#ch2.

[twigelphineson]

@silverostro

[Though the note was burning a hole in his breast pocket, he’d thought he would wait until he could see them in person to ask Silver to translate. It would be a lot to dump in a person’s lap, especially when you couldn’t see their face to gauge their reaction. When you’ve never talked about anything quite so weighty and so real before.

But Snow’s announcement changes everything.

For two decades, he’d played by the rules. It had gotten him very little. And now, what little he has left stands to be Reaped again, at the whims of the Capitol. Why not take a risk? What does he have left to lose?

But he still has to be careful, as careful as he can be. A note for a note, passing through hands and hopefully remaining under the radar, all the way to District Three.]

My Friend,

This letter may come as a surprise, since it hasn’t been long since we saw each other, but you’ve been on my mind since I returned to my home. I’ve always enjoyed our conversations over the years, how fast your mind works, how you’re able to decipher things I could never hope to understand.

Things do seem to be heating up. I hope you and yours are well in these interesting times, though I will look forward to hearing so from your own mouth.

- 53

[And, at the bottom of the page, written in a mixture of vinegar and water that will reveal itself when exposed to heat, the code:

–. — -. . / -… ..- - / -…..- . .-. / ..-. — .-. –. — - - . -. / –. — -. . / -… ..- - / -. — - / … — / –. — -. . / .- ..-. - . .-. / .- .-.. .-..   

]

[twigelphineson]

Twig’s Home, District Seven (@dawnhardn)

It always feels like a balm, to have Dawn in his home. It’s been a long time, since the days when his parents used to come over, used to bring whatever charges were in their care at the time, little feet running around his home and filling it up in ways he never managed on his own. But they’re gone, now, and he doesn’t get many visitors these days.

The furniture is all his own making, the way he keeps himself busy between Games. The broken glass on the floor, however, is Blythe’s.

He hardly sees it, though. He feels shocked, too shaky to be quite numb. He wishes Dawn’s presence could be a balm, now, but he’s not sure if anything could. “You have to be safe,” he tells her, not sure which of them he’s trying to convince. “They could never reap someone from the Capitol.” But then, he knows, the Capitol’s already treated Dawn like a traitor once before.

[t4mpered]

daniel "danny" gaines.

[rkbngchan-blog]

CHARISMA ( * 2 / 5  )   for   @rkseoyeon.

“so there i am, i’m sitting there looking out my backyard window, okay,” chan has his arm comfortably relaxed behind the arm of his chair of the pojangmacha’s outdoor setup; slightly intoxicated from the three quarters of the soju bottle he’s already torn through solo. it’d been a long, hot day of busking outside and the patches of redness that accompanied his slight drunken flush was apparent in the booth’s fluorescent lighting. chan doesn’t remember how he even began this conversation with the stranger beside him: though he wasn’t surprised, either. he’d become a recent local clientele to this booth in particular, notably for how similar the chef’s tteokbokki tasted like his mothers’. more often than not did chan typically find himself talking to some group of drunken ahjusshis who enjoyed his tipsy stories of his life back in australia, and though his audience tonight differed greatly, he couldn’t be bothered to care or not if they cared — just so long as they let him finish his story. his gyopo accent thickens as the story progresses, the drunker he starts to feel. “there’s — i’m not kidding — 5 of ‘em. 5 kangaroos. just sitting in my backyard.”