#c:olive

[allard-danbur]

@olive-blackwell​

“I think I’m going to take a new approach to sponsoring this year,” Allard announced as soon as another person was present in the viewing room. “You’re a trainer, right? Have you been a mentor? I want more insight. You’re with Nine, hm? Do you think it helps for the tributes to be so, well, bonded?”

[chip-foster]

@olive-blackwell​

Chip had two pizza boxes balanced in his hand, with his laptop carefully set on top, and a paper bag full of garlic knots and small marina cups clenched in his teeth. By the grace of only the kindest forces in the universe, he made it from the elevator to the kitchen counter to set everything down. “D-Damn, I’m good,” he muttered, taking a seat and immediately opening up his laptop with one hand and the top pizza box with the other. “So? C-Can I convince you to turn just one whole wall in th-the gym into a big monitor? I-It’d be fucking cool.”

[kaelen-tyr]

@olive-blackwell​

Kaelen didn’t hear about Olive’s arrest until the next day. One of the guys working in the surveillance room saw it happen and sent a video of the incident to the work group chat. Kaelen told Electra and left early, bringing a granola bar with him just in case she hadn’t eaten. He had a feeling she might be hungover and more in need of water, but she needed food, too.

“What did I say the other night?” Kaelen asked when he reached her cell. He put one hand to the bars and held the other out through them for a discrete high-five. It was a good punch. “How you feeling?”

[chip-foster]

@olive-blackwell​

Chip dropped a bag of chips and a six pack of soda on the card table he’d brought to set up in the gym. “I’ll use a VPN so th-the IP address isn’t tr-traced back to the gym,” he explained to Olive as he opened his laptop with one hand and cracked open a soda with the other. "Wh-What’s th-the website again?”

[chip-foster]

“J-Just one question,” Chip said, as he started to spread out wiring for the sound system in front of him. “H-How loud can we make th-this shit go?”

@olive-blackwell​

[chip-foster]

Evie was tucked in. Paslee was reading. And Chip could find nothing to calm his mind enough to even try to sleep, despite how much he needed it. He’d seen some firepits lit during the ball the night before, and had even stood by one for a while when it got cool enough for his fingertips to go cold. So with the beach dark around him, he found himself seated with a lighter in one hand and his phone in the other, trying to figure out how to get the firewood to catch. Despite the sand, he recognized the gait of someone approaching. “Y-You know how to work th-this shit?”

@olive-blackwell​

[chip-foster]

He’d fallen asleep playing a video game. Maybe that was why his nightmares were so vivid. Maybe that was why the moment a hand touched him, he was sure he was under attack. He leapt up, reaching for the nearest thing. It was a video game controller cord in reality, but in his mind no more than an elastic-like rope of licorice. He couldn’t shake these dreams of being reaped again. 

It was no matter to his barely conscious state, as the moment the item of any kind was in his hand, he found his attacker’s jugular and pulled tight. Weak-willed. Pitiful. Undeserving. These people really questioned why he was a victor when he’d been on guard since he was a fucking child?

@olive-blackwell​

[chip-foster]

Date: March 25th

There was a fairly fresh layer of snow on the ground. It’d started coming down when he got his cast removed, and lasted sporadically for another day or so. The snow at the park where he normally took Evie was still relatively untouched, and it added peace and quiet to a city that could sometimes be too loud and flashy for even his senses. He was walking toward the playground with Olive and Evie when his phone went off again, and he stopped to take a quick phone call from the Tyrs. 

When he turned around, something wet and cold slapped him right in the center of his face. A snowball, right to his fucking nose. Happy birthday, huh?

@olive-blackwell​