#ft. riggs

[favathornewood]

📱 telecom // fava & riggs

FAVA: [after her conversation with blythe, fava knows there that there is one other person that she needs to check on.]

FAVA: [the line rings too many times, only adding to the pit that opened in her stomach. she is as anxious as she is mad. she wonders if riggs feels the same.]

FAVA: [finally: an answer.] Tell me something true. I need to know it's you.

[favathornewood]

@riggspeaceroot

DETAILS: district eleven accomdations, during the disappearance of The Squad

She shouldn’t have been so rude to Griffin when she first met him. Being a mentor is no joke. The unwavering guilt, the life in your hands, is almost too much to bear. And that’s on top of everything she feels from her own time in the Arena, on top of the terrible life that she lived before she was reaped.

Her entire life has changed in a year. There is blood on her hands and a ring on her finger. And the sister she so desperately wanted to protect is in training to fight for her life.

She has spoken to Griffin extensively about their plans for Wren, but outside opinions are always good to have. Especially when someone like Riggs is in a similar boat emotionally. It’s a layer of hell, watching someone you love prepare for the slaughter.

Fava is uncharacteristically emotional when she meets them with a coffee in hand. It isn’t for her. The caffeine would keep her up even longer or amplify her anxiety to the point of hysteria. All she wants to do is cry these days. She figures it’s some sort of karmic retribution. Clearly she deserves this.

It takes her a moment to work up the courage to knock on the door, but she feels marginally better when Riggs appears on the other side. “I got you something. I don’t know how you take your coffee and I know you have stuff here anyway, but we had this dispenser with hazelnut cream and I thought that would — be nice.”

[favathornewood]

@riggspeaceroot

WHEN: (Mid) Reception

Wren, the ever-patient, pulls on her hand again. Fava attempts to shake her off, but it doesn’t work. She turns her attention to the little sister that signs rapidly with a request of can I dance with Birch? Fava shrugs, replying sure without much fanfare before attempting to return to her conversation with a polite stylist.

That doesn’t work either. Wren tugs again: you have to help me find Birch.

Fava excuses herself and takes Wren’s hand in one solid motion. They walk several steps before the eldest of the two taps her lips and speaks carefully. “Thanks for saving me. I could only answer so many questions about Cinna’s design. I don’t know anything about fabrics.” At her side, Wren smiles and bows her head. The Tribute would know more than the Victor in that department. Imagine that.

It doesn’t take long to find Riggs. It takes less time to get their permission. Birch and Wren are off to the dance floor to enjoy what’s rest of their youth before -- no. Not now. Not tonight.

Now alone with a friend that she truly trusts, Fava allows herself to slump slightly. She’s never had the best posture. “I hope Hudson and I stay together forever.” She glances up to Riggs with half of a smirk on her lips. “I never want to be a bride again. This is exhausting.”