to all the stars

Esme Silverhorn, 28, District 6

[ofnecessities]

The theatrics immediately dripped off his features when he noticed the other's response. Satin was serious. Didn't mind bringing bad news. But his intention was never to make anyone upset - let alone on the verge of tears. He would not make justify his response with some sort defense that it had been a long day - month, even - no, he didn't like that sort of thing. Instead he would just show sympathy and apologize. Which was sincere.

"No, I'm sorry - I didn't mean for you to.." he cut himself off. "I shouldn't have raised my voice. It was uncalled for." Unprofessional, even. But he would punish himself over that at a later time. "We don't have maps, but your room does have the evacuation protocol - which has something similar to a map in a way."

[esmexsilverhorn]

It wasn't that she wasn't grateful for his apology, it was that the sincerity of it only made the emotion that she was fighting to keep down rise once more. Kindness in others always brought out a reaction in her and this time it simply added yet another emotion to her already overwhelmed heart and mind. "No it's fine, really. This -" She waved a hand over her tearstained features, managing a weak, self deprecating smile in the process, wanting to ease the awkwardness of their exchange and show him that there were no hard feelings. "-isn't your fault."

There'd a solution offered and her eyes widened slightly. "Oh." Light, hesitant laughter bubbled up at the simple solution and she wondered why it hadn't occurred to her before then. She chooses to give himself some grace for once, rather than beat herself up about it. After all, she was in a new place with a multitude of things vying for her attention. "I'm sorry, I could have figured that out on my own. Maybe, eventually. But thank you, I'm sure you have plenty important things to be getting on with without having to answer lost little girl's questions."

[mechanicms]

for: @esmexsilverhorn where: the depths of district 13 when: after the mission

Ryan was having one of his off days. The usually bubbly, goofy guy was feeling the weight of 13's strength and resilience, and he found himself laying awake counting the minutes, then the half hours, then the full hours go by. It was about all he could take before his patience ran out and he pulled on a sweater, taking to the streets.

Well, the corridors, but close enough.

The man pushed hands into his pockets and found himself enjoying the maze-like hallways and repetitive doorways. It let his mind wander and he thought of home, of how sheltered he had been his entire life hiding in the workshops, learning all he could about the fancy cars that drove around the Capitol. He never considered what other districts were going through because his life in 3 was pretty cushy, and he'd so innocently thought that he had it ' the worst ' of everyone. Still, every reaping day, he could not ignore the reality of Panem anymore. Perhaps he was just so scared that he blocked it out of his mind, being privileged enough to do so. It was never his name called, after all.

Ry let out a hard breath and turned another corner, wishing it was the house-lined street he was so comfortable with back home. If only, if only.

[esmexsilverhorn]

The corridors of Thirteen had started becoming a little less of a maze to her as familiarity started taking root within her. There were still moments that she lost herself among the endless stream of doors and corners that looked the same but for the most part she was getting more successful in finding her way from A to B. That did mean though that she was slightly less aware of her own surrounding, indulging herself and letting herself daydream.

Hand flew to her chest as a little gasp left her at suddenly coming face to face with someone ( had she always been so easy to startle or was it just another side effect of feeling uncertain in her new environment? ) a self deprecating chuckle following moments later at her overreaction. "Sorry." Heartfelt apology left her lips, wondering what kind of reception it would be met with.

"I swear these corners should come with some kind of sensor to give us all a warning if someone's coming around the other side. You're the third person this week I've had a near miss with. Although maybe that means I'm the problem and not the corridors but -" She trailed off, shy smile curling onto her lips as she finished off her thought. "- couldn't hurt, right?"

[ander-aurelius]

Ander would blame his blank look on the early hour, but the steady rambling from the woman standing before him was admittedly a bit too much to take in. Perhaps he should have gone to breakfast on the off chance the benevolent district gods had decided to grace them with the rare opportunity to snag a single cup of black coffee. Any hit of caffeine would help, really, and he wasn't opposed to groveling for it. Ander truly was not a morning person.

Regardless, it would appear that coffee would remain a dream to be actualized another day. For now, he would have to handle the situation unfolding in his classroom. The man blinked a few times as if to clear the fog from his mind. He really hadn't been prepared for this; both the offer of help and to have himself put together and functional so early. He could usually manage to get by in the mornings when it was just him, but having to field questions and whatever monologue she had just run through was testing his abilities.

"Esme, right," Ander finally said after a prolonged silence that bordered on uncomfortable. "Help, yes, of course." Her words were slowly starting to come together. Now that he thought about it, having an aid really wouldn't be so bad, not when the class size kept increasing. "Welcome, I guess. Sorry, not I guess, just welcome. It's early." He sighed inwardly. So much for first impressions. Still, he offered her his hand as if a handshake would fix the mess of a conversation. "I'm Ander, it's great to have you."

He ran a frazzled hand through his hair as he turned to survey the room. Fortunately, he had the foresight to clean it up before leaving work the day before, so it wasn't too much of a mess. Ander's classroom was perpetually cluttered, though, a fact he could do little about given the fact that is was his, but it was neat enough to be considered acceptable, even by Thirteen standards, but he couldn't deny that her efforts at straightening out the desks had made everything look more put together.

"You know, we have some new students starting today and I really need to get some materials put together for them." Ander moved to the small supply closet just behind his desk. The shelves were starting to look a little sad and empty, so a call down to Necessities would need to happen soon, but they could worry about that later. "I hate to give you what must be the most boring work imaginable on your first day but," he said, pulling a battered cardboard box from the middle shelf. "I really need someone to sharpen some of these pencils. If you wouldn't mind...? I can fill you in on the lesson plans for today as we go?"

[esmexsilverhorn]

Hopes and dreams weren't exactly something she had been discouraged from having during her youth, her family had always seemed so endlessly supportive of her during her childhood that she had once believed that anything was possible. ( that optimism had continued into adulthood, just it was now tempered by a better grasp on reality ) It was only as she grew older and slightly wiser to the world around her that she realised that their support wasn't as unconditional as she'd once believed. Their love and encouragement that had seemed so endless was instead limited by their own beliefs and hinged upon her doing what they expected from her.

So despite the way she'd always felt some kind of tug towards teaching, always enjoying school and maybe being a little too eager to help her classmates, it was never a career that her parents approved of for her. No, as a member of the Silverhorn family her path was supposedly clear and all she had to do was put one foot in front of the other down the road they'd created for her.

So that particular dream had been set aside as she convinced herself that she'd be just as happy to follow in her mother's footsteps. The last place that she'd expected to be able to pick it back up again was in Thirteen but the notion of it finally being within her grasp was one that set hope bubbling up within her again. It was that hope that bubbled over into an excitement she knew might have been a lot to take so early in the morning ( he confirms that thought moments later by remarking about the hour ) and so she did her best to temper it.

It barely worked though, tone still ebullient as she took his hand to complete their handshake. "It's nice to meet you, Ander. And thank you for having me, I know it's probably the last thing you expected this morning - I was surprised when it came up on my schedule. A good surprise but not something I was expecting." She's not sure if she's intending for the words to put him at ease or not, she just knows that she can only restrain herself so much.

Head shook at the notion of there being any kind of boring task in a classroom and she found herself settling at the idea of having something to do. "Oh no, that's fine. I'm happy to do whatever's needed and it'd be a long day for us all if they can't write anything down." There's a light laugh given before she takes the box and finds a seat to get started. "I'd love to hear what you've got planned."

[fatefought]

yazmin's room assignment is just meant to be temporary, they say. she'll be put in family quarters once amara and the other captives get rescued, they say. they say a lot it seems. and yet, when are those in charge going to get those who have been imprisoned in the capitol ? time moves on and questions marks remain in red font. the rebel keeps busy, in hopes that her thoughts don't smother her. they let silverhorn offer aid in the infirmary. throwing herself into her work is the only way amara's situation doesn't consume her fully. the more weeks pass however, it's getting harder to roll out of bed.

in truth, yazmin had been avoiding esme. had it been any other silverhorn outside of amara, avoidance would be easy. her connection to most is through last name alone. she married into the family. like a peasant wooing a princess, mister silverhorn has in many ways let yaz know she was undeserving of mar. ( and with amara gone and enduring whatever terrors she is, yazmin more than ever knows that she is not worthy. )

esme is different though. she'd been kind, a gentler soul amongst those who worried only for image. the rebel had liked the younger woman, even at times when yazmin had been distant. her space now had been deliberate. did she blame yazmin ? ( she should. ) she's never asked personally. no, yaz cannot face esme without seeing amara. they look alike, not that most siblings don't. the big difference was amara looked like a siren, while esme like a doe ; soon amara might also look like a ghost, and the thought haunts yazmin. but to see esme ... it's just another bitter reminder that her wife is gone.

so when the young woman is near her quarters, a small, selfish part of yazmin debates to turn around. a deep breath in propels her to go towards the door. " hey it's okay, " yazmin says at first as esme seems to nervously ramble. " i'm usually here or at the medical ward, but yeah scheduling is definitely intense here. " maybe she should outwardly ask esme her own as well, but she's just as in her nerves as her sister-in-law.

there's no breath in between words though and esme is asking to spend time together. yazmin's lungs feel like they have no breath either. she's not used to feeling on edge like this, but everyone is going through a new normal. a hand goes towards yazmin's door. " i just finished a shift so i'm all good ... do you wanna come in ? "

[esmexsilverhorn]

There's an awkwardness between them she feels responsible for, her surprise visit putting them both on the back foot. "The medical ward? How have you been finding that?" Genuine curiosity is nestled in her tone and just a hint of admiration. She'd never been able to stomach the sight of blood and always felt flustered around the sick, despite how much she cared and wanted to help she was fairly certain she'd be more of an inconvenience than an asset there.

"I'd love to." Voice was thick with emotion that suddenly rises, part relief that she's not being pushed away and part gratitude that she might finally be able to talk about her sister to someone who truly understands. There's a thousand things she wants to say, hundreds of thoughts she wants to pour out in the hope that breathing life into them might help her make sense of them. But she doesn't say anything when she knows that her overwhelming waves of thoughts and emotions are likely to drown her sister in law too. Instead just sending a wavering smile Yazmin's way as she walks through the door into the room.

She doesn't quite know where to put herself, not just because rooms in Thirteen aren't always set up with socialising in mind. It feels strange to be in Yazmin's space, like she's intruding on her peace despite the fact that she'd been invited in. Now that she was there it was as though she had nothing to say but still she attempts to start. "I, um." She swallowed, reaching for any kind of continuation of the sentence she'd started. "How are you?" She almost physically cringes at the question, knowing that it was one she'd been avoiding answering herself. But maybe it would help them, give them a way to talk about all that had happened. Or at least that was what she was hoping for - that they could provide some sort of comfort to one another.

The silence sits heavily between them and not being able to bear even a few seconds of it, Esme is speaking again. "I know it's that question so you don't have to answer it if you don't want to - I know I've been dodging it too - but um, I really do want to know. How you are really. Please don't feel like you can't be honest with me." Eyes are wide and almost pleading, genuine concern obvious in their brown depths. There's a thought at the back of her mind that she was maybe asking too much by requesting such vulnerability from the other woman when they'd yet to share that kind of relationship before now. But with her family members waning and some now out of her reach for good, she couldn't help but want to pull Yazmin in closer.

[incaensio]

they. the frown that has settled permanently in her features deepens as the woman admits to not being a native, yet admires their work ethic. "wouldn'a call it admirable." she would hardly think of thirteen with words of compliment, but it seems she's of the minority; even her family seems to be well settled, both mother and prim content with being able to work in an actual hospital. katniss should be happy for that, to see how bright prim's eyes are as she speaks of her new routine and the things she is learning, of knowing that the two of them will never again (or for however long thirteen keep its location hidden) starve or be in danger directly because of snow. but something in her gut refuses to let herself get entirely acclimated, or happy, even. "are you from eight?" even before the mission, eight and twelve had been the districts with the most number of refugees, eager to find a new home away from abuse or ashes. 

"i know." she knew way too well, actually. "kids are better to be around, for one." it had been the main reason she had allowed for that assignment to be written into her schedule, though, like almost everything else in her arm, she barely obeyed the right time and just went whenever she liked; she liked to catch a glimpse of finnick's (and annie's) son, and cecelia's, to make sure they are safe though their mothers are not, but it was easy to become accustomed and even fond of the other children, the ones from twelve, from ten, seven and even the few that were able to come to life despite the massive eradication of fertile people in thirteen due to some bout of illness some years ago. she wonders if the woman she speaks with now has any she keeps a closer watch, or as a sort of teacher, she has grow to care for them all. 

the corner of katniss' lips twists in something almost like a smile, but it doesn't last; she offers a shrug instead. although the woman is much taller than her, and in most situations katniss' mind would quicken to make comparisons and dwell on worries on how to take her down, she supposes her brain has decided to give her a break for now. she's survived worse, hasn't she? "how big?" she isn't sure how long she's been sleeping — the youngest class is the smallest, and that's the one she tries to stick around for, but the older the kids, the bigger the classes are too; she isn't sure if she wants to be around for that long, so she better get started doing the prep work to leave this woman to it. quietly, she begins the haul: two or three more boxes of crayons, some two big blocks of paper; she also finds some boxes of colored pencils, noticing that they seem to be as good as the ones she has grown used to seeing around peeta's studio. the thought is wounding, but the weight on her hands remind her that this is more than she's ever had as a child, and for a moment, she is glad that these children are sheltered, for however long that will last. "'ma carry these and leave you to it."

[esmexsilverhorn]

There's a hesitant nod given to acknowledge that their views on Thirteen seemed to differ, fighting back the rising anxiety that she'd somehow managed to spoil their interaction. But Katniss continues and so she focuses on the question aimed at her, head shaking this time as she speaks. "Eight? Oh, no. I'm from Six." The smile on her features wavered at the mention of her home, memories tugging at her heart and causing her chest to tighten. It was a familiar ache now when she'd spent weeks wondering if she'd made the right choice, choosing what she thought was right over the majority of her family. But her concerns over her decision always came with the reminder that her family, for all the love that still lingered, weren't the people she'd once believed them to be. The disconnect between their views had turned into an uncrossable void years ago, her choice to go to Thirteen had only made it final, not been the cause.

If her brief melancholic mood had showed in those doe eyes of hers it would be quickly replaced by a new brightness in them, excitement sparking quickly when she realised that not only did they share similar views but she was able to talk about something she loved without worrying if she was prattling on about something Katniss had no interest in. "They really are, aren't they. Everything just seems -" For once she actually gives herself a moment to search for the perfect word to sum it up, taking pause to consider things rather than verbally stumble around until she landed on what felt right. "- simpler. I think." She almost envied them their world view, wondering if she'd be better equipped to handle all that life had thrown at her if she was able to view it all through the lens of a child. Her own childhood had been blissful ( partially because she'd been kept so naïve and ignorant - wasn't that what bliss was? ) and she couldn't help but hope that she was helping give the children in Thirteen the kind of childhood they deserved. Warm memories that they could hold onto when life turned cold on them. "It's nice to get away from the complicated for just a little while, I think. Besides, they're all so endearing and I love getting to know their little personalities. It's impossible not to love them all."

There's a hum given at the question, feeling as though she should really know the answer. "At least twenty or so." It's a rough estimate before she does a mental headcount, hoping that she's not missed any child in her total. Irrational guilt creeps in that she might have forgotten someone, the thought of accidentally excluding them saddening her even though they'd never know that she had. "Actually, I think it ends up being nearer thirty - twenty eight if I've remembered everyone." She watches as she's helped by Katniss, trying not to get too fixated on the fact she was in front of the Face of the rebellion. At least not while she was still there. It was an odd experience, seeing someone who she'd only seen on screens and only seen parts of. "Thank you, I really appreciate it. You're saving me so much time but please, don't let me keep you back." She's conscious that her new companion is probably in too high demand to help with menial tasks for too long.

[ofnecessities]

open starter

Days had been long and work had been busy. There where days where he forgot wether or not he had even slept or ate. There was much to be done and frankly they were understaffed. The idea of getting refugees to work in the department, fill in the gaps, made him more nervous than having to carry the load himself. Explaining to them how things worked in District 13 has already led to the most ridiciulous conversations he'd ever had in his life. Apart from that time he heard his mother had died, of course. Or when his younger brother died only days after. The ridicule of those conversations could never be beaten.

"That's not a serious question, right? That can't be a serious question." He tried to keep any exaggeration out of his voice. Unfortunately there was not much he could muster due to exhaustion, lost patience or any other explanation that would be acceptable.

[esmexsilverhorn]

Tired of continuously getting lost in the maze of corridors that made up Thirteen, Esme had hoped that someone in Necessities might have been able to help. But her request for a map of some kind had been met with what felt like ridicule and tears pricked at her eyes, suddenly feeling absurd. Of course, the moment she felt the tears pricking at her eyes frustration at herself had risen, only make them all the more likely to fall. With her emotions constantly feeling stretched too thin, so ready to snap at any moment, breaking had felt inevitable she just hadn't expected it to happen in front of a stranger.

Hand is brought up quickly in the hope that she can hide or at least wipe away any evidence of her uncontrolled feelings. "I'm sorry." She wasn't sure if she was apologising for her question or her display of emotion but she offers up a weak, flickering smile as another kind of apology before she continues. "I know you must be so busy down here, I didn't mean to cause any issues. I just wanted to get around a little easier and my sense of direction has never been that good."

[angelbenningflint]

He regretted the words as soon as they came out, knowing how hostile they must have sounded.  At that point he might as well havel pissed on the corner and called it his, for fuck’s sake.  He was just so incredibly overstimulated, feeling as if every word out of people’s mouths were so stupid that it pained him, every stray noise made him want to bury his head in the sand, and for all that is holy if the seam of his sock didn’t stop rubbing against his toes, he was going to cut his foot off.  So it was when he finally saw an end to all of that in the form of a quiet space, only to have his hopes dashed…Well, he was trying very hard not to explode.  

But he had to realize the woman in front of him not only knew none of that, but also wasn’t at fault for any of it.  It wasn’t her fault he had gotten stuck with a random roommate, despite asking to be placed with Ander and let two newbies have his rooms, only to be shot down with the insistence that all new folks get paired with a resident of 13.  It wasn’t her fault that his day had been spent introducing technology to folks who had never seen anything like it and made him realize that there were, in fact, stupid questions.  

“It’s okay,” he breathed out, more exhausted than anything.  “Just a little cramped down here, all the sudden,” he responded lightly, knowing how ridiculous it was for him to be complaining about loss of a hiding spot, when the cramped confines were caused by thousands losing their entire homes and districts.  

“Angel,” he said abruptly, sticking his hand out, realizing it was the least he could do to make a newcomer feel welcome, after his previous attitude had clearly done the opposite.

[esmexsilverhorn]

Selfish wasn't a word that she tended to associate with herself when she tended to always care a little too much about everything and everyone to focus too much on herself. But there was no denying that in recent weeks she'd been a little more self absorbed than normal, her mind occupied by her own battle with grief and loneliness rather than pausing to think about the struggles that those around her might be going through. Of course, she was aware that she wasn't alone in such feelings and others had lost their home in a far more violent way than her but thinking about the problems of others just wasn't something she felt capable of when she barely had the capacity to process her own.

Instead she'd been doing her best to cling to normality and clutch at any kind of distraction offered her way. For the most part it worked, keeping her mind busy with the mundane kept her thoughts from slipping too far toward the hopeless. But there were still moments the distraction didn't manage to drown out and while she had remained friendly with her new roommate, she hadn't wanted to make their living space awkward with her tears. She figured that was probably why he'd ended up there too, or something similar at least , searching for some kind of solace within the crowded halls.

There's a no of understanding giving to his explanation and she relaxes quickly upon realising that his tone hadn't been caused by her specifically. "I can imagine." Is all she can think of to say in reply, murmuring the words simply because she thought it was what she was supposed to say. But then she thinks about it, reflecting on how she can't imagine what it must feel like to have your whole world flipped on its head and everything familiar suddenly becoming strange. "Actually, no, I'm not really sure why I said that. Everything must have changed for you all? Your home just turned upside down and there's people you don't know everywhere and you don't have a single space that's just yours to get away from it all. I think you're all handling it pretty amazingly."

Lips shift into a sheepish smile, wondering if she'd said far too much. But he's extending a hand out towards her and she reaches out for it eagerly, quick to grasp on to any show of potential friendship she's shown. "Esme. It's nice to meet you, Ángel."

[ander-aurelius]

Closed starter | @esmexsilverhorn

The early morning starts did not agree with Ander. His eyes burned with lingering exhaustion, and he was having a particularly difficult time pulling himself together. But this was the life of a teacher in 13, and despite his burning desire to crawl back into bed and bury himself under his blankets, he had work to do. Or at least that’s what the schedule printed onto his left forearm said. 

06:30 - Breakfast

07:00 - Prep

08:30 - Teaching period begins

15:00 - Teaching period ends

He had skipped breakfast; he usually does. It was hard for him to find an appetite so early in the morning, and he much preferred to spend that half hour getting some extra sleep than pushing around runny oatmeal in his bowl. Despite skipping breakfast however, and the fact that his quarters where closer to the school wing than the cafeteria was, Ander was still running behind.

In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t really matter if he stuck to his exact schedule. At 07:00, he was sure that he would the only member of the teaching team on the wing. He had been informed that he’d have two new students on his roster. A sibling set — refugees from 9 who had arrived just a few days prior. He’d need to move some things around in his classroom to make space, pull things from the resource closet and put an order in with Necessities for some new supplies. But with no witnesses, there’d be no one to tattle on him for turning up late.

He was so caught up in creating his mental to-do list that he had missed the light coming from his classroom. It wasn’t until he stopped to unlock his door that Ander realized it was already propped open. The man paused at the threshold. Inside the room was a woman he wasn’t quite sure he recognized. 

How strange. Ander took a second to think. Had they reassigned him? No, surely not. He would have received notice weeks ago so he’d have time to prepare and make adjustments to the curriculum. But then if he hadn’t been reassigned, who was this woman standing at his desk? And how had she gotten in, anyway? He could have sworn he locked the door when he had left yesterday afternoon.

Ander took a cautious step inside. “Good morning,” he said in a gentle voice. He didn’t want to startle the poor girl, just figure out what he hell she was doing in his classroom. “Can I— I'm sorry, did you need something?"

[esmexsilverhorn]

Mornings had always been the time of day that she enjoyed the most, finding something exciting in the possibilities that a new day brought. That had changed somewhat since arriving in Thirteen, with each morning bringing with it an uneasy and overwhelming sense of unknown rather than the anticipation she'd used to embrace the day with. It hardly helped that each morning marking another day she was separated from her sister.

The schedule helped, sort of, it made her feel like less of a spare part and gave her something to focus on even if her assignments weren't always where she would have chosen for herself. But she would take her hours being filled by just about anything else than being left to her own thoughts which never failed to drift to her sister, spiralling towards despondency the moment she let them.

But this morning she did feel cautious excitement bubbling within herself at the sight of her schedule. Despite everything else going on in her life she chose to embrace it. Snatching at the warm feeling it brought, wanting to savour feeling light instead of heavy. She'd gotten to the classroom early in her keenness to get started, a voice startling her slightly as she was considering what to do next.

Esme turned to face the voice, the smile that had been so frequent for her before all this settling itself onto her features once again. "Good morning." Tone was bright matching the sunny demeanour that was practically radiating off her. "I should really be asking you that since I'm here to help. Or at least that's what my schedule says but I'm guessing no one told you that so I don't have to?"

Despite her last words being phrased as a question, brown eyes wide with worry that he might send her away, she still continued talking without taking a breath. Hand was brought up to motion to the room around her. "I wasn't sure where you'd want to start with getting things ready so I just started neatening up all the desks, kids seem to really love leaving them squint, I hope that's okay. I can run and get anything else you think we'd need too, if you want?"

Another question, but this time she catches herself, lips practically pressing themselves together to slow anymore words that wanted to slip out of them. It's in this brief silence she realises that aside from her rambled explanation, he still has no real idea who she is. "I'm Esme." Sheepish smile settles on her features, finally allowing him the time to reply.

[classsymemes]

a comprehensive list of scenarios

feel free to combine multiple prompts or add  “ + reverse ”  to switch roles !   for reference, the one sending in the prompt is the one committing the action.

1.  GUEST :  for one muse to offer the other a place to stay. 2.  STORM :  for both muses to find shelter from a severe storm. 3.  MEDIC :  for one muse to show up at the other’s doorstep injured. 4.  SURPRISE :  for one muse to come home and find the other already inside. 5.  TRIP :  for both muses to road trip or travel together. 6.  BABYSIT :  for one muse to help the other home while they’re drunk. 7.  INSOMNIA :  for one muse to find the other still awake at 3am. 8.  AMBUSH :  for both characters to come under attack by the same enemy. 9.  DANCE :  for one muse to ask the other to dance at a party. 10.  STRANDED :  for one muse to help the other who’s stranded on the road. 11.  SERVICE :  for one muse to cover the cost of something for the other. 12.  SAFEGUARD :  for one muse to save the other from being hit by a vehicle or from some other life-threatening event. 13.  DAZE :  for one muse to wake somewhere and find the other hovering over them. 14.  STOWAWAY :  for one muse to find the other hiding on the same ship. 15.  TAXI :  for both muses to share the same taxi ride. 16.  MAKEOVER :  for one muse to help the other with a new outfit or hairstyle. 17.  LIFEGUARD :  for one muse to rescue the other from drowning. 18.  DISASTER :  for both muses to work together to escape a fire, flood, or other disaster. 19.  TRANSIT :  for one muse to sit next to the other on a public transport. 20.  SPRAIN :  for one muse to carry the other after spraining their ankle. 21.  EMPLOY :  for one muse to be hired as the other’s bodyguard, tutor, assistant, etc. 22.  QUEST :  for one muse to help the other with a task in exchange for compensation. 23.  SOOTHE :  for one muse to calm the other during a panic attack. 24.  RECOVER :  for one muse to return the other’s lost belonging. 25.  UMBRELLA :  for one muse to share their umbrella with the other on a rainy day. 26.  HEAL :  for one muse to nurse the other back to health from a sickness or injury. 27.  NIGHTMARE :  for one muse to comfort the other after a nightmare. 28.  REUNION :  for one muse to run into the other again after a long time. 29.  PRIZE :  for one muse to win the other a prize at a carnival. 30.  NUDE :  for one muse to walk in on the other while they’re changing. 31.  BED :  for both muses to wake in the same bed, naked or fully clothed. 32.  TRAIL :  for one muse to notice the other has been following them. 33.  EVADE :  for one muse to pull the other into an alleyway to escape their pursuer. 34.  THIEF :  for one muse to confront the other after having something stolen by them. 35.  CAUGHT :  for one muse to walk in on the other singing / dancing. 36.  FESTIVE :  for both muses to decorate for a special occasion. 37.  PRESENT :  for one muse to give the other a  (birthday)  gift. 38.  WEARY :  for one muse to wake up after falling asleep on the other. 39.  CAPTIVE :  for one muse to hold the other against their will. 40.  SNAP :  for one muse to yell at or push the other out of frustration. 41.  SLEEPOVER :  for one muse to stay the night at the other’s place. 42.  TRESPASS :  for one muse to trespass on the other’s property. 43.  BREAK-IN :  for one muse to discover the other robbing their place. 44.  MERCY :  for both muses to come across an injured animal. 45.  UNKNOWN :  for both muses to wake and find themselves in a strange place. 46.  ACCOMPLICE :  for one muse to assist the other at the scene of a crime. 47.  ASTRAY :  for both muses to take a detour and lose their way. 48.  RELAX :  for both muses to share a hot tub or hot spring. 49.  MUSE :  for one muse to model for the other’s art project. 50.  ACCOMPANY :  for one muse to give the other an extra ticket to an event. 51.  SALVAGE :  for one muse to retrieve the other’s belongings from a thief. 52.  MEAL :  for both muses to prepare and share a meal together. 53.  CEMETERY :  for one muse to find the other at a gravestone. 54.  REFUGE :  for one muse to shelter the other from enemies. 55.  ARRANGED :  for both muses to date or marry out of convenience. 56.  FAVOR :  for one muse to owe the other a favor. 57.  VACATION :  for both muses to book the same hotel on vacation. 58.  DEFEND :  for one muse to save the other from one or multiple assailants. 59.  CATCH :  for one muse to return the other’s pet that escaped. 60.  RESTRICTED :  for both muses to sneak into someplace they’re not supposed to be.

[esmexsilverhorn]

aspen || helios || esme

[keatinglayla]

LAYLA KEATING All American 518. This Is How You Do It

[incaensio]

she's scared the woman — something apparently laughable, considering katniss believes that she was the one invaded upon, first by the relentless nightmares, then by this woman. of course, if only her heartbeat would even out, she could turn to reason and realize that the scare of catching some woman with sleep in her eyes and some crayons for a weapon, crouched to attack, was all too real. but by the heavens, she talks. is there something to fear from someone who talks this much? the only blabbermouth that proved dangerous, in her experience, was snow, but his words were crafted and measured, and this woman's is seemingly just something out of nerves. katniss brings her free hand to her face, trying to poke away the sleep before rubbing the skin there. "got it. they build 'em dedicated here." the muttering is almost to herself, but there's truth to her statement; people at thirteen seemed passionate, purposeful. coming from twelve, she had rarely known someone to do their function if not by habit because there's nothing else you can do, then by the need to put food in their bellies and that of their families'. odd concept. and then she is the crazy one.

her eyes eventually fall to the half-broken crayons in her own hand. "ah, shit." they're stingy with office supplies here, and, well, everything else. that's probably why they survived seventy-five years, but katniss doesn't particularly care for it, not any more than she did of the dazzling abundance of the capitol. out of the eight, she's probably broken three or four though, and she thinks half is fair enough (better than they had at twelve, but that's not something she cares to think; these kids do deserve better than the scraps they got back home). "i was supp'sed to get 'em for a class..." someone had told them the professor's name, but katniss can not remember any names that sound thirteen, or district, at all. she squints quietly, and slips the broken crayons into the pocket of her jumpsuit, lifting a hand to one of the shelves so she can stand up. "'m'a guess it's your class?" she's definitely not coming off well; usually, that's not something katniss particularly cares about, but if this woman is the teacher, then she's probably one of the least dislikeable people around this place, whose service is actually necessary. 

her face twists in something akin to a smile, but it is mostly a grimace. "sorry." the apology is sincere, at least. "didn't mean to attack you." not her, definitely not this woman. "i'm gonna... gonna help you 'round." it's what she was supposed to be doing, anyways (and it doesn't seem like her nap is going to be resumed, too). so she turns on her heel, gazing through half-familiar shelves until she finds one she digs for a bigger crayon box. "you can note it under my name, if you have to." not that she thought being the mockingjay would allow her to take extra supplies (she's asked), but it's best to do it and then ask for forgiveness. "what else y'need?"

[esmexsilverhorn]

She's not sure if she was even supposed to hear the comment that's made about the people of Thirteen but she can't help but latch onto it anyway in the hope that the conversation moving on might make the whole thing a little less awkward. "They really do, I always thought I had a pretty good work ethic but here they take it to devotion. It's admirable, really" There's amazement tinged with an edge of almost envy when she almost wishes she'd been able to feel that same level of devotion to something in her life. She'd cared about things of course, and cared deeply, but it had almost felt as though she'd cared too much but everything and everyone to be able to focus herself so fully on just one thing. Maybe if she was able to throw herself more fully into the rebellion she'd be able to discover that same level of dedication and devotion within herself. Her moment of self reflection though is interrupted as recognition finally dawns on her of just who she was talking to. She feels a bit ridiculous then, chattering on to the Girl on Fire about something so mundane but then she thinks it's probably for the best. After all, what exactly did someone say to someone like her?

When the question comes she's grateful for it, happy to follow Katniss' lead in how their interaction should go. "Oh no, not mine. Well, kind of, but I'm not the teacher. I've just been helping out since I got here. Wherever they need me, really, but I think I like it here best. There's something about the nursey, you know?" It's only when she ends on a question she wonders if she really wants to expand upon why she enjoyed being around the children so much. She had never been a particularly private person nor had she ever succeeded in being mysterious or closed off when her emotions were always felt deeply enough they couldn't help but play over her features at all times. But since arriving in Thirteen she'd felt more guarded, not through a lack of trust but rather not wanting to become a source of pity. Especially when she was aware enough to realise that so many others had lost as much, if not more, than she had and she had no desire to begin sharing her trauma with people who had plenty of their own. Her realisation of just who it was she was speaking to made her all the more determined to keep up her lie of 'I'm fine'.

Hand waves away the apology she doesn't feel is necessary when in truth she'd forgiven the other woman almost instantly. She never had been able to hold a grudge even when the situation warranted and this one definitely didn't. "It's alright, I'm sure I must have given you a shock too." The words are said with a soft smile to show that there were no hard feelings before the smile brightened at the offer of help. "Oh, thank you. I think it's quite a big class so that'd be great." She hums softly as she tries to remember what she'd gone for in the first place before her she'd been surprised and lost her train of thought ( though that had never been something that was particularly difficult ) "Some more crayons, definitely, and I think something was mentioned about needing the blocks too?" Uncertainty makes her phrase it like a question even though she's not sure it's one Katniss could answer.

[esmexsilverhorn]

Esme: [Coin] Interesting. And the rest of your family who remains outside of Thirteen, are any of them trustworthy when it comes to the cause?

President Coin had been kind enough to her but it didn't change the fact that she was beyond intimidated to be even talking to her. Let alone the expectation she felt to try to focus her thoughts into something worthy of her time. "I don't know." She tries to keep the helplessness out of her voice, knowing that neither her answer nor her emotions on the subject are particularly helpful. Slow breath is let out softly, hoping that she could calm herself enough to summon up some kind of satisfactory answer. "I want to think so. I want to believe that they'd help but I don't know if I can guarantee it." Another sigh when she realises that her answer isn't good enough. It's just her own emotions again. Hardly enough to build anything useful on for the rebellion.

"Maybe if I asked? But -" Head shakes slightly, dismissing the idea almost as soon as she'd spoken it aloud and that feeling of helplessness creeping in when she knows that her voice had always been drowned out by the rest of her family. The odd occasion where she had spoken up only to be made to feel ridiculous for it would always be seared into her mind. There's silence as she turns memories over and over in her mind, trying to decide just where her siblings would fall. Whether their love for her would be enough for them to look closely enough at their father's views to change their own minds. She doesn't know for certain. "It feels like it could be too much of a risk." Finally, a firm response from her and she almost surprises herself that she'd managed to come to some kind of conclusion.

She wondered if it would ever get easier, having to come to these realisations about her family. The people she'd loved and had loved her for her whole life but were feeling more and more like strangers to her. But there wasn't time for her to get lost in those thoughts now and she had always been someone to look for the silver lining. A bright spark in all the darkness. So despite her own growing despondence, she can't help but reach for something positive out of her need to be useful. "But I think there's other in Six who are, you probably know of them already though, they were already beginning to get involved in the rebellion."

[esmexsilverhorn]

Orange: What is Esme's biggest pet peeve(s)?

On a larger scale she hates rudeness, it's one of her firmest beliefs that it costs nothing to be kind. In general she's very punctual and so lateness can sometimes annoy her but never that much she doesn't forgive whomever kept her waiting almost immediately. Even though both of these things do briefly irritate her, she's always quick to make allowances for people as to why they might have been either of those things.

[esmexsilverhorn]

Deer: Does Esme flight, fight, or fawn when dealing with a conflict? How do they handle stress?

Fawn or flight are far more likely for her, I don't think she'd ever resort to fight even if she felt she had no other choice. But I think in general, the idea of people being upset with her leaves her so uncomfortable fawn is the response she'd go to the majority of the time. She'll do anything to smooth a situation over.

As for handling stress, the short answer is not well. Her upbringing left her without any kind of coping mechanisms for life's more difficult situations because she so rarely had to deal with them. Or when she did, someone else almost always helped her. So genuine stress is something quite new to her and she tends to find herself spiralling when she does feel it.

[angelbenningflint]

who: open starter ( @eventidestarters ) where: district 13

The first weeks after the arrival of the folks from 8 and 12 had been hard. Most of them had lost everything. And Ángel who took pride in being able to cheer people up, was unable to do so. Not only because the loss they had suffered was so immense, but because he could barely get himself to leave his rooms. Their loss had reminded him of his own. His matching wound may have not been as fresh, may have protected itself with scar tissue, but it was there all the same. He found himself feeling much like the young boy he once was, trapped in a room for a much different reason. But eventually, after remembering all he had learned from the good doctor, he found himself able to face them, embarrassed at how long it took him to welcome the new members of 13 into the fold.

But as the weeks passed and that dark feeling seemed to no longer haunt the halls, Ángel began to love all the new life that had been injected right into the heart of 13. He could feel the fresh energy pumping through the veins of their concrete home. He loved talking to them, getting to know what it was like in the other districts, hear what their food tasted like, what traditions they held. He also loved showing them how they did things in 13. Their food might not be impressive, but their tech was, and as a tech supervisor, it was something else to watch them interact with it.

All that being said, for the most part, Ángel loved the new circumstances of 13. But, as someone who had lived alone for the past 7 years, suddenly having a roommate was...Something that made him want to stick a fork into an electrical socket.

"Oh for fucks sake," he cursed as he walked into the last hideout spot he had on his mental list, only to find it occupied. "Did everyone suddenly develop a rat like sense of being able to sniff out all the hidden nooks and crannies of this place?"

[esmexsilverhorn]

As her situation had changed through the years Esme had been forced to come to terms with the fact that her upbringing had prepared her for very little in her life. While her childhood had been blissfully challenge free, she now realised that it had left her with no opportunity to develop any kind of coping mechanisms. It only added to the way she'd felt out of her depth ever since arriving in Thirteen. Constantly feeling like she was only moments away from drowning under the weight of all her emotions and frantically treading water to avoid it.

Being alone had never been a tactic she'd turned to, not when she got so much more comfort from being around others, but feeling at a loss Esme had aimlessly padded through the halls until she'd found what she thought was a secluded enough area. She didn't really know what she was hoping to achieve in her solitude - maybe just a place to cry with no one's eyes on her - but she allowed herself to drift away in silent reflection. Finally giving the thoughts that she had been shoving down for weeks a chance to be centre stage.

Wide brown eyes blinked in surprise as a voice cuts through them and she did her best to process his words, glancing behind herself to help bring some clarity. "Oh I'm sorry, I didn't realise that this was someone's nook. Or cranny. Or that it was yours, your spot." She knew that she most likely sounded ridiculous, the surprise of being broken out of her reverie leaving her almost nonsensical, but she couldn't summon anything more coherent.

Maybe that was why she stood up so quickly and prepared to leave, more out of embarrassment than anything he had done. "I can go, it's not a problem and you can have your hiding place back. I've probably reached my limit on silent reflection anyway." There's an attempt made at a self-deprecating smile, a joke at her own expense when it was probably true that anymore time in her own company would only trigger a maudlin mood.

[mxllitiam]

Amara tried to remember her father, when she stood in the crowd. She couldn't see him then, couldn't pick him out from the hundreds or thousands of heads on the other side, didn't want to focus too hard on anything other than her wife's hand clutched in her own, too. As she waited, feet planted on the ground and breaths shallow to hear a name plucked from the bowl, she tried to remember his voice, his cocky and conceited drawl as he assured his kids they were never getting picked. He'd brag about the fact that each of the siblings only had the name in there once, while others were counted multiple times, lady luck working against them. He'd say it as if it was anything to be proud of. Amara had learned the truth behind all of that pretty quickly, but she wore it like a blanket today, snuggled it closed around her shoulders and willed it to be true -- they wouldn't pick a Silverhorn, would they?

And then they did. Everything goes by in a blur. She thrashes against the peacekeeper that pulls her from the parting crowd, if only because he doesn't let her kiss Yazmin one last time before she's forced onto the stage. She stands there, a trembling thing, catching the countless pitiful eyes directed towards her. Words are muffled to her ears, some celebration goes by, she's numb; and then she's in a bizarrely impersonal little room where she's supposed to say her hasted goodbyes.

Esme's face breaks through the fog of her panic. Esme, the sweetest thing, looking at her with those round, worried eyes and swallowing back her emotions -- always with a habit of caring more about others than herself. "Esme," she croaks, her voice cracking around the sound, suddenly feeling like she hasn't spoken in months. She takes the hand reached to her, squeezes Esme's fingers, before pulling on her sister's wrist and crumbling into her arms for a desperate hug. She's the older sister, she knows; she's not supposed to break in front of the younger one, but today, she can't help it. The way her entire frame is shaking is obvious against her sister's much more solid one, and she bites back a sob as she speaks again. "I'm sorry," she says, for no reason. Sorry for everything, sorry for anything, she just feels sorrow like a heavy lump in her chest. Sorry that she's going to die. "Take care of Yazmin for me, please." The plea comes quickly, and she gasps in a breath for air, thoughts racing as it all dawns on her. She parts from Esme, holding her sister's shoulders now, speaking with determination despite the tears steadily tracking down her cheeks. "Take care of her-- don't let them take anything away from her, okay? She has our name, she owns everything I leave behind, don't-- don't let dad take it from her. Okay? Promise me, at least."

[esmexsilverhorn]

It was usually times like these that she could never keep her mouth shut, nerves making words flow to fill the silence and soften any awkwardness. But for once she was mute when she knew that there was nothing she could possibly say to make this any better. There was no combination of words she could pour haphazardly together in some vain hope that they would soothe any hurt. No sentence she could string hastily together that would provide any sort of comfort or reassurance. All she could do was try to stay strong and steady as she held her sister despite how much she wanted to crumble and fall apart. Esme had never considered herself particularly strong - it was hard to be firm and sturdy when she had been allowed to be so soft and delicate - but she knew for certain that even if she were, it would be difficult to bear the crushing weight of the knowledge that she might have to lose her sister. Somehow though she did summon the strength, conjured out of the love she felt for Amara and her desire to give her what she needed, holding on to her trembling sister and hoping that her embrace could bring some kind of comfort.

Head shakes helplessly at her sister's apology when she felt as though she was the last person that should be sorry. There were so many that could be blamed for the position they were now in but she wasn't one of them. "No, don't be sorry. Please." Her sentences are kept purposely short, hoping that brevity might hide some of her emotion or at least reduce the risk of her voice cracking. Tears still swell in her eyes and threaten to fall but she holds them back, ignoring the way that her lips seem determined to curl downwards into a sob. A deep breath is taken, one that she prays isn't too shaky, in the hope that it might calm some of her emotions. It works long enough for her to make a heartfelt vow to her sister. "I'll try - I will."

As Amara pulls away she feels instantly cold at the loss of her sister's warmth against her but she forces herself to meet Amara's eyes as she relays her wishes. "He won't, I promise." There's a determination in her voice that she didn't know she was capable of until now. Her father had always been the one who'd dictated things in her family and she'd rarely challenged him even though there'd been countless times that she knew she should. But Esme feels a certainty within herself that Galven wouldn't deny Amara's wishes this time. "I promise." There's a treacherous part of her that can't help but think that it might be her sister's last request, the last time that she's able to ask her for anything, and tears prick at her eyes tauntingly once more. Voice is soft and hesitant when she speaks, feeling as though it was the remnants of herself as a child that's pleading with her sister not to give up. "You're still going to try though, aren't you?"

[plusultrcs-deactivated20250228]

Greta Onieogou as Layla Keatingin All American S04 E04 .