SCORNED.

closed & private writing blog. multimuse, multiverse — written by kate. ' when they told her her story was written in the stars, she went to the heavens & crushed each one with her bare hands.

[fclseconfidence]

— who: @devilwomcn / jeremiah & thea — where: the viewing gallery for sponsors & mentors — when: day 2 of the 101st Hunger Games

“Good morning, Thea,” Jeremiah approached the woman from District 2 with his hands in his pockets. With how closely he’s worked with other people from District 2 - whether for alliances in the games or more secret plans that he wouldn’t divulge - their paths crossed a few times. And with the games in full swing, he needed a distraction. He wasn’t interested in watching these kids suffer, and he didn’t really need to start kissing sponsors asses just yet. One of the many benefits of being from a career district. The night before he had locked in enough to keep Nadia comfortable for a few days. So he might as well mingle right? At least mingle with those he knew were his allies. And while he didn’t know much about the woman before him, he could assume that she didn’t really want to watch what was happening either. “You’re looking lovely.” Putting on a charming smile, Jeremiah offered the woman a hand. “They’ve got a really nice garden out in the courtyard. Would you like to join me in exploring?”

[devilwomcn]

There is no world in which Thea would ever find indulgence in a random man's flattery, even if that man is as well liked in their little community as Jeremiah is. He greets her with a compliment and almost immediately, Thea stiffens despite the fact that he certainly doesn't seem like a threat — if anything, he seems perfectly normal, maybe even charming to someone who isn't Thea Ellis. But she's never had much use for charm, and the only flowery compliments she wants to hear are from a man she will never have the privilege to see again. So her features remain stoic. "No." Her dismissal is firm, almost as if she's shooing away a persistent animal instead of a well-meaning colleague. She really means it, too, and she's ready to simply let their conversation die with her rejection, but the courtyard he speaks of catches her eye out the window as she moves to turn away. He isn't wrong — the garden is lovely, and more importantly, it's private. The paranoid part of Thea thinks he might be luring her out there for a reason — and the curious part wants to know why. "Unless you've got an excellent reason for pulling me away from the show." Technically, she isn't on duty this year — but Shay's been put through enough pain, and with the added stressor of Snow's calling added to her life, Thea has forced herself to step up and help when she can.

[brutcllysoft]

There's a sudden ringing in her ears that might be concerning if she didn't have bigger issues going on right now. One would think by that Silena would mean the Hunger Games ordeal going on right now, but really all she can focus on at the moment is what her sister had said. Baby fat — baby fat? She spends half of her days following the rigorous academy training schedule, she does not have baby fat... does she? This is what Silena hates the most about herself. Most of the time, she's calm and confident — conceited or cocky even. Silena is beautiful and she knows it. She'd been brought up to be beautiful — sometimes she thinks it's the most notable thing about her but is ridiculous considering she'd also been the top of her class and she is about to be a victor. But all of that always has and always will come second to the fact that she's beautiful. That's just how the Capitol, and by extension District One, operates. So to have someone so casually point out one of the flaws she hadn't even realized she had? She'll be thinking about that for days, annoyingly. Even now, her pinky finger skates across her jawline, searching for imperfections.

She's been thrown off of her game now, something that she'll need to work on. It can't be that easy to have her lose focus right now, she needs to get her head back on straight. "Two did alright a few years ago." But alright doesn't really cut it, and they both know that. Besides last year Two had been almost embarrassing. An old man and an academy flunk? Silena hadn't expected anything out of either of them and still isn't convinced it wasn't rigged when the girl won in the first place. "Four would be good to have around since we don't know what kind of climate we're looking at." There had been basic swimming lessons at the academy but it definitely isn't Silena's strong suit. "Seven might be okay if it's someone older." Even Eleven has had stronger contenders in the past. They're certainly not careers, but given the nature of their industries, they often worked physical jobs which could lead to strong tributes. Sometimes. She matches Eden's eyeroll with one of her own, not a huge fan of having to avenge the little guy but she knows the Capitol will eat it up. "I'll find someone who can pull their weight but won't actually be a threat in the big picture. Shouldn't be hard."

[devilwomcn]

"I don't trust them after last year and their mentors have always been fucking weird." She says nothing of Owen Morales specifically, whom she has quite literally been getting into bed with for years now, but her statement is at least true for the rest of the freaks from Two. Such a promising district for victors gone to waste — and Eden would rather not get herself any further into that mess if she can help it. "Just watch out for Four if they're good looking. They've got that whole tanned, tropical thing going for them. If they're hot, you should try and fuck their faces up. Sponsors will stop bothering with them and come to you instead if they're suddenly horrifying to look at." The fickles ways of the Capitol have never been lost on Eden, of course — it's the reason she keeps herself in such pristine condition. Anything less would be a disgrace.

At the end of the day, that's all this really is anyway — finding ways to bend to the fickle whims of the Capitol. There isn't any use in talking strategy until they can actually see what they're up against, because truth be told if Silena's the best looking tribute and the deadliest to boot, there's not much that will keep her from a win; especially in recent years. Sure, Eden may have her own opinion about last year's winner and some of the other victors from Two, but they've all got one thing in common: fuckability. The very thought of that makes her cringe outwardly, even if the blonde knows this is nothing she can shield her little sister from. Hell, Silena's likely looking forward to it, and that alone would be enough to send Eden into a downward spiral if she thought about it too hard. Instead, she does what she always does. A mechanical smile pulls at her features, and she forces herself to release the tension from between her shoulder blades. "No matter what, you'll be perfect. They'll love you. Just like they loved me." Like they loved Opal, she wants to add — but that hadn't been enough to save her, so Eden leaves it hang in the air unsaid.

[fclseconfidence]

Eden’s face doesn’t move. Ryder doesn’t know if it’s because she’s tuned him out or because of the work she’s had done. But either way, he waited as patiently as he could while the offer sat heavy in the air between them. Maybe the Vale sisters weren’t the best people to make this deal with, but he really wasn’t interested in breaking down the background of his hatred for the District 1 male tribute to any other mentor. Plus, career districts stuck together. It would be weirder to everyone else if Ryder hadn’t approached Eden about this first. He wasn’t sure what the punishment for conspiring against your own tributes was, but the victor was almost positive that there was some sort of gruesome consequence. And he couldn’t get locked up right now. There was too much to do. 

But the other mentor was talking again, and maybe there was hope yet. Stay away from the sponsors. God Ryder wished he could. “Sponsorships would be easier with the two of us working the crowd.” He said as he watched the girl from Three almost immediately stab herself with a spear. He didn’t need to see Eden’s eyes to know that she wouldn’t like the next part of his plan. “For example,” Lifting his eyes over Eden’s shoulder to the corner where the biggest sponsors sat to observe and start making notes of where their money would go. There was one man at the head of the table. One he knew far too well for his own liking, dressed in the ugliest and loudest shade of orange to exist. “I know him,” The slight tilt of his head was the only hint to which sponsor he was speaking about. “...I’m his favorite.” He didn’t elaborate. Ryder didn’t need to. Eden knew what he meant. “He’s got more money than God and no idea what to do with it. I go to him and say that Marcus and Silena are a package deal, they’ll be set.” Ryder twisted the ring on his thumb, the newest creation he made before having to get on the train to come here — a glistening reminder he had better things to do than watch citizens kill each other. “And when Marcus dies…I start telling everyone that his dying wish was to put all his sponsorships toward Silena…to bring pride to the District where he failed to.”

[devilwomcn]

Ryder's stubbornness only serves to heighten Eden's, his inability to drop the subject aggravating. She follows his dramatic telling of the tale of the rich man who likes to spend his money, as if they all don't have one of those. "If you've got so much pull, why lump them together at all?" Eden lifts a brow, all but taunting him and his perceived stupidity. "Why do you have to make everything so goddamn complicated?" Any other year, she might tell him to do whatever the fuck he wants as long as he isn't pissing any sponsors off — but this is different. His moronic plan sounds like an upsell on the very tribute he's trying to get rid of, and Eden's not buying the scorned ex-friend act. For all she knows, he'll stab her in the back just to bring his tribute home — because that's exactly how the Capitol and the sponsors will see it, especially since it's obvious that Eden will be helping Silena.

"If you dislike him so much then don't fucking sell his case. Tell your little friends he's a lost cause, tell them to put their money into the real contender from One, and then don't do anything else. Problem solved." Problem not solved, really. The problem will exist until Silena leaves the arena in one piece, alone, but as far as Eden's concerned that will always be a problem just for her. To involve Ryder feels like signing her own sister's death sentence, and all she wants this year is for Silena to come home — despite her jealousy, despite her inability to voice her concerns to her sister, that is all Eden can focus on. "I have this under control, Ryder, don't fuck it up with your weird vendetta and your need to be involved. This isn't your year."

[selfmademythology]

He's not sure he'll ever fully adjust to being in the light. Owen turns his head to bury it in Thea's shoulder, shielding him from the bright lights surrounding them. In a matter of seconds, he's gone from a mighty victor to a small, scared child, clinging on to any sense of safety he can find. He holds on for dear life, clutching Thea like a life line -- It's exactly what she is, isn't she? A mentor, fellow victor, someone who's traumas mirror his a little too well. He's never been more grateful to her than in that moment -- Where he'd been a fierce some killer before, Owen had no idea if he'd ever be able to climb back out of the darkness. Figuratively, maybe literally too -- Either way, he forces himself to put all the focus he can muster on the woman in front of him. Right now, he's a live wire, and she's the one thing keeping him from sparking.

When the question passes his lips, part of him is afraid of what her answer may be. It's over, Owen. Three words float through his mind, now sounding like Thea's voice rather than his own. Somehow, he believes them more, coming from her. It's over, Owen. It's over, Owen. It's o -- Of course. Her words pull him out what the stupor he's fighting off, keep him from choking on the reality that's set in. He's not sure when he lifted his head up to look at her, or how long he's been standing there with her. I'm proud of you for surviving. Six words and he begins to lose the last piece of resolve he has. His heart picks up his pace, slamming against his chest just as it had when he was in the Arena. Only now, he's not fighting tributes in the dark, he's struggling to breathe. His hands move to Thea's, holding them tightly. He doesn't know if it's enough to hurt her, but it's enough to keep him from hitting to the floor. "I --" He starts, words caught in his throat.

Emotions weren't a strong suit for Owen -- He had always played the role of a tough older brother, brave and brazen no matter the situation. A smile ever present at his features, chin held high as he glided through life. This was when he was supposed to feel the excitement, right? The thrill of bringing glory to his home and his family, of being a victor? Unshed tears gather in his eyes, every sentence he tries to string together getting caught in his throat. He's never been more grateful for Thea than in this moment, when every piece of him begins to crumble and he's left with shards to glue back together before they reach the Capitol. Eyes blink furiously to try and push away tears, though it does nothing -- His cheeks are stained, chin wobbling. It reminds him of running to his mother after a nightmare, hoping she'll be able to shoo away the monster under his bed. Owen knows Thea will do just the same, until he can get his feet back under him.

He barely registers what's being said to him, but the word tribute sends him right into the dim glow of the arena -- The heavy weight of a machete in his hand, blood splattering on him with ever swing. Blood that's already dried on his skin. "I can't --" He tries again, shaking his head as a new layer of fear settles in. "I can't go back there, Thea." Owen manages to get a full sentence out, trying and failing to take a deep breath. It's over, Owen. This isn't how it's supposed to be, he can't help but think. He's spent years dreaming of this moment -- And now, all he wants to do is curl into a ball and disappear. "I can't -- Please, Thea." What he's pleading for, Owen's not sure. Hopefully the woman in front of him will be able to decipher what he's trying to say. "I can't go back there." He's not sure where there is -- If he's meaning the Arena, the Capitol, any of it.

[devilwomcn]

Where Owen becomes increasingly unsteady, the events of the arena catching up to him with every minute that passes, Thea does everything she can to remain unyielding. His weight threatens to pull her down but her grip on Owen's hands stays steady, her head shaking quickly as she recognizes the panic that laces through his words. "Not to the arena," she reassures him, wary of Owen's mental state and how afraid he must be of the thought that he may need to keep fighting. He's squinting hard against the bright lights of the hovercraft, his face buried when it becomes too much and Thea kicks herself for not thinking of that sooner.

Of course his eyes have grown used to darkness, having been forced to adjust to it for days on end, and the almost blinding electricity in the hovercraft must be nearly torturous. Slowly, she guides them toward the metal seating lining the walls, throwing a sharp look to the guards that are there for 'safety purposes' before she tells them to dim the lights, please. Thankfully, they don't argue and hopefully, Owen will find some comfort in it. But his distress isn't fading and Thea's prepared herself for this, sure, but it doesn't make it any easier. She's quick to try and comfort him, hands still holding tightly to his as she tries her best to help him understand that he's safe.

"The arena is gone, it's over. You never have to go back again, you never have to hurt anyone again." Thea nearly whispers the last part, her fear of making any sort of treasonous comment getting the best of her as it always does — but if it helps Owen come back to reality, she'll commit treason ten times over. Their impending landing is much closer than Thea would like it to be, though, and she has to warn him — has to prepare him for the phenomena and the whirlwind that is to come as best she can. And he'll need to be ready for it, even if she can manage to hold the masses off for some time — he simply doesn't have a choice. "But we have to face the Capitol, darling. And then we can go home."

[brutcllysoft]

Shay had practically begged not to have to go back to the Capitol this year, but she had known that would be in vain. Of course, she knew how these things worked — once someone won the games, they were required to mentor for at least a little while, though preferably until another victor of the same gender was crowned. Eventually, when enough time had passed and more victors had taken their place, sometimes mentors were allowed their solitude again. To retire quietly in their home districts and try to find a semblance of peace. Shay knew that was a long ways away for her, but the idea of going back to the Capitol at all had been so distressing to her that she'd had to at least try. Of course, it hadn't worked and she's spent the past few weeks teetering back and forth, feeling as though she was constantly on the verge of a panic attack. One that she would lose herself to from time to time, only to force herself to pack it away and do her job. Except that never really worked. Even when she was able to appear as if she had herself together, for the cameras or to keep herself from looking too weak in front of her peers, she was never really all there. A part of her had died in the arena with Ezra. Shay knew it was never coming back. She just had to learn how to live with the phantom ache.

She had thought she was doing okay with it. She'd had a rocky start to mentoring but she had eventually found her footing — more or less. Nothing about this would ever be easy, but Shay had thought she could find a way to live through it. And maybe she would have been able to, had her entire world not been once again shifted this afternoon. She had known nothing good would come from a request from President Snow. She'd been on edge from the moment she'd gotten the message, nausea churning in her stomach the entire ride to the President's estate. And while she had had no idea what to expect from the meeting, she had certainly not been expecting what had happened. The offer — though Shay would hardly call it that, given the fact that she didn't think she was really allowed to say no — to spend her nights in bed with Capitol citizens, to give away her body to those willing to spend to dollar. It all made her head spin and her throat burn with bile, and she is fairly certain that she blacked out while adamantly refusing, something the President had told her wasn't an option.

Which is where she finds herself now, her heartrate on the verge of a medical emergency and her head spinning. She can't think — she can't even breathe. Her hands shake to the point where they feel useless, and that's only made more frustrating when she drops the glass she'd been holding, flinching at the sound as it shatters and water splashes her feet. If she's shocked to see Thea, she doesn't show it. Under normal circumstances, she would be — Thea has been scarce these days, though no one can blame her. Shay feels as though the two of them walk on eggshells around each other but right now it's all she can do to lean into the relationship they'd had once. Thea had been like a second mother to her, something that she desperately needs right now. Her eyes brim with tears, throat tightening. "I had to go see Snow today," her voice sounds far away, her mind foggy with panic and grief for the life she knows she is being condemned to. "He wants me to... He wants me to..." she repeats the beginning of her sentence, trailing off twice because the idea of finishing it seems impossible.

[devilwomcn]

Small shards of glass dig into her feet as Thea moves to steady Shay, fingers gripping the younger woman's arm in an attempt to keep her steady in her panic. At first, she thinks that's all this must be — Thea knows a panic attack when she sees it, even if she hadn't been there enough for Shay to help her through any of them. The thought stings, but she's here now and she's feeling at least somewhat in her right mind, so she'll be damned if she leaves Shay to her own devices just because of her own demons when she clearly needs support. The tears that swarm in Shay's eyes shatters Thea's heart completely, and she knows all she can do is be here — or at least, she thinks as much until the brunette says the one thing that could paralyze her completely.

I had to go see Snow.

Almost instantly, Thea's spine straightens, her once warm demeanor turns unintentionally cold. They'd known this was coming — or Thea had, anyway, but she'd been too overcome with grief to discuss it at all with Owen or Nico. For a moment all of the fear she's been avoiding overtakes her completely, but she forces herself to remain coherent for Shay's sake. This is life or death — maybe not for her but for everyone they love, and Shay deserves every ounce of strength she can muster to help her through this. It's the least Thea can do after giving so little up until now. "Okay. It's alright, darling, breathe. Let's—" she looks back toward her open door, trying to figure out the distance she'll have to cross to get them somewhere safe. But they can't talk about this here, and if Thea has to physically drag Shay through her room to get them somewhere they can talk, she will. "Come on."

Gently but firmly, she guides Shay up and across the shards of broken glass that litter the floor — an Avox will clean it and besides, they've got much bigger problems to worry about. It almost seems as though she's guiding Shay through a haze before they finally reach Thea's bathroom, and she's quick to turn on every faucet before grabbing a wet cloth to clean any glass wounds. But that isn't why they're here, and for all of the maternal warmth she may want to give Shay now, her need to understand exactly what's happening overpowers it all. "I need you to tell me everything that happened. Everything that was said."

[fclseconfidence]

Okay…she was talking to Monroe. So that was a good sign, right? Thea didn’t hate her…yet. Exhaling slightly, the younger woman smiled at the former victor. “I’ve heard that,” She hadn’t. But she wasn’t about to ruin this moment. Turning the burner on to heat the water in the kettle, Monroe raised an eyebrow. “It will be really helpful for everything coming up right? Calm minds help get through the hard stuff.” Grabbing two mugs, Monroe poured the hot water for the two of them. “Y’know I think there are cookies in here…” She said with a faint smile, pulling the box she had been eyeing for awhile out of the pantry offering one to the older woman. “Any reason in particular you couldn’t sleep?”

[devilwomcn]

"Yes." The affirmation comes quietly, almost absently as Thea's hands idle over the mug Monroe passes her way, the teabag she'd chosen dropping gently into her mug. Everything coming up is an understatement for what they're all about to endure, but of course to Monroe it's likely just another day at work — and really, nothing can quite compare to the uphill battle they all were about to face at this time last year. The thought threatens to pull Thea back into her mind, her grief all-encompassing even in her brief moments of clarity, but she's determined to have just ten minutes of normalcy before retreating back into her room and away from the world again. Unfortunately for Monroe, she's now been pulled into Thea's inability to stay totally present. It's only moments later that she realizes she's been asked a question. "Hm? Oh, I—" Thea pauses, unwilling to tell this young girl the true reasons she sees demons at night (not only would it traumatize the poor girl, but Thea's terrified of saying anything to a Capitolite that may be considered treasonous.) So she keeps it light. "The beds here are wonderful, but I often miss my own." And the warm, comforting body that used to settle next to me, she thinks, but of course that remains unsaid.

[selfmademythology]

starter for: @devilwomcn | cyrus & eden. location: capitol celebration after the tribute parade.

Needless to say, there’s no love between District One and Twelve. There’s a glaringly obvious difference between the two, it doesn't take much to figure that out. Eden and Cyrus are no different. He finds the blonde to be insufferable, with an over inflated ego that he enjoys poking holes in. She's everything he hates about the Capitol, the Games, then entire system. Sure, she’s ended up in his bed on more than one occasion — He hates her, but Cyrus can’t deny that he’s a simple man. Despite how insufferable Eden is, she’s gorgeous, all legs and blonde hair. Once he’s had a few drinks (and typically when he and Dinah aren’t speaking), insults turn into tearing each other's clothes off. A means to an end. 

“Pretty fucked up that the guy who killed one’a your sisters is the one helping mentor this one.” Cyrus greets her, downing another glass of champagne as he approaches her. Looking her up and down, he's grateful his idiot stylist has always opted to just put him in black -- Rather than something so shiny it makes him wince, like the prep team from District One. Bit on the nose, if you ask him. “Hopefully it goes better this time.” Cyrus continues with a shrug, glancing over his shoulder at Silena across the room. He can't deny she's a frontrunner for the Games, given that she's the spitting image of Eden -- The younger and shinier version, who will certainly put on a show for the Capitol and sponsors. She certainly blows his own pathetic tributes out of the water.

"Or maybe that's your strategy?" He continues, smirk at his lips, hoping to get a rise out of the woman. "Off the other two so the Capitol will only pay attention to you? S'one hell of a way to secure your spot, Vale."

[devilwomcn]

Eden is usually skilled in the art of sidestepping party-goers she's got no interest in speaking to — a polite, apologetic smile and a sweep into another conversation usually keeps her from having the interact with the worst of the sponsors (although this year she may find herself sucking it up and take anyone's money who offers it in exchange for a conversation with her.) With her colleagues, though, it isn't so easy. Victors tend to have the very valuable skill of knowing just when to strike, and even the bottom of the barrel trash from Twelve seems to have picked up on it. Eden has to resist the urge to simply scoff and walk away from Cyrus when he all but corners her, but being impolite before the Games have even started isn't a good look — and besides, there's always been some kind of aggravating pull between her and Cyrus, even though Eden does her best to ignore it.

It isn’t as if he’s not good looking — but he looks as if someone plucked one of the shiny, polished men from One and ran him through a diamond saw over and over again, only for it to spit out something horrifyingly rugged and worn. Cyrus is dirty, and calloused with a personality that repulses her, and even looks can't make up for their glaringly obvious differences. Eden normally wouldn't touch someone like him with a ten foot pole, but there's something to be said about a hate-fuck and that is the only thing that keeps her from chucking him into her pile of used toys once and for all. Although, dealing with his uncouth comments makes her reconsider that with every moment that passes. "It will."

The words come through gritted teeth, her irritation shining through despite Eden's best efforts at keeping in contained. But it's as if he's somehow peered into her brain and caught a glimpse of all the awful things she's been thinking lately (and trying desperately not to), and it takes everything in her to maintain her composure. "My spot is more than secured here, thank you. I know you don't have much experience in the dynamics of a winning district, Cyrus, but this is typically how it goes in One — we've got so many well-trained families, it'd be ridiculous to assume there wouldn't be some overlap." That isn't the case for Ryder, of course, but his ridiculous situation doesn't make her words any less true. "And we've never deluded ourselves into thinking both tributes could win."

[brutcllysoft]

Shay has no idea what she's doing and she feels like it's obvious. Her win had felt like a fluke. It had been years since her career training, and she hadn't tried very hard in the early days of the games. It wasn't until Ezra died that she had let herself be an active participant. She's sat up in the mentor's lounge now, feeling exposed and out of place and that is certainly not helped now when one of the mentor's from district one approaches her. Of course, she recognizes Eden Vale even without the introduction. The Games are mandatory viewing and the woman has been mentoring for a long time — Shay remembers her sister had been on the Games once before. She'd felt bad for the woman when she died and she is vaguely aware of the fact that another one of her sisters is here again this year. But she gets the feeling that sympathy wouldn't be wanted or appreciated and even if it was, any sympathy that she may have had leaves just as quickly as it had come when Eden talks about Ezra. She feels defensive, her spine straightening and she hums, lips pursed into a tight line. "He was a good man. It was a shame." She knows Eden doesn't care, that much is obvious. The dislike on her face is obvious too and while Shay may be a complete mess these days, she refuses to let someone like this make her feel small so she does her best to hold her own, tells herself it's what her tributes need from her now. "We all go to the academy. I'm assuming your sister went. She seems to be holding her own down there. Hopefully that classic career training treats her well."

[devilwomcn]

"Right." This time, Eden doesn't even try to hold back her eye roll. It's subtle, of course, like everything she does — but truthfully she doesn't really give a fuck if the guy Shay went into the arena with was a 'good man.' And she certainly doesn't believe they all had the same kind of training. At least in One, it's no secret that some people are just... better. "I mean, you and I both know there are some of us who go to the academy, and then there are people who just attend the academy." Some people train their entire lives at the top of their class, and are shoe-ins for the opportunity to volunteer and bring pride to their district. Then there are the people who simply don't make the cut, and Eden's assumed from day one that Shay is one of those and the guy she went in with was someone better, volunteering to take back his chance at glory. But hey, what the fuck does she know?

"My sister's the former — obviously. She's been a front runner since the first time she picked up a knife. I'm sure your tributes are great but... If we're being honest, I think we both know Two's getting put in time out this year because of you." The lie rolls easily off of Eden's tongue — this ridiculous rumor she's been spreading probably isn't anywhere close to the truth, but if she can convince even the subject of it that this is what people are saying, maybe she'll get her way. Shay isn't a typical Career victor but she's far from being a complete disaster, however if Eden can manage to plant the seed that Two's chances to win this year are nonexistent before they even step foot in the arena, that clears a huge path for Silena to come out on top. "Not your problem though, right? Now you get to just sit back and enjoy!"

[selfmademythology]

He's not sure his heartbeat will ever even back out, nor that the ringing in his ears will ever cease. Owen isn't sure if it's fear or adrenaline, maybe a mix of both -- He's spent the last week hunting down other Tributes in the dark, fighting for the crown that he's coveted his entire life. This should be the happiest moment of his life, but instead he feels like his skin is crawling. He barely hears the sound of the cannon, too caught up in trying to think of whether or not he's killed all the Careers or if he's missed one -- He can picture the devastation on his mother's face if he got this far, just to get killed by a tribute he missed at the eleventh hour. Backing himself up to what he assumes is a tree, Owen holds out his machete, ready to swing if he needs. It's not clear to him how much time passes before he's greeted by the bright lights of the hover craft coming to pick him up, but he's pretty sure its the first time in the last week that his shoulder's relaxed. It's over, he thinks to himself, though he doesn't really hear it.

It's a blur of blinding lights, getting from the darkness of the arena to the carrier. He can't help but squeeze his eyes shut the entire time he's being lifted, only half convinced the Games are over. His heart is still beating too fast for him to relax, his hand refusing to let go of his machete for fear of what could happen next. It's over, he repeats, though the words fall on deaf ears. He's spent every moment of the last week fighting to stay alive, while he can barely see his own hands in front of him. No mantra is going to help pull him off this edge. His eyes still struggle to adjust while he's brought into some kind of waiting area, part of him worried this is some final test. Truthfully, Owen can barely see properly, let alone register what's actually happening around him -- All he knows is that he needs to keep a tight grip on his machete, just in case.

And then -- There's Thea. He blinks once, twice, three times, begging his blurry eyes to properly adjust. They do well enough as she comes closer, the sight of his mentor and long time friend helping calm his rapidly beating heart. The sight of her helps him breathe easier, the unbreakable trust they share proving to him that he's no longer in the arena. He doesn't say anything immediately; The adrenaline has begun to ware off and he's left with the reality of what happened in the last week. Eyes glance down to see how much blood still clings to him -- To his tattered clothes, his dirty hair, practically imbedded into his skin. He'd murder people he called allies, slaughtered other tributes like they weren't actual people. It had been a game to him, something to bring him pride and glory, but in that moment all he could muster was a guilt and shame that threatened to pull him under. At some point, he drops the machete by his feet, taking Thea's hands in his own. He can't seem to muster the right words to say then -- He feels dizzy, a headache forming behind his eyes and the need to scrub his skin raw starts to settle in.

Congratulations. She sounds like she's underwater, words muffled by something he can't quite name. Owen had always dreamed of this moment, of the way he'd feel -- The swell of pride, the excitement to return to the Capitol for a crown and victory tour. All the riches that await him and his family back in Two. Instead, he's left feeling small. Part of him got left behind the darkness of the arena, and now he's leaving without it. It's over. Two words he'd been saying to himself finally land when they pass Thea's lips -- It's over, Owen. The bough breaks with three words, yanking him out of his stupor and back into reality. He lurches forward, pulling her into a hug. While his demeanor hadn't necessarily been calm moments before, it certainly isn't now -- A wave of emotions hit him, a mixture threatening to choke him if he's not careful. He holds on to Thea for dear life, not caring if his grip is too tight or if he's getting blood on her clothes. She's the only thing that's tethering him to the ground right now. It's over, Owen. It's over, Owen. It's over, Owen.

The passage of time has been unclear for the last week, and now is no excuse. He's not sure if he stood there with her for minutes or hours, but he refuses to let go. Instead, his eyes squeeze shut once more and shaking arms remain around his mentor. He opens his mouth to speak, only no words come out -- His head feels like it's spinning, stringing together any sort of sentence has become a struggle. Owen tries three different times, though all he's met with is wet cheeks and his entire body shaking.

Finally, he finds his voice, leaning a small distance away from Thea so that he can look her in the eye. His voice comes out soft, smaller than he'd care to admit to -- Like he's a child, looking for validation from his mother after a nightmare. There's no excitement, no pride, just a boy seeking to fulfill his duty. "Did I make you proud, Thea?"

[devilwomcn]

Thea accepts him instantly, one hand holding his head gently against her shoulder while the other finds his back. It's odd, because Thea's never been one for comforting — she is sharp and cold, only melting when she's around Ezra and even he gets a taste of her frigidity when she tries keeping him at an arm's length. This is different, though. Thea would never claim to have any kind of maternal instinct but if she did, the evidence of it would be shining through in this moment with Owen. Despite the dirt and grime that covers him, the blood and tears that are surely soiling her very clean and pristine outfit, Thea will hold onto Owen for as long as he needs to feel grounded. And longer after if he asks her too, because she knows what it's like to come out of the Games afraid and unbalanced, and she refuses to let him falter without guidance.

And then, the way he looks at her breaks her heart almost completely. Did he make her proud when he prevailed to the end? Did it make her proud that he was forced to slaughter twenty three other children? (And they are children, even the older ones, no matter how well they've been trained or how mature they seem.) The real answer is no, but not by any fault of Owen's. Pride is the only thing driving most of the tributes from Two when they enter the Games; pride and a misguided sense of what glory should look like. It might be better if she tells him now that this — victory — is a fraudulent hoax curated by the Capitol to make killers of them all. But Thea isn't that cruel, and the hope in his eyes won't allow her to do anything to take away from his good fortune just yet. "Of course," she nods, letting her hand cup his cheek gently so as not to startle him. "I'm proud of you for surviving."

That, at least, is the truth. In the few years she's been mentoring, Thea's never wanted a tribute to win so badly and she is proud of him for making it out alive. She'll be proud to deliver him back to his family in one piece, and she'll be more than willing to stand by him when the more difficult parts of being a victor catch up to him. But that's a conversation for another time, and right now they need to focus on keeping him in the present. "We'll be back to the tribute center soon, and they'll want you to clean up a bit before we start celebrating," she looks at him then, forces her face to remain neutral so as not to betray how sickening the thought of a celebration seems to her. "I can hold them off for a bit if you'd like me to — maybe a day or two so you can get reoriented. And I'll stay with you... but only if you want, of course."

[brutcllysoft]

Of all the things they have to talk about, food is pretty low on the list of importance. But for once in her life, Shay had found herself unsure what to say to Thea. The woman has always been easy to be around, even if she was unusual and Shay has never had any problem filling the silence between them. Of course, everything is different now. What were you supposed to say to someone in this scenario? She's spent so much time trying to find a way to bridge the gap between them, but in the end everything she'd thought about saying had just seemed wrong. And honestly, she hadn't been sure she would even get the chance to talk to her anyways — but when the opportunity presented itself, she hadn't been able to stop herself from at least trying.

Though she had been unsure how Thea would react. For all Shay knew, she would brush her off and push her away. She was grateful that she hadn't. She sits nearby, frowning a little and shaking her head. "I didn't mean... You don't have to watch that for me." Really, Shay should be eating more but everything makes her want to vomit these days. "I just meant... this is a hard time for everyone. It's probably better if everyone's in their best shape." She has no idea why she's even saying any of this — she doesn't even really mean it. Hard is an understatement for them right now, this entire thing having completely pulled the rug out from under them. And honestly, Shay has no intentions on ever coming back here anyways — so who cares what shape she's in come launch day? "I'm sorry about all of this."

[devilwomcn]

"I do. It's part of my job." A job you are failing at already, says the voice in her head that never seems to get the hint to leave her alone. But it's true — she's failing Shay, failing Ezra, failing their entire team because of her inability to be present. Moping around all day won't bring either of them home and Thea knows that, but all the rationale in the world won't make this year any easier. If it'd been only one of them here then maybe she'd have the strength to to her job correctly, and they'd continue on with life after these Games as if nothing happened. Having both Shay and Ezra here is what's killing her — it's an impossible choice to make but again, Thea reminds herself that this isn't Shay's fault. She hadn't asked for her name to be picked from the reaping bowl, and she certainly hadn't asked Ezra to volunteer once it was. He'd done that on his own accord, and despite her anger and frustration, Thea knows he'd do it a thousand times over.

This is still painful, though, and Thea's sure they both feel it. And while none of them are to blame but the Capitol, Thea knows she isn't making this any easier for any of them. With the way she's been acting, it's no surprise that Shay thinks she's at fault here, or that she's got something to apologize for. And that's the last thing Thea wants, because if Shay goes into the arena with a death wish then neither of them will make it out. So her head shakes quickly, a poor attempt on Thea's part at dispelling any guilt Shay might carry — but it's all she's got to offer. "You didn't ask for this. You don't need to apologize for anything. I..." Thea nearly chokes on her own words, her jaw clenching as she forces herself to believe what she's saying. It's like pulling teeth, but she has to get there and accept the reality of the situation — if not for her own sanity, then for the two actually going into the arena. "Just come home. That's all we want."

[fclseconfidence]

— who: @devilwomcn / monroe & thea — where: the district 2 apartment — when: the first night at the capitol

“Thea?” Monroe had been up most of the night the night before, and she still couldn’t sleep. There was far too much to do, far too little time, and the nightmares were starting back up again. It was easier for her to just work through the night, sleep once everything is done, and maybe miss some of the games. She didn’t need to see the bloodshed again. Never again. She hadn’t wanted to in the first place, but she was sent here for  a reason. She had been pouring hot water into a mug, watching as the liquid darkened as the tea started to brew, when footsteps echoed behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she was surprised to see the former victor standing in the doorway. Thea had been so scarce since the reaping, Monroe had almost forgotten she was there. “I didn’t see you there.” It came out more like a question. Like Monroe was anxious to say the wrong thing. It wasn’t like she was scared of Thea, she just wasn’t sure if the older woman liked her. “Couldn’t sleep either?” She asked lamely, eyes going back down to the mug in front of her. “Can I offer you some tea?”

[devilwomcn]

If there is such a thing as too much solitude, Thea certainly wouldn't know it. The woman cherishes her alone time, especially now more than ever before, and since the moment they stepped on the train to the Capitol she's been keeping herself hidden away. She's sure it won't last long — soon enough she'll be dragged to some extravagant party and expected to show both herself and Shay off, but for now she takes comfort in the silence that's encompassed Two's floor. She only comes out of her room once she's sure everyone must be asleep — so to run into their little stylist on her way to make herself a mug of tea is aggravating, to say the least. It's not that she hates the girl (really, Thea hardly knows her, and she doesn't seem nearly as annoying as the bird woman is), but the victor has never been an easy nut to crack. Her trust is not freely given, especially not to someone raised in the Capitol, but Monroe seems harmless so Thea won't completely write her off just yet. "You've read my mind," she almost smiles when she says it, forcing herself to move from where she'd been standing still in the doorway. This is why people think you are creepy, Thea. "You know, they all say chamomile is best for relaxing, but—" her fingers reach into the cabinet beside Monroe, filled with bags of every kind of tea imaginable. "Lavender calms a mind that won't stop running."

[devilwomcn]

THEA + SHAY / @brutcllysoft WHERE & WHEN: the capitol, before the 101st hunger games

For almost the entirety of this trip to the Capitol, Thea's been in another world. It had been a miracle that she made it there at all — she'd had to be practically dragged out of her house to the reaping and onto the train, her feet stubbornly dragging against the floor as her two (three now, Thea tells herself) victors reminded her that the Games aren't optional. But oh, how she wishes they were. The desire to fade away into nothing has become much stronger in the last year (yes, an entire year has passed, Thea must remind herself). There's a large part of her that wants things to just continue how they are, to retreat back to the isolation of her home so she doesn't have to confront all the things she's been hiding from since they all left the Capitol last. And there's a horrible part of her that still resents Shay, maybe even envies that she was able to be there during Ezra's final moments, while Thea was forced to watch from a screen as the love of her life took his last breath.

She tries her best to keep that part locked up, though — because it isn’t right and if she couldn’t be there with Ezra, it helps to know that Shay was the last person he saw alive. He loved all of the kids, of course, but Shay had taken an interest in his craft, the two of them always cooked together and truthfully, they both became a light in the darkness that is becoming a victor. It's the only thing that keeps her from completely losing every piece of herself. Because they had both wanted Shay to win (you agreed on this, nags that voice in Thea's head again). But that hasn't made facing Shay in the aftermath any easier — and if the younger woman's actions have been anything to go by, the feeling is mutual.

Any other year Thea would be bending over backwards to ensure Shay's comfort while she's here, to make sure she's getting the hang of things and teaching her all the ropes of being a mentor. Instead, she's barely been able to look at her, let alone leave her room at all. But a loud crash late at night breaks her at least somewhat out of the trance she's been in, and she soon finds herself face to face with Two's newest victor herself — hypothetically speaking, of course, because when things finally come into focus, Thea realizes that Shay is trembling on the ground with shards of glass surrounding her. "What—" her sentence breaks as she moves quickly to kneal in front of the other woman, paying no mind to the glass she might be stepping on in the process. She can barely feel a thing these days, anyway. "What happened?"

[fclseconfidence]

Her reaction to him wasn’t surprising. Ryder had killed Eden’s sister in the arena, and Eden had loved her sister, so anger about having to be within close proximity of her killer obviously would grate on her nerves a bit. Ryder couldn’t relate. Last year, when the Quell announcement had happened, his father came to his door demanding to talk strategy should his brother be reaped. Ryder had laughed them out of the Victor’s Village. He didn’t have any loved ones. So he had nothing to worry about. And while that wasn't really what the Capitol meant, according to his father; the victor had pointed out that wasn't his problem. But Eden’s reaction to his sheer existence did pique his interest — maybe this would be easier than he anticipated. “I can see, good with a knife.” Ryder said, eyes tracking the other tributes. 

A soft snort escaped Ryder’s throat as brown eyes returned to the blonde woman beside him. “Hm. See, Eden. I know you’re a smart woman, and writing me off like that wouldn’t be that smart.” He shifted his stance so that he turned to face her a little bit more. To anyone else in the room it looked like two mentor’s talking about alliances. Which in a way was what Ryder wanted, just not in the way they all assumed. “Look,  we both watched the games, and we both saw your sister get a little too confident in that arena, and we all saw me take an opportunity that anyone else would have. And now I’m here, with an offer for another opportunity, but this time one that we both benefit from. You can plot my demise if you want. But just hear me out first.” A work worn finger pressed against the glass, right over Silena’s head from their vantage point. “You want her to make it out of the arena.” He said to the older woman, sparing a glance at Eden to show that it was not a question, simply an observation. “And I want,” Ryder mused, fingertip dragging across the glass until it was resting right over Marcus. His tribute, mentee, former friend. “Him dead.”

[devilwomcn]

It takes absolutely everything in Eden to keep her eyes from rolling completely back in her skull at Ryder’s self-righteous little speech. “I’m hardly plotting your demise.” Sure, she hates him — but it’s in the same way someone might hate a gnat that won’t go away or a rodent that’s made a nest you can’t find. He’s incessant, and constantly around her, and of course she knew there was a chance her sister would get taken out by someone in the Games, but Eden’s not exactly thrilled to have to work with the kid who did it. And if she doesn’t want to work with him, she certainly doesn’t want to hear him out either. But her desire to watch Silena train from her current vantage point keeps her rooted to the spot anyway, despite how grating Ryder’s voice may be. If she’s shocked that he wants the male tribute dead, her botox luckily doesn’t let it show — but it's unfortunately something to consider.

Eden runs the new information she’s been given over in her head a few times before she acts on it. It’s an intriguing admission for sure, but not enough to turn her opinion of him around. Quite frankly, Eden’s got no desire to leave her sister’s fate in the hands of whatever vendetta Ryder has — not unless he can come up with something incredible for her to work with. Instead, she’d rather he just stayed the fuck out of her way for the entirety of the Games this year — and in a fantasy world, he’d lock himself in his room and only come out when they were called back to One, but Eden knows she’d never get that lucky. “Great! Then we’re on the same page. Stay away from him, stay away from the sponsors, and don’t say a fucking word to my sister.” The last thing she needs is this moron getting in her head with a strategy differing from the one Eden’s working hard to perfectly craft. “If you’re very good, maybe you’ll get what you want.”

[brutcllysoft]

Silena hums when Eden shrugs off her claims that she's making a face, but the younger sister makes no effort to push back. What's the point? Clearly whatever is bothering Eden, she doesn't want to talk about and Silena has a feeling she won't want to hear it anyways. If Eden were to start voicing any kind of concern about her choice to volunteer, she knows she would get defensive and the two would only end up arguing. Instead, it's better to nod and agree — though it is annoying when Eden casually talks about the perks of being a victor. Eden is even more beautiful now than she had been before the Games, annoyingly enough. That was just another reason not volunteering had never been a choice for Silena. While there's the obvious and the typical reasons — she'd trained her whole life for this, the promise of eternal glory, bringing honour back to their family after Opal fumbled the bag, blah blah blah... She also can't sentence herself to a life of crows feet and frown lines while the Capitol keeps Eden looking youthful and beautiful. A kinder fate would be death in the games — though that's not going to happen either, so who cares?

"Not that I'll need it for a while," she hums, though she remembers Eden's victory. She had come home looking... not different, but not quite herself either. Some people may have chalked it up to the trauma that everyone pretends doesn't exist, but Silena knows that hadn't really been it. She'd been shiner somehow. Whatever the Capitol had given her (which she hadn't needed because honestly, Eden has always been aggravatingly beautiful) had turned her into the best version of herself but done it in such subtle ways that even their family had a hard time picking out the differences. She can't help but wonder what they'll do to her. "Although I wouldn't hate it if they carved my jawline out a little. You should start advocating for that as soon as everyone else picks up on my inevitable win."

Oh, okay, right to business. She shouldn't be surprised when Eden wants to talk strategy right away, she needs to get her head back in the game, after all. She has her entire life to focus on the luxuries of the Capitol, for now she needs to focus on the task at hand. "I'm open to alliances in the beginning. It makes sense for Marcus and I to stick together — he's stronger than me, but I'm faster than him. It could work for a while. And we'll see what Two and Four bring to the table. I'd rather get it all over and done with sooner than later, though. I know the games are supposed to be a show, but I'd rather not be in there for weeks at a time." She remembers one year the games had gone on for nearly a month and the idea of going that long without a shower makes her want to rip her skin off.

[devilwomcn]

For all of her fear and anxiety, it’s absolutely sick that Eden’s most prominent emotion is suddenly an intense pang of jealousy. It doesn’t happen often — she’s beautiful and she knows it, that particular trait of hers has been drilled into her since she was a little girl and has only heightened since she became a victor. But the thought of her sister who is, objectively, equally as beautiful as she is coming to take her spot would probably have her face twitching if it weren’t so frozen in place. Eden is used to being fawned over, she is used to being the golden, shining star of their family — it’s what she’s been raised for, and it’s what she’s killed for. When Silena eventually supersedes her in that, Eden’s not sure how she’ll handle it. So her default setting is, of course, deflection of her own insecurities. “Oh, you’re young,” she starts, but what could simply be a compliment on Silena’s youthful beauty obviously has a caveat. “You’ve got time to lose your baby fat before they tighten everything up. Makes everything smoother if you wait I've heard.”

Her head tilts, fingers crushing the glass of water she delicately sips at in an attempt to mask her features as she forces herself to stay in check. They’ve got more important things to worry about than this, and Eden won’t let her moments of envy be the reason her sister bleeds out in an arena. “Two’s been floundering lately but Four could be promising. If you want, it’s sometimes good to bring in someone from an outer district. Gives your alliance an easy breaking point and if you let someone else kill first, you can take the rest of them out right after. That’ll be a good chunk of your competition done for. And sponsors are suckers for a heroic Career avenging the little guy.” Eden’s eyes roll hard at that — and that certainly hadn’t been her own strategy, but Silena’s got a look of sweetness to her that could make it work. “Just something to keep in mind during training. That’s when you’ll really scope things out.”

[selfmademythology]

starter for: @devilwomcn | owen & eden. location: capitol celebration after the tribute parade.

There's still a certain excitement for him when it comes the Games -- Now it's accompanied by a certain guilt, when all things are considered. But, Owen can't help but enjoy the spotlight. The Capitol loved him (Loved you enough to put your sister in the Games, a voice in his head reminds him), which made it all the more exciting. Any chance he got to sit across from Cesar Flickerman, or attend a party, it filled him with adrenaline. In moments like that, it was just a game again -- Not life and death, not him waking up screaming after dreaming of his sister being beheaded in the arena. It's Owen the Victor, schmoozing and rubbing elbows, while enjoying champagne and as much food as he can manage. Each time he tries something new, he makes a mental note of what he thinks Thea may like, and what he should bring back to the apartments with him.

He knows this is the last time he'll be in this position. Well, it will be if this rebellion works better than the last. He might as well stay out late and enjoy himself. The suit his stylist put him in is a bit itchy, and... Well, it's not something he would pick for himself, but it represents District Two. Good enough. Grabbing a flute full of some overly sweet and suspiciously green cocktail, Owen scans the room for a certain tall blonde. His relationship with Eden was only sort of defined, but when they were at the Capitol, he found himself gravitating towards her. It was almost pavlovian. "Your stylist outdid themselves," he opens with, his hand snaking around her waist as he approaches her from behind. Eden isn't exactly his girlfriend, but she's certainly become the closest thing to it. Owen knows she's not exactly everyone's cup of tea -- But she's never failed to keep him in her orbit. He already knows he'll be sneaking down to the District One apartments in the middle of the night at some point. "Your ass looks fucking amazing in that dress," He points out, ever the romantic. Leaning in, he kisses Eden's cheek, letting his arm linger. "S'good to see you."

[devilwomcn]

The beginning of the Games are always filled with opulence, and parties like this are a reminder to Eden of what she fought so hard to achieve. She’s been showered with praise all evening, and to say she doesn’t love this part of her job would be a complete lie. But it’s the aftermath of a night like this, when she’s called to the highest bidder all because she’d shown herself off a little too well, that flips her stomach in knots despite the fact that she’s been bred for it. It’s far too early for that, though — which is why every muscle in Eden’s body tenses when an arm comes to wrap around her waist, but her relief is clear when she realizes it’s just Owen and immediately, she’s scanning the crowd. There’s a time and a place for his public displays of affection and that all depends on who is around. Eden’s got eggs in many different baskets and she’s not delusional enough to think each one of them thinks they’re special, but they all like to maintain appearances.

No one’s really looking at them now, though, so she allows Owen’s arm to linger around her waist as her own wraps around his neck — allows herself to lean into the kiss he plants on her cheek more than she would for a normal, fleeting hello. Her lips even pull into what might be considered a genuine smile, but it doesn’t last long. Eden’s public persona is never anything less than perfectly crafted, and showing real emotion isn’t in the script. “You too. I’m surprised you’ve got time to say hello to me,” she all but murmurs the words back to him, keeping her head close to his ear. Anyone watching will just see some very innocent flirting but nothing too scandalous — at least, that’s what she hopes. “Bringing someone new onto the team is always a challenge. Even if it's someone you know.” She carefully avoids mentioning the word sister — not only because she’s got no interest in hearing about his family dynamic, but he might try to equate his situation with her own this year and that’s not a topic Eden wants to touch on in front of a rabid crowd.

[beneathoaktrees]

Elias has made his rounds but his eyes have often found the blonde across the room, knowing that inevitably, he'll be met with Eden's blue eyes again. They'd been doing this song and dance for years, something that would certainly be frowned upon if people knew about the hints that he's given her over the years. Then again, the Capitol runs on secrets and loves to see and hear fairytales. They'd see whatever he wanted them to see anyway. That was the thing about having real power-- it meant you could get shit done without all the bullshit schmoozing. Meanwhile, the Victors have to beg and hope that some rich Capitol folk will hear them out. Sadly, they think that they are anything but pawns. However, he'd made the most out of his little pawn.

As they exchange pleasantries, his lips linger by her ear with a smirk on his lips. "You look beautiful, but you already knew that," he says before joining her to peer at the board. Elias slides a hand into the pocket of his tuxedo, his eyes never leaving it as he speaks. "I'm actually in the mood to see a pathetic outlier win this year, considering it will mean a retirement and hopefully my promotion," he suggests with an evil smile encroaching on his looks. "Then I'd have some real control for you. Should've asked your sister to wait, Eden."

[devilwomcn]

His compliment is chilling, sending a pang of dread through every part of her, but Eden is too well versed in this to let herself falter. She needs Elias this year, badly — and it’s her job now to convince him that he needs her just as much. Her head tilts just the right amount to expose her neck, blonde hair falling gently against her back as she looks up at him. Any man with a brain would know the game she’s playing at, but very few of them can resist it anyway. "She's twenty-four, Elias. There was no more waiting,” she hums, one perfectly sculpted brow rising slightly as she points this out to him.

“In fact, I think that’d make a great storyline, don’t you? The last in a line of beautiful potential victors sets out to avenge her fallen sister and bring pride back to her district. People are talking about how disastrous last year was, you know. That girl is dull despite being from Two — everyone expected something shinier from a victor’s sister. Lucky for you, I delivered.” In truth, Eden’s only heard a few old hags blabbering about how ‘Two doesn’t produce victors like they used to anymore’ and she knows Owen’s sister will likely have her fair share of suitors despite being a fucking bore, but the truth isn’t going to do her any favors here. “Could even be sure grounds for a promotion, as long as you make it known it was your idea. Banking on a retirement is a little bit of a gamble, don't you think?”

[beneathoaktrees]

@devilwomcn

District 2– it’s well known to be a career district with numerous victors. It’s also namely known for volunteers. Every year a name is called and the words ‘I volunteer as tribute’ ring out not too long after. That is unless someone who will bring pride to their district is called— then there’s more hesitation to snag the coveted spot. It’s an honor, a source of pride, and while there’s a new victor among those in District 2, there was no doubt in Nico's mind as he stood next to Shay and eyes lingered on Owen and Thea from the Reaping that there would be more volunteers.

What fucking idiots.

Now that the mentors and victors are all back in the Capitol to be shown off to the piece of shits that live there, Nico finds himself on edge more often than not. He's no longer one of them. He's no longer part of the group that sees being a mentor and a victor as an honor. The well of his patience with the Capitol had shriveled up and burned up with Shay's reaping, something he couldn't even stop. The events, the apartment, the training center-- it's all a reminder of what they had lost. Ezra, their sanity, countless tributes that all seem to blend together, themselves. Nico takes two glasses of water from the Avox and moves back to Thea from the bar area. While he's barely hanging onto his sanity-- hers is long gone buried under dirt and a rock. "Thea," he says lightly but loud enough for her to hear him over the Capitol crowd. "Join me back on Earth," he murmurs, showing her the water. "It's only another thirty minutes and then we can leave, I promise," he adds.

[devilwomcn]

This is hell on Earth for Thea, and it’s only bound to get worse. Her heart is hammering in chest, the dense crowd making it almost impossible for her to breathe. She shouldn't be here and she knows it — it isn't her duty anymore, and she'll be of no help to anyone if she loses it in public. It's part of the reason Thea's barely been seen outside of her house since the last games, let alone in the Capitol at all but as always, they’re thirsty for blood. They're relentless with their apparent fetish for grieving victors, so she's been forced to show face before turning her job completely over to Shay. It's a circus and she certainly feels like a monkey within it all, so the amount of time she's been forced to endure it alone in the corner of the room feels like an agonizing eternity.

It’s pathetic the way she looks at Nico when he returns to her with a much needed glass of water — eyes wide, her hands all but trembling as she takes a tentative sip. I can’t do this plays over and over in her mind on a torturous loop, a reminder of why she's been isolating herself in the first place. But they must be here, and through the haze of her grief Thea knows she needs to be of some kind of sound mind to help Shay where the boys can't, so she nods and forces herself to remain present — even if it's one of the most difficult things she's ever done. "We're caged animals," she muses, low enough that thankfully only Nico will hear. It's dangerous to speak like that and Thea's never even toed the line of rebellion out of pure fear, but with Ezra gone she's felt more and more like she's got nothing left to lose.

Nothing, that is, except the kids she's decided to look after as her own. It's the only thing that keeps her from completely falling off the edge these days. "I hate when they dress me like this — so ridiculously. I don't understand why I can't wear my own clothing." Because your own clothing is a tattered, dirty linen dress, a voice supplies in the back of her mind, but Thea bats it away. After a beat, she looks back to Nico. "How is Shay handling it all? I know I've been so..." A pause, but she's sure they both understand what she's trying to say. "I know."