Wiress

18+ THG rp blog, by Polaris

[insightscursed]

They might as well have had a sign…

Wiress was the victor of the nest of mirrors meant to drive the tributes mad. She then became the girl who outsmarted the arena but lived to pay the cost.

The victor who “seized” following the 50th Hunger games and is one of the Capitol’s favorite cautionary tale of a genius who lost her mind too young. A broken mind and lost soul…

And yet the foxes are still the henhouse, biding their time among the capitol and its glories… among the victors and their spoils.

Because maybe the most dangerous mistake the capitol made was letting her too close to it’s bones…

Because a broken genius could never harm them, right?

Starters Musings about Wiress

Tag List:

#Mirror Mazes (Wiress in Sunrise on the Reaping)

#Canary in a bunker (Wiress survives Catching Fire) (The companion verse to "You're Just Nice, I'm Just Right" on StrategistsMind) #Canary sings in the mine (short songs in character) #The strategist and the lookout (Any musing for Wiress on her dynamic with Beetee)

PLEASE READ ADMIN INFO/IMPORTANT NOTES BENEATH THE CUT

Please be aware:

This blog deals with 18+ themes, many of which are canon typical

Wiress’s portrayal is a mix of canon and head canons, but leans into a morally grey characterization of her character.

This blog is meant to be versed between the aftermath of the 50th games and the 75th games

She is shippable within reason, just send me a dm if you'd like to plot

The admin is 23 and currently in graduate school… so responses may not be consistent (or Admin may be on the admin's other roleplay blog @herelifeisbeautiful or @strategistsmind )

Literate roleplayer

This is a generally open for interaction blog, but please be respectful.

As a boundary, I will not roleplay with someone under the age of 18 due to content matter

[insightscursed]

// ooc: Thinking about how Wiress would ultimately vote yes because she's spent the entire rebellion being told that they have to do everything to make sure it's not all for nothing... so what's one more yes to the horrors under District 13?

And how Beetee votes no because the war is over, there are no horrors left to justify not after what he did

[insightscursed]

@whatsbehindthefacade (for Fila) The war had ended with fire. Wiress had known exactly what she and Beetee had made... they had to. It wasn't as if Coin ever gave them say in the matter. She used the same reasoning to vote yes for a games that had never happened... it was all necessary violence, all in the name of ending a war, wasn't it? One last horrible thing and she'd to go home and never have to touch another bomb again. The train ride from the Capitol to Three was quiet. No one knew what exactly to expect other than the fact that, like many others, their victor village was burned to the ground during the purge. The Capitol's act of cruel and senseless violence... and Wiress was not unconvinced that District 13 didn't have a hand in it as well, better story to build an enemy... "You do... not have to stay near us." Wiress says, her pale eyes flick once to Fila as they exit the transit station... her eyes look so exhausted and broken, she had since the first neatly hidden bomb rattled the live feed of the rebels in the Capitol, "It may... be..." the words die on her tongue. It may not be good for Fila to remain associated with them. Not after what they'd done... that's what she wants to say. ...Beetee doesn't seem to have the energy to pick up the words. Nor does he seem inclined to.

[insightscursed]

@oddsfavorcd (for Elley)

The day of the reaping for the 75th Hunger Games came like a bullet striking the victors of the 32nd and 49th games between the ribs. It was an odd feeling... to know your entire life's work came down to what amounted to a hail mary you were going to try to pull off... but a hail mary came with a price.

Wiress pressed close to her former mentor as they walked with the others onto the reaping stage, completely normal for broadcasts... they separated to their respective sides of the stage and he nodded once to her...

Wiress was certainly not wearing her 'best', but she wasn't sure she cared to. She hadn't had a moment to breathe between the coding for the 75th games in the Capitol, ensuring Plutarch had the plan down, sending the communication across the coded channel, and ensuring that everything was set in her token, she was dressed a modified work outfit and her tool belt hanging around her waist. She stared straight ahead, her eyes entering the same vacant gaze they often seemed during broadcasts. Its the same as every year... other than the reality of a death sentence hanging over you, like the group of victors was standing on a gallows... Fitting, she assumes, that she and Beetee would be the ones reaped from the district. What a unique act of cruelty to make them program their own deaths...

Her eyes watch as the escort reaches a hand into the first bowl...

"Elleydee Tan."

The words ring in Wiress's ear and for a second her mind fails to catch up. She refuses to believe that the Capitol wouldn't rig the quell... they wouldn't make sure that they weren't the ones being tossed into the arenas to finally be made examples of... then her mind clears, and for the first time on camera in 25 years, the older woman's eyes are terrifyingly lucid as her hand shoots up, her voice far from soft or shaky when she speaks clear enough to catch the attention of others, "I volunteer as tribute."

[oddsfavorcd]

elleydee stands up from her chair on the stage as the escort says her name for the second time in her life. she'd had nightmares about this, about being told that her victory didn't count, and she was back in the reaping again, but she'd thought they had been just that until the quell announcement. her hands are shaking, she notices as she stands. she can't remember if they were shaking last time.

she's barely taken a step forward when wiress stands up, her hand shooting up in the air. “i volunteer as tribute,” wiress says, and elleydee blinks at her.

she hadn't been expecting that.

still shaking, she takes a seat again as wiress makes her way to the front of the stage. beetee's name is called next, and the two of them shake hands, the escort declaring rather half-heartedly that this would certainly be a games to remember.

shortly after, they're hustled off stage by peacekeepers, all of them crowded together and instructed to wait for further instruction like schoolchildren. elleydee turns to wiress, emotions she can't quite understanding twisting sharply in her gut like tangled wires.

“what was that?” she demands.

[insightscursed]

Wiress knew exactly what their plan was... she and Beetee had pretty well decided that regardless of the draw, they were throwing themselves back into the arena. If the rebellion needed a way out, they were it's best bet of blowing a hole in the forcefield.

She tilts her head at the younger victor, the wide, usually vacant, nearly grey eyes look at her, as her brow furrows. She's clearly trying to consider why Elleydee looks alarmed. Most victors would likely be grateful for a volunteer, right? And besides, considering the pots were always rigged, she nearly scoffed at the possibility of Plutarch switching the names in the female tributes to give them some sympathetic view for sponsors... which she would appreciate if it didn't make her bristle with annoyance considering the rigging should have made it clear that Snow wanted them dead. Which he did.

It takes a few moments before she speaks, simple and plain in her tone, as if not understanding the confusion, "I volunteered. The Capitol would much rather watch it's greatest failure of a victor die. Better for optics." she tilts her head, and something so strangely intense takes over her expression, eyes clear and focused, "And the Capitol would much rather I die than you."

[insightscursed]

Interact for a starter set in the post-Mockingjay world... Where reconstruction has begun in Panem, and the world is shifting around those still stuck in it

(Set in the verse "Canary in a Bunker")

[insightscursed]

Wiress's arms linger for a few more moments before she lets go. She steps back a few steps, her eyes looked at him... despite his age, somehow she'd still see the little boy they'd guided through the victory tour... a memory that often mixed with the tiny tribute from the 50th games... "Focus on keeping Beetee alive. If it works, he'll be the one to do it. Do that for me, please." she finally says, her breath shaking a little as she does. "And be safe... please."

[whatsbehindthefacade]

Fila clings for the briefest of moments, the desire for reassurance and comfort so clearly showing him for the child he still is, but then slowly he lets go. In the two years since his own games...well, Wiress and Beetee have both become like family to him. They've been there for him, guided him through, reassured him, taught him. Now it will be his turn to look after them, truly an incredibly fucked up role reversal if ever there was one. The thought that he might lose one or both of them...it makes his breath catch in his throat.

"I'll do my best," the fifteen year old says softly, biting down hard on his lower lip and swallowing past the lump in his throat. He doesn't like this, doesn't like how it feels far too much like a goodbye despite the fact that they still have time. Time though that may be running out.

[insightscursed]

She smiles softly... for a second, her expression softens, "I know you will... that's why we trust you, Fila." With that, Wiress turns to leave... as she steps out into the victors village, she feels her hands start to shake. Not the usual shaking form the neurological damage in her body, but her body almost reminding her that it was human... she felt fear, deepset fear that made her heart hurt... But she also knew better than to show it as she opened the door to her co-conspirator's home. They had a lot of work to do.

[insightscursed]

// ooc: I saw Hadestown for the 4th time and am now debating how much I want to make that everyone's problem

[insightscursed]

At first, her body goes rigid. It almost always does at contact... and for a second she stands there. She then wraps her arms around him in return. She's silent for a few moments, the emotion breaking through is evident as her breath shakes... She's always been aware of her own role, as much as Beetee was hopeful of the fact that they'd both survive the arena, she'd always figured that she might not live to see it all work... and part of her had accepted that. But right now? She hopes his hopes are true. "I promise..." she whispers through her own shaking breath, "we won't fail you."

[whatsbehindthefacade]

Wiress stiffens, and for a moment Fila feels he should let go, that he's overstepped her boundaries. But then she's wrapping her arms around him in return, and he lets himself melt into the hug, feeling every inch the child he is. It's been nearly two years since his own games, and yet the pressure now feels even more intense than that did. Then again, back then, the only responsibility had been to himself, the desire to live and not to die. Now though...now the responsibility has widened. Anything he does could help or jeopardise his mentors, and furthermore the entirety of Panem. It is no small task, certainly not for a fifteen year old, but what choice does he have? There's no way he could walk way, not now. He could never forgive himself if he did. Wiress' words reach his ears, and he gives her the gentlest squeeze, "I won't fail you either. I promise."

[insightscursed]

Wiress's arms linger for a few more moments before she lets go. She steps back a few steps, her eyes looked at him... despite his age, somehow she'd still see the little boy they'd guided through the victory tour... a memory that often mixed with the tiny tribute from the 50th games... "Focus on keeping Beetee alive. If it works, he'll be the one to do it. Do that for me, please." she finally says, her breath shaking a little as she does. "And be safe... please."

[insightscursed]

// Shout out to everyone with the ability to name their THG OCs because I got the idea of writing a TTRPG oneshot that requires an entire cast of THG ocs and I am trying not to think about the fact that I will have to name all of them

[insightscursed]

@oddsfavorcd (for Enobria)

In the training area, Wiress had 'wandered off'... she'd gotten into the habit of checking around the training center for hints as to what environment awaited them in the arena... she'd gotten rather good at it over the years. After getting frustrated with not being able see anything, the woman from three climbed up the bars until she was able to find her balance and perch on them... What was she missing? Segments? Patterns? She tilted her head, her mind narrowing until it completely forgot that she was standing on bars in the middle of an area meant for them to show off their skills to the game makers above them.

What she didn't think to remember was that she was currently staring down at people, the unsettlingly wide blue-grey eyes of three's victor seemingly staring far too long at the career pack.

[insightscursed]

@oddsfavorcd (for Elley)

The day of the reaping for the 75th Hunger Games came like a bullet striking the victors of the 32nd and 49th games between the ribs. It was an odd feeling... to know your entire life's work came down to what amounted to a hail mary you were going to try to pull off... but a hail mary came with a price.

Wiress pressed close to her former mentor as they walked with the others onto the reaping stage, completely normal for broadcasts... they separated to their respective sides of the stage and he nodded once to her...

Wiress was certainly not wearing her 'best', but she wasn't sure she cared to. She hadn't had a moment to breathe between the coding for the 75th games in the Capitol, ensuring Plutarch had the plan down, sending the communication across the coded channel, and ensuring that everything was set in her token, she was dressed a modified work outfit and her tool belt hanging around her waist. She stared straight ahead, her eyes entering the same vacant gaze they often seemed during broadcasts. Its the same as every year... other than the reality of a death sentence hanging over you, like the group of victors was standing on a gallows... Fitting, she assumes, that she and Beetee would be the ones reaped from the district. What a unique act of cruelty to make them program their own deaths...

Her eyes watch as the escort reaches a hand into the first bowl...

"Elleydee Tan."

The words ring in Wiress's ear and for a second her mind fails to catch up. She refuses to believe that the Capitol wouldn't rig the quell... they wouldn't make sure that they weren't the ones being tossed into the arenas to finally be made examples of... then her mind clears, and for the first time on camera in 25 years, the older woman's eyes are terrifyingly lucid as her hand shoots up, her voice far from soft or shaky when she speaks clear enough to catch the attention of others, "I volunteer as tribute."

[insightscursed]

Interact for a starter based in the time of "Catching Fire," when Wiress is part of the attempt to pull off one last plan... Destroy the arena. Or die trying.

[insightscursed]

which of my favourite specific character archetypes are you? ( uquiz. )

Wiress: "the Prophet-Matryr"

Someone representing something divine. Eyes fixed above everyone else's, on something too great for words. A person with a heart aflame, and a distant sort of kindness to everyone, a person who'd trade everything simply to understand.

Beetee: "the King"

Bold, majestic, burdened, responsible, an impassive and neutral face that discloses no pain, only regality.

Effie: "the Beauty"

Beloved, beautiful, naive, innocent—or at least, perceived this way. The one representing goodness, in all its purity, to others. Smarter than they let on.

Tagged by: @whatsbehindthefacade

Tagging: @withereth @thebutterflyvictor @thecapito1darling

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM PROJECT HAIL MARY *  assorted dialogue from the book by andy weir, some lines reworked to suit a roleplay format, adjust as necessary

human beings have a remarkable ability to accept the abnormal and make it normal.

it'll be interesting to see how this plays out.

glad i could be part of it.

evolution is lazy.

i guess this is it.

your face is leaking.

i will miss you.

you're my friend. heck, you're my best friend.

we have figured this out.

got to love computers. they do all the thinking for you so you don't have to.

another day, another staff meeting.

who would have thought saving the world could be so boring?

does that mean it's not no? is that another yes?

you're not alone. neither of us are.

sometimes the stuff we all hate ends up being the only way to do things.

i'm a scientist!

now we're getting somewhere!

time for me to use science.

i'm hungry.

what's your name?

are all russians crazy?

when stupid ideas work, they become genius ideas.

do you believe in god?

i know it's a personal question.

it's like he's inviting us to explore the universe.

if i had a nickel for every time i wanted to smack a kid's parents for not teaching them even the most basic things... well... i'd have enough nickels to put in a sock and smack those parents with it.

this is happy!

your face opening is in sad mode.

we're pretty untrustworthy, but i don't want him to know that.

i'm smart enough to know that i'm stupid. that's progress.

you poked it with a stick?

it was a scientific poke with a very scientific stick.

work fast.

first i have to wait for my computer to wake up.

fist my bump.

usually you're not stupid.

once again, i'm struck by melancholy.

i have to save humanity first. stupid humanity. getting in the way of my hobbies.

oh thank god. i can't imagine explaining sleep to someone who had never heard of it.

if i can't do it for a while, i go insane and eventually die.

no need for concern.

we're as smart as evolution made us.

we're the minimum intelligence needed to ensure we can dominate our planet.

i spend a lot of time un-suiciding this suicide mission.

that's not creepy at all.

wait a minute! am i a guinea pig?

it's not like that.

no. you cannot die. you are my friend.

be careful.

i don't want to look dumb in front of the aliens.

math is not thinking. math is procedure.

at least i'm not alone.

aaaaand they're dead.

you get to watch your food cook without melting your face off.

the hardest part about working with aliens and saving humanity from extinction is constantly having to come up with names for stuff.

you are here!

you saved me!

set up the damn tunnel!

get back in your ship!

it gives me a feeling of control.

i'm on a suicide mission.

yes. there'll be wars.

see how easy it is?

all i have to do is tell you something you don't want to hear.

it's the kids of today that'll have to make the world of tomorrow work.

when you're stupid tired, accept that you're stupid tired. don't try to solve things right then.

want to meet up in the bathroom down the hall and have sex?

let's see what we can do when we really set our minds to it.

you want me to observe you sleep?

you're a coward and you always have been!

you avoid risk like the plague.

[insightscursed]

3 THINGS YOUR MUSE CAN BE IDENTIFIED BY

Color:

metallic grey

pale blue

cracking marble white

Scent:

burnt smell of solder

the metallic smell of iron that clings to skin

the smell of simmering sauces and onions

Emotions/Feelings:

the longing to be comforted from the weight of grief you carry, but knowing comfort is a luxury you will never be able to afford

the guilt of survival knowing that the blood on your hands is your own fault

a fractured sense of self, longing for the person you were before and the girl your mother loved, but hardly remembering who she was anymore

Fashion:

a jumpsuit made of canvas, too big for you, but practical to the never ending work

Long-sleeved garments made of provided textiles to cover the reality of what had been done to you, never your choice, always provided

soft fabric of the one sweater made of wool yarn you were kept after it all fell apart... the one piece of connection to who you were before

Objects:

a canvas work belt where you keep the spare parts, clinging to it as if it was still an extension of your own self

a small bird made of twisted wires and shattered glass, made by someone you're not sure would make something like that again

a tablet hidden from sight, long-since removed from official servers, hiding code and truth

Body Language:

an quiet smile and wide seemingly absent eyes that see more than she lets on

hands that shake in every gesture and motions that never quite go as intended

a soundless laugh in a bright smile

Aesthetics:

the concrete of brutalist architecture that shadows the ground beneath it

nocturnal predators stalking through the brush as they return with feathers between their teeth

the memory of a home that smelled like stewed tomatoes and onions cooked in butter with roots dug from the ground and what meat could be spared... one long since slipped from your grasp

Tagged by: @withereth Tagging: @whatsbehindthefacade @thecapito1darling and you!!!!!! steal it!!!

[insightscursed]

Wiress sat there most days during her free time (other than when Beetee and her went to watch the hummingbirds). She had to admit, there was no way to prepare anyone... she remembered when her own mentor had informed her of the risks, and they'd decided that perhaps death was a mercy... because death meant you weren't stuck to live with the consequences. Wiress remembered her own first experiences in pieces... every time she'd been deprived of her own senses, suspended in darkness... every time she remembers electrodes and leads that left their damage on her nervous system. She always believed that the withdrawal was worse anyways... "It... will get easier. At least there... is no pump to keep your fear conditioned..." she finally mumbles after a few more moments of quiet between them.

[whatsbehindthefacade]

"It hurts..."

They're the first words Fila has spoken today, drifting in and out of consciousness as he's been. Tears well in hazel eyes, though he blinks them back, trembling hand slowly shifting upwards to rub at them before dropping back to the bed. It's frustrating for the boy too, how even something so simple is currently so difficult, how even focusing doesn't seem to do much to quell the shake, how the pain feels like it's running under his skin like a live wire. He wants it to stop, wants it to stop so badly.

He wants his mother too, and that hurts almost worse. He has no idea how she is here. It hasn't escaped him that the Capitol might have taken her in retribution, that he might now be an orphan, but there's been no confirmation of that either, so for the time being, he's choosing to try and ignore such a concept.

[insightscursed]

"I know... and the pain medicine... wont..." her voice trails off, normally the words would have been picked up and completed by the other older victor, but he had not yet convinced himself to see Fila... but it doesn't take much to figure out what she inteded to say. The pain was now wired into your body... the same excuse the Capitol once made for Wiress. Seizures and nerve damage you would never escape. The irreversible damage that had turned her from the girl who broke the games to the broken protégé of a genius... Her hand pauses in his hair once.... before she moves her hand carefully from his head. She then lifts him the best she can until he's rested against her. Wiress is thinner, her arms shaking with the sheer effort it takes in her body to move... but she guides his head into her shoulder. She doesn't say anything, but her fingers thread through his hair, gently continuing the soothing motion... The same way that she'd once been held on a train between four coffins twenty five years ago.

[insightscursed]

@whatsbehindthefacade (For Fila)

"Fly little bluebird, fly far away... find a way home from here… fly little bluebird, up in the sky… fly like you know the way… fly until you find the farthest tree… fly little bluebird… fly far away…"

Wiress sat on the edge of Fila's bed in the medical ward of District 13, her hand gently rubbing his hair as she gently sang a song that she wasn't sure she remembered the words for anymore. She'd been fortunate, even if that fortune was just the fact that Wiress had been used to the pain that the Capitol was capable of inflicting on them. When she had free time, she often came back to the ward to check on him... It was her and Beetee's fault. They'd confronted that one day in the weapons shop, they'd dragged Fila into a war that he shouldn't have been... and like everyone else, his suffering was on their hands... Wiress's voice was weak, her hand much less steady from the most recent torture that had been inflicted on her before District 13 had rescued them... but she tried it anyways... hoping that at very least she could provide some comfort. ...especially considering there'd been no contingency plan in place to bring any of the victors' families into 13.

[whatsbehindthefacade]

Everything hurts.

Fila had known, at least to an extent, what he was getting himself into. Helping his mentors, transmitting the messages, and then, when the quarter quell had arrived, doing his best to be a mentor. He'd spent every moment he could watching the feeds with bated breath. He'd been scared, so scared that one wrong move might see him losing one or both of them, that whatever plan they'd come up with might not work. He'd tried his best, sending in what sponsor gifts he could, though it wasn't much. And then Katniss Everdeen had shot the forcefield, and everything had changed.

Everything had shut down, and there had been utter chaos. The other victors like himself confused, trying to figure out what was going on, what was happening with their friends. And then he'd been confronted by peacekeepers, with no escape, and the last thing he remembered before a baton had connected with the back of his skull had been Annie Cresta's shriek. When he'd woken up, it had been to a cell. And what had followed...

He's out of there now, he knows that much, even if he doesn't quite feel like it. The boy from district three is not a pleasant sight, and he knows as much himself. Auburn brown curls hang limply from lack of care, already skinny features near gaunt, and even as he lies in the bed on the ward, half curled around himself, there's a tremor visible, a slight twitch in his hands and fingers, thin frame sometimes seizing a little, though the cause of it all is no longer there. Ironic, perhaps, the use of the electric on a district three victor.

He's barely spoken since they'd pulled him from the Capitol, a haunted look in eyes so young, but Fila finds a little comfort in the presence of his mentor. Wiress' hand is in his hair, voice singing a soft song, and the teenager curls into it with a little effort, a soft sniffle sounding from him. He'd known the risks, yes...but really, it hadn't prepared him.

[insightscursed]

Wiress sat there most days during her free time (other than when Beetee and her went to watch the hummingbirds). She had to admit, there was no way to prepare anyone... she remembered when her own mentor had informed her of the risks, and they'd decided that perhaps death was a mercy... because death meant you weren't stuck to live with the consequences. Wiress remembered her own first experiences in pieces... every time she'd been deprived of her own senses, suspended in darkness... every time she remembers electrodes and leads that left their damage on her nervous system. She always believed that the withdrawal was worse anyways... "It... will get easier. At least there... is no pump to keep your fear conditioned..." she finally mumbles after a few more moments of quiet between them.