held herself, you would never have guessed how rattled and out of her element she really was throughout this long, dark, and muggy month. With her mother's murder, the bell jar that was keeping her perfect and untouchable shattered into a thousand shards of glass.

Calliope sunk, falling forward from a seated position to her knees on the carpeted floor. Her chest heaved as she remembered - and longed for - her flawless and unflinching mother. Nerissa Snow's death felt impossible; there wasn't a bullet in existence that could pierce her mother's skin.

Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, and horrible, sputtering gasps left Calliope's throat. When she felt a hand on her shoulder, she swung violently around, raking her nails across the air in a defensive arc. "Keep your hands off of me!"

[angelusmcrtis]

It was strange how much the world had shifted since she was pulled from the arena. Lavender's eyes swept over the crowd gathered to witness the execution of Nerissa Snow, the former president now shackled and awaiting her fate. The woman before her was a far cry from the imposing figure she had once seen on television. The promise of death had a way of stripping away power—at least for someone like Snow. Lavender, however, did not fear death. Why should she, when she so often brought it to others?

As the bullets tore through Nerissa's body and crimson spilled out, leaving her limp against the restraints, Lavender nearly laughed. The sight was exhilarating, a thrill she couldn’t quite put into words. To cover her excitement, she brought a hand to her lips, hiding the smile that threatened to break through. Those around her probably thought she was stifling shock.

On her way back to the tower after the execution, a girl blocked her path. Annoyed, Lavender reached out, grabbing the girl's shoulder. The girl spun around, tears streaming down her face as she yelled. Lavender instantly recognized who she was and simply shook her head.

"That’s no way for the president’s daughter to behave, now is it?" she remarked coyly, her gaze piercing through the girl with a cold, unwavering intensity.

[angelusmcrtis]

@wileydepot

“Are you nervous?” the woman purred, her violet eyes sweeping over the younger woman struggling with her training. “Or do you just not know how to properly throw those?” Her gaze lingered on the knives nearby, her fingers itching to wrap around the blades and demonstrate her skill, but she restrained herself, savoring the moment of superiority.

[angelusmcrtis]

@lee-hatchett

Another victor, another man, sat seemingly comfortably at a table in the café. As she watched him relax in such a chaotic environment, a mixture of jealousy and rage surged within her. She couldn't decide which emotion was stronger as she approached the table, her drink already in hand.

“Lee Hatchet,” she began, pulling out the chair and seating herself with confident ease. “It seems I’m the luckiest girl alive, meeting so many distinguished victors in such a short time.” She looked up at him through her dark lashes, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. “Tell me, what are your thoughts now that the games are almost here?”

[maverick-montana]

He'd have to chat with Fulvia about the importance of sharing when he next saw her. He made a mental note of it, but turned his attention to Lavender. "You flatter me," he replied, because she really was flattering him, and he assumed that it was on purpose. Of course she was beautiful, of course he could recognize that -- but he'd never been attracted to a woman before, and if she was trying to play him, it wouldn't be working.

He found a stash of black tea in the back of a cupboard and pulled it down. It'd have to do. "I volunteered," he started calmly, "because I wanted to. I was born to be a Victor, and I intend to be one. My chance was stolen from me before, so I'm taking it back." This was far more complicated now, thanks to his fellow tributes, but he wouldn't go into all of that.

[angelusmcrtis]

Lavender smiled softly, nodding at his initial words. She was flattering him, but not for the reason he likely believed. If there was one thing she knew about all men, regardless of who they were or their preferences, it was that they always thought people were sexually attracted to them—constantly.

"Hmmm," she murmured, taking the spoon resting near her glass and stirring the hot water, more for effect than necessity. Lavender doubted it was as simple as him volunteering just to become a victor. There was something more to him, something she hadn't figured out yet, but she intended to uncover the real reason before they ended up in the arena. "Well, we'll see if you can claim the victory," she said, her eyes gleaming with a challenge. "Or if I steal it from you."

[neptune-akoya]

It was just like being back at the Academy. A small smile played on Neptune's lips as she surveyed her kingdom for the next few days. It had been some time since she had swung a sword or used a lance, but she was certain it would come back like a fish in water.

Whizz! With a satisfying thunk, a throwing blade buried itself deep into the dummy across the range. Yes, just like old times. She picked up a second knife, delicately looking over Lavender's own choice.

"Certainly not all of them," she mused. "But they'll most likely give us a decent selection. A few for throwing, a few for close combat... and then there's always Sponsors for everything else." She smiled, then turned to launch her second knife.

[angelusmcrtis]

Lavender's eyes lit up as she watched the other woman throw the knives, a coy smile crossing her lips. Here was a woman she could see herself losing to and feeling satisfied about it. She was skilled, elegant, and likely very intelligent—all qualities Lavender greatly admired, especially in a woman. She licked her lips and moved to speak, her fingers still tracing the handles of the knives.

"I suppose I'll need to secure a good sponsor if I want to get my favorite blade," she mused, picking up one of the knives. The weight felt familiar, like the shears she had used all her life. She quickly glanced at the target, released the knife, and looked away, confident it had struck the mannequin's eye on the other side of the room. "As you know, the proper weight is crucial for ranged combat."

[holland-westbrook]

Holland nodded, feeling mixed emotions at the sentiment. She had devised some muttation horrors, yes, gaining more and more responsibility and independence with each successful Arena that she worked on as a Gamemaker. And she did feel proud of the mutts, while also being horrified by her own pride, and ashamed of it. It sparked a strange feeling when she was complimented. "Well, you'll need to be on your toes," she responded.

[angelusmcrtis]

Lavender felt excitement bubbling up, her breath nearly hitching as she stood in the presence of the other woman. Holland was even more stunning in person than on television or in the papers—a dark, beautiful flower, like a corpse rose shrouded in mystery.

"I can't wait," she purred, her smile widening. "It will be such an honor to admire your great work up close."

[cade-bentley]

"A little." That was true, he'd been sent there a couple of times while running errands for the morally dubious in Six. Not that he was about to go admitting to the specifics of that out loud to anyone, especially Lavender. There were a variety of ways she could have heard of him-- the Bentleys were a powerful family-- yet he feared it might have been some of his lower moments that had earned him notoriety in her circles. "It's not so different from Six, actually. Lots of city, factories, people. Felt like home, you know?"

[angelusmcrtis]

"Hmmm," she purred, her gaze locked on his, a tactic she often used to extract information. "You'll have to visit once I win, to properly congratulate me. It's only fair," she declared, lifting her glass to her lips, batting her eyelashes at him.

"How did you end up here of all places?" she asked innocently, knowing his answer would reveal much, whether he told the truth or not. She would unravel the mystery of where she had seen him before, where she had heard his name. He wouldn’t escape her web, no matter how hard he thrashed. Her smile grew sharper, and her eyes glinted with the thrill of the hunt as she awaited his response.

[everettcannon]

Everett eyed her carefully, trying to read her, to understand. She seemed joyful, enthusiastic. Something about her threatened to send a shiver down his spine. "Right, more caution, so someone who was Reaped like yourself then?"

[angelusmcrtis]

"I don't think being reaped shows caution or lack thereof; it's just chance," she said softly, the image of the other tribute lingering in her mind. "If you're wondering, I would never have volunteered. There's little point in putting oneself on display like that."

[cade-bentley]

Cade snorted, taken a little by surprise, enough so his hand slipped a little while pouring out the liquor. "Yeah, well, depends on how you define 'divine', I guess. People sure do like to take Snow's name in vain around here."

It was a safe enough thing to say. Cade had failed most of his math lessons, but even he knew that the statistical likelihood of so many rebel aligned tributes being reaped at random was either some sort of statistical miracle, or clear Capitol intervention. It wasn't exactly a well kept secret that they held rebels in high disdain, and they'd been executing them for a couple years now. This was just a new form of it, and he wouldn't doubt if the ones who weren't rebel-aligned had some other reason to be swept into this. Maybe only a couple were really, truly random, to keep things looking innocent, though Cade didn't personally see much of the point in pretending.

He finished the drink, setting it down in front of her, then wiping the spilled drink off his hands with a towel. "Look, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, I don't really care whose side you're on. I'm just here to serve the drinks and talk. I'm just Cade."

[angelusmcrtis]

Lavender tilted her head slightly, feigning interest in his words. Rebels? Of course, she was aware. News of their uprising was everywhere, especially after the Capitol lost control of District Eleven. But it didn't interest her. Tyrants were tyrants, no matter who held the reins of power in Panem. She doubted the rebel leader, whoever they were, would relinquish power once the Snow dynasty was toppled. Most people craved power at any cost, indifferent to the havoc they wreaked. Those were the kind of people Lavender delighted in destroying.

"There's nothing to tell…" she began, lifting her head from her palm and reaching for her glass. "I align with no one. There's little point," she continued, her eyes locking onto his as she pressed her lips gently against the edge of the glass, lifting them from the glass to speak. "Cade… I feel like I’ve seen you before, or at least heard of you. Spent much time in District Eight?"

Her question dripped with seduction, concealing the trap she was setting. She was about to place him in her mental archive, to decipher who he really was. He had no reason to fear her yet, knowing only the curated image of her from television. True, the Peacekeepers in her district were well aware of her lethal justice and often cleaned up after her. Perhaps they had grown weary of her brand of justice and decided it was time for their own, making sure her name was pulled during the reaping. But it made no matter to her, they would have their punishment whether it came by her hand or that of the universes, they would not escape.

[cade-bentley]

It took him a moment to connect her drink order into coherent actions. She was unnerving, sharp, dangerous. Exactly the kind of person he always ended up drawn to, for better or for worse. Maybe it's the reason bartending had stuck in a sea of his other failed endeavors-- not everyone who came through the doors was well intended, but they all interested him in some way or another.

He cleared his throat, then quickly started to prepare her drink to busy his hands, trying to shake himself back into his usual easygoing demeanor. "Definitely an interesting Games," he agreed as he worked, "you could say that. Seems like everyone's got some real reason they were picked to be here, not just bad luck. What's your reason?"

[angelusmcrtis]

The man before her seemed familiar as her eyes roved over his back. She assessed him like a lioness sizing up her prey, taking in his broad shoulders, the way his hair fell, the sinew in his arms, and the deft movements of his hands. Each detail was a piece of a puzzle she had yet to solve. When he cleared his throat, her thoughts of his physique ceased, and she focused on him with sharp clarity, banishing any distractions.

"Just luck, I suppose," she began, crossing one leg over the other as she settled into the bar stool. She tapped her fingers against her chin, leaning her head into her palm with a casual yet calculated grace. "Though I am curious what you mean by that. Do the others believe their reaping is some sort of divine intervention?"