#[threads]

[virobomb]

Patient Zero // @twincuts

It was truly more fortunate than anything that she wasn't so well-known abroad that she'd be recognized an ocean away from home, it made this entire importing business that much easier, no worrying about prying eyes, overly curious ears, opposing presences and such trivialities that made already difficult work skull-splitting. More than that, it was a rare chance to truly enjoy the great sights to see in other countries.

Hardly a pause given presence before responding to her client - the faintest slide onto the backfoot, and a parcel was pulled from an inner pocket of her suit. No shipping labels, sized appropriately to hold a vhs cassette tape, or a new phone.

"Yes I would quite doubt that you would reach all the way to us." No elaboration given, since none was yet asked for, she held out the package. "Fortunately, you have many good friends willing to go the extra mile, and quite a bit more."

Trying to conjure the image of her employers who had set her to this task was like trying to recall a dream, vague instead of vivid, a mishmash of features and ideas that couldn't come together into a coherent image, and she couldn't place why - their instructions were clear, as was the big payout, but they must have had some kind of ability to obscure their identities.

"If I could come in, there was more I was meant to pass over. May I?"

[thecapitolprincess]

Closed Starter | @fine-prints | The Capitol | Day 1

It took an awful lot to unsettle Lyah, but the eerie chill that had fallen over them all was like a thick blanket. The once lively city had been choked by grief and unease, and the victor was unfortunately not immune to it. Despite her efforts to keep her head high and move forward, the suffocating feeling trailed her, clawing at her ankles in an attempt to hold her back. With the overwhelming feeling of fear and vulnerability nearly too much to handle, the deserted sidewalks came as no surprise. The candy-colored streets looked unseasonably cold, the usual neon open signs that hung in store windows switched off and their doors locked. It would appear they were all seeking shelter then, hiding away from whatever looming threat had been responsible for such destruction. Well, everyone but Lyah, apparently.

She ascended the stairs leading to the President’s Mansion quickly, eager to get back inside. There would be another press conference soon, and they were all hoping for some more answers to what felt like impossible questions. Capitol media had been quick to blame the rebels, a thought that now caused her mouth to go dry. Hadn’t the rebellion been quelled years ago? School curriculum varied by district, but the history of Panem had been covered extensively particularly the Dark Days. They all knew the story of how the Capitol had successfully extinguished the district’s mutiny. How was it possible they were back?

Lyah had been too caught up in her own worry to notice the man until she was nearly tripping over her own feet to keep from running straight into him, heels desperately searching for traction against the fine marble floors in the foyer. “Corduroy,” the greeting came out as a pathetic little squeak, but she was quick to recover. A gentle hand found its way to his forearm in an attempt to steady herself, nails painted the softest of pinks. “How embarrassing, I’m so sorry.” She tries to laugh it off. “Are you alright? Are you here for the conference?”

[seasaltsurvivor]

Closed Starter | @fatefought | The Capitol: Snow's Office | 74th Reaping Day

Finnick had learned how to handle most things. The exhaustion after a long day of putting on a show for the cameras, the sickness that settled over him each Games season, the quiet anxiety that stalked him from deep in the shadows back in Four — all of it paled in comparison to the overwhelming panic that gripped him in moments like these. 

He had to have known their routine. Nothing Snow did was a coincidence, so the only explanation was that he had found out about his eight o’clock phone calls with Annie. The President had to have been watching the clock, waiting for the exact moment to dial the number to Finnick’s place, letting his hopes rise and rejoicing when they came crashing down when the victor answered the call only to be met with a gruff request to meet. Finnick knew it wasn’t an invitation, not really.

Standing outside the heavy wooden doors that led to Snow’s office, he tried to slow his racing heart. The attempt proved to be futile. There was no relaxing when the man who had you on strings was ready to take the reigns once more.

The door creaked open at the hand of a decorated peacekeeper who wasted no time ushering him into the room. Finnick took his mark, coming to something of a parade rest in the middle of the office to hide his shaking hands. Eyes downcast, he knows better than to speak first, so no greeting comes from him — not that he felt confident that he’d find the words to do so. Instead, Finnick stands motionless and vulnerable before Snow, waiting for him to deliver his commands.

[thecapitolrogue]

Open starter | @eventidestarters | The Capitol

Between Capitol strategy meetings and his own personal business, late nights were not uncommon for Kyan. He routinely worked well into the early hours, watching the clock creep up on midnight, and then past one, then onto two. Years ago this lack of work-life balance would have driven him insane, but now? He wouldn’t complain, not when there was real work to be done. And that’s how he found himself there now, walking the dimly lit halls of the tribute center as he found his way to the door and out onto the street. 

The cool air embraced him as he stepped out into the night. Neon lights illuminated the sky, concealing the stars. It was quiet, almost peaceful, and Kyan allowed himself to relax for just a moment. He deserved it, after all; he had managed to smuggle that file out undetected, and even the smallest of victories deserved to be celebrated. 

But the calm didn’t last long. Kyan rounded a corner, turning onto the next street, only to find himself face-to-face with this unfortunate soul. What business did they have wandering the city at this time of night? Didn’t they know it was dangerous? Kyan froze, doing his best to maintain his unbothered demeanor despite his surprise. 

“What are you doing?” His tired voice had an edge. “Don’t you think it’s a bit late for you to be hanging around here?”

[thecapitolprincess]

Closed starter | @heliosxargent | The Capitol | Day 36

If Lyah had learned anything in her 16 years living in the Capitol, it was that the city never stopped. Even now, with a war raging in the districts and anxiety building within the city walls, the streets buzzed with music and intoxicated party-goers. It came as no surprise, then, when the charity gala invitation had found its way to her mailbox. Offering Helios a genuine smile for the first time, however? That was unexpected.

"I caught your interview," she said, coming up beside him to observe the table of hors d'oeuvres. The spread was, just as most things in the Capitol were, superfluous. "The one with Caesar." Lyah plucked a perfect, ruby red strawberry from a gold platter. "All things considered, I think you handled it very well."

[ander-aurelius]

Closed starter | @angelbenningflint

The dim light of the lamp cast a warm glow across Ander's cluttered quarters in District 13. Stacks of pre-war books piled high on the floor, a few pens and spare sheets of paper with hastily scribbled notes strewn across his standard-issued desk. He knew if the district leaders were to conduct a surprise inspection he would fail, but Ander couldn’t bring himself to care. 

The cobwebs collecting in the corner whispered of neglect, but the recent influx of refugees to 13 had tied up his schedule as he prepared his already crowded classroom to accommodate even more students. His supply closet was starting to look a little sparse and they were starting to run out of desks, but he was doing his best with what he had. Tonight, though, he had managed to secure a much-needed night off, and all thoughts of the work he had piling up were left behind.

The cold air of his bedroom was mildly uncomfortable as it hung around them. This far underground, cold was a perpetual state of being, but it was fine. Having grown up in 13, Ander was used to it. 

The two boys were sprawled across Ander's bed, the worn blankets and mismatched pillows providing a semblance of comfort and their bodies close together. The lack of personal space was never weird. He and Ángel had been friends for so long that, if anything, he found their closeness to be natural — comforting, even. 

Their laughter echoed off the wall, melting together with the faint sound of distant footsteps echoed through the corridor, the only reminder of the world that existed on the other side of his door. It was nice. They hadn’t had the chance to catch up like this in a while, and despite the work Ander had waiting for him in the morning, he was thankful for the moment. 

“You can’t be serious,” the man managed to finally choke out as the noise died down and they caught their breath. His shoulders shook with residual laughter. Ángel had been filling him in on the latest news down in Tech. Apparently, one of the district higher-ups had spent at least 20 minutes ranting about a ‘broken’ communicuff that — surprise —  turned out to not be broken, just turned off. “I’m surprised you let him go on about it for that long. I would have paid to see that.”

[ander-aurelius]

Closed starter | @esmexsilverhorn

The early morning starts did not agree with Ander. His eyes burned with lingering exhaustion, and he was having a particularly difficult time pulling himself together. But this was the life of a teacher in 13, and despite his burning desire to crawl back into bed and bury himself under his blankets, he had work to do. Or at least that’s what the schedule printed onto his left forearm said. 

06:30 - Breakfast

07:00 - Prep

08:30 - Teaching period begins

15:00 - Teaching period ends

He had skipped breakfast; he usually does. It was hard for him to find an appetite so early in the morning, and he much preferred to spend that half hour getting some extra sleep than pushing around runny oatmeal in his bowl. Despite skipping breakfast however, and the fact that his quarters where closer to the school wing than the cafeteria was, Ander was still running behind.

In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t really matter if he stuck to his exact schedule. At 07:00, he was sure that he would the only member of the teaching team on the wing. He had been informed that he’d have two new students on his roster. A sibling set — refugees from 9 who had arrived just a few days prior. He’d need to move some things around in his classroom to make space, pull things from the resource closet and put an order in with Necessities for some new supplies. But with no witnesses, there’d be no one to tattle on him for turning up late.

He was so caught up in creating his mental to-do list that he had missed the light coming from his classroom. It wasn’t until he stopped to unlock his door that Ander realized it was already propped open. The man paused at the threshold. Inside the room was a woman he wasn’t quite sure he recognized. 

How strange. Ander took a second to think. Had they reassigned him? No, surely not. He would have received notice weeks ago so he’d have time to prepare and make adjustments to the curriculum. But then if he hadn’t been reassigned, who was this woman standing at his desk? And how had she gotten in, anyway? He could have sworn he locked the door when he had left yesterday afternoon.

Ander took a cautious step inside. “Good morning,” he said in a gentle voice. He didn’t want to startle the poor girl, just figure out what he hell she was doing in his classroom. “Can I— I'm sorry, did you need something?"