the rise & fall

hollis oversee thirty six district eight stylist

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     letters to: @silverostro

    when: before the 74th hunger games

     Dear Silver,

     I would firstly like to apologize, I know it has been too long since you last wrote to me. I didn't mean to make you wait, I must admit I got caught up in much less important matters here at home and the envelope got misplaced. I don’t wish to make excuses, I really do wish I’d read your letter sooner. It isn’t the first time that I have taken longer to write back, I know. I have to confess that your ideas more often than not leave me speechless. Sometimes I suspect you believe me to be much more intelligent than I am. It’s flattering, at times, but I fear I might not do any justice to your memory of me.

     I have been thinking a lot about what you said in your letter. Some of your references did escape me, I have to admit, but I, as always, appreciate that you share your thoughts with me. It sometimes feels like I can’t read you as well as I used to. It’s rewarding to know you think of me fondly enough to talk to me about your latest revelations. 

     I have been working hard towards the next Games. I believe I almost hit the mark last year, but it wasn’t quite enough. I am putting in the hours and the work, hopefully this year I can help and make a difference. I know the Capitol likes a properly-dressed figure, my mother keeps telling me what’s in and what’s out each season. Sometimes I wonder if she wouldn’t be better at this than I am, she’s got the gift they say. Maybe she could help save more of Eight’s children with that wild imagination of her. I’ve never asked her, of course. But I digress. I have been working non-stop since I came back to the district. I'm only here for a week and I’m leaving the day after tomorrow, I suppose I will be back in the Capitol by the time you get this. Right now, I’m taking a break from sketching. I scrubbed my hands as thoroughly as I could before sitting down to write this, but I’m already seeing smudges of graphite on the paper. I suppose it gives it some character. It also proves that it’s me writing this.

     I think my designs are improving, I’ve been working restlessly. But you know what that feels like, I don’t have to explain it to you of all people. I have found that taking short breaks to appreciate my surroundings and the people I care about is helpful to my art. I hope you take breaks, too. We both put our lives into our jobs, don’t we? But resting is important too, it can help us arrive at new conclusions, better products I suppose. What do you do on your breaks? Perhaps it’s obvious but I sometimes think of you and what you’d say if I could talk to you in person, that helps put me back on the right track. I hope you sometimes think of me, too, that would be sweet.

     My mother wrote to me this week; it’s not everyday that I hear from her, only once every few months even when we’re both in the city. Her letters aren’t nearly as intricate as yours and I certainly don’t look forward to them as much, either. I don’t think she can talk about anything but clothes, that makes me sad. She mentioned silver tulle is making a comeback this season. Do you remember what you were wearing the night we first met? I’ve come to know Bacchus over the years, they’re not terrible people, but thinking about that first glance at you makes me smile. A silver blazer, wasn’t it? Very witty, I think I said. 

     I hope to hear from you soon, and I hope you take a break every once in a while and practice that smile of yours.

     Hopefully, we will soon meet again.

     Sincerely,

     Hollis

- - -

    when: before the 74th hunger games

     Dear Silver, 

     I hope this isn’t out of line but even after sending you my last letter I still thought of that blazer you wore that night. Please don’t take this the wrong way but I don’t think it complimented your shoulders. I hope Bacchus won’t mind this but it came to me in a dream and I had to get it on paper. It’s not too sharp, I have to admit I was more that a little sleepy when I sketched this…

     Inside this same envelope there is a design of what I think they should dress you in. I don’t mean to do their job for them, and I don’t mean to step out of line, but I hope I recall your body correctly. 

     If you want, you can hand them the sketch. If they want, they can make the garment for you. And if the worlds align, one day I might see you in something I drew for you myself. Wouldn’t that be something?

     Yours,

     Hollis

- - -

    when: before the quartel quell announcement

     Dear Silver,

     I have to be honest with you, I don’t know where to begin. It’s not often that I’m at a loss for words yet you keep leaving me speechless time and time again. But most of all, I’m worried about you. Are you sure it was that symbol you describe? I’m not well-versed in rebellions but I don’t imagine they go peacefully.

     It’s a few hours after I wrote that first paragraph, I had to think very carefully about how to respond. Are we certain our letters are for our eyes only? It seems like the Capitol is everywhere, isn’t it? I can’t imagine you’d put me in danger like that, unless you didn’t know… 

     We will see each other soon, the Reaping is only weeks from now… Then you’ll tell me all about it. I’d rather hear your thoughts in your own voice rather than the one in my head.

     Please, take care of yourself, be cautious. And know I’m only a letter away,

     Love,

     Hollis

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     where: train one      when: late at night, day one      with: @swannscngs​

     Hollis tried to fall asleep but, as expected, it was harder than ever. The train was both too silent and too loud at the same time, and it was impossible to drift unconscious with all the questions hammering her brain and absolutely no answers to calm her nerves. Her robes are too bright for how gloomy the day turned out to be -- in her defense, she never could have seen this coming. Purple looked good against her skin, it was natural that she’d wear it, and even this seemed more appropriate than other pieces of clothing she’d packed like every other year. 

     As she finally steps out of the car assigned to Eight, Hollis wonders if maybe she’ll be able to pace around without bumping into anyone else, but, ironically, the odds are perfectly against her. It doesn’t take long for her to hear the muffled steps of another presence near her, and for her to lay eyes on one of the faces she’s worked quite thoroughly to avoid. So far, she’d been successful. Something falls to the ground and Hollis bends down to pick it up; it’s only after she’s taken the off white envelope into her hands that she mentally reprimands herself for even leaving her bed in the first place. And still, she can’t help but wonder.

     Other than her conversation with Diose, Hollis has been kept out of the loop, she hasn’t heard anything else about this alleged plan there was to get them out of here. And if she was judging by the general mood, she’d bet that whatever it was... It wasn’t going well. She’s never liked Swann, not really -- the victor is too pampered by the Capitol and Hollis doesn’t trust her, not when she knows how empty that life can be. She can’t seem to understand why Robyn would trust her like they do, but she’s kept her mouth shut. Most times. “I don’t think anyone here’s gonna deliver your letters,” she says, eyebrows raised with feigned indifference.

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othcrhalf​:

THERE’S LITTLE ELSE they know about the situation at hand. Everyone had become so busy so fast, and Robyn had remained paralyzed with fear and worry and the same grief he’d been carrying long before the announcement on the intercom had come to turn everything upside down. Most of the Victors seemed agitated, moving around every which way, up and down the train. Swann had been in the thick of that, of course, likely meeting up with those from the other districts to think of something. Surprisingly, Diose had been quite busy too, and there was little time to reconvene despite what they had initially promised. For his part, Robyn had… spoken to some people. Just to get a grasp on things. Maybe to try to function, even just a little. 

Abe and Marina had to be looked after, kept comfortable one way or another, and perhaps ( hopefully ) he’d done that for them in some way. Other than that, they’d had just a few conversations here and there, some with people he’d expected to talk to, others with those he hadn’t. Then, after finding it, they had chosen to spend the rest of their evening here, in Hollis’ room. Robyn isn’t completely privy to whatever plans could be happening on the train, and perhaps it’s all for the best. They don’t like knowing that there’s absolutely nothing, if not very little, that they can do to help, and in a situation like this, it’s hard to see exactly how their skills could be of any use. They don’t expect to be told what to do or to be asked to help either; knowing their history and involvement in the Games and with the Capitol, they… might be one of the last people anyone would ask. Unsurprisingly, perhaps their loyalties are still in question to most, despite how clearly he’d talked about them to Diose. 

Other than their own district, and the few friends they do have in some others, Robyn has had very little connection to the teams that are in here with them. It’s hard not to wish District Three had been here with them instead. Robyn finds solace in it’s Victors: Digit and her dry humor, Silver and their… well. Silver-ness, he supposes. There’s always been something particularly calming about that pair, and Silver, in particular, had been on Robyn’s mind for quite some time too. After what they’d said over the telecom, about staying safe and getting to work, hopefully to come back in one piece once this whole deal was done… 

“Very lucky,” is all Robyn chooses to say for a time, wanting to lose themself instead in their thoughts and in the mesmerizing pale pools of Hollis’ eyes as they gently press foreheads. But he knows he shouldn’t; he knows he ought to stay grounded. “I guess I have… a vague idea.” A pause. “So many people were moving about. I just assumed there was a plan.”

.

     It’s never escaped Hollis’ attention that people tend to like Robyn a lot more than her -- and she’d love to say she’s not entirely sure where the animosity towards her comes from but that would be a lie. She knows exactly when it sparked and why it’s been growing stronger over the years. Her leaving Eight all those years ago wasn’t her decision -- she was a child, and she’s repeated that fact tirelessly at people who want nothing to do with her excuses. But coming back was her choice, and one she’s doubted over the past decade. She thought she was making the only reasonable decision back then -- she had to give back, she had to show her people that she hadn’t forgotten about them. That she’d seen their tributes and felt their deaths on her own skin as if she was still back home. But, unsurprisingly, they didn’t want anything to do with her. Hollis swears she hasn’t changed, that deep down she’s still the same girl who left all those years ago, but one quick glance in the mirror would be enough to have her speech crumble into pieces. Her wears a fake smile like the best of them, sharp edges and big sleeves to keep her reputation with the Capitol intact. She’s not all too innocent, she knows; perhaps it’s that much scarier when it becomes obvious that others see right through her, too.

     The letters have been her refuge since moving back. Bo writes to her almost every week, not with marvelous stories of grand encounters and parties ( like the ones Ginger tells in her bimonthly writings ); instead, he tells her about the little things. The book he started reading. The lightbulb that was finally fixed in the bathroom. It’s the details that keep her connected to him. And then there’s Silver. Their letters are the opposite of her father’s, they’re a lot more complex and she has to admit most times she doesn’t quite follow their line of thought. But, nevertheless, she replies with matched enthusiasm, because they take the time to sit down and write to her. Sometimes she’ll wait for those envelopes specifically because she knows she’ll find something interesting inside. And yet, while Hollis considers them of her closest of friends, the people around them don’t seem to care for her too much. Truth be told, she doesn’t like them back, either. 

     All this to say, there aren’t too many people on this train she has to check up on. She spent her day with the tributes in the car for District Eight, but she could tell they weren’t precisely thrilled to have her there either. She can’t blame them, she looks exactly like the enemy, and they must be eager to be rescued by these rebels that are upon them. At least she’s managed to keep a somewhat respectable distance from Emory. All along, Robyn has been her rock, and she’s tried to be theirs.

     Their foreheads touch and she closes her eyes -- once more, she’s momentarily transported to all those lively memories she’s shared with them over the years. Of dancing until their feet ached and laughing until they were short of breath and stumbling into each other’s bed to wrap their arms around one another. She wishes she could remember more details about those nights, that she could dream of those times and escape this sad reality at least for a few hours. “Do you think the rebels might need an expert in haute couture?” she tries with a subtle laugh, an attempt at a joke even if she doesn’t consider herself an expert. No, she’s the child of one, rather. “It feels... Wrong to be here. Doesn’t it?”

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othcrhalf​:

IT STARTS AND it ends so quickly that perhaps anyone else wouldn’t have had enough time to react properly. Robyn, however, is used to it at this point. With Hollis, it is easy to communicate without words, easy to say what either of them mean from simple glances and touches alone. That she’d kissed them, exactly as they wanted, without their having to say a word, is testament to their closeness. Proof of how fully connected they are to one another, even during moments when it should be much easier to stay silent.

In that brief window, Robyn closes his eyes and kisses Hollis back, basking in the gentle warmth of her lips, holding on as though his life depended solely on it. Would that they could whisk themselves away from here, retreat to some distant past — or some bright, hazy future — without pain or worry. To be alone in their room once again, pressed together in much the same way, but without fear of death or punishment or capture, is by them something devoutly to be wished.

They break away almost naturally, eyes opening and gazing into each other’s, and Robyn sighs into her touch. She tells him she’ll be okay, and he wants to believe that — she tells him that she’ll try her best to keep him safe too, and he moves in closer, envelopes her in his hold. They don’t need to say anything for her to know how much they appreciate the sentiment. Neither of them are fighters, but that’s only all the more reason for them to stick together. 

“Maybe they’re already working on it. People who know more than we do.” They think about those they’re in the train with. Pista might know something. Swann had gone off earlier in the day too, presumably to do something about their situation. Robyn allows a weak laugh as they attempt to bring levity to this. “The other train has Silver, at least.”

.

     She’s tried to imagine what it felt like to lose someone so close in such an abrupt and mysterious way. Of course hse knew Harbor, he was her friend all those years ago, but he’d always been more vocal than she could handle, and with her life in the Capitol being entirely devoted to making her mother happy and keeping herself out of trouble, their paths were quick to drift apart. Robyn was-- is her rock, she doesn’t know what she’d do without them. And that is precisely the scariest of thoughts: that her lover knows a kind of loss that she can’t fathom. One she is nearly certain she wouldn’t be able to survive. It’s why her promise to keep herself ( and him, alike ) safe is that much heavier than anything else she could have said. And it’s why she chose those words, specifically. If not for herself, Hollis wants Robyn to have some sort of constant in their life.

     Their arms around her offer a familiar warmth that more than necessary; she craves everything about him, but these more innocent, caring touches are what keeps her completely enamoured by them.

     She knows he’s right; though, to be fair, Hollis can’t think of a single person on this train who doesn’t have more to offer than herself. Even Diose, another constant in her life, was swiftly turning herself around and stepping up to the challenge -- the one other person she might have suspected to be as paralyzed as herself has already proven to be more helpful than Hollis could hope to be. She thinks about the others on the train, too; many people she doesn’t trust, many others who clearly don’t trust her. I hope this is resolved soon. But then the mention of Silver is enough to rid her of any other thoughts. 

     She can’t remember when she saw them last but she can recall every word they wrote her in these past few months. If she tried hard enough, maybe she’d be able to recite them outloud. “Quite lucky of them,” she whispers, tilted her head to rest her forehead against theirs. Hollis reconsiders -- perhaps not as lucky for Silver. She wants to ask Robyn what he thinks of them, what he imagines they might be treated like by the rebels if they’re eventually taken somewhere else. She hopes, if it comes to that, that she at least gets to see them once more. But Hollis doesn’t say any of that. Instead, she shakes her head and slide her hand from Robyn’s cheek to their nape and down their back in her best attempt to return the warmth they provided. “Did you hear... About the plan? I... They want to take over the train...” she does her best not to sound conflicted but how can she? It’s not everyday that one lives the first steps of a revolution.

[some-celebrity-stuffs]

Angela Sarafyan

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othcrhalf​:

IT’S HARD FOR Robyn to know what to feel about Seven. On one hand, they have Dawn, perhaps the most unconditionally kind and caring person he’s ever met — a mother to him when his own couldn’t quite cut it. On the other, they have Twig, and they have Blythe, two people he’s unsure how to feel about even now, shared though their sorrow may be. Robyn will never quite know what had drawn Harbor to them in particular, trading afternoons with friends they shared to spend time with Blythe, or to cloister himself in some private booth with Twig elsewhere. All he knows is that choosing to be with them more had changed Harbor, in ways Robyn never could have imagined happening before. It’s hard to see them, hard not to want to blame them for what’s happening.

Yet, at the same time… he can’t deny how much his brother must have mattered to them. For the Capitol to choose Harbor as their tribute in Seven…

Robyn inhales sharply. it takes all of them not to spiral back into their thoughts, and they return, just as Hollis speaks again, her palm warm on their cheek. They watch her closely as she gazes at them, partly hidden in the darkness. What little light from outside highlights the curves and the edges of her frame, and illuminates the planes of her face. “I’ll try.”

The fact of the matter is that they have no way of knowing what’s going to happen next. What does safety even mean anymore? The Capitol had already made it quite clear that no one could ever truly be protected. There is no security here. “You should too.” Just as Hollis had done, Robyn brings a hand up to the side of her face, fingers gently, lightly touching the corner of her lips. “I don’t want anything to happen to you either.”

.

     It’s always been the gentlest of touches that nearly leave her breathless -- they’ve known Robyn for so long that they’ve come to learn the smallest tells of their body, all of their crevices and curves and sharp edges. And still they continue to amaze her and keep her coming back for more. Their bodies aren’t closer than any other time but it feels more intimate now, it serves as a shelter against everything that’s outside those doors, against everything others might think and say about them. They’ve shared that through the years, being outsiders to the districts, and it doesn’t get any easier with time but at least they found each other. A short but welcome break from the intensity of it all.

     His fingers linger so gracefully over the corner of her lips and, for a split of a second, nothing else matters. For just that long, the room around them warps into that suite in the Capitol, the one they’ve come to know like the palm of their hands, and they’re together in this same position, but they’re not on the verge of tears -- rather, they’re amazed by each other’s mere existence, completely in awe that they get to leave all of those extravagant parties together. But it only lasts that long, not even a fully second, and she’s back in reality, where even loving someone has proven to be dangerous. 

     So she does what she knows best, she brings a fragment of that colorful fantasy into the room and presses a loving kiss to Robyn’s lips. It’s not passionate or soothing like other times, it’s simply a way to keep herself grounded. “I’m going to be okay,” she promises him. While Hollis is rightfully and painfully aware that her position won’t precisely grant her immunity with the rebels, she doubts she’s anywhere near the top of the list of targets. She’s not a threat to any one -- her only skill is matching colors and patterns, which she suspects won’t be too valuable if there’s any form of armed attack. “I will,” she stresses, rubbing her thumb over Robyn’s cheek. “And I’ll try my best to keep you safe, too.” It’s not that promising given her lack of talents but the sentiment has to count for something. “I wish there was a way to talk to the other train,” she laments, however. Who knows how long they’ll be stuck here and what getting out might even look like -- it’s impossible not to wonder what’s happening to the others.

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othcrhalf​:

HIS FINGERS NATURALLY find themselves laced in between hers, and he shuts his eyes, basking in their closeness, sharing between each other what little warmth they both have left in them. He squeezes briefly, allows his thumb to gently graze the back of her hand. The mention of Harbor’s name is like a stab straight to his chest, one he doesn’t blame Hollis for. It’s never stopped hurting. The hijack has done nothing but bring his brother’s safety and wellbeing at the forefront of his mind.

“It’s fine, Hollis,” Robyn says softly. “You’re here now.” They don’t know where to start with Harbor. Every time they try, the image of that pale, fragile person pierces through their mind, and it’s maddening, every single time. Things had cooled down considerably by the time night fell. The initial panic had subsided, but the fear and the anxiety had come quickly to take its place.

“He’s… he should be safe there. Right? They’re looking after him?”

.

     She can sense the tension in the air; though not specifically between the two of them, the silence almost becomes tangible. They’re both thinking the same thoughts, she believes, the same images and questions are crossing their minds, and yet neither of them can bring themselves to put them into words. Hollis wants to be strong for them, take the first step; he deserves it, after all this time. And their thumb caressing her skin helps her gather some strength yet still he beats her to the punch.

     It’s not an easy question -- she doesn’t have an answer. She knows as much ( or, rather, as little) as Robyn does, maybe even less. “The other train... There’s some strong people there,” she assures him. Hollis isn’t particularly fond of some of them, but their strength is unquestionable. And they all had-- have a special connection with Harbor. “District Seven is a--” chaotic “good one, they’ll know to protect him.” Saying those words out loud also helps her start to believe them. 

     They have spoken about this before, about what life looked like without Harbor, but now all of those conclusions escape her and she, too, is terrified. About so many things. “You need to be safe, too,” she adds, finally rolling on her side to look at them. Retrieving her hand from his, she rests her palm on his cheek; keeping herself connected to them has meant the world through the years. “Promise me you’ll stay safe. Promise me that you’ll be careful. Please.”

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hollis oversee as seen on tinder

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diosefm​:

Diose nods. “Mhmm.” She chooses to not tell Hollis about her time with Robyn. Diose isn’t as knowledgeable on the topic of relationships as Hollis is. She can’t just pretend to understand their dynamic, so in her mind, it’s better to let them two talk without her middling. “I will just tell you that they are very upset, understandably so. After seeing Harbor… I would tell you that I cannot imagine how they feel right now, but then… I saw the reaping for District Nine and they called Sola’s name and I just—” Her voice breaks, something so uncharacteristically of her. Even with Hollis, she would usually avoid emotional conversations, though that could be explain by the fact that Diose had done an extraordinary job at burying her unresolved issues until now. “I’m sorry.” If Hollis is meeting Robyn later, her energy would be better used comforting them, not Diose. She is fine.

“It’s horrible. What they’ve done, how… Stupid I’ve been. I’ve spent years blindly trusting the Capitol, never questioning their motives until I was forced to confront my mistakes because they decided to show me that despite everything, I’m a pawn. We’re all their pawns.“ There is so much she needs to say, so many things she’s realized but there are better things to discuss. 

“I am still not sure of what I want to ask you,“ she admits, holding Holli’s hands still. “I don’t have a fully realized plan. I just know that given the presence of Peacekeepers on the train, we need to do something to distract them in order to allowed Mr. Clearmark to access the control room and see if he can make the train move. After that, I don’t know, he can drive it straight through Snow’s mansion for all that I care.“

.

     It’s the strangest thing seeing Diose express herself so freely, look so vulnerable, and it stirs something inside Hollis, too. She’s been trying to keep herself composed, reserving her darkest fears for her own privacy, but in that moment, fracturing her exterior shell is so tempting, so incredibly within reach. She knows she needs to talk to Robyn -- she wants to, too, she wants them to know she’s there for them, for whatever they might need. But it aches, it’s too painful to remember the three of them together, all those years ago, to remember the sound of Harbor’s loud voice when she suspects she’ll never hear it again. She’d somewhat made peace with the fact that they weren’t going to get any closure for what had happened to him -- but this? Somehow, this is worse. If only they’d been on the same train, maybe she could have seen him, maybe she could understand. Sitting and waiting is what she’d done for most of her life, so she sits next to her friend and listens and waits. 

     “Don’t be sorry,” she replied, though her own voice wasn’t its characteristic chipper tune but a gloomier one. It was downing on her what her friend had said -- that they might be better off not going back to the Capitol at all. Hollis had never even liked living there, and every day in District Eight was a clear reminder that not a single person there liked her being back. She’s conflicted, completely confused by her own clashing thoughts. She doesn’t want to send any of these people to their certain deaths, she didn’t want to witness any more pain -- Harbor deserves better, he deserves to be saved, Robyn deserves better... But what would her fate be with the rebels? She can’t imagine anyone would be pleased to have her there, a stylist who’d worked so many years alongside the Capitol, someone who came from the glorious womb of Ginger Oversee. 

     “I can’t fight, I don’t have any skills like those...” she doesn’t want to say it, but maybe the victors on the train could help provide a better distraction. Unless the Peacekeepers had been instructed to keep certain people on this train safe rather than others. Surely, some of the passangers are more worthy to the Capitol, isn’t that how it always works? “What if...” she’s never deviced a plan like this before, but she’s wracking her brain to come up with something. Maybe all of those letters from Silver would have finally taught her something. “What if there was a fight?” Hollis honestly doesn’t know where she’s going with this, but Diose is obviously in need for help and that’s all she can offer, really. Two heads maybe think better than one. “We could-- I don’t know. Stage a fight? Could that work? Do you think they’d hurry to intervene and leave the control room unguarded?”

[aflawedfashion]

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@diosefm

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othcrhalf​:

THEY CAN’T REMEMBER how long they’ve been in here. They don’t know what time it is either. They’ve just been lying here, in the dark, staring quietly at the soft glow of the emergency lights, and waiting for Hollis to come. They don’t really know where she is, or if she’ll be in any time soon, but it’s her cabin after all. In the midst of the midday ruckus the rebel announcement had caused, the two of them had run into each other, seen each other again for perhaps the first time in a while, realized they were on the same train — but swept up by the panic, they had had to part ways quickly, with only a vague promise to meet each other again later on. Suffice it to say, Robyn had found her cabin before they had found her.

If they have to spend the rest of their evening here, waiting, they won’t mind. Going back to Swann seems like it would be a bit much at this point. They’ve burdened her enough: living with her and her family in Four since their arrival the day after the Quell announcement, subjecting her to their guilt and anxiety up until the Reaping, breaking down in her arms once the news about Harbor had been made known — and all this before that sudden hijack. Afterwards, they’d run into her once, made sure she was keeping herself safe, and not again since then. …Which is just as well. They don’t want to bother her any more than they already have.

The door slides open soon enough, and Robyn looks up but doesn’t move from their spot. They smile, briefly. Weakly. This is her bed, but they’re the one to welcome her in, to wrap the both of them in a blanket. “Took a few wrong turns, but I managed to find it,” comes their feeble attempt at dry humor. The joke feels empty. They feel empty. At the very least, Hollis is warm beside them, and it’s comforting, seeing how naturally she comes to rest against them.

“Which ‘it’ do you mean, exactly? There’s plenty.” Quell. Harbor. Hijack. Rebels. Other train. Robyn knows, of course. They’d known she’d ask about it even before they saw each other.

     She lay next to them looking up at the ceiling -- with everything that had gone down in the past twenty four hours, it’s hard to bring herself to look at them too closely. Still, she yearned for them, to feel connected in a way, so her hand hesitatingly searched for theirs; lacing her fingers with theirs was as far as she was going to go before even mentioning him. She knew they knew exactly what she meant, it was strange to say his name out loud but she gathered what little strength she had in her and powered through it. For them. 

     “Harbor,” she murmured, closing her eyes as if that would make her more at ease with the situation they’d found themselves in. Hollis made a pause before speaking again. “I talked to Diose,” she started, but made another pause. She was trying to tiptoe around it all, desperate to offer them some sort of comfort that wasn’t overwhelming. If they would only talk to her... “I wish I could have been there with you,” she admitted, giving their hand a gentle squeeze.

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diosefm​:

“I.. Believe you will need the entire bottle, actually.“ Being drunk isn’t ideal. Even Diose herself has tried to keep a steady pace of water drinking while having a little taste of alcohol in between. All to tame the nerves, of course. Still, she thinks having alcohol running through their veins could jeopardize what she is attempting to do. But again, it’s dinnertime. If they have a snack or two over a bottle of wine and then go to bed, maybe things won’t be so bad.

“I am sure I can get something from our train car. We didn’t really eat.“ Cue a grimace. The day had been so horrible, the tables covered in trays of delicacies had been barely touched. Diose chooses to take a seat next to Hollis, knowing the conversation they’re about to follow is quite sensitive and it’d be better had in whispers. 

“I… Have you talked to Robyn?“ It suddenly occurs to her that explaining her plans would be far easier if Hollis has had a chance to listen to Robyn and see how much their stance on the Capitol has changed. She fears the second she starts talking, Hollis will think this is nothing but an elaborate joke. “I was with them during the announcement, and afterwards I walked along the train, thinking… And that’s when I decided something needs to be done about this situation. I know we haven’t had much of a chance to speak given how busy but of us have been, but I believe it’s imperative that I inform you of the change in who I’m loyal to.” She swallows hard, wishing she had a drink in her hand. 

“Hollis, I do not want this train to take us to the Capitol and I am willing to do whatever it takes to make it turn around. And, I am hoping that you would be willing to join my cause. I’ve spoken to Mr. Clearmark, from District Six. I’ve been concocting a plan that will hopefully allow us to take over the train before the Capitol comes get us.“

     Her vices had never revolved around alcohol, she’d seen many others turn to drinking as a coping mechanism but it had never called to her. Instead, she’d found the comfort of those regular letters that came to her door and the warmth of who’d been sharing her mattress for years now. But she hadn’t heard Diose use this tone before; everyone was a lot different than they had been before the Reaping, no doubt, but her friend’s intonation would have made her reach for the bottle immediately if there had been one at hand.

     Hollis had been raised to be polite and manners were specially enforced during her years in the Capitol, and still she couldn’t help but avoid making eye contact when Diose mentioned Robyn. She’d hoped maybe this conversation would steer away from the one thing that had been haunting her mind since the previous day. “I saw them earlier, but... I haven’t talked to them yet,” she admitted. It was hard for them, she knew, but they’d only crossed each other’s path right after the announcement, when everyone was freaking out about their fate. It was good enough to know they were in the same train, and that she’d surely see them later that night. 

     She only looked up once Diose spoke those magic words. It’s imperative that I inform you of the change in who I’m loyal to. It’s not the first time she heard about people questioning the Capitol’s motives, but it’s certainly more surprising coming from her friend, someone she’d always felt complemented the image that Panem had of her and her family. “Diose...” her voice was tired but alert. She agreed, deep down she fully agreed that nothing good could come from the Capitol -- certainly not from them arriving at the city after the train was taken over by the rebels, but she couldn’t help but imagine what they’d done to Harbor for showing his discontent.

     Ever since they first moved there, Hollis never felt comfortable in the Capitol. Hearing her friend talk about a plan to get them away was the straw to break the camel’s back -- it was as if she’d been waiting for the right sign to admit her true intentions and she’d finally gotten one in the form of Diose Valey. “I’m with you,” she assured the other, bringing one hand to squeeze hers gently. “What they did to...” she couldn’t even say it. “It’s unforgivable,” she stated. 

     “I don’t know what I can offer, Diose, but you can count on me. Okay? I’m-- where do you need me?”

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diosefm​:

@hoversee​ sometime after meeting the pistas and griffin. please don’t ask me to think, time isn’t real 

Diose has spent hours walking from one side of the train to the other. And all in high heels, so perhaps it’s time she takes some time to rest given that even though she is an expert high heel wearer, her feet are starting to feel sore Dinnertime is coming anyway, so she takes her shoes off and carries them as she goes on the lookout for Hollis. She hopes she will find her in a calm taste as she hopes to have a peaceful dinner before duty calls her again.

She doesn’t bother to knock. Diose opens the door to where she believes Hollis is staying. And before stepping inside, she peaks head in to check out if she has found her. When she spots there, a tired smile tugs at the corner of her lips and she finally steps inside. Quick to close the door behind her, Diose places her custom made stilettos on a chair. 

“I was hoping you wouldn’t be busy and willing to have dinner with me. Are you holding up well?“ She hopes Hollis’s answer is positive, but if it’s not… This will be a chance for Diose to put her newly acquired humanity and comforting skills to practice.

“And… Once we’ve had a few drinks, I have a few… Ideas I need to run by you.“

     At one point, years ago, Hollis thought she’d seen it all. She’d seen many Games, she’d seen many fashion trends come and go, and it was all starting to repeat itself. She looked upon her younger fellow stylists and wondered if they might be able to turn things around where she couldn’t. She thought she’d seen it all. And then the Quell happened. The announcement was bad enough that she started worrying like everyone else, but she knew she wasn’t personally at risk. The Reaping didn’t find her particularly nervous for her well-being, but when Harbor’s name was called, her heart sank to the pit of her stomach. She’d watched the recording after they all boarded the train and the first thing she asked was whether Seven was there with them. It wasn’t. She couldn’t think straight -- was that really him? Had Robyn heard?

     Her heart had already been racing by the time the speakers announced they’d been all taken hostage -- that’s when the other shoe finally dropped. She wasn’t prepared for any of this, and most importantly -- nobody truly liked her in the districts. By all means, she was a Capitol citizen, she doubted the rebels would look past her reputation.

     Her head was weighing down her hands when Diose walked in -- a welcomed distraction from her own racing brain. She should be checking on others, surely everyone else on the train had it way worse than her, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a target on her back. “I’m doing my best,” she offered with an apologetic smile. Diose was good to her, she never failed to pick her up. Hopefully, she’d be able to turn this situation around, too. 

     “Ideas?” her eyebrows arched upward. Usually, that would mean something related to their tributes or some latest gossip from the Capitol, but this time it sounded a lot more serious. “I’m going to need more than a couple of drinks, won’t I?” she teased her friend to the best of her abilities with a weak laugh. “You think we can bring some food here? I really don’t think I can stand seeing anyone else right now.”

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     where: train one, district eight’s car      when: the night of the hijack      with: @othcrhalf

     All these years after leaving the Capitol and trying to find a home in District Eight had tested her ability to keep a straight face and tame her deepest desires in order to save herself ( and her parents ) the humiliation of being anything short than the perfect heir to her mother’s titles. She’d been doing good work, she thought, and she wanted to continue to do it, even if that meant pushing the most intense of her feelings down for the greater good -- trying to get one of the yearly tributes out alive. A good costumre and presentation could go a long way, Fava and Hudson were living proof of this mentality, so she devoted most of her time to her work. Back home, she wasn’t precisely adored, not like she was in the Capitol, so she made her connections elsewhere. 

     The message she’d heard through the speakers earlier that day had turned much of her world upside down -- she wanted to continue to work, but it wasn’t right. Granted, the hijacked train wasn’t the only happening from the past day that had her mind clogged with questions. It was late that night and she hadn’t had enough sleep the previous one not to be dragging her feet over to the bed assigned to her. It was a relief to see the same familiar figure that had been warming her mattress for years already waiting for her. 

     “Hey,” Hollis leaned against the doorframe, looking into the small room tenderly before stepping inside and climbing up on the bed to rest her head beside theirs. “I hoped I’d find you here,” she admitted. Words were chosen carefully between the two of them, lest something too revealing escaped their lips. “Do you want to talk about it?” The topic is obvious -- had any of them thought about anything else other than Harbor this past day?

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hollis oversee, a tale of fashion and choices

i. life before

     What’s a kid to do? Long and stylish, from the moment her parents lay their eyes on her. Sensitive, fragile, and with hands that would work wonders in the shop when she was old enough. Eager to help from a young age, hypnotized by the patterns her mother created; lucky to have the luxury of seeing her work.

     Hollis knew her mother was different and she wanted to be like her oh, so badly. From a young age, she’d sneak into her mother’s studio and sift through the scraps, only to stitch them together and present them to the older woman with a proud grin and the expectation of a compliment and a reward. And, most of the time, she got what she wanted. Her mother was proud of her, and that’s all Hollis had ever hoped for.

ii. life between

     It was during a victory tour -- more specifically, the year that Hollis turned ten. She was too yong to be entered in the Reaping, but she wasn’t oblivious to the Games. She couldn’t, they were everywhere. Every year, her mother would come up with new designs, garments she thought would compliment that year’s tributes, but nobody ever asked her for her opinion so all those sketch pads were lying in the back of the studio, collecting dust. But that year, for some reason, was different and it was all pure luck, really.

iii. life now

     Choosing District Eight was the easiest thing she’d ever done, and it proved to be the right thing when she finally saw a glimmer of pride in her father’s eyes. That same look she’d earned from her mother when she was younger and playing with leftover pieces of fabric, scribbling intelligibly on scraps of paper and practicing her figure drawing, but it meant so much more this time. It meant she was finally doing something right, something that amounted to all her father had given up, something that could make up for what they’d left behind all those years before.

For Hollis’s full biography, click here!