❝ — shipwrecked

Lincoln Conway · District Four · 19 · Victor of the 75th Hunger Games

[geniusofthehole]

[linconway-archive]

fellvasile‌:

Fell avoided talking to Sponsors unless he absolutely had to. He hated the conversations, how arrogant and self centered they all were. How he had to talk them up for any of his Tributes to have some sort of ground in the Arena. The amount of Peacekeepers around him wasn’t lost on him, either, the uniforms seemingly always in his peripheral. Constantly reminding him to be on his best behavior, even through the insufferable conversations. He could even tell they were tense in that sparring match with the Trainer.

“A take down or two helps build character,” he quipped, “or that’s what the trainers at the Academy say, anyway.” He let out a small scoff, looking back at the Trainer as he finally started to collect himself and get up off the mat. “Only thing I bruised was his pride… maybe his rib cage, too.” Fell took a couple of steps back toward the middle of the mat, “Could teach you how I did that, if you want.” He needed something to do; hopefully Ares was with the kids from Two and making good use of the Training time.

Perhaps his disregard for the copious sponsors kept him coming to the training center during the Hunger Games. The underground gymnasium and additional facilities were substantially less occupied during that time period because there was no tribute training. It meant most prying eyes would be glued to the nearest television screen, leaving the training center as a safe haven he could utilize. Each year he did just that to clear his head and avoid the incessant Capitol citizens whom all had something to say.

“Four’s Academy had a saying like that.” He agreed. “Except it was always about becoming a man and bringing glory to yourself, your family, and the district.” Lincoln bought into all that propaganda growing up. District Four’s Academy fashioned him into a Games contender and victor, as a result, but the young man lost plenty with that foolish sacrifice. “Yeah, that’d be cool. I haven’t trained much with hand-to-hand in a few years.” 

[linconway-archive]

dreamsbornofgrain‌:

Aspen had to chuckle at Lincoln’s admission. “ Well, then you’re talking to the right person. Though my real skills lay with weapons,” she joked lightly. Outside her own training, Aspen hadn’t even touched a weapon outside the throwing knives she had been gifted and hadn’t used. Survival skills were the one advantage most tributes from the outer District had on Careers, mostly because they needed them in their day to day life.

At his next question, Aspen shrugged. “Okay, I guess.” Most days she felt far from okay, but alive and tortured by the memories was better than being dead. “Not really sure most days.” It was the most honest thing she could tell him. “I am glad too. A break is nice. Gives us a couple days break? Till the interviews?”

A smirk crossed his lips at her jest, and he shook his head in amusement. “It’s about time I learn something around here anyway. Things don’t always take the first time with me.” Lincoln divulged with a sheepish smile. It seemed no secret that he wasn’t the brightest bulb. “And I don’t think it’s a surprise that I wasn’t the best at surviving skills before going into the Hunger Games.” Most Career tributes before and after him shared the same lack of knowledge. Only a select number of Careers gave them a chance during training.

He listened to Aspen's words carefully and nodded. “It’s okay to feel like that. We’ve all been there, and I’ve been told the first year can be the hardest. Hell, I barely left the training center during my first year.” He chuckled with a bitter tone. “I guess that part is nice. The press is too occupied by the tributes to worry about us for now.” Yet, it felt wrong to be grateful that forcing these kids to battle to the death kept attention away from him.

[linconway-archive]

maxaroha‌:

Max was just as surprised to see Lincoln Conway at the stealth station as he was to see him. The young Victor was bigger and more muscular than he was and as far as Max knew was incredibly adept at the weapons. Why he was over here by his lonesome was beyond him. 

He flashed a charming smile at the Victor and took a look at the tools that Lincoln was handling. “I try to keep the saliva in my mouth,” he replied with a laugh. Max took stock of what was in the station, not sure where to start. There was so much he didn’t know about it. The main thing he knew was to be quiet. Sounds could kill you in a quiet place. It happened over and over again every year. The poor girl from Ten last year was a prime example of that. 

“Besides, I can’t show my whole hand this early, can I?” he postured, looking at Lincoln. “Are you doing the same thing? Trying not to salivate over swords?”

His brow furrowed slightly at the some of the stealth related tools, though he attempted not to let his confusion show. Lincoln definitely believed the usefulness of this station was overrated for someone like him. What would have the other students at District Four’s Academy said if they saw him hiding from other tributes during the Quarter Quell? He shook his head at the thought, mentally reminding himself that he didn’t need to worry about that anymore. Somehow he survived the Hunger Games without losing all his sanity.

“Well, that’s good. I’m pretty sure all this stuff is new and doesn’t need drool all over it.” He jested gently with a smirk. In his traditional fashion, Lincoln recognized Maximux Aroha from Two’s Reaping, which was one of the only ones he watched annually. District One had been the obvious other Reaping he watched. “I guess I’ve seen it both ways in here. Some tributes like to show off and intimidate the others with their skills. Others bide their time and wait for the right moment to show their skills. I bet you can guess which type I was.” The young victor believed it wouldn’t be too hard to guess given his track record.

“As for me, I’ve spent enough time salivating over swords to give them a break today. My weapon’s a spear anyway, though swords aren’t bad either.” He shrugged.

[linconway-archive]

gemofpanem‌:

Training, finally somewhere Briella felt perfectly at ease. The Parade had been fine, but she was eager to show off her skills. Naturally she gravitated towards the weapons and quickly picked up a bow and a quiver of arrows. “Want to try?” She asked the person that settled in the space next to her as she shot one of her arrows. An arrow that would have been buried in someone’s eye socked had it been a real person and not a dummy. The second one found a home right in the heart.

“I hear the simulator is a riot, should we try that instead? Is that more your style?” Briella asked because she knew as a career, certain things were expected of her. Sure she should check out some of the other stations, but right now she needed to establish herself as a career.

@ttwstarters

Lincoln often gravitated toward various types of tributes during training. He observed the younger tributes to see inside their heads and offer some advice. He watched the older tributes from the outlying districts that attempted to chance fate by learning all they could in training. Most of all, the young man felt inclined toward watch the Career tributes from Districts One and Two. Often lethal like Four’s own tributes, they also had their own quirks that could be both deadly and opportunities for his tributes to benefit.

So when he saw Briella Carrick by the weapons, he slipped into the empty space by her side. “Thanks, but I’ll pass. Archery has never been my strongest skill.” He chuckled softly. The spear seemed to find him in the Academy, and he spent copious hours training with his favorite weapon. “I always thought the bow was less common, but they seem to be making a comeback over the past couple years.” Lincoln recalled Leon de Castanheira preferring a bow to other weapons. Perhaps adoring bows was a District Two trait.

“Which one is more your style? A strait-laced target like that one or a simulator?” He asked, turning the question back on her. As someone who didn’t practice archery, he felt rather interested by her impending answer.

[linconway-archive]

dreamsbornofgrain‌:

Aspen stood there just inside the door of the training center a moment praying she didn’t look too lost. She hadn’t felt this lost at the start of her own training, but then again, no one expected tributes to know what they were doing. Mentors however, they were supposed to know these things. She wished she had someone to ask, but District Nine’s other mentors were quite old and had elected not to make the trip to the Capitol now that they had someone to take their place. Right, she could figure this out.

“Hey…” Aspen said to the person next to her. “I was thinking of heading over to the first-aid or camouflage station, did you want to come?”

@ttwstarters​

Since Aspen Fields emerged from the 78th Hunger Games, Lincoln hadn’t spent too much time around her. Perhaps he simply desired to give her some leeway to heal from the arena. It seemed the cameras and incessant Capitol citizens followed the newest victor moments after their crowning. They became the most prominent individual in Panem overnight, and that could be overwhelming, even for the likes of Lincoln Conway.

So when Aspen spoke to him in the training center, the young man offered a small smile in response. Now would be as good time to welcome her into the fold. The notion of the younger victors sticking together never strayed far from his mind. “Sure, why not. I probably need to brush up on those skills more than the tributes do.” Lincoln responded, raising his hand to scratch the back of his neck. Survival stations were never his strong point.

“How are you holding up? I’ve been pretty glad the paparazzi and their cameras have a hard time in here.” He imagined the training center being a circus otherwise.

[linconway-archive]

glitterrosseau‌:

@ttwstarters

Glitter wasn’t going to just sit on the sidelines and observe.  She’d never been that type of mentor, so she’d stepped up to the hand to hand combat station and sparred with one of the other trainers.  She worked them over, eventually getting the trainer down on the mat.  It always felt good to do, despite knowing that she could succeed before she even started.

Once the trainer tapped out, Glitter straightened up and adjusted her ponytail.  Glancing at the spectator, she smirked.  “Do you want to go?”

The hand-to-hand combat station had been one Lincoln seemed to avoid following his victory. Perhaps the young man felt so consumed by guilt that he spent a majority of training near the survival stations. Acquiring that knowledge would never revive his fallen allies, but perhaps it could save others tributes in the future. Yet, even he needed breaks from the survival stations to get his blood pumping with a good fight. It might have been the Career lingering within him, which hastened his footsteps toward the station.

He happened to approach the hand-to-hand station just as Glitter overpowered one of the trainers. He chuckled at her suggestion for a fight and thought about it for a moment. “I’ll give it a try. So long as you promise Wiress and Emmy won’t come after me if they find out I didn’t go easy on you.” He jested gently with a small smirk.

[linconway-archive]

maxaroha‌:

His fingers itched for a bow, the only weapon that he could use competently. Well, more than competently - top of his class before he dropped out. And whenever he had visited Briella at the Academy after that point, he would practice a little bit, not wanting to lose the skill that he had cultivated so well. 

But, when he walked into the Training Centre he opted to steer clear of the archery station and the medicine station - the two things he excelled at. Max figured he should try and look like a Career and train at some of the other weapon stations, but he also didn’t want to be around people who were going to get cut. He could handle bruises and broken bones and bodily fluids except blood. 

He hated blood. Funny coming from a guy who wanted to be a doctor. But, Max would freeze up and have to really push himself to clean up those wounds. 

So, Max approached the stealth station, something he thought was a happy medium between Career skill and no risk of blood. There was someone already there and he walked up behind them and tapped them on the shoulder. “Are you planning on using this station? I wanted to brush up on my skills,” he said. // @ttwstarters

Lincoln never strayed close to the survival stations during his training period. Instead, the young man spent his time hovering near coveted spears and antagonizing the other tributes. The lack of survival experience truly cost him during the 75th Annual Hunger Games. In actuality, some part of him wondered if survival knowledge could have helped the other tributes he cared about last longer. Was their blood on his hands too?

This incessant worry made him yearn to learn a more about survival with each subsequent Hunger Games. While he would never become an expert, perhaps his half-hearted expertise could aid District Four’s tributes in the arena. Lincoln vowed to ensure each set of tributes would value those areas far more than he had.

Consequently, Four’s male victor fumbled with various tools at the stealth station with a furrowed brow. Of course, Lincoln also pondered how someone with his stature could be remotely stealthy. He wasn’t exactly light on his feet or small enough to conceal in most situations. A fleeting thought even crossed his mind that perhaps he simply lacked the competence to become proficient at stealth-related techniques.

Lincoln turned when a voice interrupted his inner monologue, and he shook his head in response. “Nah, I should probably quit while I’m ahead.” He’d rather not embarrass himself in a crowded room. “I’m surprised to find you over here though. From one Career to another, I thought you’d be salivating over the swords or something.” 

[linconway-archive]

fellvasile‌:

As per usual, Fell had arrived at the Training Center early. It was quiet and there were only a few Trainers around. The Peacekeeper crowd had been thin, too. But as more people filtered into the Training Center, so did the Peacekeeper count. And a small group of them seemed to have their eyes on him, the white uniforms following him to whatever station he went to. Fell had wanted to see if he could meet with the Tributes from Two, but if Peacekeepers were going to be watching him like they were, it was going to be difficult to focus.

Fell had been wrapping up a fight with a Trainer, knocking him down to the mat. He let out a breath, moving to stand and looked over to see someone standing alongside the mat. Over their shoulder, though, had been one of the Peacekeepers and Fell sent a brief glare their way. “You want to try?” he offered, looking back to the person watching him. 

@ttwstarters

Lincoln bounded for the gymnasium all too soon after the training period began. He exhaled in relief upon entering the doors to his safe haven. The training center was already crowded with tributes, trainers, peacekeepers, and sponsors, the latter of which he wholeheartedly attempted to avoid. To complete this goal, the young victor weaved between various training stations, stopping occasionally to pick up a new tip to share with Four’s tributes later. Perhaps this would finally be the year he brought one home.

It hadn’t taken long for Lincoln to find Fell Vasile pounding a trainer into the mat. He chuckled lightly to himself and watched the scene, unsurprised that Fell bested the trainer opposite him. “Maybe, but I’d hate to go down like that guy.” He smiled gently and nodded toward the fallen trainer. “Something tells me it’d end up on the next cover of Sponsors Weekly.” Lincoln believed the magazine to be more of a nuisance than anything.

[alfiessolomvns]

[linconway-archive]

larktimbers‌:

“well, if it isn’t my favorite victor from four!” she smiled, wrapping her arm around his shoulder gently and squeezing before Mea inevitably asked for the attention of her arms on her. asked by pulling on the arm, that was. “alright, alright, miss grabby hands.” she laughed.

“yeah, she’s a career, though. what do you expect? no offense intended, of course. what i mean is you’re prepared for this.” unlike laurel, who lark felt just terrible about being unable to help. she just couldn’t figure out how to get demetria’s pockets open, which  flustered lark. this was her specialty. this was what she did. 

so why couldn’t she?

“laurel. brave girl. been through a lot. she deserves… i mean, i’m sure yours does too.” lark just wanted laurel to finally have a family.

Lincoln chuckled at the treatment from one of District Seven’s mentors. He recalled meeting Lark Timbers soon into his first Hunger Games as a fresh victor. Times had certainly changed since then, which was evident by how Lark’s twins grew over the past two years. He could see both twins developing their own personalities, and it warmed his heart to see something so undiluted when surrounded by vultures in the Capitol.

“They’re getting big, aren’t they?’ He grinned gently, watching the twins interact with Lark and Demetria Daylight. The young man attempted to ignore the latter before she ruined his momentarily good mood.

“None taken. It’s not exactly District Four’s best-kept secret. Misty was one of the best.” Lincoln shrugged. The term Career had not been pleasant for him over the past couple years, but Lark spoke the truth. He had been prepared for the Hunger Games in many ways before the Quarter Quell. Of course, the Career Academy failed to prepare him for the trauma and loss that came with competing for the crown. And how could they?

 “Laurel is brave, and she does deserve it. They all deserve it for what they go through in there.” He lowered the tone of his voice, so Demetria Daylight wouldn’t get ideas about repeating everything he said. 

[linconway-archive]

larktimbers‌:

boy was dead, but laurel was still kicking. it brought a smile to lark’s face to see her alive on the seventh day. jules’ arena hadn't lasted this long. if laurel had gone this far, she could go all the way, or, it seemed plausible.

she didn’t mean to undercut a death from her district. it hurt. but it was just getting laurel closer to another lark hug. so she didn’t break. instead, she double downed. currently, she was sitting in the viewing room, watching one of the sponsors (demetria daylight, if that was her name) holding mason’s hands to ‘help him walk around’. well, lark wasn’t going to tell her mason could walk just fine. she just bounced mea on her knee and looked up at another face. 

“did you want to sit? here, i’ll move their jackets.” she’d taken them off the twins and put them on her lap. Mea was now just sitting on top of blankets.

“so… what brings you here?”

@ttwstarters

As the number of tributes dwindled, Lincoln Conway began to feel a sliver of hope. Misty Shore continued to prevail in the arena, that that kept him glued to the television screen. The male victor sauntered toward the viewing rooms with the notion of catching up on the last few hours before taking a break. He wondered if Misty received the sponsor he sent already, as Lincoln felt relieved to finally understand the gifting process. The icing on top of that cake would be bringing home his first victor following the 77th Games.

Upon seeing Lark Timbers with her twins, Lincoln’s lips curled into a small smile. They always seemed to be a breath of fresh air, even with Demetria Daylight loitering in the viewing room fawning over the children. Consequently, the mentor from District Four sauntered further into the room to announce his presence. “Sure, I’d like that.”

He slumped onto an empty space on the couch and watched the kids live in their own little world. It seemed rather blissful to him. “I’m just trying to get an update on Misty. She’s still going strong, thankfully.” He responded with a glance toward Lark. “How are you and the twins? I see you’ve still got a tribute in there too.” 

[linconway-archive]

harlowvale‌:

“No, it’s fine,” she replied, giving a shake of her head. The roof was one of very few places in the Tower where people could go to get away from the Games below. Harlow didn’t want to lock herself in Five’s suite and keep thinking about Joule and Gee, or even Auggie and Nova. Vida and Hudson. Ampere… there were so many kids that had gone into The Games and never got to return home. 

She brought the cigarette back to her lips, looking over at Lincoln. She never really got the chance to talk to him much. He had been in the same Games as Ampere, had faced her in the end when she had decided to take matters into her own hands. Harlow wondered if Ampere’s face haunted his nightmares– of course she had to. No one escaped The Games entirely unscathed. 

“It’s the only place to get away from the crowds in the Tower,” she replied, turning her head to exhale the smoke away from Lincoln’s face. “Not many other places to go other than your suite, but… I just don’t wanna be down there. Feels suffocating sometimes. Which defeats the purpose when I have this,” she murmured, hefting the hand with the cigarette between her fingers. “How’re you doing, Lincoln?”

“Thanks.” While Lincoln hadn’t spoken with Harlow Vale much, he knew enough Hunger Games trivia to recall what district she hailed from. It seemed some aspects of District Five would haunt him forever. He would never forget Ampere’s self-destruction mere feet away from him in the Quarter Quell. Those memories haunted him until he became unhinged; hence his incessant need for caffeine. He had hoped it would have gotten better this year, but fate seemed to have other things in mind for him.

The appearance of Joule Shapiro had taken its toll on Lincoln. Being confronted by the tribute led to his avoidance of the training center for days. Hearing of Nolie’s confrontation with Joule made his perturbation increase, despite finally knowing how Two’s youngest victor felt about him. The young man felt forced to avert his eyes from watching Joule’s go in the same fashion as her older sister. Bile had risen in his throat at that moment, but it never came. Instead, both sisters now haunted his nightmares each night.

“That’s how I like to see it too. I feel free up here like no one is watching.” Lincoln agreed finally and gazed at the landscape with a faint smile. “I’m okay, I guess.” He furrowed his brow and looked down at his feet for a second. “Kai’s gone, but Misty’s still going strong in there. That’s something, isn’t it?” The young victor attempted to convince himself with a look toward Harlow. “I’m sorry about your tributes, Harlow.” 

[linconway-archive]

lael-lu‌:

Lael smiled when she noticed it was Lincoln Conway standing near her. It had only been two years ago when she and Kaelin had gossiped about the cute new victor from Four, and now the guy was practically a veteran. It made her feel old, if she could admit it to herself. 

“Thanks,” she sighed as she scribbled down another figure. “You can take a seat if you want. It’s getting pretty crowded, and I’d rather have someone like you than… well, someone nosier.”

Lael reached over and took a sip of her coffee- nearly black, with a dash of sugar and a swirl of whipped cream on top- before analyzing a row of numbers and writing down another couple of figures. 

“So what brings you down here?” she asked. “I hate to say that I haven’t really kept up with Four, since Three has been kind of a madhouse the last… while.”

“Thank you,” he offered with a small smile. Lincoln started to get comfortable in the seat, chuckling gently at Lael’s words. “I’ll try to keep the prying questions to a minimum then.” He jested lightly. Of course, the young man usually let those intrusive inquiries to the Capitol press. They seemed to have an endless supply of them.

He momentarily turned his attention to the Avox behind the bar. “Can I get a black coffee, please?” Lincoln asked, murmuring his gratitude upon receiving a nod.

“My usual coffee run.” He responded. Black coffee quickly became his substitute for copious amounts of alcohol soon after the 76th Games ended. “Misty is still in there, thankfully, so I’ll probably have to schmooze that group over there before I leave.” He glanced toward the rowdy horde near the other end of the bar with a shake of his head.

“Hey, I don’t blame you. Three’s been on a hot streak lately.” With Pixel winning the 77th Games and two tributes in the top ten this year, Lincoln could only imagine the strain on District Three’s team. “Sponsors must be throwing money at you guys. I also overheard Pixel has a snake living on the third floor of the Tower. What’s that about?” 

[linconway-archive]

juleschurchill‌:

When Jules Churchill watched the games, mostly she just  s t a r e d. 

It’s not like she was in much position to do anything else. Gathering money from sponsors, talking them up, whatever, whatever, whatever. At the end of the day, all she could really do was stare. Watch as they fought, as they died, as they played the game. Jules sighed, leaning back into the ridiculously plush chairs they put out for sponsors and mentors to sit in as they watched the games from the tower. If she were a different person, she might have wanted a drink.

“The lovers are still alive. That’s something, at least. Both of them being still alive. It’s almost impressive, I would say.” Jules scrunched up her face anyway, to let them know it was mostly a joke. “Wouldn’t you?” // @ttwstarters

Lincoln Conway had been focused on District Four’s tributes, but he hadn’t been so blind to the others not to understand what Jules meant. He witnessed the epic kiss between the tributes from District Seven during the Tribute Parade that sent Panem into a frenzy. The level of footage almost reminded him of the pair from District Twelve the year before his own Games. Hopefully this ending would not be nearly as heart-rending.

“That’s good, really good. I’m sure the sponsors love that too, don’t they?” The young man asked with a raised brow, curious as to how Jules’ conversations with the Games benefactors had been going lately. He imagined Jules Churchill might feel some relief now that a portion of the spotlight went to Pixel Delaroux. Of course, the attention from the Capitol never seemed to diminish quite like he wished it would.

"How are you?"

[linconway-archive]

lael-lu‌:

District Three was doing well again. Which was great. Of course it was great. Just absolutely peachy with two tributes who were doing well and now after Pixel’s win the Capitol was suddenly all abuzz and taking District Three seriously. This was Lael’s entry level position and she was apparently doing so well in her job that her tributes were just killing it repeatedly. Literally. (Not that she took credit for their success, per se, but they weren’t getting any sponsor gifts without her to coordinate).

Only… this meant that the lack of sleep that Lael had experienced last year was now doubled. Now with four victors and another trainer in the district to send gifts off to Ember and Demelza, there was a hell of a lot of paperwork to sift through all day every day.

Her hand shook as she took a sip of her iced coffee, sitting at a table in the bar, doing totals by hand today. Lael’s eyes had started to go wonky last night after staring at her laptop screen, and she almost coordinated a $5000 sponsor gift to Demelza instead of a $500 one, and the donor would not have been happy once that bill arrived at his doorstep.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered as she saw a figure approach close to her, figuring it was a waitress or bartender without looking up. “Does someone need this seat? I can… pack up and go to my suite or something.” // @ttwstarters

It had only taken a few days for Lincoln to slip into a pattern. His days consisted of vouching for Four’s tributes and conversing with other mentors and Capitol personnel. He checked on Misty and Kai multiple times each day as well. The constant activity made him anxious, and that uneasiness amplified the frequency of his nightmares. Thus, his days were spent running errands, and he spent most nights praying for a dreamless sleep. Since his wish wasn’t often granted, Lincoln relied on a generous helping of black coffee each day.

His routine coffee run is what brought him to the bar. The young man could have ordered from an Avox or gone to a kiosk outside, but he had his reasons. It seemed far too early to grow lazy or be bombarded by overeager sponsors. Consequently, he shuffled to the bar and slid into the first empty seat he saw beside District Three’s escort.

“Nah, keep the seat. Looks like you’re knee deep in something pretty important.” He gestured toward her handiwork and leaned on his elbow and palm. “Plus, down there’s pretty full of nosy people.” Lincoln jerked his head toward the other end of the bar, where some of the less prominent sponsors appeared to be congregating. 

[linconway-archive]

harlowvale‌:

Harlow didn’t have any further reason to watch The Games. It was disheartening to think about, yet it was an unfortunate reality of being a Mentor. She had already been down to the morgue to help prepare Gee’s body, took some time to apologize to him for not doing her best for him. She didn’t think she could handle preparing Joule. In a strange sense, she felt partially responsible for what happened to the poor girl since she had sent her the bolts for that crossbow. The same weapon her sister had used.

She had already been making her way to the stairwell before her mind processed where she was going. Harlow wasn’t going to the viewing rooms, didn’t want to go subject herself to watching more kids die if she didn’t have to. That sweet girl from Nine was still alive, and Dwight’s boy was still in there. But she had no interest in seeing the outcome.

She just needed to get out of Five’s suite, just needed to get away. And she went somewhere that she hadn’t been to in a long while: she had gone all the way up to the roof. Harlow pushed the door open and walked out toward the rooftop garden, smoothing one hand through her hair while another held a pack of cigarettes she had snatched off of a client. Slipping one of the cigarettes from the pack, Harlow was about to light the end when she heard footsteps shuffling along the path of the rooftop garden.

“Shit–” she hissed softly, dropping her shoulders after a momentary jolt of surprise hit her. “Sorry, wasn’t expecting anyone to be up here.”

@ttwstarters

Kai’s death had been quite the sore moment for Lincoln. While the young victor understood his so-called odds going into the arena, he also hoped Four’s male tribute would somehow defy them. Lincoln wished that for both of District Four’s tributes every year, particularly since the Quarter Quell. So when Kai was eliminated by the boy from Six, Lincoln’s heart felt constricted, and he escaped to somewhere with more breathing room.

The Tribute Tower’s rooftop garden always seemed to provide the space for that. While he never utilized the space as a tribute, the young man seemingly used it more and more as a mentor. Even while surrounded by an impenetrable force field, the illusion of endless skies helped him unwind. He’d need that time before facing the vultures sponsors again.

In enjoying a few minutes of seclusion, Lincoln hadn’t realized someone else on the roof. He shuffled his feet deep around in deep thought, almost jumping out of his skin upon seeing Harlow. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to catch you off-guard.” He offered with a sympathetic smile. “Thought I finally caught this place unoccupied for once.” He chuckled gently, knowing many frequently visited the rooftop, particularly the garden.