SOLAR WIND; (under co.)

bathed in sanguine drops, it's made to look so easy under eyes that view you as fodder. terror hides in you and you long for nothing more than its release. do they know? the screams you bellow behind winning smiles, a defence mechanism to keep the public at an arms length from the truth. how does it feel knowing that you'll always be the one that didn't save the one closest to you? muse blog for mockingjaysfm as loved by gray. he/they, 28. DAMI.

[parheliion]

DAMI LORENZ - victor of the 90th hunger games, district eight. froy gutierrez. he/him. AUBREY FLICKERMAN - television host, the capitol. thomas doherty. they/them. PLUTO HIGHBOTTOM - escort of district one, the capitol. xiao zhan. he/they. GABRIEL DOVECOTE - stylist of district two, the capitol. maxence danet fauvel. he/him.

                 penned by gray. 28. he/they. gmt/bst.

[reblrths]

maxim sighs, fingers wrapping around the hands that fix the silk shirt that lays just a little too unevenly on his torso now, buttoned up to hide the marks. ari will be so displeased knowing this outfit's been messed with. but even as gabriel focuses on max, all max can seem to do is focus on gabriel. he casts the words auggie had spoken out of his mind but it festers like a plague, doubt planted in his mind but it's been decades in the making. maxim holds both of gabe's hands in his, lips brushing against knuckles, hands sliding up the taller man's arms, fingers busying themselves with the knots in his shoulders.

maxim finds it in himself to grin slightly, albeit something sad and not at all himself. "you're an awful liar," he teases, though he sighs again. max won't talk about it -- gabe knows that. he won't talk about anything that matters, because he's shallow, a pathetic hologram. he wants to scoff at the memory. shakes his head again, ignores the way he cannot fucking relax. did that pill even fucking do anything? had he been sold something fake? god, every bitter thought drives him further and further up the wall. "was it the--" max gestures to his own face, brows furrowing and he pointedly does not think about dante or the balcony -- he wants to go home, actually, and forget this entire night. badly. "the makeup?"

@parheliion

[parheliion]

leaning into max's touch was almost like second nature. there was something calming about him, especially because gabe could see the grand personality that was used to hide true emotions. he knew that the other wasn't about to start talking about how he felt, knew that he wasn't going to talk about how it'd got him there, but if gabriel could even prove to be some kind of distraction, that would be enough. right? the stylist hummed softly as his forehead inched towards the other's at the light feeling of his lips upon gabe's knuckles. "i know i am. you should still appreciate that i try." there's a laugh that leaves gabe's throat. it's...hollow, there's no humour behind it. it's more so an attempt to placate max's mind, in some vain attempt to pretend that maybe gabe was perhaps fine.

the whine that leaves him as hands began to work out knots that most definitely weren't there at the beginning of the day is small, but it's audible. baby blue hues slip closed as his head tilts to the side to let max's fingers work their magic before he nods slightly. "yeah...your brother's handiwork. not mine. if...it wasn't obvious." what hurt was that gabe liked augustus. they had good rapport, and usually worked in synergy. hell, there were even times when his heart sung when she walked in a room. but right then? right there, at the ball? thinking too much about them made his chest burn. he was livid at them. but he wasn't about to voice that to maxim, even if he was blithely unaware of the situation that had led to max's own despair that had etched itself across his face. "...can we stay here for a while?" he asked, eyes finally opening again as his arms moved to loop around the other's neck. "unless you've got anywhere else you've got to be. i don't-- want to hold you up." chewing on his bottom lip, gabe knew that not only did he need a few moments of sanctuary, but could tell that max needed it too. even if he didn't want to admit it.

[riiseandfall]

~

well, that was unexpected.

dante’s head snaps to the side with a painful sting, eyes wide as he can hear that gem that was so preciously put into place clatter to the floor. he takes a second, takes a deep breath before his hand rises to his cheek, a sideways glance thrown to gabe as he speaks.

’you’re giving up.’ of course he was. but he’s not about to admit it.

dante stays silent as the words tumble from gabe’s mouth, rolling his jaw as he massages where he was struck. “isn’t that the whole point of these things? to show off the capitol’s pretty little tributes before sending them to the slaughter?” it’s the tears that have something twist in dante’s chest, that has his gaze dropping to the ground. “…you would’ve said ’no’.”

he bites down on the inside of his cheek, hard enough that he almost swears he can taste blood, flinching at the words gabe is throwing at him. “actually, everdeen has the first dibs on shooting me as soon as she gets her hands on a bow, i thought that sounded like a fun way to go out. rather poetic, ’74th victor kills 75th’, capitol would love it, wouldn’t they?” he doesn’t raise his voice, but that sharp edge to his words is undeniable. “but hey, if your little pill is an option, why not go ahead and make it nightlock?”

[parheliion]

the silence that hits gabe’s ears after the slap is deafening. should he have done that? probably not. dante was, after all, the capitol’s dashing yet dangerous victor. a favourite amongst fans of the games, a known killer. gabriel should’ve been far more careful, but when faced with someone that he cared for so deeply to stare back at him with such blatant disregard not only for his feelings, for the feelings of the others that cared for dante, or even himself. it was far too frustrating to even attempt to contain. 

his jaw sets as he stares at the other, trying to ignore the blurriness that he feels within his field of vision. quickly, he blinks and sends an angry tear rolling down his cheek that he quickly wipes away-- the skin staining itself black with mascara in the process. “you’re damn right i would’ve said no. because the idea is fucking stupid. a twelve was enough, you didn’t need to write your suicide letter across your eyes!” the stylist spat.

god, how could dante be so fucking callous? sure, it was part of his ‘image’, and ultimately gabriel would never know the true terror of the games, but there were people counting on dante to return. but hey, if your little pill is an option, why not go ahead and make it nightlock? another frustrated noise rises from the taller one, his fists balling before landing in a thump against the other’s chest. “no-- you don’t get to fucking do that. you don’t!” gabriel’s voice strained in his throat, coming out somewhat broken, the stifled sound of a sob breaking through. “poetic or not, show or fucking not, i-- i’m not the only person who’s going to lose their absolute mind if you don’t come back and you’re-- you’re acting like you’re not even going to TRY! god, you’re so fucking--” gritting his teeth, his fists land back against dante’s chest again, and again. gabriel wasn’t strong, that was true. but he was hurt. “was it augustus’ idea? or was it yours? tell me. look me in the god damn eyes when you’re saying it and tell me.”

[userkyle]

Mercredi 13:38

[riiseandfall]

~

while dante would typically be thanking someone for dragging him away from a conversation he was too inebriated to even pretend to care about, as soon as he realizes it’s gabe who has such a firm grip on his wrist – he huffs, eyes rolling. this was not going to be a fun conversation. he stumbles slightly as gabe practically throws his arm to the side, a flicker of annoyance in eyes that have yet to look right at the stylist. “i’m playing the games, i thought that much was obvious.” he scowls, straightens the front of the outfit gabe helped design, before turning to face him fully. there’s a tiredness to his eyes, he hasn’t been sleeping well and it shows, combine that with his infuriatingly neutral expression, and he looks almost bored as gabe speaks, even though his jaw clenches at the raised tone. he knows – they both knew what this makeup meant, at least for dante. that final ’fuck you’ – as loud as it was resigned. “what? i think purple looks rather nice on me, don’t you?”

[parheliion]

playing the games, huh? playing the games looked hell of a lot different as far as gabe remembered. playing the games was getting people to fall in love with you, giving them a reason to fall in love with you. playing the games wasn’t going out of your way to paint a ‘kill me’ sign on the middle of your forehead, only to let someone paint another right on top of it. anger turned to rage as gabe watched him, listened to him. this wasn’t playing the games. this wasn’t even playing anything. this was rolling over and admitting defeat. and that, that’s what boiled his blood. what sent it simmering over the lip of the pan and over onto a fiery hob was what dante had the absolute gall to say to him. what? i think purple looks rather nice on me, don’t you?

it’s a swift reaction. gabe’s vision burns at the corners, red filling his gaze as his jaw clenches. bringing a hand up to strike across dante’s face in a hard slap, he hears a bejewelled diamonte dance across tiled flooring as his palm stings. for a few seconds, gabe’s heaving breaths fill the silence of the air and he feels his shoulders beginning to tremble. he was losing his composure. “you’re giving up. that’s what this is. you-- y-you can’t even hide it. you’re parading yourself around like cattle. and what’s worse is that not only did you and augustus do this, but that you didn’t even CONSULT ME!” he roared once again, his throat turning thick as he feels hot tears begin to roll down his cheeks. “what? want me to just fucking slip in a lil’ cyanide pill for you to chew on when the countdown’s going on?! or are you going to make an explosive exit and attempt to launch yourself from the launch pad onto a mine?”

[reblrths]

CLOSED STARTER | @parheliion

maxim flinches at the hand on his shoulder. he isn't usually jumpy, he's usually welcoming any sort of contact, but this was different. truthfully -- he doesn't think the night could get much worse. he's played a large hand in doing it himself -- typical. he'd been fishing to feel something different and the scratches on his skin and the sick feeling in his stomach have certainly proved successful in that regard, shirt buttoned all the way up to hide the marks his brother left and all he wants for now is to be left alone -- seeing gabriel doesn't change that. but he relaxes when he sees just who's touching him, and knows gabe won't make him speak, and says nothing as gabe leads him away from everything that's been a little too much for him tonight. when they reach the gardens, he sighs, unable to keep still. "i'm fine, gabriel," he says hoarsely, almost too caught up in his own mess to recognize the puffiness and redness on gabe's face -- max turns on him in an instant, brows furrowed and a hesitant arm outstretched to thumb away some of the remnant smudge of makeup on his cheek. "what happened?"

[parheliion]

he was hurting. the argument with dante was enough to have gabe storm his way into a bathroom to have a breakdown, needing those moments of solitude to be able to present himself as somewhat stable around the elite of the city. he’d done his best in the mirror on his way out, trying to fix his makeup but. maybe a smudge here or there would go unnoticed, he thought. after all, black, smudged and dangerous seemed to be the theme of the night with the district he was representing, was it not? he took a solid ten minutes fixing himself, adjusting how he looked, reapplying clear, sparkly lip-gloss and getting himself in order before giving a nod and leaving once more. and in all honesty, he wanted to spend the night alone. he didn’t want to be around anyone, he knew that they’d be able to see through his paper-thin lie that he was fine in an instant (such is the woes of someone who wears their emotions so openly on their sleeve.) however, presented with the side profile of max-- he could tell something was wrong. an eye for detail, as always. and that eye was keen on registering the redness to his vision. “come on.” he whispered, slipping his fingers through max’s digits and leading him to somewhere secluded in the garden. well-- as secluded as can be in a place so heavily monitored.

they found themselves before a fountain, a soft light emanating from it before gabe turned to him and let his eyes scan over the crane. “no, you’re not.” he said, knowing that lie from a mile away. he was busy adjusting max’s shirt when he felt his blood run cold. don’t focus on me. you’re more important. “...argument with dante. it doesn’t matter.” even saying it made his voice turn thick, having to swallow a rock that was quickly forming in his throat. light fingers busied themselves as he chewed on his lip gently. “we don’t have to talk about it. but...if you want to, you know i’m always here to listen.”

[cfrcsiers]

@parheliion

"Gonna save your time and my sanity real quick." Auggie said, looking at Gabe and finishing off their drink. This whole party would have been eventful enough even if they hadn't noticed the daggers their fellow stylist had been staring at them with. Even now, it didn't take much processing power to figure out the reason, something Auggie was glad for because their head was, frankly, completely done for by now. The fight with Max, pulling Ambrose away to cry about it in a locked bathroom like they were still in high school...Atlas. All of it had drained them of any desire to defend their actions by now. "No, I wasn't thinking any of this through. Yes, my intention was totally to put everyone in jeopardy. I'm aware I'm a fucking idiot. I'm...shit, what did Max say..?" They trail off, tilting their head upward, trying to remember. "Oh, yeah, I just can't help myself." They've reached the point of the night where they hate being here, they hate the lights and the sounds and the way you can't even delude yourself into thinking this is anything but a cesspit of the worst fucking people you've ever met circling like vultures.

[parheliion]

gabriel was bad at hiding how he felt. even after retouching his makeup, reapplying mascara that had ran when he had broken down into tears over what had transpired throughout the night, he hated the fact that he didn't look his usual pristine self. so, instead of focusing on his own perfection that he tried oh, so hard to maintain, he chose to begin losing himself in alcohol. alcohol wasn't something that was about to do something so fucking risky that it'd paint a target on all of team two. and for that, he was pissed. among other things.

bent over a balcony, watching distant fireworks, he took a swig of the bottle that he'd stolen from a barman who had been apprehensive to give to him. he hadn't even heard augustus approach. lips wrapped around the neck of the bottle slowly, draining amber liquid that sparked a fire in his throat on the way down. "clearly." he spoke coldly, not even looking in his fellow stylist's direction. he didn't want to be angry any more, he didn't want to even be at the fucking party any more, but of course, appearances must be made. gabe's gaze remains forward, head tilting as he watches the explosions in the sky change shape, one of a perfectly preened rose with the distant sound of an 'ooooh' from the crowd below. "you helped him give up. that's the one thing that escaped your mind, isn't it? a twelve was enough. you didn't need to seal his death warrant. but you did." his gaze still remained on the display before them, features being lit up by hues of blues, pinks and violets. "i just wish you'd actually thought it through."

[rcmcmbrall]

Jealousy was only natural emerald assumed, she’d been assigned district seven but it was her very first year as an escort for the games so she figured she’d been quite lucky. Her parents still weren’t sure she’d made a smart decision but she was determined to prove them wrong. And yet, and yet she was still envious of pluto highbottom, escort for district one, the most coveted assignment. But she couldn’t let herself be too surprised, he was a highbottom after all and it wouldn’t matter what name she had, she’d never manage to beat them for that spot. So she’d been avoiding them, and she’d been lucky again, until now. “Hello pluto! Lovely day, hmm?” it wasn’t the cleverest thing she could have said right then, but it was too late to try and sound clever now.

@parheliion​

[parheliion]

pluto was doing what they did best, weaving in and out of polite conversation as best as possible.it was everywhere at the ball, and although he’d never voice in the slightest, there was a dull headache starting to form at the front of his brow. some people were absolutely exhausting. he had no time for falseness, but it was something rife within the city that navigating through it was almost second nature. “emerald,” he chimed with a grin as she approached. emerald worried him-- mostly because he wasn’t sure where she stood. being the escort of the most sought after district did paint somewhat of a target on his back, however, he wasn’t exactly sure if that’s what she was gunning for (when he didn’t even want one in the first place). “day’s been going well. i’d dare say that the night’s going rather well too, wouldn’t you? you look absolutely ravishing.” the grin that pulled at his face was genuine, although his eyes scanned her to get a read of her. trying to discern her intentions.

[damagedflames]

WHO: Scarlet Flickerman & Aubrey Flickerman (@parheliion) WHERE: Tribute ball

Scarlet was in an absolutely giddy mood. Though the party had started off boring, she quickly began to find plenty of intel to tuck behind polished claws. Her mind was already working overtime to think about how best to structure her newsletter, half debating whether to split it into two different issues to cover all the events. She decided to focus on that issue after the party, choosing instead to wander over to her beloved cousin.

❝ My favorite cousin.❞ She chirped, reaching out to give the Flickerman a quick side hug. She twirled a strand of hair around her fingers as she grinned, leaning close to whisper to them, ❝Do you know who I just caught making out in the restroom? Celestia Doolittle and a peacekeeper. Like mother, like daughter, I suppose.❞

[parheliion]

looking around the function, aubrey could tell that their cousin was having an absolute field day. drama was everywhere, and they'd be a liar if they said that they weren't living for it. it always happened at parties like this, scandal was everywhere and was hidden behind gracious smiles and kissed hands. it took a keen eye to peer through that, and scarlet had a talent for that. one renowned enough to garner a letter of her own that was read almost religiously. the written word could do just as much damage as the spoken, after all.

the side hug is accepted and a grin is plastered over aubrey's face, their fangs glinting in the low light. "missed me, i'm sure." they tack on with a grin, looking to whoever was standing in front of them with sudden indignance. "do you mind? family matters. shoo." is said, a hand gesture to scurry the social climber along before attention is placed squarely back onto their relative. were they surprised that a fucking doolittle was cozying up with a peacekeeper? of course not, they always had bad taste. it ran in the family. "you'd think that they would've learned from the first time around. and knowing her taste, he probably looked as rough as a brick. what's next? markian having some kind of sordid affair with an avox?"

[rebellicnrising]

the tap to her shoulder is a welcome interruption —— oh, how tired she is of discussing clothing trends with capitolites who act as if she has some secret of what next season will bring just because of the district she hails from. the relief shows on her face, the pinched look around her eyes smoothing at dami’s dear smile though her own flickers with concern but never falls. “how could i say no to a dance?” she turns back to the women that have been dominating her time for the past ten minutes with a look of polite apology, “excuse me, ladies, my presence is required on the dance floor. can’t let this skirt go to waste.”

her hand slips into his and she lets him lead her towards the floor, her opposite hand moving to settle on his shoulder. the smile on june’s face is a warm one- no mask for capitolites, this is genuine- when she looks up at dami, “just in time —— i don’t know if i could’ve handled one more moment trapped in that inane conversation.” the hand in his trails a light touch, fingers tracing down the line of his, her middle finger tapping against his palm— once, twice, a third time — before letting her slip back into place, asking in a soft voice between the two of them, “how are you holding up, dear one?”

[parheliion]

if there was someone who knew how to handle dami and all his...uniqueness that hid beneath his mask, it was june. june had been there from the start of it. had seen his downfall live on screen, had been there in the hovercraft as he screamed so loud covered in blood that he couldn’t even speak by the time they got back to the capitol. she had been there when he had been reduced to nothing more than a sobbing wreck in the middle of a market in district eight because a car backfired. she was the one who had helped him find a way to cope when things were getting tough to handle, she had been the one to fall so easily in the maternal role that he had lost when he had been shipped off to the capitol to fight for their entertainment. june was a godsend. and he was trying as hard as he could to ignore the fact that the capitol were trying to take both her and iscar from him.

one, two, three. the small taps in his palm had his shoulders visibly easing, a light twinkling behind his eye as he locked his gaze with his mentor tribute. it was a way to help ground him in reality, something to help him stay focused and not get lost inside the cacophony of his mind. a small action, but enough. his hand slipped from her waist as they moved on the dancefloor slowly to her free palm, just for a moment. one, two, three. silent, but translated: i’m okay. “as okay as i can be. i had a stylist from last year quizzing me on fabrics. something about wanting to know exactly how some of the compositions are made since they just work with them and don’t know about the construction. it...was a little mind numbing. how about you? keeping together?”

[exitio-deactivated20241015]

closed starter | @parheliion

"i swear all the people at these things do is talk about the most pointless shit. i think it's just to hear the sound of their voices. like the world would end if the capitol idiots shut up for more than five seconds." artemis ranted to the person next to her. it was ironic perhaps that she was complaining about how capitol citizens loved to talk, and yet she herself was ranting. "at least their alcohol is good i suppose, it's the only thing that makes these things worth it."

[parheliion]

in all honesty, dami needed to speak to someone who wasn't some capitolite that boasted about their newest find when it came to the wonders of 'one's finest jewels.' leaning closeby against a wall, dami let out a small laugh as artemis spoke. "their alcohol's pretty good, yeah." he says calmly, taking a swig of whatever the waiting staff had poured into the glass. whatever it was, it was getting him buzzed and that's what mattered. right? "i think it's their accent. there's just something about the accent that seems so...." vague hand gestures. "you know?"

[ivyspread]

the  undercover  aspect  of  it  all  didn’t  mean  larissa  was  just  putting  on  a  show  as  a  medic  .  she  was  there  to  tend  to  those  who  needed  it  ,  psychology  and  the  analysis  of  a  person’s  behavior  being  two  specialties  grounded  into  her  head  while  she  was  in  thirteen  .  people  were  practically  open  books  to  her  ,  especially  when  it  came  to  victors  and  others  she  was  supposed  to  be  looking  after  .  larissa  spotted  him  from  across  the  way  ,  eyes  barely  needing  to  follow  dami’s  gaze  to  know  that  they  were  boring  into  nothing  .  she  excused  herself  from  her  current  company  ,  soon  crossing  the  room  and  ending  up  at  dami’s  side  .  a  quick  glance  towards  the  rest  of  the  room  to  ensure  nobody  else  was  looking  his  way  ,  larissa  could  only  clear  her  throat  quietly  to  try  and  grab  his  attention  .  “  you  know  what  would  help  you  figure  it  out  better  ?  some  air  .  ”   the  femme  nodded  once  ,  flashing  a  smile  to  mirror  his  -  to  outsiders  ,  it  appeared  to  be  a  completely  normal  conversation  .  “   come  on  ,  there’s  a  door  over  there  .  ”   gesture  made  towards  the  nearest  exit  was  made  ,  shoulders  rolling  a  bit  as  she  tried  to  get  him  away  from  whatever  pulled  him  into  a  trance  in  the  first  place  .

[parheliion]

he hated when his guise was saw through as clear as a window. you’re slipping. words that circled in his head, like chirps, tweeting away in his ears, his skull that made the room begin to feel dizzy. he felt dizzy. people. far too many people. looking around, he felt his breath hitch in his throat and he knew that she was right. air would help. following larissa’s gaze, dami chewed the inside of his cheek as his hand began to tremble around the glass that he held as a careful, practiced smile moved onto his lips with such ease and familiarity as if trying his best to regain whatever composure he had left within him. “yeah, heh, you’re right. it’s a touch crowded in here anyway.” and it wasn’t like she had to try hard to get the victor to move towards where she pointed, he went willingly. wanting nothing more than to bolt out the door and keep running. running like a coward, away from the slaughter of the capitol. it could’ve been you. 

once he was in the empty hallway, the sound of festivities almost a million miles away, dami let a shaky breath leave him slowly. “sorry, was just a bit loud in there, heh. didn’t mean to pull you away from all the fun.”

[parheliion]

starter: closed where: the tribute ball who: gabriel & dante ( @riiseandfall​ )

gabe was fucking livid. there was a fire that ripped through him like a match in a bone dry forest. a twelve was one thing. that’s something else entirely. the fact that dante had chosen to parade himself around so fucking boldly in front of the capitol elite and the president that he was wearing his target upon his back like some kind of badge of honour. did he want a cookie? or did he want some peacekeeper to carry him away and not even make it to the games? he had been on a warpath trying to find his idiot of a victor slash tribute. and once his eyes were set upon him? the stylist more or less pushed people out of the way seeking him out, grabbing a hold of his wrist and hauling him into a dark corner away from prying eyes. “what the FUCK ARE YOU PLAYING AT?!” he more or less roars, letting go of dante with a fling of his arm. “do you have any fucking idea what you’re doing?! or has being in the capitol so long made your fucking mind into nothing but beads rattling around in your skull?!”

[parheliion]

maxence danet-fauvel . cis man . he/him ➶ I RECOGNISE THAT FACE ! that’s GABRIEL DOVECOTE , the THIRTY year old STYLIST OF DISTRICT TWO from THE CAPITOL . they’ve been in the capitol around THEIR WHOLE LIFE , long enough to gain a reputation for being so IDEALISTIC & EMOTIONAL . they’re so lucky getting to live in the tribute center for the duration of the games! ( character ISN’T part of the uprising )

LOADING PANEM CITIZEN NO. C-87263122... G. DOVECOTE, CAPITOL.

███████▒▒▒  50%  

full name: gabriel nocturn dovecote age: thirty district: the capitol gender: cis man pronouns: he/him sexuality: homoromantic homosexual occupation: stylist for district two status: active public reception: notable for their interesting take on design, highly sought after within the capitol for their concepts medical conditions: none. height: 6′5″ parents: CITIZEN NO. C-23813234; uriel dovecote, CITIZEN NO. C-726312934; aphrodite dovecote. siblings: an older brother & a younger sister ( wanted connections ).

ACCESS GRANTED.

the dovecotes have always been a staple within capitol society, and it’s something that they’ve seemed to thrive on for decades. people know who they are, people know what their family is doing and although eyes aren’t always on them much like any of the other high families, they’re still known for their resilience to rise above the horrible goings on within the inter-fighting and gossip. 

uriel was a stylist in his heyday, one with great renown. founding the ‘house of doves’, the fashion house was quickly recognised for its innovative designs and forward thinking fashion. uriel never wanted two looks to exude the same emotion, to be looked upon the same: every piece was unique, just like his kids. because of this, when it came time for them to grow up as children, each of them may have been held to the same regard, but both parents had a mind for where they wanted their child to go in life. to gabe? they had an idea of perfection for their tender hearted boy. one that, he fears, he could never truly live up to.

but that doesn’t mean he didn’t try. in fact, all he did was try. in school, when it came time to speak of what their parents did, gabe did his best to design an outfit himself at the age of eight with a toy sewing machine that he’d been given by his father as a joke, a ‘maybe one day you’ll take over the house’ way. instead, he took the gift as an opportunity. maybe if he made something beautiful, gushed about his father, maybe then he’d be viewed in the same light as his older brother or younger sister. instead what happened was the fabric got torn by kids who wanted to see the soft one’s downfall. at the end of the day, all he had to show for his hard work were torn scraps and broken dreams. maybe if he was tougher, he could’ve fought back, but he wasn’t. he never would be.

their father wanted him to be the best he could be because uriel knew gabe’s potential. he could see that same spark within him that reminded him of his creativity, and although there were times when aphrodite would step in and mention about going a little easier, ultimately she knew that if gabe only applied himself, that he could achieve great things-- even outside of just riding their family name for the rest of his life. still, those words stuck in gabe’s head for years. ‘maybe one day you’ll take over the house.’ and if anything, gabe wanted the approval of his father. he tried, and tried to garner his favour through sketchbooks that were left open with designs of grand gowns, to suits with structure that would look perfect on a chariot in the very hunger games itself.

ah, the hunger games. now, that’s something that gabe has always struggled with. in school, they’re taught that the reason the districts have to pay such a terrible price such as life is because of all the countless losses that were lost in the first uprising. he...doesn’t agree with that. ultimately, life is something that should be savoured, not used as a bargaining chip. right? if panem really wanted to work towards a better future for all of its people, then the grand pageant wouldn’t be needed-- there would be a common ground found among its people and one that would benefit all. right? of course, gabe can never voice these internal thoughts. especially after his chosen profession being that of a designer, one contracted to work for the games themselves. 

when the opportunity arose six years ago, gabe was twenty four and had made quite a name for himself outside of the name of dovecote, even founding his own fashion company known as featherdown. more and more, his pieces began to be mentioned at balls, at galas, at events and on day time television shows that capitolites would watch in their morning hungover stupor. featherdown is one to watch. and you’ll never guess who created them. 

however, success comes at a price. uriel’s joke may not have been too much of an actual joke and more of a plan, in hindsight. so when gabe set out on his own to make his own, to have his name attached to perfectly crafted outfits for tributes during hunger games season, what he wanted more than anything was to make his father proud. instead, he was met with resentment and disappointment. ‘you were meant to follow in mine, take over the company some day. not make your own with your trust fund.’

today, gabe lives alone in a large apartment close to his workshop. it’s lonely. and although he has never truly agreed with the hunger games, the one thing he always gets happy for is for the season to roll around again. for the last three years, he has been one of the stylists for district two, a district of warriors. and if there’s something he can do, it’s make a design that will make the tributes stand out, tailor an outfit to exactly what they wanted and the image they wished to portray. if asked, he would tell the truth-- he loves each and every one of the tributes he’s had the honour of designing for, and has kept mementos of the ones that fell. though the capitol may forget their names, gabe doesn’t. and neither does district two.

[parheliion]

xiao zhan . cis man . he/they ➶ ALL EYES ARE ON THEM ! it’s PLUTO HIGHBOTTOM, the THIRTY year old escorting the tributes of DISTRICT ONE to the capitol ! i do hope they get themselves a winner this year, i’ve always liked them ever since they proved to be so OUTGOING, it’s just a shame that they can be CALCULATED at times. they’re are so eager for a win, i’ve got everything crossed for them! ( character IS part of the uprising )

LOADING PANEM CITIZEN NO. C-5627381923... P. HIGHBOTTOM, CAPITOL.

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full name: pluto highbottom age: thirty district: the capitol gender: cis man pronouns: he/they sexuality: biromantic asexual occupation: escort for district one status: active public reception: well received in one, but viewed with scrutiny in the capitol. medical conditions: none. height: 6′4″ parents: CITIZEN NO. C-123572386; jupiter highbottom (exterminated), CITIZEN NO. C-726312934; venus highbottom (under review). siblings: none.

FILE ENCRYPTED, HIGHER CLEARANCE NEEDED TO ACCESS.

from a young age, pluto knew of their family history. the highbottoms are credited with the creation of the hunger games, and it’s something that they are in no way proud of. casca was said to have also hated the idea of them behind closed doors, one day hoping that they would die out from their horrific nature and not become the now perverted idea of entertainment for the masses of their country. 

jupiter instilled the same thoughts into his son growing up. the games aren’t something to idolise, plu. you know that, you’re smarter than that. and although the highbottoms kept their political views to themselves, they still had to save face. after all, being such an illustrious name within high capitol society, all eyes were on them at all times. snow made sure of that.

pluto grew up under the public eye, and although it’s not something that they’d wish upon anyone, it’s something that he’s thankful happened. it helped him when it came to forming how to act around others, how to be ‘false’, how to weave in and out of conversations with much-to-do’s and plenty-to-say’s. and although their family very much inwardly didn’t agree with the goings on within the capitol and their such blatant disregard for the people outside of their wealthy city, they had to save face. it’s why they became a renowned sponsor, reviewing their options for that years tributes to give at least one kid a fighting chance of making it out alive. 

however, over the years, this wasn’t enough for pluto. seeing what the elite were doing to the poor, innocent kids who were being made to “pay” for “crimes” such as wanting freedom, wanting food, wanting shelter against a city that wasn’t willing to give it to any of them whilst expecting their resources to be shipped to them first hand was absolutely abhorrent to him. i need to do something, he said. you can’t, snow’ll kill you quicker than sniping a mockingjay out of the sky with a sniper, his father protested. they couldn’t be seen to be outwardly helping the districts. so, what better way to lend a hand to them than pulling the weight of their name and landing themselves a spot as an escort.

still, eyes were upon him. growing suspicions of a second uprising were on the horizon, and venomous eyes looked towards a newfound eager escort who was wanting to be placed within one of the lower districts to prove themselves. no, that wouldn’t do. they needed to be in the spotlight, needed to be a shining star. he was, of course, pluto highbottom. he deserved the best-- or that’s the way that it was explained to him four years ago as he took up the spot as the escort for district one. usually, an escort would work their way up through the districts. safe to say it painted somewhat of a target on his back was a bit of an understatement, especially since district one was known as a veritable “miniature capitol”. no matter, he could do exactly what he needed to do right under their noses.

four years, pluto has worked for district one. four years, he has been using an encrypted phone to funnel information directly to district thirteen in aid of the soon-to-come uprising. for four years, he has been planning the downfall of the very institution that his ancestor helped build. and soon, he’ll see it done. of that, he is sure.

[parheliion]

thomas doherty . agender . they/them ➶ I RECOGNISE THAT FACE ! that’s AUBREY FLICKERMAN , the TWENTY SEVEN year old TELEVISION HOST from THE CAPITOL . they’ve been in the capitol around THEIR WHOLE LIFE , long enough to gain a reputation for being so SILVER TONGUED & SELF CENTRED . they’re so lucky getting to live in the tribute center for the duration of the games! ( character ISN’T part of the uprising )

LOADING PANEM CITIZEN NO.C-7187262799... A. FLICKERMAN, CAPITOL.

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full name: aubrey prompto flickerman age: twenty seven  district: the capitol gender: agender  pronouns: they/them  sexuality: panromantic pansexual occupation: television host, best known for their weekly show ‘spotlight’ status: active public reception: well liked for their charisma on screen medical conditions: none. height: 6′2″ parents: CITIZEN NO. C-1627382623; ventus flickerman, CITIZEN NO. C-172893278; juno flickerman nee. templesmith. siblings: none ( that the database knows of, possible half siblings may be within the capitol elite. )

ACCESS GRANTED.

aubrey has had a rather typical life within panem for a capitol citizen. all their life, they have been draped in luxury and finery, and it’s something that ultimately? it’s something they’re incredibly unapologetic for even to now. panem is the greatest country in the world, with its shining jewel the capitol being the place that they had the honour to call their stomping ground.

as a child, they had everything that they ever wanted. and what they wanted most? was attention. in school, they had to be the one with the nicest clothes, with the most friends. what they wanted nothing more was to be adored. maybe that’s why from a young age they looked up to the victors of the games with such high regard. they built themselves from nothing, they faced challenges head on, they came out victorious and were lifted up above the people of their districts to be remembered and hailed as heroes. that’s what the capitol let its residents believe, and it’s not something that aubrey ever questioned. they were idolised, their memory going to live in a hall of fame. that’s what aubrey wanted, to be remembered.

the flickerman family were well known in the media. so, at the age of eighteen when aubrey began to show an interest in what they wanted to actually go ahead and do with their life, they looked for options— and each one pointed to the same. they wanted their name up in lights in some regard. they dabbled in acting, and it’s something that they weren’t fully set on. no, what they enjoyed, what they lived for, was being known as themselves.

“i want my own show.” they said to the board of directors. their family name carried weight, and they knew that. just look at the country’s most beloved host of the hunger games, for example. their name alone would bring in views. demanding? perhaps, but they knew that they could portray themselves as charismatic, if not flirtatious to the audience watching and who didn’t like a dashing face on during daytime television. 

SPOTLIGHT is a show that revolves around the happenings of the capitol and the districts of panem (the latter having been pushed upon them against their will, because they had to ‘connect to the districts’). a weekly daytime talk show where they will have special guests, performers, past victors, even representatives of the districts on to show the people of their country the truth of what happens in and out of the capitol. on the runup to the games, the show becomes more about the hunger games themselves, as much does every other television broadcast across the country. 

do they sprinkle in random tidbits of white-lies to stir up the pot and get the city talking? nothing that they’d ever admit to. after all, they’ve never lied in their life (they say, completely lying). 

although they’ve heard rumblings and whisperings of some sort of rebellion, and even though there was a very public display of apparent suspects of the uprising being broadcast to the masses, ultimately? aubrey isn’t much fussed. if the districts want to have another war to be crushed by the capitol, that’s on them. at the end of the day, they’re paying penance for a war that wrought their land and cost the lives of countless panem citizens, but they aren’t going to really give much of a shit either way. it’s as a wise woman once said-- let them eat cake.

[parheliion]

starter: closed where: the tribute ball, snow’s mansion who: dami & peeta ( @reblrths )

IT HAD SLIPPED. usually, dami was good at hiding the inner turmoil, at hiding the ‘broken’ behind a perfectly created mask that every victor had formed to some degree. sure, a crack or two might show, but the sound of firework after firework was too much. the thundering over the mansion was too much, and his mind had rocketed back to his arena. fleeing through rubble of streets, avoiding shrapnel, trying to stay alive and being driven to kill. you’re a killer, they want you dead, they want you all dead, you’re a pawn, you’re a monster you’re a monster you’re a monster. as he sat on the ground in a secluded part of the mansion, everyone outside watching the display, dami’s breathing was coming out in quick, hyperventilated breaths as tears rolled down his cheeks and his body trembled in terror. he was back in the arena. he had to be. it was some trick, all of this time? had to have been some trackerjacker halucination and he was still in the middle of his own games. that was the only explanation, right? dami was lost inside his own panic, unable to hear whoever approached.