#vb132

[nano-cache]

A Peacekeeper escort was becoming the norm. Out of his arena, through his victory tour, and now -- from his room to the mansion, having been forced to change his clothes. The camp uniform confiscated, back en route to the museum he'd snatched it from. And, just like that...an unruly victor's tantrum was squashed. Quelled. Successfully swept under the rug.

Nano was hiding now. Knees pulled to his chest, curled in the corner of an empty corridor beside a window where, even in the dark, he could see the outline of trees and plants. A garden, maybe. Probably. But everything reminded him of camp. He traced a shape idly in the condensation of the glass, murmuring in a low voice to Conny as she crossed her legs beside him.

"You know, half these people wish I died?" He was making light of it, if only because he was already gutted. "I actively heard someone say it would have been more interesting if you'd just stabbed me." Conny giggled at that, and the sound made him smile, made him feel a little less hollow inside. But she turned, her eyes landing on someone, so Nano turned too, head craning up to appraise the sight.

[cade-bentley]

Despite being something of a shitty bartender with little experience, and the slew of ulterior motives to his role behind the bar, he couldn't help that he was enjoying himself. This was the most fun he'd had in months, people to talk to, a generally jovial atmosphere, nobody asking him to do anything he wasn't sure he could actually do. Bonus points, this job (probably) wouldn't end in a gun pressed to his back if something went sideways. He was getting a little too used to that feeling after the past year. There were, of course, the off-menu options in his pocket, because good business was seeing opportunity, according to his new boss. Certain Capitolites or Games-adjacent partygoers would know the special order for those, but for the most part, it was the standard cocktails and bubbly.

"What's your poison?" Cade asked, turning to the newest customer at the busy bartop with a lopsided smile.

[holland-westbrook]

Holland was dancing with an overbearing, misogynistic, and very drunk sponsor who just could not take a hint. It had been a good ten minutes of him trying to find out what the next Arena would be, and also to find out what her favorite position was (she told him that she didn't like to get political). When she saw someone looking their way, she took her opportunity. "Sorry, my friend wants me," she said to the man, and made a beeline for them. "Oh thank fuck, please engage in conversation with me."

[abel--evans]

"So, who's moving to eleven with me?" Abel joked, and it was a stupid joke, with the news of the rebellion fresh in most people's minds, all the eyes watching, waiting, for someone to put a foot wrong, he was threading a thin line.

He thought he was being clever though, funny, because the alcohol always made him a bit braver.

[medeaodair]

The news about District Eleven had the entire atmosphere in the ballroom slow for a moment, hushed whispers and gasps, the chimes of notifications interrupting the silence continuously. Then, the chaos returned, even more animated than before. "Certainly a good time for that announcement," Medea joked with a chuckle, however uneasy it was, to the person standing closest. "Is it that serious, or just..." she trailed off, not entirely knowing what else it could be. Unrests would never be reported at this scale if they were nothing to worry about.

[slate-skylar]

He had been looking forward to Cress's return to the Capitol more than he'd admit. He hated the city, and all of his focus was on the zine lately. Whether he was staying up late doing layouts, sending encoded messages to contributors, editing, or writing, all of his free time was spent on it. When he was working out, staying in shape and using the boxing machine in his apartment building, he thought about the zine. When he was working, he kept his eye out for any information that might be useful to the cause as well as safe for him to use, something that couldn't be traced back to him. The only outlet from any of this was when he got postcards from Cress, which he returned with his own -- they were all full of vagueness and nice words about his job that she'd know were meaningless. He sent a few letters, too, which were more in-depth; his observations about the Capitol, his training, remembrances of their short time together before she'd left the city. He thought about her constantly, too, sometimes overthinking it and wondering if she'd found another district nobody to hang out with. But then a postcard or letter would arrive, and he'd know she was thinking of him too.

When Cress returned, she was finally corporeal. At first he couldn't take his hands off of her, at the gym as he showed her what he'd been working on and how he'd improved, and then after that in his apartment, where he started giving her a tour which was cut short by his desire to have her as he had not been able to since the Games' end, and her desire in return.

It had been a good few days, during which he'd thought about the zine very little, but the ball meant a return to reality. He had some business he wanted to take care of and conversations that were important to have, but he also wanted to enjoy being here with Cress as his date. "Second ball in a row we've attended together," he said as they stood by the bar waiting for their drinks. "I'm going to be forced to think I'm doing something right."

@cress-meadowforge

[masonxxbrick]

Mason was more than excited to be back at the Capitol. Ever since he had made it back home he had been super busy and had hardly even had time to sleep. But not tonight, tonight he was here at the Capitol and he was going to enjoy every minute of it. Even if his anxiety was through the roof. Mason had thought that things would be better with Miller and go back to the way they had been before but he was wrong. He hadn't seen or spoken to Miller since he had left the Capitol to go back home after the 132nd games had ended. It was frustrating and Mason was more than over it. To prove his point, he was going to avoid Miller at all costs to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Grabbing a non-alcoholic drink, Mason turned quickly and instantly ran into someone who had been standing behind him. "Oof, I am so sor--" He began to say before realizing it was Miller. So much for his plan of avoiding him at all costs. "Oh, hey." He said simply as he fought every urge to pull him into a hug and tell him how much he missed him. "Who are you here with tonight?" He asked curiously, not wanting to get his date wrong again.

@millerbrick

[millerbrick]

@medeaodair

It was supposed to be perfect. That was all he wanted for the night; just one perfect ball date. Did they not deserve it, given how their previous one had gone? On top of that mishap, they hadn't physically seen each other for months, and though they had kept in touch through texts and calls, he had missed Medea so terribly and worried over her to the point that it had kept him up all night every few days. The feeling was all new and foreign to him, equal parts intimidating and intoxicating. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this resolute, this determined, about anyone, and perhaps he never had.

Everything still felt so shaky and fragile, he really only wanted one perfect ball date this time. So, of course, something had to get in the way of that. After the news had broken, after his father had called him and let him in on what was happening and what they had to do now, he'd had to write over a dozen emails and answer just as many phone calls. But enough was enough. Having hung up on the last--a call with his factory managers who all sounded deathly terrified of his father, probably rightly so--Miller turned off his phone and shoved it inside his pocket. They should be able to fend for themselves just for the night.

"I'm so sorry," he sighed out a remorseful apology as he turned to Medea again. "It's... whatever. Fuck it. You wanna get out of here?" Realising how that might have come off, he chuckled. "I don't mean 'out of here', I mean just to get some air outside. Everyone here is talking about this stupid lockdown and it's a little depressing." And maybe he wanted to be with her and her alone, wanted her all to himself. Could anyone blame him?