innocence & arrogance intertwined

the hawk was everything i wanted to be: solitary, self-possessed, free from grief, and numb to the hurts of human life.

[jules-churchill]

everettlance​:

Right. He’d been not to overcorrect, that denying it too much was even more suspicious. “Totally agreed. Particularly with the wine in the Arena. It’s only a matter of time until someone gets drunk and does something especially stupid.” He just fucking hoped it wasn’t his.

.

 “I wish I had wine in the arena. That’s really not fair. All I had was fucking snow.” Maybe the fact that she had a capital-L Literally endless supply of wine now made up for it, but she could think of more than a few instances that would have been improved with a drink. Certainly, in some of those instances she would have died, if drunk, but still. Maybe an improvement. “But also, perhaps, a cheap move on the gamemaker’s part. Easy drama, a bunch of drunk kids.” Oh, should she have mentioned they were kids? Probably not. Oh well. 

[jules-churchill]

moxiepitlock​:

“I don’t think it’s something people always want, but I guess it just happens to them whether or not they want it,” Moxie commented, shrugging slightly. “Not that love or romance or whatever should be forced on anybody because that would just be totally gross,” She babbled onward as she found herself trapped in every thought that was crossing through her mind, stealing another gracious drink from her glass. Still inconceivably shy, Moxie chanced allowing the hand with the glass fall to her lap, eschewing the defense of liquor – Jules was no menace, she wouldn’t push her to a distance despite her blatant sappiness. 

“Obviously,” Moxie answered, trying to match the playful energy emanating off of the other girl. “If you hadn’t noticed somehow, I like when you’re around,” Moxie admitted, pretending the slight pink tinge to her cheeks was due to the alcohol in her system as opposed to any level of embarrassment. “That’s why I think love is different for each person; they have these extreme and absolutely crazy circumstances and even if it’s childish and not like the most sincere thing,” She defended, remarkably calm. 

The next question took her off guard. She supposed she had loved before, but it hadn’t ever been the right way or at the right time – it was a series of circumstances that were disconnected from who she intrinsically was. “Kind of?” Moxie answered, the flush on her cheeks deepening and the bubble of a nervous laugh slipping past her lips. She was feeling as if she was bearing a part of her literal soul as she continued, “But it wasn’t the right people and – I don’t know I think you both have to grow or, I guess, be willing to grow for it to work out.”

.

“No, no, no, that one thing wasn’t about love. The one thing. I meant, you always think people want to make other people feel good about themselves, that people inherently want to be kind. It’s not true. But you act as though it is, that’s what I’m saying. It’s admirable. Or something.” Jules said through continual nursing of her whiskey, running low. That was one of the things, with Moxie - it’s not as if she understood everything that Jules was saying; but she was always trying, sincerely really. That was nice. 

Background sounds became more pronounced, with every passing drink. She could hear the AC kick on behind her, a silent-enough whirring sound. White noise. It filled her brain. Tried to replace the other thoughts multiplying and filling up: Moxie’s hands, working together. The kind of impossible, stupid but nice. Nice, nice nice world she seemed to believe in. “I think it’s so funny, the things you think are good sometimes. I’m really not trying to be mean when I’m saying that.” Though she was often probably mean. She continued on, “Like, I mean. Childish, crazy, extreme. Are those positive to you?” 

Kind of. Kind of. Kind of. It was an echoing sound in the very front of her mind. It was very strange. Jules took a long, long drink. She should stop soon, probably. Maybe. But the answer was only kind of, not the right kind of people. That was good enough (Good enough for what? For what? The logical of her mind said). She hummed thoughtfully instead of expressing anything else. “Love is weird. I never thought...I don’t know. I guess it’s weird for me to think of people in love. I don’t know.”

[jules-churchill]

lyricordell​:

.

“okay.” she said, at the request she stay with jules. as though she hadn’t asked for exactly that. she wasn’t that foggy. she knew she had. but she was just foggy enough to be a bit disjointed, awkward with her responses. “no. not really.”

she’d never had a setback like this before. she got better and better, after her arena. and it it wasn’t entirely linear but her trend line sure was. this felt off. “It’s scary.” like if she could backslide a little, she could backslide a lot. she remembered the haze, and the fog, and she knew there was a lot she didn’t remember. she’d always count losing her arena as a blessing, but a good mentor needed to be there for her tributes. she couldn’t freeze again. just couldn’t. she curled her hands into flick’s fur, letting the dog lay on her and be there. “I hate this.”

“what do you do? when tributes die?”

 .

“Don’t be scared.” Jules instructed her, shaking her head exaggeratedly. “Scary is for the arena, a dozen muttations chasing you down and another tribute with a knife, that’s what scary is. You’re here in my kitchen, warm and safe and alive.” Jules knew there were still reasons to be afraid, often felt the same kind of fear. But this is what she told herself. 

“I...” Jules starts, but lets the words drift when she realizes she doesn’t want to answer it honestly. What got her through four deaths a year? The truth: a stiff drink, extreme feats of compartmentalization, the arms of someone rich and stupid who thought they might love her. That wasn’t good advice. She couldn’t tell Lyric to live as she did. She was seventeen, she was still a kid. In the way Jules never felt like.

“Well.” Jules said to fill the silence, still leaning over the back of the chair, still eyeing Lyric like a bomb that might explode. “Well, you know, it happens every year. And there’s only so much you can do. Sometimes nothing. A lot of times nothing. You have to remember that. That it barely has anything to do with you so you just...keep on. Tuck her away inside and don’t think about it anymore.” She thought of the girl, her timid interview, the clever eyes that had made Jules wary. Gone now. 

[jules-churchill]

everettlance​:.

“I’m not, definitely not,” Everett said. He was glad she hadn’t heard; it must mean she didn’t read the Gazette, which really, was most people. It was just the people who did were the loudest. “That’s… yeah, that’s a pretty accurate way of putting it,” Everett said. “You just hope someone else’s tribute will do something stupider, sooner.”

 Jules tilted her head to the side, letting out a breathy laugh at Everett. “You know, your insistence on it not happening could make a girl wonder. Overcorrecting.” Not that Everett Lance had seemed exactly the type to sleep with a tribute just a few days out from the arena, but you never knew. “The basics of mentoring and betting.” Jules agreed with a nod. “And I like counting on people’s stupidity rather than good luck, it’s much more reliable.”

[jules-churchill]

moxiepitlock​:

“I definitely don’t,” Moxie quickly assured. “I just, god, I guess I like to make people feel comfortable?” She spoke again through the cigarette in her mouth, throwing a hand up as she did so. The smoke began to feel stale and uncomfortable so she quickly put out the half-smoked cigarette, leaving it in the makeshift ashtray for later. “I don’t like seeing the people I care about upset,” Moxie clarified as she hid behind her drink, feeling all too small.

She shook her head slightly, and set her drink down on the table in front of the couch, her fingers winding back together in a fit on anxiety. “I don’t think so, I think there are things that are super hollow with it all – like those stupid books and the Games but –” Moxie cut herself off with an anxious laugh, “I think it’s the little things; like remembering someone’s favorite song or baking together – it’s all those little details,” She ducked her vision down, giving the gentlest shrug, “I think it’s different for everyone because the way that we’re sold love isn’t the way I’ve ever felt it at all.”

.

“You make it sound like that’s something everyone wants. It’s certainly not., in my experience.” Jules said, her eyes tracking the smoke that floated up from Moxie’s cigarette. Looking at Moxie’s hands. “Am I a people you care about?” Jules asked, playing coy as she tried to coax Moxie out from behind her drink with a smirk, raised eyebrows. It hid something warmer, more genuine that Jules wasn’t quite able to sort out - there hadn’t been a critical mass of people who got as close as Moxie who still... Jules shakes her head, chasing away the thought. 

 She’s still looking at the graceful economy of Moxie’s hands, the way she twists and winds them - the symptom of some current anxiety, Jules figured. “Baking and favorite songs and little details are more nice things. But love’s certainly a lot of trouble for them.” This was part of the game; Jules the cynic and Moxie the idealist. Jules had never really found idealism charming, before, before, before.

“You’ve been in love before?” Jules asked suddenly, the words slipping out before she meant them to. A strange expression flickers briefly across her face before she turns her eyes towards Moxie with an appropriately curious glance.

[jules-churchill]

lyricordell​:

.

“I couldn’t sleep.” she said, waving off the offer of a drink. Slate said that they made a bunch of tea when both of the tributes died, and Lyric still had harrow to worry after. she wasn’t giving up on him. she was just trying to get herself recalibrated. “um… I feel. not great. like, before.” surely Jules would at least remember a bit how she’d been before. it wasn’t that bad, not yet, but still.

“and… if it gets any worse-” It shouldn’t, it wouldn’t, lyric couldn’t express how much the idea of it scared her if it did “- can you call my mom? you have her number, right?”

.

Her mother had, in fact, brought her a number, which Jules was now grateful for not having refused. She had wanted to, tried to explain the thing about her and Lyric: They’re not friends. They just know one another too well. But she hadn’t refused, and now Jules was thinking of the note with the number, tucked away in her contact book. An escape plan in her back pocket. 

That was needed. This was out of Jules area of expertise by a few miles. “Yeah. Yeah. Of course.” Jules said, nodding intensely, searching around as if something in the room could help her. It couldn’t really. Jules pulled up a chair and sat on the edge of it, still facing Lyric, looking at her like a puzzle to solve. 

“Stay here with me. Is this, ah...has this been happening, lately?” She kept her words casual. Light as she could. 

[jules-churchill]

everettlance​:

.

“Don’t believe the rumors, I didn’t sleep with Thetis,” he said, just in case she was thinking it and it needed to be said. “Unfortunately hindsight is 20/20, and the tributes hardly ever have a full view. Mine might do something stupid any minute.”

. 

”That’s uh, good to know.” said Jules, who had not heard any such rumors. “I never had pegged you as the guy who’d leer over tributes, if I’m being honest.” But you never know. She nodded in agreement. “All of mentoring is just sitting around waiting for them to do something stupid. It’ll yours or mine, sooner or later.” At this, she checked the screen again, an anxious habit she hadn’t been able to keep away in the past few days - checking to see the stupid thing, the dead body, or something else. 

[jules-churchill]

 moxiepitlock​:

.

“I wouldn’t want you to be anything but you,” Moxie quickly countered, refusing to even entertain the prospect of Jules being remotely anything like herself. The reason she liked having Jules around was the tacit honesty in her every sentence. It felt like the reality check that Moxie so desperately needed to keep around; there was no gentility in the way Jules saw things unlike the minds of the people Moxie worked with from Twelve. She was a grounding presence, even through slurred out words and a mind beginning to spin under the threat of alcohol.

Moxie thought hard on the question; she guessed she hadn’t thought on it on either end. There were her own demons to slay from there – personal and psychological – how would she ever convincingly assure her family the love was a more worthwhile venture than desperate money grabbing? Clumsily, she raised the glass toward Jules and exhaled, pressing the glass to her lips, not fully taking a sip as she answered, “Maybe? I guess it’d have to be the absolutely right circumstances, but I think you can find all of those moments in more than just, God, a one-true fairytale love.” Moxie finally took a drink and continued on, “I think we love different people at different times for different reasons, it’s not always how they try to sell it in the Games or in books and movies. There’s all those degrees of what it means to you instead of what it means to other people.”

.

She doesn’t feel drunk, but she must be, because she’s out of focus in the way she only ever is when not herself. She’s swaying, uneasy. Part of her wants to kick out, say something biting an uncalled for to Moxie for no reason. Part of her wants to say something else. She swirled her drink around instead, ice clinking against glass. “You know,” Jules said, her voice thick. “You always know what nice thing to say. Like it’s already inside you. Have you always been like that?” She doesn’t know why she’s asking that. Maybe as a way of revealing she had always been like this. More or less. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to tell Moxie that, though. 

“If something means something different to everyone, that usually means it doesn’t exist.” Jules said shortly, a little cruelly. But she did believe that, and had never really believed in love. “I mean, your tribute with the boyfriend is just a kid. He’s not gonna know what life is like. It makes sense to me that he’d still believe in the kind of love you’d die for, or live for or whatever. But I’ve never understood the inclination in adults. Don’t you think you’ve lived long enough to see love is mostly just Capitol-sold books and movies and death games? A ploy to get people to but more flowers.”

[jules-churchill]

laradanbur​:

.

“You are an optimist, Jules Churchill,” Lara exhaled, watching the other carefully, not quite minding or having an articulate opinion on the smoke, even though she did prefer clear air. It was the only thing that made sense for her own lungs. “So many dynamics and meaningful names in the arena, and you’re still rooting for the two ordinary girls from Eight. Nostalgic, maybe?”

.

“Ha! Or maybe it’s just the politician in me. Always pretending things are going great for me. Or Eight, rather.” Jules said. “And I’m not so entrenched in the victor life to ignore my home district completely. I’d probably be more nostalgic if both girls were the opposite of what I was at that age - we came from, uh, different parts of Eight. But still from Eight, so I’ll bet on them ‘till they’re out.”

[jules-churchill]

moxiepitlock​:

“You’re not being sensitive, it’s one of the two worst times of year,” Moxie mused almost compulsively going for another cigarette, the conflict driving her to take a drag off the stick. She left the cigarette in her mouth as she spoke again, “And it’s not like you’re an inconvenience Jules, you’ve absolutely heard me get all blubbery over stupider things.”

“Can you grab me another drink?” Moxie asked flicking the ash of her cigarette into the glass she set on the table. She thought for a moment, lips pursed, considering how she felt about crushes, about her current crush, about how she had no idea how to explain her emotions about it aloud for everyone to hear. She tried though, beginning to babble, “I’m a hopeless romantic though, I love the idea of love – and I feel like loving other people takes a lot of time and effort but it’s so rewarding when it actually happens and it’s soft and genuine and it’s yours, you know?”

.

"Oh, good. I’d hate more than anything to be an inconvenience.” Jules said. “But I am grateful you’re willing you’re to forgive me my spotty mentoring. You’re a more charitable person than me. I can admire it, but I can’t emulate it, it seems.” More than anything, that was a tell Jules had, when she was drunk - before she slurred her words, before the world spun around her, she found herself getting bluntly, horrifically honest. She frowned, but still found herself lifting the glass to her mouth. “Of course I’ll make you a drink.” she said. Her voice felt scratchy, all of a sudden. 

Maybe it was the love talk. It felt like unknown territory - actually, maybe enemy territory. It gave Jules a strange feeling in her stomach as she mixed Moxie’s drink, pouring ice in the silver cups. “Huh. Do you think you’ll get married then?” Jules said. She asked the question to stall, to decide if she wanted to ignore the question or not. But again, the alcohol. The honesty. “I guess it’s never actually happened for me, so I wouldn’t know. But that sounds nice.” Jules had been raised to never put much value on nice. 

“Here.” Jules said to clear air afterwards, sliding the glass down to Moxie. She raised her own glass towards her before taking another drink; a toast to something unsaid. 

[jules-churchill]

moxiepitlock​:

.

Moxie kept rapt attention over each word as it poured out of Jules’ mouth. It made sense to her and she felt her jaw clench as they separated eye contact; she hadn’t meant it that it was a true separating of those who got to live versus those who got had the misfortune of dying in the Games. Moxie never wanted it to be a glorification of the absolute absurd violence that was the Hunger Games.

“I just think about what could’ve happened not -“ Moxie cut herself off already trying to pull herself out of the clearly lined hole she had dug. “To die for someone is always romantic,” She stated giving a small shrug pulling her vision back upward and toward the Games attempting to keep light and casual, “I just don’t get how you’d be able to even be remotely okay with that, if you know what the end result is, if that makes any sense?”

.

"I know what you thought. I mean, I know you mean well. I know you always - ” Jules started, cutting herself off the same way, but this time out of her own anger towards herself. She was usually better than this, not letting the increased nerves the games gave her bleed through. “Anyway. I’m sorry. I’m being...goddamn sensitive, lately. It’s unbecoming.” That was a word her mother liked to say. Jules hated it’s accuracy. She made herself another drink while still leaning over the bar counter, not bothering to climb over - whiskey, honey, hot water, lemon. 

“Quintessentially romantic, I’d say. But I’ve never been a romantic.” Jules said, leaning over the bar as she poured herself another drink. She had a rudimentary understanding of a crush when she was a little girl, but her romantic feelings never seemed to move past that even as she grew. At least, they never did with the men she met. “I mean, I absolutely can’t see the logic in that, no. But from what I’ve heard about love, it’s not usually logical.” 

[jules-churchill]

lyricordell​:

Lyric had felt… a little bit off for a lot of the day. it hadn’t really kicked in until bedtime, when she’d already sent off some nice emails to sponsors about harrow and was left to think about rosemary. the girl just wouldn’t get out of her mind, which was odd. most of the games wasn’t even in her mind.

she felt a little bit distant, like her fingers and toes weren’t exactly in the places she knew they were.

she knew this feeling, knew being untethered was bad. it could get worse than this, far worse, but she still needed to maybe not be alone. her mother wasn’t around, nor was her therapist, and her father was long dead. so she found herself wandering to Jules’s room, knowing the woman was at least a little familiar with how she’d been before. “sorry.” she murmured, making an effort to focus on jules when she looked at her. “did I wake you up?”

.

“I don’t care about that.” Jules said, arms crossed as she took in her unfocused look, the murmured words. “Really, I wanna hear how you are. Come in.” she said, turning inside to prompt Lyric to follow her in. 

Jules didn’t bring a lot of people into her apartment if she could help it, holding tight to private spaces; it made her feel out of practice with welcoming guests, particularly ones in some sort of...distress. That wasn’t the best word, but Jules couldn’t find a better one. 

Her own mother would have offered a drink. Something warm. Something with liquor in it, if it was after five. Jules went with the warm option. “I, uh. Would you want something to drink? The avoxes keep this kitchen stocked with pretty much anything - hot chocolate, maybe?” She felt out of practice at whatever this was. She leaned over the counter of the kitchen, a shiny dark marble that reflected back at her like a blackened mirror. “What are you doing up this late?”

[jules-churchill]

everettlance​:

“I’m not supporting Thetis,” he said quickly, defensively. “I’m saying it’s the smart thing for Wren, I just told you that and you agree. I’d say it for anyone who wasn’t a Career. Best way to not die? Stay out of the way of someone deadlier than you.”

. 

“You had me fooled.” Jules responded with a shrug, mostly just to annoy him further. But she still nodded along with the second part of what Everett said. “We’re in perfect agreement. We’ll have to see if that helps the ones in there.” She referred to the television with a small jerk of her head.  

[jules-churchill]

It’s late when Lyric comes knocking - late enough that Jules had been more or less asleep for the past two hours at least; the kind of solid dreamless sleep that came from the whiskey she had drunk earlier, but all other effects had thoroughgoingly worn off, and it did not make her sleep soundly enough to not wake at the sound of someone at the door. She doubted she could sleep that soundly at all, anymore. 

“Lyric.” she says by way of greeting when she register’s the girl’s face, warm enough but warily. “It’s after midnight. Why would you - what’s wrong?” Jules Churchill was no empath, but she could note something off about Lyric’s appearance. Something going on behind the eyes.

@lyricordell

[jules-churchill]

everettlance​:

“For me?” He leaned in for the light. “Lasted until my first dumb choice. If Wren stays smart – which in my opinion, that’d be staying out of Thetis’s way – then her luck will last longer. If she’s like me, and she turns on the Career pack night one, luck won’t be on her side that long.”

.

“Well, Thetis obviously has a strong supporter behind her, at least. Good for her.” Jules mused as her eyes continued to switch lazily from Everett to the television. Not much was happening. “I have no doubts staying out of Thetis’s way would be a smart decision for either of my girls. I usually tell my tributes the best thing to do with careers was to hope they were killed by something or someone else far away from you. But tributes don’t seem to follow my advice much. They keep dying.”

[jules-churchill]

moxiepitlock​:

.

Moxie gave a pleasant smile, finishing off her drink, placing her glass on the table to become a makeshift ashtray. The pout made her pause in her movement, eyes finally fully glancing over to Jules, a crooked smile was offered over to the victor. “You don’t have to be good at all those things,” Moxie said furrowing her brow, “Aren’t the Games mostly just pure luck? Not that I am not insanely glad that you’re around, but you’re so insanely lucky.” 

She gave a quick grimace at the mention of her tributes. “I’m mostly just worried about Kit,” Moxie admitted taking a long drag from her own cigarette. She luxuriated in the exhale, thinking of the best way to phrase her next sentence, not wanting to sound as if she’s just a heartless bitch. “He’s got that whole boyfriend-thing, and I mean good for him, but I’m scared he’s going to get killed over it,” She said, carefully, her own pout forming on her lips, as she ashed her cigarette, examining it for a moment, and then fully stubbing it out.

.

“No, I don’t. Anymore at least.” Some victors, particularly careers, kept in a sort of ‘fighting shape’ after they won their games. Not Jules. She had been healthy but unathletic before her games, and she saw little reason in working out or learning to use weapons after her games were done. “They have to be good at those things, though, so, useless.” She said it with a razor-thin smile, but as Moxie continued Jules sat up straighter and turned away with a stony face, her eyes fixed on the television before them. “I am am so insanely lucky.” She said flatly. That tone was probably a bit too honest, though - or rather, to be truthful about her feelings around being lucky and grateful and happy about her life was meaner than she wanted to be with Moxie. She finished her drink too, whiskey burning sour at the back of her throat. 

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s mostly luck.” Jules said thickly as she dropped the glass back onto the table. “But it’s also lucky to be be born in districts that teach you to throw knives and fight with swords. It’s lucky to be a natural athlete and to have the endurance to outrun would-be killers. But there are always ways you can help yourself.” She nodded at the her worries over Kit. “That’s exactly what I’m saying; unclear whether he’s helping himself with the boyfriend or not. But it’s certainly romantic, isn’t it?”

[jules-churchill]

zoya-darcy​:

“I’m not sold on them.” She waved a hand through the air to dispel the smoke that was curling closer to her. She’d been promised to a few parties that evening, but beforehand found herself relaxing in one of the lounges. Her money didn’t flow to the favorites in any game, but more to the tributes she thought could be elevated by her sponsorship. A career victor got on with their skills, making her feel useless in the grand scheme of things. The underdogs were a much different storyline. “Competency seems to go hand in hand with your district. What makes them exciting victors?”

. 

Smoking was a habit she lazily tried to keep confined to the tower; she couldn’t give less of a damn what the other tributes, mentors, trainers and all the like thought of the habit, but the opinion of Capitolites like Zoya did matter. “Competency is right. Boots on the ground, unpretentious Eight. Call me biased, I’ve always thought it’s a decent enough return on investment.”  

 She could tell something truthful - that both of the girls were hateful, angry and lashing out in a last attempt at life, and those qualities usually gave you a good head start to the games, because you don’t get all sentimental or weepy after your first kill. But most people didn’t like hateful. “I’m tired of all these cherished protégé victors. All this rising up meteoric wins.” Jules said with a shrug, not bothering to acknowledge that she could be considered a part of the aforementioned group. “The exciting thing about my girls is that everyone has always expected them to stay stay down in the muck. It’s exciting to see them crawl out, I think.”