#revolutionaes

[roseguided-arch]

@revolutionaes LIKED for a starter ! ft coriolanus snow

𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓, deep thought. on his desk , which is a deep mahogany color sitting in a lavish, large office space , are a stack of files. the one coriolanus is peering through are options for the upcoming hungry games in just a few months—finalizations , really. usually , the president likes to leave all of that up to the game master but supervision & knowing the playing field wouldn’t hurt anyone ? he hums , somewhat discontent, with some nitty details that don’t feel like they’d suit the capital audience. over the years , he’s managed to reform the idea of the games into more of a spectacle rather than raw , dirty showcase of straight brutality. nothing like his games as a mentor. ; ( he knows the capital citizens yearn for the violence , no matter how they’d want to deny it. & for the betting. but, he also knows he must package it in a way that’s shiny, with a ribbon. ) office door opens & coriolanus doesn’t raise his head. he doesn’t acknowledge whoever has walked in until he sees , out of the corner of his eye , a familiar pair or shoes. head raises, a tight lipped smile: ❛ virgilia , dear , you know i don’t like to be interrupted. ❜ tone is level , but he has a hard time hiding his prickle of irritation. hands clasp themselves & fold against the top of the table. ❛ what’s so important ? ❜ he asks , ❛ as you can see, i’m busy finalizing plans for this years games. ❜

[flownintothesun]

            ⋆ ✰ ⋆ ─── a closed starter for @revolutionaes .

       𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄 for the discontent, the shift of the wind, and the mockingjay song on the horizon. It extends beyond just the districts now — it lingers here in the Capitol as well. When Francis listens closely enough, buried just beneath the revelry are low whispers that linger just a little too far out of his reach before dissipating in the breeze. The truth is, Katniss Everdeen has done nothing but made the already present divide more apparent. Roses are out of season, this time of the year. The rumor is that they’ll be dying soon — and then, someone will be left to pick up the pieces. If it’s not him, he’ll be killed as well — it’s crush or be crushed, and he’s not certain he likes either of those things more than the other.

      There are many places that he can access based on name alone within the Capitol — but he’s finding that the places he truly seeks are closed to him for the same reason. He’d had a friend from the Academy sneak him into a so-called speakeasy once. He’d gotten drunk, and pored through books that directly contradicted everything he’d known to been true. The second time, he’d found something called a violin, and he’d spent hours learning how to gently coax music out of it. It had filled him with a sense of wholeness that nothing ever had. The third time he had gone, it was as though the place had simply vanished, and his friend as well.

     No more doors have opened for him since. But he can’t unlearn the things that he’s learned, he can’t unsee what he’s seen. He thinks about it all the time. And so they sit at the family dinner table — he, and his sister, and his step-grandmother. The President is missing. Probably thinking up new ways to torture that poor District 12 girl. There’s something more to it, he just knows it. “He’s busy rather a lot these days,” Francis comments. He’s older than his sister — old enough to remember properly when the table had been full of family and chatter. Now it’s just as stale as everything else — and everyone's afraid to make a move, lest it be the wrong one. The odds are never in anyone's favor, really.

[rancoeur]

starter for Virgilia @revolutionaes​​

     It seemed like a lifetime ago that she had last seen the Capitol and its familiar streets, or at least somewhat familiar. The war had left traces on the place where she had grown up and spent so many years of her life; buildings had been destroyed, some to the point where Grace couldn’t even tell what they had used to look like. The Capitol truly looked like the shadow of its former self. Gone was the glory of the heard of Panem. Perhaps under other circumstances she would have felt heartbroken over what happened to her home, but the months spent in the districts had changed her to her core and she knew this was just one of many places that had suffered during the war. 

     Her steps echoed in one of the many hallways of the Snow’s mansion, just like before. Though nothing was like before. The Capitol had changed, Panem had changed, she had changed... The feeling of fear that had been present since Paylor had informed her that Virgilia was currently in the mansion only seemed to grow as she walked closer to the room where her best friend was. They hadn’t talked since Plutarch Heavensbee had left with her to District 13, for all she knew, Virgilia might think she had died. 

     Grace stopped in front of the familiar door. So many things could be waiting for her on the other side. Too many outcomes were possible. She sighed before taking a look at herself in the window. Her reflection looked exhausted... wounded... like she had gone through hell only a minute ago. What a pitiful sight, this woman didn’t look like the secret agent in charge of the protection of the wife of the president. Former president. She put a strand of her now longer hair back in place and knocked on the door before entering the room. 

     ❝ Virgilia? ❞

[heavensbee]

V's Day surprise for @revolutionaes because it's too long for an ask

Panem is healing, the Capitol slowly starts looking more like a city and less like a war zone. It's going to take time, but Plutarch has no doubt that the future will be better. His future certainly is even if he's currently worrying that he went too far into the planning of the evening. It's their first Valentine's Day as truly a couple free to be together in public and he wants to make it and he wants to make their date as perfect as possible.

Plutarch takes a deep breath before pushing the button of the doorbell of Virgilia's flat. It's far from the first time he comes here, but he cannot help himself feeling as nervous as if it was the very first time he comes here and their very first date. He knows he has everything planned: the restaurant's reservation was made weeks ago, his outfit was approved by his best friend, the watch had been carefully worked on for quite some time, the bouquet was made from the flowers from his own garden, and the warm blanket so she doesn't get cold when they go stargazing is in his car next to the telescope — he made sure both were there at least ten times.

When she opens the door, he smiles like a teenager in love who gets to go on a first date with the girl he has been having a crush on for months, but only dared to ask her out a few days ago. ❝ Happy Valentine's Day, my most beloved, ❞ he eventually manages to say after having been speechless for a few seconds. She truly is breathtakingly beautiful.