RECLAIMSELF , a multi - muse blog for mockingjaysfm . written by jean , they / them , twenty - one . muses include HELENA WARD , the district two tribute , CINNA , the stylist for district twelve , and ANNIE CRESTA , the mentor for district four .
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if i look back, i am lost
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@reclaimself
RECLAIMSELF , a multi - muse blog for mockingjaysfm . written by jean , they / them , twenty - one . muses include HELENA WARD , the district two tribute , CINNA , the stylist for district twelve , and ANNIE CRESTA , the mentor for district four .
evan rachel wood in generation loss, westworld.
LAURA HARRIER for the EGR / Monica Sordo jewelry capsule © Drew Escriva
EVENT 001 . THE TRIBUTE BALL .
annie wears an ivory corset with real pearls and seashells sewn into the bodice. a pleated skirt is tied at her hip and extends onto the floor, well past her feet. her face, collarbone, and arms are covered in delicate pearls. they also have a delicate beaded headpiece that sways while they walk. otherwise, their makeup is simple and dewy, and they look as if they’ve just emerged from the sea.
EVENT 001 . THE TRIBUTE BALL .
cinna sticks to their go-to outfit— an understated, all-black ensemble. however, in lieu of simply wearing a tuxedo, they cut holes into the shirt and suit jacket and carries an acrylic handbag. his hair is cropped close to his head, with a gold laurel leaf painted on the sides of his head. as a finishing touch, his eyes are accented with his signature gold eyeliner.
ANNIE CRESTA . WRITTEN BY JEAN , 21 , THEY / THEM .
EVENT 001 . THE TRIBUTE BALL .
helena is dressed in a full-length, sleeveless gown made completely from silver chainmail to commemorate her district’s reputation as warriors. a matching headpiece is lain over her head to cover her hair, which is pulled back into a slicked updo. her eyebrows are bleached, and her lower eyelids are accented with angular, black liner. silver rings don each of her fingers.
hello friends ! i moved into an apartment yesterday so i’ve been busy, but i’m finally settled in and will be getting to replies soon <3
it was a stupid idea to let herself cry, anyway. even before she felt the body next to her, she had known she would never truly be alone here. - but she couldn’t help it. so once. she could let it all out once and then be done with it and focus on what she needed to do. which at the moment was .. enjoy herself? take a look around, like she was on holiday or riding the trains through six? she’d already stuffed herself, even the sight of the decadent capitol food was starting to make her feel worse. and remind her of lasts.
what had been the last thing she had said to her sisters, before she’d been shouting on stage? good luck? a joke, a ritual, like the games would never touch them. their odds were good enough, in the largest district. and now she was crying, so afraid of death, painting a picture of herself as a truly unstable tribute. she’d probably step off the platform too soon, be done with before the canons even had time to sound. what more could be expected of a woman from the morphling district.
so she coughed, and looked up at the person who had found her on the small balcony overlooking a beautiful alleyway - how did they make alleyways look like art? “i’m just missing the morphling already,” she lied, so easy to fall into the slouch she’d known her parents to live with, like her insides were hollow and her bones were barely holding anything up. though her skin was clear and her eyes were bright, she hoped the red that lined them distracted from the truth. “who knows what i might do to get my hands on some in the arena?” she needed people to be afraid. she needed to last.
despite living in the capitol their entire life, cinna has never quite gotten used to always being around other people. when they were young, they were kept awake by the sound of other tenants’ conversations through their bedroom walls. did they even know that someone was listening in on their private moments? sure, cinna never meant to eavesdrop; he did everything he could to pay attention to anything but their voices. later in life, he learned that he, too, was a victim of privacy invasion— by the government. the only way the snow regime can survive is by maintaining a surveillance state. needless to say, they search for real alone time whenever they can get it.
unfortunately, solitude is hard to come by in the tribute center. how strange that a building usually vacant and lifeless becomes the center of the nation’s social scene for a few weeks. capitol tv hosts are around every corner, vying for an interview soundbite that will make tomorrow’s headlines. given cinna’s success last year, it seemed as if cameras were following him. the rooftop gardens were his favorite getaway spot, but it seems that word has recently gotten around about their presence, so he’s been forced to find a new hiding spot.
cinna is unaware of the presence of another person on the dimly lit balcony until they hear a stifled sob. i’ve been there before, he muses casually, not thinking too much of it. he naively assumes the other person is just an overwhelmed rookie, like he had been the previous games. it isn’t until his eyes adjust to the darkness that he realizes who is beside him; a tribute. they couldn’t put their finger on her home district— admittedly, he’d not been paying the closest attention during the reapings— but they knew they recognized their face.
cinna's look is one of genuine concern, their eyes softening in an instant. they keep their distance as not to frighten her, replying with a soft voice, “ well, fortunately for me, i won’t be in there with you. and i’m not sure i’ve ever seen morphling in the arena . . . ” her attempts to seem intimidating only made cinna pity her more. he steps into a sliver of light, wondering if she’ll recognize him from his recent rise to fame. “ if you win, now that’s a different story. they’ll give you whatever you want. ” they extend their hand cordially, hoping to distract the girl from her current plight. “ i’m cinna, the designer for district twelve. y’know, ‘ the girl on fire ’? ” his heart goes out to each and every tribute, even those from other districts. thus, he leaps at the chance to ease any of their suffering.
𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐏 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 in a greedy motion for oxygen. more oxygen. she feels the air in her lungs but it feels … impure, dirty almost. the lack of greenery in the capitol and most especially in the tribute centre has left her feeling a little suffocated. but she takes a deep breath and another, she feels another’s gaze and offers them a small smile, “ i’m alright, really. ” she says with a quivering voice. “ i’m just – i’m just, uh … a little worried. ” she clutches at her chest. “ because – because, i don’t know who’ll be looking after my plants. i mean – what’s gonna happen to them while i’m gone. and who knows for how long … it’s just – it’s just … scary. ”
comforting others isn’t helena’s forte, to put it kindly. she’s never been especially good at regulating her emotions, so how is she supposed to know what calms other people down? it’s even harder to make someone feel better when you can’t easily put yourself in their shoes. in helena’s case, the color green is a rare sight. district two is covered in a generous layer of snow for eight months out of the year, and you’re lucky to spot a flower or two peeking out of the ground when the ice finally turns to slush. even her district’s architecture matches its military industry; grey stone and concrete, towering columns, & harsh edges. it’s almost as if the people who designed the buildings wanted to make you feel insignificant. if anything, the capitol’s artistic, expansive buildings have finally given helena the space to breathe. she mirrors ivy’s gentle smile instinctively, though the expression is fragile and fleeting. “ you sure you’re alright, can i, er — ” there’s no hiding her discomfort, “ can i do something to help? ” whether lena actually wants to help, or if she just feels bad that the person before her is visibly distressed, is anyone’s guess. she rubs her palms together awkwardly, giving her restless hands something to do. “ i’m sure, uh . . . there’s probably someone back home who knows how to take care of your plants, yeah ? ”
ofhgsurvivors:
If her hope for quiet was going to be dashed by anyone George was glad it was Cinna. He was more her kind of person than other Capitol elite so when he beckoned her over she smiled, hesitating only a moment before she took up the seat.
“It was long, I suppose over a decade of staying away makes the memories seem shorted. It seemed like we were on that train for years.” George said with a small scoff at her optimism. She really had underestimated how difficult it would be to return. “How have you been? You did well last year you must have big plans now.”
cinna gives a gentle, reassuring smile when she joins them. “ a decade— has it really been that long? so much has changed since then. it hardly feels like the same place, and i never even left. ” he takes a brief sip of his drink, leaning his elbow against the glistening bar top. “ well, i hope these amenities make you more comfortable, ” he gestures casually with his empty hand towards the twelve floors above them. “ i’m blown away all over again whenever i visit. ” his eyes float around the room, admiring the incredible architecture, before finding their way back to george. “ i’ve been well. the attention takes some time to get used to, as i’m sure you understand. i just wish the circumstances surrounding the victory were better, you know. ” their voice goes flat and tapers off towards the end of their sentence, the loss a healing wound that’s reopened every time katniss or peeta are mentioned. “ i’m certainly feeling the pressure to out-perform last year. let’s hope my i haven’t forgotten how to design clothes in my time off. ” his use of humor is intentional, to try to break her walls down and make her more open. “ and how do you feel about your tributes this year? ”
gladiatefm:
apollo had watched the reapings , every second and every detail burned into his retinas . these people , he knew , were to be his enemies , his potential allies . sure , he has the pick of the litter being from four and so when helena ward approaches , he offers a friendly grin , assuming the pair will end up as allies once thrown into the arena ; might as well scope her out now . “ really ? all those mountains … two looks so nice to me . i wish i could see it , ” he shrugs then , head tilted in her direction . “ maybe if i make it to the victory tour , huh ? ” smiling , he removes his gaze from the glistening tower that is the tribute center and offers his full attention to helena , warmth in his voice , in his gaze . he’s not sure he’s doing this right –– is he supposed to act tougher than this ? “ oh yeah , four’s real nice . lots of water , lot’s of sun , we’re pretty lucky . ”
just like apollo, helena watched every district’s reaping on the train ride with her mentor, under the guise of strategizing. the second she shot her hand into the air and uttered those epochal words, she became a player in the capitol’s favorite game. but unbeknownst to the gamemakers, lena is playing an entirely different one. she has no real interest in being the last tribute standing, especially if it comes at the expense of others. but of course, she can’t let on her ulterior motives to the other tributes. she has to appear collected and clever, leaving them to guess her intentions until she wants them to know how she feels. for now, she is merely collecting intel on her enemies. she's also expected to have her pick of allies, and no one is off the table. “ i’m sure the mountains are nice if you’re just passing through, but living with them's a bit different. all the snow and ice gets pretty suffocating. ” she speaks genuinely, her tone calm and even. yet, her body language suggests that she isn’t quite ready to trust him completely; arms crossed protectively over her chest, breaking eye contact every once in a while to scan the terrain, her head on a swivel. “ oh, sure. it’s too bad they only let one of us go, yeah? ” the ever-present reminder looming over their heads. “ but who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky and have a beautiful arena this year. ” then, at least we could suffer in paradise. the words echo in her mind, but she knows better than to say them aloud. small talk is never comfortable, but it’s even more arduous when the person you’re talking to may have their hands at your throat come next week. if she were in the games to win them, helena would play up her natural stoicism and keep the other tributes at arms length. her academy trainers drilled the notion into her mind that emotions will be your downfall. however, being a rebel has taught her to value unity and lean into her empathy. she genuinely cares about the well-being of the other tributes, and unlike when she was eighteen, she doesn’t view her relationship with them as merely transactional. but on the other hand, expressing her vulnerability too openly would lead to certain defeat.
.
STATUS: Open CHARACTER: George (District 8 mentor)
George hated being back in the Capitol. She’d always hated it there, of course she’d only ever visited for the Games so really was it any surprise that she disliked it? This year was no different but the selfish part of her was grateful she’d see no children die this year. Despite all of this George was a good mentor, and a better Victor. She knew her role to play here and she’d play it well. That included keeping a smile on her face as she guided the tributes into the building. The smile dropping from her face as soon as they were away from public.
“I’ll meet up with you in a sec, go with the escort they’ll show you how to get into the centre properly.” She murmured giving a nod before she stepped away hoping for a moment of quiet.
like george, cinna is undoubtedly relieved that no children would die at the capitol’s hands this year. sure, he would prefer that the games didn’t happen at all, but they aren’t quite there– yet. cinna tunes into the mandatory viewing every year, but unlike the rest of the captiol citizens, he never enjoys it. he only grits and teeth and bears the bloodshed, trying not to let on how much he really loathes the spectacle. before becoming a tribute stylist, he thought the job might give him a more positive outlook on the games. at least he can make a difference instead of merely being a spectator. the past year, however, has proved him more wrong than he could have ever imagined.
george is somewhat of a mystery to cinna. she wasn’t one of the rebel victors they knew closely, but she wasn’t a career, either. what did she have to gain by not being a rebel? where does she stand, and what does she really believe in? they know better than to come off too strong, as it could push her away even further. so as cinna spots her from their seat at the bar, they give her a friendly wave, encouraging her to join them. “ come, sit, let off some steam! i’m sure it’s been a long day. how was your train ride in? ”
𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽 ? chapter one . welcome to the capitol . 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 ? the tribute center , lobby
everything around him he feels as though he’s only seen in a dream , towering and gleaming , the tribute center is all he could have imagined and more . apollo is trying to keep his cool but he can’t keep the smile from his face , can’t keep from imagining how his family must feel at home now that he’s making something of himself . “ wow , ” he murmurs , his eyes widening , his head shaking in a sort of awe . “ this really is somethin’ else . ”
helena understands the feeling— awestruck despite having dreamt of this exact moment for most of your life. the luxury and opulence of the tribute center makes her feel impossibly small. however, her awe is undermined by a sense of dread. after all, the capitol is only pampering them in preparation for their deaths, like animals fattened up before the slaughter. they certainly didn’t build this center out of the kindness of their hearts; there is always an ulterior motive. but if they only has a week-or-so left on earth, why shouldn’t they enjoy it? “ mhmm, ” she hums in agreement. “ certainly isn’t like anything back in two. everything there is so . . . dull. ” she means that literally; you’re hard pressed to find a building that isn’t made of grey stone or concrete. “ district four looks beautiful, from what i’ve seen of the reapings on television. is it the same in person? ” helena typically isn’t one for small talk, but you have to start making allies somewhere.
CINNA . WRITTEN BY JEAN , 21 , THEY / THEM .