liquor lips

minerva denier ♡ 21 ♡ district 8 i'm gonna pop your bubblegum heart

[seraphinavoulgar]

She could feel their presence without having to turn. Something about the way the air shifted, the way her awareness shifted ever so slightly. It was a behaviour her body had adapted into, spending one too many nights in barns or under the stars meant she was attuned to even the slightest triggers of movement.

There was no reason to turn, and she felt no inclination to. Instead she stood, eyes shut, feeling the heat enter her every pore, sweat beginning to bead at her temple.

You fucking stink.

When it came to introductions, this was something she could get behind.

She turned slowly to face the newcomer, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.

The voice matched the girl it belonged to. She was a tiny thing, hair hanging limp and damp around her shoulders. But it was only when Seraphina got closer that she saw the still forming bruises, the cuts and blood that had dried and congealed on her face.

The smirk widened into a grin.

Seraphina took another step towards the girl and lowered herself until the two of them were at eye level. She held out her hands, waggling her fingers to show their blooded state.

"We're matching."

The smile never left her lips.

[minervadenier]

The heat of the sauna was a welcome reprieve, a much needed distraction from the outburst of music and fire that had taken her captive mere moments prior. Her eyes darted around the small room, walls of cedar and air thick like a hot day after a heavy rain. She hadn't any real experience with steam, save for the pressing of heavy fabrics and delicate seams at the factory job that she once held. How far away District 8 already seemed to be -- how hopelessly irretrievable and permanent it all felt.

Minerva's body tensed slightly as the other girl rose, her fingers removing themselves from the grip on her nose in case she had to spring into action. Her gaze ran all over the other woman, sizing up the slow tempo of her step before garnet-stained hands were held before her eyes.

How curious they were -- each finger bloodied and battleborn, forged in the crucible of a mind whose own enemy was itself. Minerva could relate. She could also smell the ferity wafting off the girl, like a perfume painstakingly crafted from both the crude and the divine. How exciting this individual already was.

She chuckled, light yet incredulous.

"Maybe so." A pause, before Minerva tilted her head slightly.

"I'll clean yours," she challenged, the slightest of smirks tugging at her lips. "If you clean mine."

[seraphinavoulgar]

The second the lock clicked, Seraphina pounced at the door, her body tired and aching from her previous attempts at escape. Dried blood crusted around her fingertips from where she had tried to claw her way out, and she sucked her still bleeding thumb absentmindedly as she made her way through the carriages.

It was the Sauna that she was looking for. She had never heard of anything like it, and her curiousity much outweighed her desire to avoid the other tributes.

As she entered the carriage, she was met with a wall of hot, humid air. It was a dimly lit, windowless room, and the steam bit at her eyes as they adjusted to the space. She took a tentative step forward, and her nose wrinkled as the heat mingled with the sweat and dirt and musk she carried on her skin.

A few more steps and she was in the center of the carriage, slowly turning, her head rasied slightly as she took in the space from every angle.

The stench radiated outwards.

[minervadenier]

Crimson like fall had always been the girl's favorite hue -- so often did it pour from herself and others when she found herself drunk with rage, liquor, or some enchanting blend of the two. It was this particular shade of red that streamed down her head and blushed her lips as she struck her head against the door. Bang. Bang. Bang.

She screamed. She kicked. She thrashed about.

The quiet calm that she had perfectly executed on the Reaping stage ceased to exist, instead hastily swapped out like a theatrical quick change the second she ducked behind a door. The hermetically sealed room was abysmally dark, silent. Minerva finally gave up, resting her back against the locked entrance and sliding down to the floor. The cool, metallic surface felt good against her body that felt like it was radiating the heat of a thousand and then some suns. She stared stupidly into the shadows that surrounded her, breath ragged and hurried as she let her rage continue to blaze. There was no point in quenching the flames that currently burned in her belly -- not in this place.

Her eyes flicked to the screen when it lit up, her mind barely registering the preposterous man and his ridiculous intonations. She paid no attention when the music played, and was rocked from her reverie only when she heard a sharp click ring out from just behind her. Minerva didn't get up, instead remaining on the floor as she slowly came back into her body. She wiggled her fingers, shaky hands hot with pain from striking the door repeatedly. She cracked her knuckles out of habit, wincing slightly. Pain was good, she told herself. Pain meant Minerva Denier, Tribute from District 8, was still alive.

The door opened with a whoosh, and the girl was off to the races. The idea of a sauna was novel to the girl -- but something that she desperately needed. Her shoulders repeatedly collided with other Tributes as she brushed past them, her eyes not even bothering to meet theirs as she continued her trek to carriage 10. Minerva quickly undressed and wrapped herself in a towel before walking into the steam filled room and--

The smell hit her immediately. Fingers squeezed nostrils shut as an odor so offensive swirled in the air, mixed with the heat and wetness of the sauna. Minerva held back a gag before squinting her eyes and hesitantly stepping forward. Her gaze fell upon a wraith of a girl, nestled among the foggy tendrils of the room. She continued to hold her nose shut as she took a seat on the warm wood, the heat from the steam working quickly to calm her rage-stiffened muscles.

She stared at the girl wordlessly for a moment before finally speaking, "You fucking stink."

[minervadenier]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ embalm me up ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 'cause you're hosting the viewing ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ saying . . . ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎❝ she gave her life ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ so we could have her ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ in our dreams ❞ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ❝ she gave her life ———— so we could { f u c k } her as we please ❞

[treatyoftreasonrp]

PANEM'S FIRST QUARTER QUELL! STARRING... MINERVA DENIER from DISTRICT EIGHT!

Minerva had always been a fighter. She’s instigated more than her fair share of fights and often walks away unscathed, hair and makeup still perfectly in place. White liquor and a lack of impulse control drove her into the arms of a married man: the factory foreman of the textile house that she was employed at. Enraged at this discovery, the foreman’s wife campaigned to have Minerva sent into the Arena. Name called and fate sealed, Minerva walked onto the Reaping stage with her head held high. Nobody was going to break her – not in this lifetime.

SHE is 21 and her face claim is CAILEE SPAENY. [The role of Minerva is closed.]

[minervadenier]