Levi Cole

"The moment you do!" she agreed, nodding along with Levi's assessment. fuck it, she was starting to like him. and so, she elaborated. "why, a month before Snow announced this, I turned twenty six. Paid out the ass for cake and everything. Thought I was done dealing with this forever." and here she was, months later, a tribute. "I want my money back." she laughed, because if she didn't laugh she'd cry.

“Ya know,” he began, leaning back in his chair, his eyes glazing over as his mind wandered. “Don’t think I ever had cake my whole life.” He paused, the distant look fading as he returned to the present. “Guess I better figure out how to try some. Never really had a taste for sweets, though. Cake always felt like a waste.”

He watched her laugh, and his own laugh soon echoed hers. “If ya win, you’ll get all that money back and then some, I bet. Guess I’ll have to keep an eye out for ya in the arena, watch your back so you can get out and eat enough cake for the both of us.”

notverybrighton

In another world, he might ask the man for a drink. Attractive and with that accent? But he was disappointingly both hungover and without alcohol - his escort had confiscated his flask and he wasn't sure where Abel had gotten to - so he sighed instead. "Damn kids," he said, giving a laugh and a bemused grin. "They're probably thinking they can outlast us in the Arena, too. Don't know the value of experience." But Damien, he knew a good thing when he saw it.

"Any chance you're working on something that won't require me to strain my knee further?" he asked.

Levi shook his head slightly, understanding the other man's predicament. They were two of the older tributes, grappling with issues the younger ones couldn't understand yet.

“Just tyin’ some knots,” he said, his voice tinged with a seasoned drawl. “I can show ya if you want, though I reckon it won’t do ya much good in the arena. Just a way to kill time, really.” He extended his hand, offering an extra piece of rope. “Then again, you never know what you’ll need in there. Everything’s always a surprise.”

#; 136th games #; damien

@greer-morgan

The interviews had gone about as well as Levi had figured they would for most of the tributes. He'd gotten up on stage, given the kind of dull answers he was known for, and stepped off when his time was up. It all felt like going through the motions, just biding time until his likely death in a few days.

But then, everything changed. The lights went out, plunging them all into darkness. Levi moved quickly, positioning himself in front of Greer and the other tributes, his eyes darting around as he tried to adjust. Before he could fully grasp what was happening, peacekeepers began shoving them toward the stairs, directing them back to their district floors.

When they arrived at their floor, Levi turned to Greer, slightly out of breath. “Seems they’re tryin’ to kill me before I even make it to the arena,” he joked, catching his breath. “You alright? No scratches or anythin’?”

Wiley snickered, taking the joke on the chin. It was rare that she got to tease people older than her, rare that she got to antagonize anyone. Back home, everyone held power over her. Still, she took the joy in the small jabs when she could get them in, and they were both dying anyway, what did it matter? She watched his face darken, and it set in.

one day you'll be as old as me, he'd told the tribute.

No, She probably wouldn't.

"Yeah. you know, I never knew I had such bad luck. this is a pretty crazy way to find out." she admitted, perhaps a bit more friendly with Levi than she'd intended to be with any of the tributes. but he seemed harmless.

Levi chuckled at her response, the darkness that had overtaken his countenance fading quickly in her presence. She was a spry young woman with a sharp wit, which only made it more devastating that she had been placed in this situation with him. It was a hell of a games cycle to get chosen too, seeing as so many of the other tributes were older than her, and some had even won the games before. But he shook off any thoughts that she didn't have a chance at winning, because just like everyone else, she did, and he wouldn't resign himself to the idea that such a bright spirit could be stomped out so easily.

"Me neither," he agreed, setting his mug back on the table. "Funny how life works. Just when you start gettin' comfortable, the universe throws a curveball at ya'."

abel--evans

"So tough" Abel smirked. He lived a life full of luxury since he'd become victor, and he knew it better than anyone. Luxury, and complete and utter torture all in one. He took another swig, would never turn it down really. "Where did you get this? It's good?"

"Had it with me when I was reaped, always keep it on me in case I need a nip to stay steady on the back of my horse," he replied, his thoughts drifting to what the other man might be feeling, having to fight for his life yet again. Then again, Levi reckoned, every day was a fight for survival in some way or another. "Guess the 'keepers felt bad for me and let me keep it, or maybe they just didn't care."

#; 136th games #; abel

greer-morgan

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I know. S’like a whole other world out here, an’ evrythin’s backwards.” That feeling never actually went away, but Greer kept that to herself. She thought it was a little pointless to bring up the future here. “It ain’t jus' you, though. It’s the Capitol. You’re a brand new animal in their zoo, and they’re expectin’ you to do tricks for ‘em,” she explained, rolling her eyes. "The Arena's the hard part. This is the part ya jus' gotta grit your teeth an' get through."

Levi was earnest, soft-spoken and good-natured. Greer wished he was an asshole; it would’ve made her life so much easier. “So you’re in cattle herdin’?” She asked, digging for information and assuming he meant cowboy in a literal sense.

"I reckon' this part'll be tougher for me," he stated, letting his full accent slip in her presence. She seemed distant in a way he couldn't quite pin down, but he was too polite to pry. "Don't reckon I'll last long in the arena. I ain't got many skills, and I ain't got the stomach for killin'. Only took a man's life once, and it was a mercy. Horse rolled on him, broke just about everythin' he had in him. Still haunts me."

Levi figured there was no harm in sharing a bit more with her than he usually would under different circumstances. After all, she was his mentor, and whether she wanted him to win or not, he still hoped to forge a friendship. She'd be the last new friend he'd ever make in this world before he died, and that made her special, at least to him.

"Yeah, been in the family for generations… The Coles been at it since long before Panem came about, or so my grandpa always said. Though he ain't the most reliable these days, what with his age."

loljkgonnauseadifferentmainblog

"Death wish?" Kedzie tittered. "Oh, no no no. You misunderstand. You only die if you lose the Games." He grinned across the table and took a hearty sip of his coffee-flavored whiskey. "And I do not wish to lose the Games. Nor do I plan on it."

He set his cup down. "Which, as I say it aloud, might be a rude thing to say to you." His brow furrowed for a moment. "But! Oh! Yes - like Careers - maybe we should agree to help each other. District pair and all that. And, if we get towards the end... I don't know. Maybe have one of those dramatic break up scenes, where we say 'see you later,' but really mean 'I hope someone else kills you.'" His eyebrows raised expectantly. "What do you say?"

#; 136th games #; kedzie #; he rlly is like this guy is so stupid lol

Levi's expression shifted at Kedzie's response, a huff escaping his nose as his eyebrows raised momentarily in disbelief. He couldn't fathom how a city slicker like Kedzie thought he stood a chance at winning the games, having never endured a single hard day's work in his life. Levi himself didn't hold much hope for victory, despite a lifetime of relentless work.

"I don't give a damn," he replied truthfully, his tone calm and flat as he took another sip of his coffee. "I reckon, Kedzie, we ain't cut from the same cloth. I ain't got no stomach for killing. So unless you plan on hiding out for most of the games, I reckon we ought to go our separate ways and compete as individuals."

notverybrighton

An attractive man around his own age was not what Damien expected to see among all the twenty-something former victors in the training center - Damien suspected the Capitol liked to let the older guard out to pasture, to keep the aesthetic pristine for any Capitolite observers. Not that Damien was complaining, either about the attractive young folks or about the man in front of him. Damien's knee, however, very much was.

"Excuse me, I was told there was a nurse around here somewhere," he said. "Do you know where I might find them?" It was safer, he presumed, to ask the question of a man who no doubt had his own joint pains, rather than a youth who might see his pain as their advantage.

@cowpokecole

loljkgonnauseadifferentmainblog

The training center loomed larger than any other part of the tower he had ventured into. The room was plain, except for the array of weapons laid out before him as he wandered, searching for something to practice with. He wasn't versed in weaponry; Levi could shoot, but he doubted the Capitol would supply firearms for the games—kind of defeated the purpose. He could rope, but that would only detain someone; he'd have to kill them with his bare hands, a prospect he couldn't bear.

Lost in thought, another man of similar age approached. Levi nodded in acknowledgment. "Ain't seen one 'round here. Might've been pullin' your leg," he suggested, eyes scanning the training room. "Especially them youngsters, they love pullin' pranks on us old-timers. Gives 'em a good laugh."

#; 136th games #; damien

"Oh please," Kedzie breathed. "There has to be so much to Levi Cole." He placed his chin on his hand to lean in towards the man. "I mean, you grew up in a place I only got to dream about." He chuckled lightly.

"But. That's fine. If you must remain a mystery, I'll have to unravel you at another time." His smile brightened. "As for me, I wish I could say. I just spent so many years watching, you know? And I just always thought - well, my friends and I always thought - like - how hard could it be?" He swirled a hand in the air. "How hard could it be - to win?"

Levi shook his head in response to the other man’s words. There really wasn’t much to tell about himself. He was Levi, a cowboy, and one of the tributes from District Ten. Nothing else of note, nothing that folks would care about anyway. That’s just how it was with cowboys. None of them had much beyond their work. Being a cowboy was a lifestyle, a love, something most people outside the profession couldn’t understand.

"So, you wanted to do it because it seemed fun? What, you got a death wish or somethin’?" He raised an eyebrow at the man, his eyes squinting slightly as he took another sip of the bitter liquid in his cup. "Can’t say I’ve ever seen someone from Ten volunteer for the fun of it. But I guess your mindset is closer to the careers."

#; 136th games #; kedzie

coltmarrow

Colt furrowed his eyebrows together when his tribute shared his thoughts, did he actually think venison was fancier than beef? "I uhhh, I don't think anyone else thinks that venison is fancier than beef." Colt had worked all around beef from the age of seven to seventeen. He knew every cut of beef, where to find it on the cow, what was more tender, what had more fat, but he had never gotten to eat it. It was always shipped off to the Capitol. And then when he won he was so turned off from beef he never tried it.

"I think beef is more of a richer cut of meat than venison, especially our cows."

"Must not've had quality venison then," he began, pressing his lips together as he recalled the tender meat melting on his tongue. "It's rarer too… We got plenty of beef, but venison, now that's a gift from the wilderness. We don't really raise 'em in pens, as ya know. It’s something wild, something pure. Folks out here probably never tasted the real thing."

Levi sighed, rubbing his thumb along the brim of his hat. "Guess that's what makes it special, though. Venison ain't just food; it's a reminder of home, of simpler times. Something these people here will never appreciate. But I reckon that’s alright. It just means more for those of us who do."

#; 136th games #; colt

greer-morgan

“Just Greer,” she corrected him, a beat between the words to punctuate each by itself. She didn’t want his formality, and if he knew how little good she could— would— do for him, she didn’t imagine he’d waste it on her anyway.

“Right,” she nodded. “Ain’t a whole lotta people do this more than their first time, but I get your point.” The exception, of course, was this Games where there were a number of second-time tributes. “Your stylist’ll bother ya first,” she explained. “They’ll get you ready for the parade. Only thing you gotta do for that is not fall off the chariot. You can smile and wave, or you can go for the stoic thing. Doesn’t really matter as long as you stick to whatever one ya pick.” The Capitol wanted characters not people, so whatever Levi decided to be, he needed to be consistent. “Then you have trainin’. Three days of that before the private trainin’ that gets scored. Interviews are the last thing,” she rattled off the checklist. It was a routine she knew like the back of her hand. “The escort’ll make sure ya get where ya need to go on time, so don’t worry ‘bout that.” It was the one thing he didn’t need to worry about. “Then, it’s launch,” she concluded, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Right, just Greer," he responded softly, his fingers tapping a rhythm on the brim of his worn hat. She seemed distant, far too formal for someone meant to be preparing him for the fight of his life. There was a lack of motivation in her eyes, a weariness he could sense but wouldn't push her to explain. Maybe she was just tired of getting attached to people destined to die in the Games.

"I've spent my life wakin' up early and workin' as hard as any man ever could," he drawled in his thick accent, allowing his shoulders to relax around her, knowing she'd understand since she was from his home district. "But I gotta say, this has to be the most tedious thing I've ever been involved in. Bein' a cowboy is simple. You do the same thing almost every day. But here, everythin's different. Feels like I'm on another planet."

He paused, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "I don't think I like it here, with all the fancy gadgets and such, but I guess I should try to enjoy 'em while I can."

"My dad's..." she did the math, quickly. "forty seven or so?" She didn't know, it had been awhile since she'd seen him. "Under fifty. So's my mom." She was grinning, now, just pushing his buttons. she was old enough to have kids, she was older than that mom-victor who had won six months ago. She was just being a pest.

"I'm glad it's you and not him." she couldn't imagine looking at an eighty year old, knowing she'd be in the arena with him. "My old teacher's my district partner. I should've put my hand up for her, then at least she'd be at home. I was coming anyway, looks like."

Levi let out a small chuckle as she teased him about his age, shaking his head gently. "You know, one day you'll be as old as me, and it won't be so funny then," he said, lifting his cup to his lips and taking a deep sip of the bitter liquid.

As he pondered his words, a shadow crossed his face. It wasn't guaranteed she would make it to his age, not with the Hunger Games ahead. She'd be up against seasoned victors, each one a lethal threat. He sighed at the thought. He'd never harm her, but he couldn't vouch for the others.

"Yeah, me too," he responded, trying to shake off the grim thought. "You couldn't have known you'd be reaped. Even if you did, her name could've still been pulled. Just the luck of the draw."

Wiley took the watch, holding it gingerly. He had a comforting way of talking that had her listening intently, even though it was a bit strange of her to do so. but then she realized it, who he'd volunteered for. "Your grandfather's still alive?" she asked, appraising the old man. He looked old enough to be her father, and people her age already had kids. He could be a grandfather himself. how, in the outer districts, was that real? "I never met mine." she voiced, before spouting the perhaps more callous thought. "aren't you old enough to be a gramp?"

"Yeah, he's still kicking, but barely. Must be pushing his late eighties by now," he answered, his mind drifting to the old man who was a far cry from the one he'd grown up with. His grandfather had been a powerhouse back in the day, with big, weathered hands and crow's feet near his eyes even then. "Figured it ain't right for him to keep fightin' for his last moments, seein' as how he's been doin' it so long." He finished with a smile, a small laugh slipping out.

"I'm only forty-five, though I reckon the sun's done a number on me over the years," he began, pondering if he could've been a grandfather by now if he'd settled down. "My sisters got kids, and I treat 'em like my own, but they're still young, not near old enough to have youngins of their own."

greer-morgan

"Ya ain't gotta do all that," Greer deflected, squirming a bit at the honorific. A victor-- like such a title was deserving of respect. Greer had done what it took to survive, and she wasn't ashamed of it in the way that she sometimes thought she probably should be, but she wasn't proud of it either. And it definitely wasn't worth taking off a hat for. "Greer," she introduced herself, hoping that would put them a step past the politeness of miss.

Greer looked Levi over, pursing her lips and sighing through her nose. He was a volunteer, but she assumed that unlike her other tribute, Levi wasn't in this for the glory of the win. He was just some unlucky bastard trying to do right by someone else. "You don't need to say anythin'," she pointed out. Greer was pretty sure she'd held out about 72 hours in the Capitol before she finally spoke. "But you can say whatever you want, long as you don't say it too loud." They were all under a microscope here.

Levi nodded as she said her name, noting her discomfort in front of him. A twinge of guilt washed over him; he felt sorry for making her uneasy right off the bat, but there wasn’t much else he could’ve done or said. It wasn’t often a cowpoke like him found himself in the presence of a victor—practically royalty to folks like him.

“Not much to say, Miss Greer,” he began, tapping a rhythm on the brim of his hat. “Just a lot to do, I reckon. This is my first time doin’ anything like this, so I guess I don’t rightly know what’s comin’.”

His nerves bubbled up to his face, a shy smile pressing his lips as he waited for her response and instructions. Levi was never meant to be in the games, or in the public eye. He was a simple man with a simple life, with no idea how to handle this situation. His only wish had been to save his grandfather from all this, and he’d already accomplished that. If he could make it back to Ten, that would just be a bonus.

abel--evans

"A man about my own heart" Abel grinned as he slid into the seat opposite Levi, recognising his face from one of the reapings although he was struggling to remember which district he'd come from.

He took a generous swig from the flask before he passed it back. "Coffee was never great here to start with anyway"