𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓈𝒸𝓇𝒾𝓅𝓉𝓊𝓇

independent && selective multi-muse. penned by bry.

[conscriptur]

CONSCRIPTUR. welcome to my multimuse blog. this blog is independent & private featuring muses from different various different media. written & adored by bry (she/her, 25+). below are some quick links for you to check out my blog. this blog may have triggers/dark themes. please read rules before following. DNI minors.

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[conscriptur]

starter for @imprvdente (fish lecter)

This was bullshit. He was calling bullshit. He was told by Malky that this had nothing to do with them. Nothing got mixed in from the side with their regular scheduled tasks as an agent of the Drug Enforcement Administration. However, Norman has this gnawing suspicion that something was amiss. Someone, he would not name names, but possibly Malky, did not do their fucking job with the cover-up.

So here he was, standing in front of the doors to the Fed's building, cleaning up a huge fucking mess that he could be the reason it was made to begin with, but sometimes drug deals go for the worst, and a few people have to die to make it all go back to calm.

Norman scowled at the building as he fumbled in his pocket for his trusted Altoids tin. He dug his nails underneath the top, pressing the lid open, exposing the capsules inside. One Librium pill would be fine to indulge in before he walked in. Norman popped one into his mouth and pressed down on the capsule with his teeth, popping the seal. This will go over smoothly with the assistance of his abused prescription.

The agent walked into the building with an unbothered swagger in his step. It was not as if he was worried the case would find evidence of him. He paused in front of the metal detector and heaved a sigh. His pockets were emptied into a bin along with his gun that he removed from his holster, briefly examining it before he dropped it into the bin with his other personal items. Norman attempted to make his way through the metal detector, but his shoulder hit against something solid. Eyes scanned down to see a girl, possibly an intern at this damn place?

A forced grin spread on his face. Norman reached out a hand to grasp her upper arm with an edge of firmness. "Excuse me, sweetheart. You go on ahead." He offered her with unsincere kindness.

[conscriptur]

random starter for @forgaeven (abby)

This was more than a simple hiccup in his plan. He should have known that his reliance on one of his mere selfish demons. Jinu, of all of them, he could feel the reins on him lessen with the influence of that hunter he had no power over, but Gwi-ma was sure that his influence was stronger, appealed more to the boy. He was wrong.

The scene replayed over and over. Jinu's sacrifice for that girl sealed the fate of all his underlings and, most importantly, himself. A low rumble emanated from his low flame in contemplation.

"What am I to do now?" He asked in rhetoric. Was the King meant to sit and abide his time until the honmoon revealed a crack for him to run his claws against and crawl his way back into the earthly plains? He could wait another hundred years before that were to occur.

His attention was drawn to the demon that stood before him. His loyalty still may remain with him. He had not sacrificed himself for one of those worthless girls.

"Beom-su," Gwi-ma spoke the name in a low tone, flames rising with his voice. "How has it come to be that we were both betrayed by our dear Jinu?" His question was now aimed at eliciting a response. However, he pushed further with a follow-up question. "Unless you were aware that his deception was far greater than he led us to believe?"

[conscriptur]

( hit the heart for a starter ! )

[fatescattered]

Each second of silence felt like it burned into her skin. Marina didn't know what she wanted him to say, what words were needed to make it all right again -- but he had to give her something, anything. Their time together couldn't have been entirely meaningless to him, to dismiss without a fight.

Sturmhond had always been a good liar. Maybe she was no different from any other mark, lulled in by his charm and the feeling of safety that came with being in his company.

When he finally spoke, it wasn't an apology, or an explanation. It all felt so... diplomatic, in a way that sounded so unlike Sturmhond. Was this how he really was, deep down?

"You didn't give me the chance to decide that for myself," she countered with furrowed brows. Would Marina have reacted just as he described, just as angry over the lies, hurt over his lack of trust in her? Yes. But she refused to give him the satisfaction of admitting that. It wasn't fair that he could read her like a book, while Marina hadn't even seen his real face until now.

His confession made her want to reach out to him, take his hand in hers and pull him into a hug. Anything to feel okay again. "You know I can't just believe you now, after everything," was what she said instead, pushing down whatever part of her heart was still tied to him. Her voice was no longer voiced with the anger that had carried her since the reveal; she sounded tired instead, too defeated to put any force into her words.

"Were you ever going to tell me? If we didn't have to come back to Ravka with Alina?"

[conscriptur]

There was a tilt to his head rather than a nod in agreement with her statement. Nikolai did not give her the chance, no, but it all fell back into what was the best outcome for him to survive through. Had he been open about his true identity, would he have been able to make quite the monopoly on goods and loyalty? Selfishness. But that was what everyone would expect of a royal to only be on the lookout for his own tail.

A soft sigh escaped his lips that held a touch of a sad smile. He kept his eyes distant, looking above her to not be crushed by what look Marina had on her face. The face he would die in this moment to caress with his callused hands and pour out more of his selfishness in this moment. He wished to bring back the life in her voice even if it still held a harsh note to it. “Regardless if you believe me or not in this moment, I am being unreservedly honest. And I intend to be entirely forthright with you from now if you would so let me.”

Hands unclenched and worked their way into his pant pockets. His words were his attempt at holding out his hand to her in a gesture of humility. Nikolai though found himself in an overwhelming silence as he contemplated her next questions. He pivoted towards the wall lined with books and scanned the titles as a way of distraction. What a difficult answer for him to form with honesty. Marina deserved every right to know of his true identity as one of his most loyal crewmates. As a matter of fact, his trust in her could easily have outranked his trust of those who knew of his true name.

He ground his teeth together, his lips forming into a thin line of disappointment in himself as it dawn on him just exactly the weight it held. Her trust that was like the laminar flow of the ocean waves, smooth and quiet, creeping up to the shore before allowing the waves to break open. His idea of reserving himself from telling her shattered their trust in each other because he did not allow himself to rely on that trust in fear of retaliation or discarded like a stray pup.

Nikolai’s eyelids fell shut as he inhaled. “I believe I would have one day. It would have settled in me that I should be honest with you about it as difficult as it would be to bring up; however, since I have-” The prince paused. I have grown infinitely drawn to you that I would dare say have fallen dangerously in love. The words that he had to keep suppressed from uttering. “Since I have had this relationship with you and it would have possibly progressed if I was able to only live out the rest of my life as a privateer.”

[conscriptur]

( hit the heart for a starter ! )

[stringswoven]

Strangers. Allies. Friends. Enemies.

A trident buried deep into the chest cavity of another Victor, with a sickening thunk! and body tossed into the water, Katniss still reeling from the shocking reveal of Finnick Odair’s gold bracelet.

A trinket.

Effie.

Her hand grips the base of her weapon, eyes never straying from Finnick for too long while keeping her peripheral and ears open for the sounds of other tributes. A target on her back. The reason they’re all here.

For now, it seems, they can catch their breath. The humidity has her uniform and long dark tresses sticking to her skin and face. ❝ Back there… you saved me. ❞ She states — rather, demands — hair on the back of her neck and arms practically standing like a hissing cat’s. There’s no Peeta here to reassure or naively accept Finnick’s intentions.

❝ Unless you plucked that bracelet off the body of someone else and are pretending to be an ally to gain my trust. ❞ Wouldn’t be completely outside the realm of possibilities. Tributes would do anything to win, especially past Victors. And Finnick seemed the type that was more than a charming smile and silver tongue.

« [  DEFENCE  ]:  when the sender rushes to defend the receiver against a threat of any description, the receiver takes a moment to consider how they feel about the sender. » from @conscriptur ; for Finnick & Katniss

[conscriptur]

It was tragic how easy it had become for him, even with only the refined training since the day the President made the announcement that the past Victors would all go back to their first realm of hell. Shaking off the gore from the end of the three prongs, he caught himself grimacing at the sight. The disgust with killing off another person still had a hold on his heart, another shadow slowly suffocating him. His tanned hands twirled the trident upright for a pause as he checked Katniss's surroundings with a glance to each side.

Finnick gave a roll of his shoulders and tilted his head to the side, stretching his neck in the brief moment they had. "No, I just wanted you all to myself." The statement would have sounded like a threat if his voice had not been filled with sarcasm. It could still have been a threat to her with how stiff she was in front of him. He gave a chuckle, letting himself relax. He was watching her back; now was she doing the same for him? The District Four boy was flirting with death to gain a semblance of her trust.

"This was..." Finnick trailed off as he admired the golden bracelet on his wrist. Another short laugh escaped from him as he imagined himself attempting to steal the piece of jewelry from the drunk old man. He would not admit it aloud that he would not stand a chance, so he could only finish with the words, "A gift. I can give you a more thoughtful story about it later when we're not fighting for our lives."

[conscriptur]

if i don’t have free time this week, i plan on making an appearance during the next weekend. 👋🏼

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR THE BIG MISUNDERSTANDING *  assorted dialogue for that trope i really hate but you know what, sometimes it's good to explore this stuff even if it makes me mad, adjust as necessary

i overheard you talking earlier.

do you actually love me, or was that a lie, too?

you made me fall in love with you.

you were lying to me this whole time.

i never meant for you to hear that.

oh, i know what you said. you don't need to explain it.

when were you going to tell me the truth?

i just said those things! i don't know what came over me!

so now i know the truth.

this is what i get for trusting you.

i never lied about how i felt.

you're making a big mistake.

i opened myself up to you, and this is how you treat me?

go. i don't want to look at you anymore.

you lied to my face.

you don't need to explain anything. i heard the truth.

i get it. i'll just slow you down.

this was never supposed to happen this way.

look, i'm sorry. can we please talk about this?

you could have been honest with me from the start.

what was this, some kind of game?

i didn't lie about that!

that was your plan all along, wasn't it?

you think you can just walk in, play with my heart, and leave?

you manipulated me this whole time.

now i see you for what you really are.

none of that is true, and you know it.

why won't you give me a chance to explain?

that's all i needed to know.

i was so stupid trusting you.

i never should have listened to you.

that's not what i said!

i was just saying those things to get [name] to leave!

you made it very clear where you stand.

might be better if i just leave now.

you never wanted me around anyway.

so this was all a game to you?

how did you hear that? who told you?

yes, i lied to you, but i didn't mean for it to get this far!

i didn't mean any of it!

and all this time, i thought you actually loved me.

what a fool i was to trust you.

the longer you stand there, the angrier i get.

i'm walking out of here, and i'm never coming back.

nothing you could say right now would make me change my mind.

oh, i heard you. i heard everything.

[name] told me you were lying.

i know what really happened. you can stop pretending.

were you ever going to tell me the truth, or were you planning on stringing me along forever?

so that's it? you're just leaving?

did you really mean what you said, or was that a lie too?

everything is called into question.

i didn't lie about my feelings for you.

as much as i'd love to believe you, i can't. not anymore.

they were right about you all along.

when they warned me about you, i didn't believe them.

i never want to see you again.

please pack your things.

[conscriptur]

is okay that i use one icon for each character?

yes, one icon is fine

no, add a little variety

it's whatever you want friend

bry's button

Voting ended onAug 30, 2025

[soulwaned-arch-deactivated20260]

@conscriptur ( clint ) said : i'm terrified of losing you. | ༘⋆｡ let's  get  trope-y.

❛❛  you  haven't  lost  me  yet  and  we've  been  through  worse.  ❜❜      and  that  might  depend  on  which  one  of  them  you  asked,    but  natasha  thought  they'd  been  through  worse  and  they'd  come  out  on  the  other  side.      she  lowered  herself  to  the  edge  of  the  building  and  took  a  seat  beside  him,    nudging  his  shoulder  with  her  own.      ❛❛  what's  going  on?    what  has  you  getting  all  sentimental  on  me?  ❜❜        

[conscriptur]

His eyes concentrated on the dark clouds above, watching as they floated by effortlessly. Maybe it was a sign of his old age, or the friends they had lost on the winding road of heroism, but he grew pointedly aware of the inescapable truth of mortality. A cigarette would have paired nicely with the troublesome feelings stirring in him at this moment. Clint listened, but did not reply just yet, as he still mulled over the idea of the worst they had been through. "Been through worse she says as we're trying to save the fucking universe this time," Clint muttered in response. He leaned to the side, letting the push to his shoulder have more of an effect than it should.

"Hey now, 'm very in tune with my emotions, Nat. I get to be sentimental if I want to sometimes." The words came out lighter than he thought he could muster, but he soon fell back into the somber rhythm, only a shadow of a wan smile still suggesting he made a joke. "I just can't shake that this might be a little more than our pay grade."

[stagshade]

"Don't sigh at me like that, Moony - It's very cheeky." Long legs clamber over the sofa, sitting on the back of it as he grins down at his friend. "Well, you could be doing something more fun. Hogsmeade? Sirius has a date, thought we could go spy on him." James just cannot leave his friend alone; he's too nosy. "I'll buy the drinks."

[conscriptur]

His friend's response to his sigh only made him wish to let another one escape from his mouth. However, he swallowed it down for the sake of the dramatics. More fun? Remus thought to himself, only letting his curiosity show with a quirk of an eyebrow. It soon fell into an understanding as James continued speaking. "But what if we get caught spying and ruin the whole bloody date for him? Then we're a pair of arses." Moony threw back at his conspiratorial friend for him to consider.

[conscriptur]

is okay that i use one icon for each character?

yes, one icon is fine

no, add a little variety

it's whatever you want friend

bry's button

Voting ended onAug 30, 2025

[fatescattered]

Even as she held him close, Eva could hardly believe it. He really was back. It had been years since they last saw each other. Nikolai still towered over her back then, with Eva following him around everywhere and rushing to keep up. Now, they stood eye to eye, no distance to separate them anymore. "You've noticed!" she joked, posing theatrically as if that was any indicator of how much older she looked now. Her brother, on the other hand, still carried that boyish grin on his face. The exhaustion, Eva saw it too - but it didn't feel right to sour their reunion with those observations. She would ask him about it later, the parts of his adventures that he didn't tell her about in his letters.

The Princess quickly followed his lead, leaning in closer and quietly gasping at the promise of treasure. Eva had no shortage of riches in court, more gold and jewelry than she would ever need, but they paled in comparison to any gift her brother could give her. They always came with a story and the reminder of their shared secret, something no one else in the Lantsov family was privy to. Vasily hated it. Even with Nikolai gone, Eva made her preference for his company fairly obvious, always talking about him and how much she missed him; while she doubted Vasily particularly cared to have her affections, a distant brother by design, she knew it drove him mad to lose to Nikolai yet again - a competition Eva was happy to stay out of, with no desire for the crown or recognition from their parents.

"Well, then I simply must see what those treasures are." Eva matched his playful tone with a knowing smile - only for a moment, before her eagerness betrayed her cool. "And I want to see your ship," she added giddily, nearly jumping in place. "You made it sound so wonderful in your letters!"

[conscriptur]

There was no giving way to his young sister's demands, even if there were more pressing matters that the second son needed to attend to. Granted, her demands were more persuaded by his own aversion to face his duties as the said Ravkan prince. Once the face of Sturmhond fell away, all the pressure came back through the floodgate. Nikolai only wished to give himself a few more minutes with the excitement his life held before his return.

The older brother extended his hand in an offering gesture to escort her back to where he had sauntered from at the port. "Excellent choice." He complimented. "She is wonderful. Nothing in my letters was exaggerated about her. My ship is by far the best of my treasures. The Volkvolny, she, is a beast to be reckoned with at sea. But, a beautiful beast. It would be silly of me not to give you the grand tour."

Nikolai gave a side glance to Eva with feigned warning before he made his move to walk back down the cobbled path to the water. "Now, you must not become too enthralled by it all, lest Mother finds out that she has a second child of hers wandering out to sea. I could quite literally lose my head to that." He quipped. His jest came with the daunting idea of explaining the past several years to his parents. All his efforts throughout the past seven years had been to aid Ravkan in ways that could not be done as a royal family member. He could already imagine the entirety of the conversation between him, the Queen, and the King of Ravka. Utter embarrassment at the gall he had to deceive Ravka even for the better.

[conscriptur-a]

finnick's survival: part i.

Trident poised, the only control that he has in the chaos of the sewage war against the slimy, white mutts. His back presses against Cressida's own, as his only attempt to keep her covered from any attack. She is more than capable with the gun but still, he shouts to the tattooed woman to get up the ladder fast. Finnick slashed through the neck of a pouncing mutt and took the further measure of striking the trident deep into the flesh of its neck. There were grunts beside him as gunfire and blunt forces came into contact with the slithering beings. Allies still were on the ground with him, even if within the mess it had become more akin to each own's survival. As some were able to make their way up into the platform above, others were fighting for their chance to follow the others.

In this brief moment, his movements slowed to steal a glance at the ladder they were meant to climb. Boots that matched the same ones he wore moved against the rails, some were finding momentary safety above. The thought was abandoned to be replaced with searing pain as teeth ripped into his left arm. He let out a cry, teeth barred to attempt to fight through the agony. Finnick wildly moved his right arm still gripping the trident trying to land some attack on the mutt but was only countered with two other mutts dragging claws down his body. The uniform he wore was not only wet with the water but now the blood that gushed from the open patches of fabric and flesh. His eyes were shut tight, not viewing the emptiness of alliance in front of him but he trudged on through the blood and water. He became like the mutts and clawed like their own vicious hands to remove their grasp. Only did he falter when his feet knocked against something heavy, nearly falling on all fours if it weren't for the weapon in his hand to keep him steady like the makeshift walking stick he created on the days he and Annie were allowed to step into the wooded area outside of Thirteen's bunkers.

Annie.

“What will I tell Annie?”

“Nothing,” Katniss had answered. “That’s what my mother and sister will be hearing from me.”

The words he gave her had been on the verge of hope rather than nothingness. This was just another time he had to leave their home of Four to partake in some celebration at the Capitol. He always came back home from those trips. They were the Star Squad only meant to add the flare to the rebellion fight. They weren't going to be on the front lines playing an active role, to much of his disappointment. That was what Finnick told Annie and gave her that hope he would return.

This was, as the two of them had compared it, the 76th Hunger Games. They knew after viewing the holographic map that they were to go into the Capitol like being lifted into the arena facing the horrors that the Gamemakers had dreamed to life. Since it was just another Game, there was a way out. Two options, you become the Victor or you die. The thought of death had once been relieving for Finnick. Erase the pain that he woke up with every morning by falling into a deep sleep never to be awoken. Things had changed though. Things were turning around in life. They were on their way now to destroy Snow and then live back at home with Annie where the peace that change would bring would then outweigh the suffering.

Finnick let out a strained noise between a groan of determination and a scream of death as he struggled to the ladder. His eyes shot open finding the first bar to wrap his fingers around. Skin tightened at how hard he gripped the rung so as not to let slip the slick metal. If it were not for the blood that covered his hand, his tanned skin would appear white in the strength he had to keep a hold. He made his last attempt to knock the butt of the trident against the head of one of the three mutts that were latched to his body, causing an ounce of relief on his left shoulder. However, somewhere within that struggle, the trident was torn away from his right hand replaced with pain that doubled over what he was able to relieve. He had to fight through it. His right hand, now free, took hold of the third rung, an agitated scream as he pulled himself up. Even in the slow agony, he was doing his best to make the climb of the ladder quick.

He was blinded again, not by the blood nor by his eyes being closed from the pain, a light glared into his eyes from above. A hurried voice was distant from there but Finnick could not make out the owner of the voice. "Katniss!" Finnick frantically shouted. The only one whom he had a fear would come back for him, even if he begged for death. Katniss who through the endless weeks they spent keeping each other grounded. His fear of her return was washed away by the fear that he had of death. "Katni--!" He shouted again halted in his mid-cry by claws digging into his scalp, yanking his head back not by his hair but by the hook under his flesh. It takes every last effort that his body can give him to push against the teeth-like fingers digging deeper into him to extend his body upwards. Just enough. Fingers search the damp air above him. Hope is rolling away like the shells caught in the undercurrent back into the depths. His eyes are closing without choice now. Please, Katniss. Finnick is too dizzy to determine what he is asking of her, to end his misery or grab onto his forearm and pull him up out of the cage of hell.

"Finnick!" The call of his name is faint, dream-like even. Part of him believes he is back at home now, lying on his back in the shallow waters, waves tickling the ends of his curly, blonde hair, damp and darker in this state. Peaceful. Calm. Finnick thinks to himself how nice it is, this sensation.

A jolt of his body, tugged hard ripping open wounds further. It is enough to rouse him from the blissful state he believed he was in. The wail in response to the tearing of his body is what has his eyes wide in shock looking around to solve the question of why his limbs had been contorted, torn off of him for all he knew. Finnick was met with blurred familiarity. This was the team, what was left of it. He tried to rasp out one of the familiar names but found himself unable. For he did not know the mutt that had latched itself to his scalp had made one last swipe to the man's neck as he was pulled up the rest of the ladder by Katniss and Cressida.

There had been a rush by Pollux to seal off the pipe with the cover. This would give enough time to regroup and quickly fix up the wounded however they could.

Finnick could only moan. His eyes fluttered to keep himself in a state of consciousness. "We can't stop here." The words were close to him. What it meant for him, was that he needed to push his body more, get up into at least a sitting position. But Finnick did not know how ragged his body had become, flayed like a fine piece of steak worked by a chef to ensure it had been cooked to perfection. A hot hand is pressed down onto his bare chest to keep him down. Rough material works its way around his body, hastily. His teeth grit together to control the temptation to let out further screams of anguish. There is more than one hand now on his body, gently pulling him up to sit and ever so slowly to a final standing position or at least close to it. He is tired. Too weak to open his eyes again to see the next steps in their escape. He will blindly be led to wherever their next place of seclusion from enemies. He clumsily climbs up another ladder with the urge of whoever is his guide, and he is met with the floor of a new room. He is dragged to a corner in an upright position and left briefly alone as plans are quickly discussed regarding what the skeleton crew of Squad Four Five One would do now.

[withereth]

you look radiant tonight (from otho to asterid)

A   PARTICULARLY   LUCRATIVE   PUBLIC   MARKET   DAY   grants   her   a   rare   night   off   ,   somehow   .   she's   almost   always   pushed   to   stay   and   help   the   family   ,   dealing   in   plants   always   means   that   busy   days   mean   busier   nights   restocking   .   but   today   ,   it'd   been   her   sister   tapped   to   help   .   she   had   to   learn   somehow   was   the   going   refrain   ,   and   asterid   wasn't   wont   to   complain   .

it's   on   impulse   that   she   seeks   out   her   classmate   ,   begging   him   away   to   go   on   a   walk   with   her   .   she   swears   up   and   down   that   it   isn't   safe   to   walk   alone   ,   how   safe   she   feels   with   a   friend   to   keep   her   company   .   in   the   dimming   twilight   ,   she   can   see   the   fading   sun   throw   golden   fire   through   @conscriptur 's   hair   .   if   anyone's   radiant   ,   it   ought   to   be   otho   by   definition   ,   but   she   laughs   regardless   .   ❝   you're   too   sweet   .   real   funny   ,   too   ,   ❞   asterid   hummed   ,   kicking   lightly   at   the   dirt   beneath   her   feet   while   they   walked   .

❝   must   be   the   sweat   .   this   heat   wave's   killin'   me   ,   what   with   all   the   cookin'   we   do   for   the   medicines   .   how   you're   brave   enough   to   make   it   in   that   bakery   ,   i'll   never   get   .   you're   better   than   me   by   a   mile   .   ❞

[conscriptur]

It was brazen of him to compliment her with no regard to any prior conversation. There was a comfort in the silence they shared on many occasions as they walked the district. The comfortable silence and ease that came with being around Asterid were what might have lit the spark of his growing affections towards her. However, until his untimely blurt, he kept his feelings to himself, not wanting to ruin the friendship they shared.

Otho sheepishly smiled and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets, and fumbled with the small balls of lint and dust that were tucked in the corners. A burning sensation on the back of his neck grew hotter with each passing moment, the boy making it out to be just the heat of the summer. He did not dare look back at Asterid after his admission, too embarrassed that he had said it out loud. But the thought was so deafening inside, it had to be vocalized. To know avail, as it seemed. He forced out a chuckle at her response following the cloud of dirt as it drifted off in front of their feet. Sweet and funny. He could be both of those. His statement was meant to be endearing, not humorous.

"Sweat can give a kind'a glow in a way." Otho shrugged. "Like how when it rains and the trees out further glisten with the drops on their leaves." It was his turn to provide a sincere laugh. "If only I could say tha' my passion for baking was why I can withstan' it. But it's just been gettin' used to it. The oven flames are like a different kin'of hot to this summer heat wave. It laps at your arms, but the air around it is cooler, in a way?" Otho tried to describe the feeling of one heat cooling off another to Asterid. Out of a nervous habit, he shrugged again. "But I could never be better than you. You help make medicines to save people from sickness and stuff."

[withereth]

SHE   PUFFED   HER   CHEEKS   IN   ANNOYANCE   ,   blowing   air   out   of   pursed   lips   .   an   old   calming   technique   from   the   long   gone   days   of   childhood   swim   lessons   ,   from   times   in   four's   training   center   when   she   would   learn   to   manage   pain   ,   and   from   the   arena   as   she   waited   for   death   .   now   ,   she   waits   for   something   worse   .   only   this   time   ,   she   doesn't   know   what   it   is   .

annie   can   feel   the   oil   on   her   scalp   ,   it   makes   her   whole   body   itchy   .   the   urge   to   scratch   until   she   falls   apart   is   barely   suppressed   .   years   ago   ,   she'd   not   be   half   as   strong   .   this   rebellion   ,   this   story   .   she   doesn't   know   what   to   do   with   it   .   as   clueless   as   the   summer   days   are   long   ,   she   learns   new   things   every   hour   .   only   half   of   them   can   be   true   ,   that   much   she   knows   ,   but   what   half   ?   that   part   ,   she's   never   been   good   at   .

❝   no   ,   ❞   something   of   a   grumble   makes   its   way   through   her   tone   .   childish   ,   whining   .   she   wants   to   go   home   ,   take   a   hot   bath   ,   and   pretend   none   of   this   ever   happened   .   ❝   i   don't   care   about   being   safe   if   it's   just   being   safe   here   .   i'd   rather   be   dead   than   cooped   up   like   this   .   ❞   of   course   ,   she   knows   why   she   isn't   .   she   knows   ,   too   ,   why   she   hasn't   been   questioned   so   thoroughly   .   she's   a   pawn   ,   and   pawns   are   disposable   by   both   sides   .

[conscriptur]

Resignation. The only emotion he still felt as his excuse of safety had fallen flat to the other former Victor. A heavy sigh escaping as he processed Annie's words. The District Four girl had a point about what good was safety if they were only held like puppets to do the President's bidding. But his selfishness had a slight lead in his beliefs. Maybe they would not be cooped up for long. If Katniss had anything to say about one thing, it would be to get the Victors trapped in the Capitol to safety. Though how much authority the Mockingjay had in the rebellion, Peeta had no idea.

Peeta had already made his peace with the world. He knew that going into the 75th Games, his life was not as much as Katniss's was. No one to go back home to if she were not coming back with him. Katniss, on the other hand, had so many who needed her still, loved her more than those who loved him.

"Even if there was a possibility to get out down the line? To be hopeful that our loved ones care enough to get us out of this place?" The words tumbled out in a hurried whisper. The Capitol always had ears at every nook and cranny. Cracking through the resignation, hope feathered its way into the front of his line. From what he knew about Finnick and Annie's history, they had a similar love story to Katniss and his. So, Finnick may have wished to get Annie back safely? Was Finnick safe? The hope flared in his mind like a candle's flame. He had to be there with Katniss, just had to be.