atomic woman

dr. pluto dosimetré. 43. gamemaker. of d13. fabricant de jeux. suis de d13.

[plutodosimetre]

lives/lived/will live, dies/died/will die – self-para

7:45 am

Routines gave purpose. 

Doing things the ever-formulaic way, even in the uncertainty that the Games brought to Pluto’s life, gave consistency.

Fifteen minutes to a morning routine: A final curl of her hair and spray of perfume on the inside of her wrists is always the final step. Her breakfast, for example, couldn’t even be a deviation; carefully she took a bite out of the English Muffin held in her delicately manicured hand, a coffee pinched between her other hand as she uses a knuckle to jam the button to the Tower elevator.

One.

Two.

Three times.

Final checks were pertinent, all a part of the routine, and arriving on time was a part of the formula to account for time in case someone had undone her work or if something had changed. Even then, she tended to account for any extraneous variables, the independent variables in her work ensured that she could always fill in the gaps when necessary.

The 130th Games were beginning to throw a curveball to the compulsive routine she followed. Thirteen was to join the Games. Variable number one, Pluto allowed herself to express distress for the tributes. Would the other Gamemakers think she was weak – was it obvious she could only selfishly think of her nephew and her sister as she was putting the final touches? 

Briefly, she thinks of Holland and midstep through her morning paperwork and she becomes the second variable, herself. The year removed from her own Games must be difficult, if it were easier, Holland would talk about it. Pluto pulls her phone from her back pocket, shooting off a text as if the Victor were her own daughter, ‘Thinking of you today…let me know if you need me 2 step away, I’ll make it happen.’

Her world turns into a blur – cleaning up messes others had left behind for her to adapt, something on psychosis that the team had wholly disagreed upon is rectified. The effects of space travel are never quite cut-and-dry, but she insists on the lighting having a different hue or they’ll all be insane from the get-go. It’s adjusted and she feels smug.

11:00 am 

Variable number three: Pluto nearly forgot she was to attend the press conference for the launch later that day. Her lateness burns an embarrassment across her psyche, one she finds unfamiliar. A quick text is shot off to her flesh and blood fifteen-year-old daughter, ‘Almost missed the launch, call me after. Terribly embarrassed.’ along with a frowning emoticon; she had taught her how to use those a few months ago and still felt clumsy adding them to texts. She was trying for her.

Pluto gets out of the vehicle and checks her appearance in the reflection of the window but finds her attention immediately captured by the former arena around her; a pre-war approximation of Thirteen. Well, formerly. The bombed-out landscape allows her stomach to turn, and a brief frown to pass her lips. The gesture feels as if it is more of a slap to the face than to honor the new ‘partnership’ between Thirteen and the rest of the Panem. A part of her feels as if it is her fault for coming into the Capitol and beginning her work as a Gamemaker, but she doesn’t allow herself to dwell for terribly long.

11:30 am

Various speakers have taken the podium and Pluto smiles politely, not quite understanding the point of pedantic speech after pedantic speech, their words all beginning to slur together into a dogma Pluto is no longer certain if she can condone; still she smiles and nods emphatically where the pauses feel appropriate, including with Lysander’s own words.

He does catch her attention when he speaks about the team of Gamemakers, Pluto remembers her role; she is the visual representation of what Thirteen could do in Panem, how they’re already incorporated. A practiced smile crosses her lips and she gives a grateful nod when Lysander acknowledges her contribution to the Gamemaker team, however the reminder she had worked there for a year feels as if she’s performed a secret betrayal to the people of Thirteen. 

The attention pools back over to Lysander, and Pluto feels as if she can breathe easy again, her phone buzzes in her pocket, and as she is about to reach for it, worried either Holland or her daughter need her attention – and a fourth variable. The violence of the Games has a bit of separation for her, the violent delights they engage in as Gamemakers only having violent ends for the tributes within the arena, never any real-world repercussions other than a sea of caskets being sent back to the districts twice a year. 

Disoriented, Pluto manages to sit up and she recognizes her ears are ringing, why are they ringing? It’s truly amazing what the brain can do to filter out things it doesn’t want to see when it is in survival mode, refusing to allow you to fully process the carnage around you.

Pluto is aware of half of a woman’s body splayed out in front of her but she can’t connect why her mottled skin should be making her sick. Her eyes tear away from the woman in front of her as she stumbles to her feet – she tries to find someone she knows, whose brain isn’t fogged, but it feels impossible between the smoke, and the dull moaning, and the metallic taste in the air to even focus on one thing at a time. 

Then it all connects to her; we are hurt, we’ve been hurt, we need help. Her eyes feel as if they’re seeing too much and Pluto finally panics – her phone, she could use her phone. Her hand attempts to fish for her phone in her back pocket and then the pain finally registers, hand flitting away from her behind as if she’s been stung. She brings it into her line of sight and her fingers are mangled, at least a few of them. Pluto stares almost in wonderment as she notes the pieces of bones sticking out at angles that are wildly unnatural. Her other hand comes to join its twin, and she briefly considers the fact she can name all of the displaced structures of her hands.

Pluto attempts to take another step when she begins to shake, distantly in the back of her mind, the logical part that left the house at seven, sharp, that morning tells her she’s going into shock. As carefully as she can, she sinks down to her knees her voice coming hoarse, as if she’s smoked an entire pack that day, as she mutters to herself, something to focus on:

“Ring metacarpal, two distal phalanxes, missing proximal. Ring metacarpal, distal phalanxes, missing proximal. Ring metacarpal, distal phalanxes, missing proxi–”

[hollandwestbrook]

plutodosimetre​:

“And is that okay?” Pluto asked, her lips pressing into a thin line, eyes softening. She knew the clinical psychology behind what Holland was going through, but she had a promise to live up to – she wouldn’t tell her to go to therapy, she wouldn’t try to psychoanalyze her. That was her vow. “I can only imagine how you’re feeling,” She said softly, walking carefully around the subject.

.

“Yeah, I don’t even know how I’m feeling. Sort of like there’s a storm of emotion in my chest.” She pressed her hand to it. “Weirdly, I’m feeling… relief? That it’s all in the past? But also like, it’s settling in that this is just life now. I’m always gonna live in the after.” The memory of Aspen with her always. The memory of the limbs as she sawed them from one another. So opposite, and yet intertwined in a way she detested.

[plutodosimetre]

.

“That’s good, I suppose,” Pluto offered as she listened carefully to Holland. Living in the after. Is that how they all felt after the Games? She’ll shocked and trying to find whatever the after was? A tinge of hurt ate at Pluto’s chest and she shrugged, “I don’t think the relief is that weird, it’s all such a high alert thing for your nervous system, I’d be exhausted if I were you.” Pluto gave a tug of a smile on her lips and asked, “Have you decided wha you want to do in the after? I know you mentioned school but - didn’t know if that was still the plan.”

[plutodosimetre]

hollandwestbrook·:

“I’m not up to anything,” she said, genuine though her voice wavered slightly from emotion. The fact was that she wasn’t really up to anything at all, but was rather hiding from lots of things. “It’s just been a year. You know?”

.

“And is that okay?” Pluto asked, her lips pressing into a thin line, eyes softening. She knew the clinical psychology behind what Holland was going through, but she had a promise to live up to – she wouldn’t tell her to go to therapy, she wouldn’t try to psychoanalyze her. That was her vow. “I can only imagine how you’re feeling,” She said softly, walking carefully around the subject.

[plutodosimetre]

hollandwestbrook·:

“Ah, well, former tribute, guilty as charged,” Holland said, holding her hands up in surrender. In truth she’d gone where she hoped no tributes would be, and she’d been right. She had no purpose here nor task. “Figured I’d get a head start on… I don’t know. Next winter’s training?” A lame excuse that was meant to be seen as such.

A warm chuckle came from the back of Pluto’s throat, given Holland’s rather pitiful excuse. It wasn’t like she was going to get Holland in trouble or anything of the sort. If favoritism from Pluto played a part with any of the tributes – past or present – it would certainly be reserved exclusively for Holland. The girl felt more like a daughter to her than her own – that was its own complicated can of worms to open on another day, though.

“Holland, darling, I don’t take you for a proud trainer,” Pluto said, her arms crossing over her chest. The amusement fell off her face and her brows furrowed down as she continued, “If you don’t want to tell me what you’re up to – are you at least okay?”

[plutodosimetre]

allard-danbur·:

Allard offered her a smile with nothing behind it. He knew he should be respectful of someone as intelligent and accomplished as Pluto, but respect went out the door when Battenberg went too far. “To ease your mind, you are not overstepping now. You overstepped when you became a Gamemaker.”

.

Pluto’s throat tightened as she found the wind entirely knocked out of her sails. Speechless wasn’t something she often found herself and sputtering for words felt laced with incompetence, yet here she was. Pluto felt as if she audibly blinked as she found her verbal footing and began defending, “It was not my intention for any of this to happen. If you’re insinuating I wanted any of this to happen to Thirteen you would be mistaken.”

[hollandwestbrook]

“Training’s over,” Holland called behind her when she heard the door to the empty training center open and shut. It was after midnight, the interviews were over, and she was consumed by memories of the night of her own interview. The way things had gone from good to horrible. Life-changing. Life-ending. “You’re too late.”

[plutodosimetre]

“It’s just me,” Pluto assured softly, a tense, cautious smile cropping up on her lips. She crossed the distance to Holland, noting the near deafening sound her shoes made as it hit the floor. “I actually was going to check to see if there were any tributes who had snuck in - drew the short straw,” She joked giving a gentler smile, “And it seems I found one – what are you doing here Holland?”

[plutodosimetre]

pepper-it-in​:

“I’m sorry,” Pepper said immediately to the words that cut with the same tone as her own mother’s. “I was, um, I was wrong.” She shrunk back into herself, and stared at the floor. Pepper felt like she was going to throw up. She’d been so wrapped up in it being Holland and Wren’s fault that the group wasn’t allowed to get gifts that she had forgotten about the axe and the pants. But it wasn’t like Aspen had much of a chance to use the axe, whereas Holland’s entire life was saved by the needle and thread, so could anyone blame Pepper for forgetting? She needed to get out of this conversation, and fast.

.

“You were,” Pluto agreed, through a heavy sigh. Watching the girl shrink into herself was almost rewarding, however, this wasn’t the Games yet. Pepper would have plenty of time to panic later, Pluto figured she should employ some kindness to the poor teen. “And being wrong is fine, but being wrong and aggressive will get you nowhere – there are plenty of people who would hold it against you – I do not intend to do that because it would be inequitable.” Pluto forced a smile, “But there are people who will hold it against you that could really make or break how you’ll do in the arena. Other gamemakers, sponsors – even your own mentors could choose the other girl from your district over you.”

[plutodosimetre]

pepper-it-in​:

“But Holland did get support,” Pepper blurted out before she could stop herself. She stared at the ground and immediately wanted to take it back, to not try to contradict a Gamemaker when she’d already failed at this conversation so spectacularly. Pepper looked up sheepishly. “Um, I mean, she got a gift,” Pepper clarified. “The other girls didn’t get anything, but, um, she got something before the uh, Gazette article and um, the Gamema - the Capitol, er, had to already have known before it uh, was published.” Pepper was horrified that words kept coming out of her mouth, but it had been a sticking point for her, Holland’s little needle and thread. She got to sew herself up, and Aspen got nothing.

.

Pluto scoffed; the impression that this teenager was making on her was thinning her patience. A roll of her eyes immediately followed as she spoke, “She did receive a gift, but only one.” A sharp inhale, “And if you’re going to cite your sources about the Games, I would really think you would have paid much closer attention to the goings on in them – considering the fact that the little Sawyer girl got an entire axe as opposed to the singular thing of stitches Holland was lucky to procure.” She cracked a forced smile and spoke again, “Additionally, I believe that little girl also got something else – but apparently you’re much more of an expert on the Games.”

[plutodosimetre]

allard-danbur·:

“How original,” he muttered as he felt his pocket vibrate. He paused to take a breath and pulled the phone out of his jacket, staring for a few moments at the series of to-do’s that had popped up on his phone. “Time certainly moves differently when you’re more than just a spectator.”

.

Pluto felt lost. It was hypocritical to even suggest that she cared before about what happened to the tributes – of course there were the ones she had developed a personal relationship with, like Holland, but that still didn’t equate to empathy. “It does,” Pluto spoke through a sigh, “I’m sorry – truly – I feel as if I’m overstepping here just to ease my own mind.”

[plutodosimetre]

allard-danbur·:

“Even if they did, you couldn’t help,” he stated in a matter of fact manner. “Unless you want to tell me what the arena is. Let me guess - District Thirteen?”

“We both know I’m not allowed to do that,” Pluto said, giving a sad smile. She nodded in affirmative, “But – yes – Thirteen.

[plutodosimetre]

pepper-it-in​:

Pepper didn’t know what to say to that. She wished Hazel were here, because Hazel always said all the right things. And Pepper always felt like she was saying the right things around her. It made her less nervous. “Didn’t, um,” she paused, then continued before she chickened out of the comment. “Didn’t it go pretty well for, um, one of them?” That’s why she and Hazel were here, after all.

.

“And yet, she still spent time in prison,” Pluto murmured, attempting to hide the laugh that wanted to break free. Scrunching her nose up, she continued, “Additionally, she is incredibly lucky to even be alive – given the fact people accused of murder often don’t get support in the arena.”

[plutodosimetre]

pepper-it-in​:

Pepper gulped. A Gamemaker. She put down the bow and arrow on the table and stood back up, straight as a soldier. “Maybe, uh, so what if, um, what if I was aiming?” she asked, trying to play it confident. Gamemakers liked confidence, right?

.

“Well, if you were aiming, I’d suggest finding one of your trainers for better practice,” Pluto said through a chuckle. “Or if you were aiming for me, I wouldn’t recommend that – you saw what happened to the last group of people that got someone killed outside of the arena. Did not go incredibly well for them, did it?”

[plutodosimetre]

chip-foster·:

Chip let out a quiet scoff and nodded. “Uh, yeah. P-People in th-the Capitol are way more technologically advanced, but, um, yeah… n-not a lot of moms.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened up a browser to start looking through a couple organizations that hosted events. “G-Gotta start somewhere, yeah.”

.

“Exactly – and I know I’m not great yet but you’re – I mean you’re fairly good a these things,” Pluto attempted a compliment, “I’m sure you’ve won several of these competitions. Where do you recommend I start, then?”

[plutodosimetre]

“Careful,” Pluto warned the younger girl, brows flying up on her face. “You need to aim that thing or you’re going to hurt someone – maybe yourself.”

@pepper-it-in​

[plutodosimetre]

“How are they holding up?” Pluto asked, a tinge of concern melting her usual steely demeanor. These tributes, these kids from Thirteen were kids she had seen around Thirteen. The deal was Thirteen helped out the Capitol and they were allowed to hide away but – with food shortages and power growing thinner and thinner, well, of course they wouldn’t have a choice other than to join the Games. “Do...do they need anything?” She asked, face falling slightly.

@allard-danbur​

[plutodosimetre]

treelish​:

It was flattering, almost, that pluto thought Addy could’ve survived from Ash’s victory to now as an avox. I was twelve. she wrote, instead. twelve year olds didn’t become avoxes. this will be my eighth games as an avox. I don’t know how young I look, but that was far before.

she didn’t look young. she knew that. no avox did, really, except for little blaise, and even he would age fast, Addy knew it. she knew about the bags under her eyes and the thinness in her stature that only added to the appearance of age. still, she chose to joke about all of that, pass it off.

.

“Twelve,” Pluto echoed – she almost always forgot how young Tributes could be. “So, why did you become an avox?” She asked curiosity eating away at her niceties.

[plutodosimetre]

chip-foster​:

Chip stared at Pluto as she made her suggestion. “Th-Those competitions can be intense,” he said, kicking himself for sounding like such a dick with the doubt in his voice. “B-But, uh, there are some novice categor-ries. You… Y-You sure?” He wasn’t going to say no, not if she really wanted to. He had a lot of experience, and he knew that sometimes going down a level, or several, could be fun. It was more about playing than winning. Still, some people were very competitive. 

.

“I feel like it could be a fun hobby,” She offered with a shrug. “And if I get better perhaps I can get out of the novice category at some point, I feel like most of the people who ‘game’ wouldn’t expect someone old enough to be their mother to be able to beat them.” Pluto bobbed her head from side to side as she thought, “I think at the very least it wouldn’t hurt to try it out.”