#135vb

[abel--evans]

“You heard about eleven?” Abel asked Cain as they stood next to each other in the queue for the bathroom. He was talking quietly, wasn’t quite as drunk as usual, he had a bit of self awareness left in him, for now at least. “Things seems to be falling apart a little in Panem, don’t they?”

@cain-gunn

[abel--evans]

“Hey, at least it’s not your party this time” Abel shoulder nudged Slate once he’d run into him outside, pulling his pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. “Not sure if it gets better or worse each time, but Linden is a lovely victor, at least” he smiled, although that didn’t mean he hadn’t been grieving Oxford and Farina still. They would have been lovely victors just as much.

@slate-skylar

[denverneumann]

Denver was munching on salmon-covered crackers when she noticed Link. She swallowed what was in her mouth, not about to look rude in front of a victor she had only interacted with once, but not about to pass up the opportunity to make small talk with her.

"Hey there," Denver said. "I'm not sure if you remember me, but I'm Denver, I work in the Tower." Work. Present tense. It frustrated Denver to no end that she hadn't been promoted yet and she was going to have to work the kiosk for another Games. She'd had the highest KPIs of the entire team, including her manager. It made no sense. She knew she would do so well working her way up in the museum archives. All she needed was the chance. But all she had right now were crackers and small talk.

@linkcache

[denverneumann]

Denver was waiting on the side of the room for her date to find her. Everyone was in a state of shock, sadness, excitement, fear - it was palpable, and it made Denver feel...she wasn't sure how it made her feel, in truth, but it made her want to get out of there. But Denver wouldn't leave frantic and by herself this time, so she scanned the crowd, catching sight of not her date but of Cain Gunn.

"Cain!" Denver called over to him. "This is crazy, right?"

@cain-gunn

[denverneumann]

The Gamemaker intern who had invited Denver to the ball had long since vanished, and she was fine with that. They'd only been on a few dates, and she was fairly certain it wouldn't work out, but she'd tried anyway, hoping at the very least to get here, tonight, to the ball. The ball itself wasn't nearly as impressive as the Mentor's Ball had been, but that was to be expected with the Vox not just cutting off trade routes but taking over Capitol orchards to cut them off from food as well. Denver didn't feel much like dancing, but she recognized enough people that mingling wasn't too difficult.

Making her way through the crowd, Denver spotted Holland Westbrook, and stopped. "Hi, Holland," she said in greeting. "I don't know if you remember me from the last Games, but I'm Denv--"

She fell silent when the music screeched to a halt, and looked around for a minute before catching sight of President Snow herself, commanding the room.

@holland-westbrook

[denverneumann]

135th Victor's Ball

To honor homeland of the newest victor, Denver Neumann attends the Victor's Ball in a dress with lumber-printed fabric draped to create the illusion of a fire work or a ferris wheel. It's a subdued look for a subdued time, but nothing less than the latest fashion. Her makeup contains touches of the gold of a victory, and her blood-red leather shoes feature hand carved wood relief platforms. Denver's hair is piled as high as the trees of District Seven, flying out in blonde wildfire waves.