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@vilebodys
𝗩𝗜𝗟𝗘𝗕𝗢𝗗𝗬𝗦 : 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚝.
𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙗𝙚 𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙧 : 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 . > 𝗦𝗘𝗟𝗜𝗡 𝗞𝗔𝗬𝗔 𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳. 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧. > 𝗟𝗜𝗩𝗜𝗔 𝗣𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗛 𝘪 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 > 𝗖𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗠𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗗𝗨𝗣𝗢𝗡𝗧 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗼𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝗱𝗿𝘆 ? 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 ? 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵. > 𝗘𝗗𝗘𝗡 𝗠𝗜𝗡
a closed starter for @metaltourniquet
when : pre-reaping, after the announcement where : tribute tower, district one suites
when they announced that former victors were to be reaped this time, cashmere’s eyes immediately shot to gloss. not to check whether he was wearing the same mask she did, but to make sure that he still was here. that they did not rip him away from her, right now. trying once again to sever the threads that would always connect them again. the third and last attempt to turn their lives into a game. from that moment on, her heart had been slamming against her chest, violently, as if it was trying to pierce through her, and find its way to her brother, to anchor itself to his pulse, just to make sure that she could feel him, to know he was alive. so he’d have two hearts to guard him, even if it meant that her own would abandon her. when they finally reached his apartment, her body gave in. the weight of the announcement crushed down mercilessly, and she collapsed on the couch, the back of her head pressed against the cushion, as she stared up the ceiling. a laugh tore out of her, frazzled, fractured and almost touching delirium, filling the room for almost a minute before it eventually died down. her mask had slipped halfway off, her lips twitched uselessly, her gaze all emptied from mania. cashmere pushed herself upright and sighed.
“ well, that was fucked up. expected but still fucked up.” she dragged her fingers through her hair, pushing away loose strands of gold ; perfectly assembled hair, all undone. she didn’t need to fix it or pretend. not when she was with him. never.
“ okay, maybe not completely expected. i thought snow would just return with a completely new face for his grand anniversary. or i don’t know, ask the victors to donate their face for him. i honestly thought he’d want your handsome face.” cashmere knew the capitolites loved gloss for his looks. they could claim it was for his charm, his skills, the games, but no collection of those shallow things could ever capture who her brother truly was. not even for a fraction. they would never know him like she did. she didn’t want it. “ but i guess he noticed some grey strands.” she teased him, leaning in. grinning as her fingers slid through his hair and fluffing it up. then she still stilled, and she looked at him. not through the dark lenses she wore to dull the brightness she couldn’t stand ever since her games ( they were set aside now, she didn’t need them here, she was safe here with him ), not through the camera’s hungry eyes, but through the eyes of the same girl she’d once been. the one who had sworn to protect him. the one who'd failed to do that and was still haunted by the nightmares of his games. not her own, his.
“ promise me something” she said quietly. her hand slipped from his hair, and fell to her knees. the moment the announcement had been made, she’d run through every possible outcome, every scenario. the ones the capitol would indulge in the most, the cruellest version of a man-made fate. she couldn’t hope for something good, ( she didn't allow herself to be that naive anymore ), but only that it was her name that would be said out loud. alone, following someone that didn’t matter. “ promise me you won’t do something stupid and volunteer. no matter what happens. ”
"i didn't think we were particularly set on traditional family dynamics, cash," emmy simply muttered in reply, trademark objection in her tone. emmy faltered, though. she faltered ever so slightly at just how set cash seemed to be on somehow personally delivering gloss from the arena. she slunk back in something that was close to respect, like she wanted to at least acknowledge that cash seemed steadfast in her sentiment. "and what if i tell you i don't want him? it wouldn't change your mind, would it?" it was half-hearted, a last attempt at resisting cash's train of thought.
"please don't make this about me," emmy said, and it was rather close to pleading, her tone higher, her words drawn from her throat with more effort than before. this couldn't be about what she deserved or didn't deserve, she couldn't be responsible for what happened next, even if she was refusing to think of it with all her might. "you're gonna be disappointed if you make this about me, i'm not worth you going back into the arena. neither is he. he's like, four times more fucked up than me, he probably deserves it less." when cashmere squeezed her shoulder, emmy unwittingly leant closer. like she wanted the moment to linger, even if she wouldn't say. emmy's words were futile and her actions were even less convincing, though.
she nodded. slowly. the movement almost subtle enough to not be there at all. emmy wasn't committed to the idea of granting that favour, but cash deserved the favour all the same. so emmy nodded.
"sure," she said, though the word sat foreign on her tongue. she wasn't used to actually going along with what anyone else had to say, let alone when she vehemently disagreed with the premise posed. it was a promise, though. she was promising, even if she didn't like the idea of it. "i'm asking a favour in return, though. i need you to let me know if you change your mind. i don't care how or at what point, you let me know if it does. you deserve just as much of a fighting chance, cash. hell, you probably deserve it more than most. if you change your mind on this whole thing, i'm helping you, not him."
emmy knew better than to think cashmere would change her mind, though. maybe that was the only reason emmy said it.
“ well, i’m trying to do at least that for you, i haven’t been the best aunt or an aunt to you at all, i think it’s time you got at least half of something resembling a traditional family.” she thought of emmy, and how lonely it must have been growing up without a father. even though emmy didn’t want to admit it, pretended that she didn’t care about gloss, cashmere knew better than anyone that one could keep up a lie for only that long, until it’d become brittle under relentless waves of little truths.
her heart thrudded against her chest in an almost violent motion, then weakened when she noticed how emmy’s voice tilted slightly. suddenly, she looked like the young and vulnerable girl, even cash sometimes failed to see behind those sharp edges and fire. this wasn’t just emmy, who once kicked down the door to her apartment ( which she never bothered to fix ), but a girl who probably needed her as much as she needed gloss. and perhaps, cash needed her to, even if it only meant that keeping her alive would need to suffice.
“ emmy, you know i would do everything for you.” she’d already volunteered for her. the thought of her death scared her less than knowing that after it, she couldn’t do anything for her anymore. her love couldn’t defy death, but if there were a chance, she’d claw at the boundary until her hands bled. she’d try. she’d always try for them. “ but i’m not changing my mind because i know it’s not true. you need him now, you need him after all of this and you needed him before, even if you don’t realize it, yet. he’s going to be a great father to you, please just give him a chance, i want both of you to have that chance.” her eyes softened, her tone losing its edge.
“ if you don’t want me to make this about you, then fine, i’ll make this about me, emmy. the truth is, i’m selfish.that’s why I’m choosing the easy path because losing either of you would be worse than a meaningless death.” in the end, she knew she was hurting them both with her choices. .a coward who claimed to be brave, who managed to fool both of them, and escaped with her death.
“ emmy. ” her voice sharpened, only her empathy for emmy dulling it to a worn blade. “ don’t about yourself or him that way.” she drew a slow breath. “ gloss… he’s gone through a lot. before the games and especially after.” even if cashmere would ever be able to forget about the blood soaking through her clothes, she’d never forget about the look in her brother’s eyes, when he returned from his. when the capitol managed to break a part of him, half of her shattered with it. the half she managed to keep standing had only survived so she could hold him together. because if he fell apart entirely, she would too. life had always been cruel to them, blind to prayers and unmoved by pathetic begging. but she’d had gloss who protected her, and she’d do the same. only, that the guilt of failing to do that would remain a scar. this was the last chance to make up for it. “ he deserves much more than that, he deserves more than what the world gave him, and i hate myself for how little I can do, for how all I can offer is the chance for him to live. he’s the most selfless person i know, and he’d have done the same for you, in a heartbeat, probably even before that. soon you’ll be able to see all of it.” she squeezed her shoulder a little tighter when she noticed her leaning in, even when she took her hand away, the warmth still lingered in the palm of her hand.
emmy’s agreement took her by surprise. she’d thought she’d be mad enough that she refused it. cashmere often failed to see how much emmy had grown, partly because she’d always see her as the little child who was forced into the arena. now, she was grown up, and cashmere felt strangely grateful she’d lived long enough to witness that.
“ sure. ” her lips pulled into a grin. they could throw her into an arena, burn her alive, over and over again, she would never change her mind. not as long they lived. but emmy probably knew that, and if she didn’t, she wouldn’t tell her she’d struck the worse end of the bargain “ then let me ask for another thing. i don’t want you mentoring us. i don’t want you going through more pain than you have to and if something happens i don’t want you to blame yourself.”
Dear X (친애하는 X) | EP. 12 | 2025 Kim Yoo Jung as Baek Ah Jin
WHO: Primrose Everdeen & Open WHERE: The Tribute Tower, post-reaping
PRIMROSE WASN'T FAMILIAR WITH THE WAYS OF THE CAPITOL, AND IT SHOWED IN EVERY ASPECT OF THEIR BEING. They navigated the halls of the tribute tower like a baby deer taking it's first steps-- hesitant, unsure of oneself, and surely going the wrong way. They were attempting to find Katniss' apartment, but a few wrong turns and a failed attempt at using the elevator (in their offense--- District 12 had no needs for the technology) led them away from their target and into an unnamed hall of some sorts.
They huffed, unable to get a grasp of their location. A part of them felt like leaving and trying again another day, but another part of them knew that they wouldn't have any more luck any other time. They were about to turn back and attempt the elevator again when they spotted a figure walking by. Their body perked up at the sight of the supposed savior and they trotted over to the individual before asking, "Sorry, do you know how to get to the District 12 apartment? All of these halls looks the same to me."
selin had still not wandered through these halls enough times that she could recognize the difference between one identical door from another. even now her steps were slow and careful, eyes darting to the overly bright ceilings, the wall and yet another indistinguishable doorway, in a pathetic attempt to build any kind of recognition she could use for the following day. when a voice called out for her, the map she’d tried to sketch in her mind, simply crumbled into pieces and dust, nothing she could save or use anyway. “ oh, these are actually the district eight apartments .” at least she believed that . “it’s easy to get lost in here, everything really does look the same, one would think they’d at least try to be a little more creative …” the capitol loved to display the differences of the districts in all kind of ways, harbor animosity and turn it into a weapon. but at the end they were all cut by the same sword. they were the same, a meaningless sacrifice at their best. “ the elevator is the easiest way. i can walk you there, i’ve got nothing to do anyway.” right now, selin saw no point in training. she still wasn’t prepared to go through all of this again. even wandering through those halls took more out of her than she was willing to admit.
WHO: alden & open . WHERE: tribute tower lobby WHEN: post-reaping
The games shouldn't be running. They should've ended long ago. Alden has yet to decide if the rebellion is a series of failed uprising or one long, never ending tantrum. No matter the case, the future feels charged with tension. This game is intended to make or break the rebellion -- to make or break all of Panem. He owes it to his family, to all of the tributes who died for him to be here to keep fighting for a better tomorrow. He has to fight even if it kills him too. These days he doesn't fear death. After all, the Capitol has shown them time and time again there are fates worse than death.
Despite no longer fearing death, he knows many people fault him for not volunteering in one of his tribute's place. After all he's got no family and no lover... No one would miss him. Alden doesn't volunteer because he wants to condemn his tributes to death. After all time and time again he has tried everything to keep his many past tributes alive. He didn't volunteer because he wants to keep his tributes safe and the other tributes safe. Katniss from District 12 sparked some embers and he wants to help fan the flames. He has to be careful with how he helps others and the rebellion. After all one wrong move could have him gaining the attention of the Capitol. He doesn't fear death but he doesn't want his death to be an anti-rebel spectacle either.
He's ruminating on his thoughts, stack of papers in hand as he reads over each tribute's file. He's got a journal filled with notes, keeping track of their strengths and weaknesses. Although he wants to end the games for good he's got to focus on keeping them all alive long enough to fight back. He's got to brainstorm a plan forward. As the stranger sits beside him he closes his journal, not keen on the idea of them reading his notes. Still, he doesn't ask them to leave.
Instead, he emits a soft, weary sigh before remarking, "you must be in desperate need of company if you're sitting next to me out of all people."
eden had moved in the safety of her bubble for a long time. at this point she didn’t even know if she could call it such a fragile thing anymore, as it had already hardened into steel, a shield or a weapon. even the reaping, did not manage to burst it, instead she was just left alone again. rotting in steel, rusting it. she wasn’t a good mentor, she didn’t have the courage to be one, or a good person at all. many of the tributes of her district were fated to die anyway, and if they somehow had been granted some tiny chance, she was sure, she ruined it as soon as they’d look at her with those terrified eyes in the train. when she saw alden reading over the tributes’ files, filling out his journal with notes, eden didn’t know why she didn’t dare to speak ( she barely had anything to say anyway ), why the urge to leave without him noticing, suddenly overcame her like a wave trying to drown her with memories. shame was only reserved for people who cared, eden did not even grant herself that ugly emotion. she didn’t care what people said about her. back then, when she was a tribute, or after when she became a mentor who continued to fail her tributes because she never bothered to try. “ why ?” hesitation cut her breath for a split moment. “ perhaps i’m trying to learn from you ?” she crossed her arms, “ and you do look like good enough company. ” a shrug. “ do you think this might help ? your secret notes.” perhaps she should just steal that diary, use it for the next game. “ they all won their games once. they don’t really need our help.”
open to — everyone .
location — party in the capitol, reaping day, night time .
hunched over the toilet, mina wretches until her throat is hoarse, rough as sandpaper. once, she had felt like the sacrificial lamb brought into the games in the name of her family. the eldest daughter handed over to the capitol if it meant the rest of them were safe beyond the sturdy walls of victor’s village. no such luck. since ash had won the games, she’s done all that she can to protect her, but to be forbidden from volunteering in her place for these ninety second games has made her physically ill. and now she must smile. mina dewitt is nothing without her smile, for it is this which makes her sparkle most of all. dainty, delicate, a sweet little thing akin to a fairy, as though there isn’t a vicious, ugly sort of fury lingering beneath the glitter dusted across her collarbones, her cheeks. they can pretty her up as they wish, but she is fuming. spitting into the bowl, mina flushes the mess of bile and vomit down the toilet and kicks her way from the stall. she cleans her hands and returns to the party, determined to find sponsors if not answers. one of her suitors offers her a drink which she accepts, only if she can watch it made at the bar. she smiles in a way that promises she’ll return to him later, and then she moves further into the crowd. “isn't this exciting?” she arches a brow, her tone unreadable. those within the resistance who know her, know that she is mere seconds from falling over the edge into her frustration. “i’m sure we can expect party after party… what are the chances i’ll win a sponsor over when they’re indulging so much?”
whatever she was feeling stuck in her throat, a lump of emotions that would poison her if she dared to swallow it. an ugly sight of raw fury that would draw her uncanny if it dared to spill out. right now, selin preferred to feel nothing at all, heart tugged in her sleeve and a mask melted onto her face. if this day passed, she was sure she’d feel better, or at least a form of better that she could bear until it’d come to the end. looking at mina, exhaustion had permanently halted her capacity to react at all, and she blinked a few times before she realized that mina was talking to her. since, the beginning of the party she’d talked to no one, or more likely no one had talked to her. as much as her games had been chewed out and twisted when she was freshly crowned the victor, her victory was more of luck than anything else. and everyone knew that. until recently she’d been lucky that people began to forget about her. that she slowly blurred into nothing. now, being nothing would hardly bring her any sponsors. “ i suppose that’s the way they want it to look like.” her gaze drifted over the room, as if she was trying to distract herself, from catching herself becoming eerily detached from everything that had just happened. “ they’ll keep celebrating, before the games and after.” she looked at mina, offering a more honest and gentle expression. “ i don’t think your chances are that bad. people notice you, even if you might not want to. but you can use it to your advantage. if they’re indulging they’re more vulnerable to be convinced …. manipulated.” she paused. “ i know this is much, but you also have the right to take a little break from all of this.”
a closed starter for @metaltourniquet when : one day before the reaping
her gaze had lingered on the glistening buildings of the capitol, and while she hated this place with every breath, the night had managed to dim the artificial gleam. she could forget the too bright green, the violent pink sinking into something unrecognizable. she could forget that hani jang and livia plinth were never meant to cross paths anyway. even now, livia didn’t dare to look at her. as if meeting her eyes would somehow jinx it. that reality would catch up on both, and tears this moment away from them.
the moon was still watching them, and livia plinth did not have the heart to speak any truths or lies tonight. perhaps as she was tracing the constellations in the sky, she’d catch a shooting star and at least her wishes would come true. “ nothing will happen to you .” the first wish slipped away in the quietest whisper. so quiet, it wouldn’t reach the reaping the next day. but that was the point. every wish that livia plinth ever had uttered had never returned. this one would be only kept between them, so no one could steal it away from them. “ even if they call your name.” her hand trembled slightly, and she clasped it behind her back. if they call your name, it’ll break me. “ i’ll be there for you. from now on, i’ll never leave you by yourself.” a wish, a truth, a lie ? “ because … ” a shaky breath. “ because i care about you … a lot …” and even if she didn’t know what she felt, even if livia plinth also did not know how to love anyone, she did care about hani. so much that she began counting stars and infinity in the sky, because deep down she knew, the answer scared her much more than the universe. even if it was an artificial one.
a closed starter for @camisadi when : post reaping ( after the celebration ) where: the tribute tower, district one floor
the light had ceased to bounce from the gold of her dress, and as the lights had dimmed it appeared to be painted with rust. the post-reaping party still hadn’t found its end, it never really did, as the noise and cheers would just fade and echo into the following days as capitolites would be drinking to their deaths, but cashmere couldn’t stand to withhold the facade any longer. the capitol’s darling was slipping, her smile trembling, faltering. fortunately, her truthful version was much more frightening than a crumbling facade, and it seemed like her exit caused more of a relief.
as she was making her way to her district’s floor, she didn’t expect to meet anyone here. even though quin’s appearance sparked a familiar memory, seeing the grown up version here only fitted the twisted reality of the capitol. “ quin. ” she smiled, more sincere than any other smile tonight. “ just letting you know, i do not plan to be mentored by you. in fact i refuse it.” first emmy and now him, district one finally managed to appear a little odd. “ if you still want to burden yourself with a useful task, maybe you could take care of emmy or something.”
tobias had never had a friend. not until livia. no one wanted to play with him because of his name, and the people that befriended only did it because of his name. he was a pariah while also being the most popular person wherever he had went. but it hadn't been the same for livia. things were different. they were different. they both knew what it meant to be bear the weight of names, a legacy too strong, but sejanus plinth had died out and was never spoken of again and livia plinth might be more outspoken than sejanus ever got. it just didn't seem fair. to either of them. the silence had gone on for what felt like days and he was watching the broadcast of what was currently unfolding and he had his notebook out and trying to think of ideas for the games, how to help break an eternity of an arena. he needed to talk to plutarch, but he was unreachable as of now. there were too many eyes on him and his family. when he hears someone coming up towards his apartment he knows who it is. no one knew that he had lived here, his 'official' address had always been snow's mansion, but his apartment was sacred. "livia." he said, his voice more drawn in, unreadable. his arms crossed as he looks at himself and his cousin on the screen. the picture perfect smile, modest, open, diligent, practiced, fake, pretend. the thing i said, she couldn't even say it out loud. he wished that he could be meaner. he wished that he could take the bite first, but he never did. he knows that in many ways he deserved this. he deserved to feel whatever angry and raw emotion that livia had felt towards him. he wasn't a good person, and maybe she was right in the fact that he would never know how to love someone properly. his eyes peel from the broadcast, turning it off before turning to her. "i want to believe you." he says, giving her a sad smile. "when you bite, you bite with truths. maybe some lies, but there's always a truth." tobias had learned the art of observation from the likes of his grandfather, and then his father, who in turn taught tobias. if there was something about his grandfather it was that coriolanus snow was truthful, and tobias was never going to bullshit anyone. not even livia. when she asks him about stepping back from the rebellion he doesn't dignify her with a face, or even a move. he just looks at her for a moment in the silence. breathing in and out before going. "you know i can't do that. i've been a spy for twelve years, livia. i've put so much work and effort into the cause. i'm not the only one that has eyes on me that's a part of it. are you going to tell them to stop to? to say fuck you to all their efforts?" tobias wasn't one to curse, but it felt appropriate. when it came to things about the rebellion it was where tobias was most passionate : he was willing to die for the cause. in fact, he knew that he deserved it. "and what kind of bullshit is that, 'if i still mean something to you,' of course you do. you've made it clear we'll never see eye to eye with each other, and i've accepted that you think that but i am still on your side because we are still fighting for the same side and i respect you—" i just feel like you don't respect me. he sighs, looking away, the palm of his head rubbing against his eyes, the headache that started yesterday is persisting and all he wants to do is lay down but he knows that he can't.
livia had crossed a line. she always did, she always tried with tobias. even when she was still foolishly naive, more innocent than she’ll ever be again, all of it was tainted by a sharp tongue and a mean streak. one needed that when it meant to be haunted by her own legacy. and even if she hadn’t needed it, she was still her father’s daughter, words like fire, and intentions disguised as cold truths. ill-intentioned truths that were sometimes worse than lies. livia had thought she’d outgrown it, that she wasn’t a child anymore. but like back then, when she’d try to get a reaction out of tobias, half-fun, half-jealous that people at least pretended to like him, she continued doing it. trying how far she could go, until he’d snap. trying and testing if she’d still love her the same, or if there was a point that tobias snow would finally abandon her. recognizing the lies in the words she told him back in the train.
. we’re both gonna do great.
but livia hadn’t felt any of it. the spark of enthusiasm couldn’t pierce through clouded nostalgia. everything was covered in a thick veil of haze. she couldn’t look past it, recognize tobias, recognize herself. yet, all she did was to look for him. her best friend. the person she loved more than she’d ever love herself. the person she pretended to sometimes hate more than herself. the one who wasn’t swallowed by the haze but by the smoke of a fire she’d lit herself. “ no, i need you to believe me.” even now, when she was trying to be kind, she couldn’t be. she forced another one of her needs on him, only so that she could feel better, so she wouldn’t notice how her hatred for the capitol had twisted her. her gaze snapped to the monitor, and her stomach dropped. a manufactured reflection of the events that had occurred, and she believed it and the version of tobias the capitol wanted everyone to see. his smile was as perfect as the illusion snow made flesh. panem today, panem tomorrow, panem forever. but the person in front of her, gave her a sad smile. one that said you hurt me, and reminded her of who she was. “ you know that i didn’t mean that. sometimes i don’t think and … ” her voice faltered, it was giving up on her like everyone else. tobias wouldn’t forgive her, he’d leave her like everyone else, like she wanted, like she’d always feared.
as the silence filled the room, her selfish request lingered between them. tobias didn’t move, and she couldn’t read his reaction, couldn’t tell if by the way he was breathing in and out, he’d either tell her to leave or just give another sad smile. finally, when he spoke, livia could finally react. lean against the wall, with her arms crossed and as if she didn’t need to hold her hand to prevent it from trembling. she wasn’t scared of him ( never, he was her best friend ) but she was scared to witness another shard falling from their half broken friendship. “ no, i only want you to stop, because i don’t want you to waste another twelve years. ” when livia spoke, her voice came out surprisingly clear. almost cold, and detached from who she thought she’d been. if she needed to be cruel for the sake of their friendship, she would be. we’re both gonna do great. - perhaps it was never meant to be both of them.
“ you’ll die an insignificant death,” she breathed. knowing he was willing to trade his own life for the cause . but this wasn’t enough, and she would lose her best friend and she didn’t know how she’d live with it. she’d rather have him hate her than to lose him completely. “ and with you many others. it’s better if you do nothing. you won’t get hurt. less people will get hurt because of you.” tobias rarely cursed, but he did now, and she wouldn’t be shocked if he did again, after what she’d just told him. but if he didn’t step back, livia feared that this wouldn’t be their last argument. another shard.
“ yeah, well, i’m matching your bullshit, because honestly i don’t see it. you tell me i mean something to you but you never show it, you can’t even do that thing for me.” livia knew it was childish, livia knew where his anger came from, she’d have reacted the same way. they still resembled each other at least in this aspect.
“ you’re lying, tobias. you didn’t accept it, you only think you do because i still haven’t been inconvenient enough. you only think you did because nothing’s happened yet, nothing that forces you to choose between your beliefs and me.” she took a ragged breath. “ you say you respect me , but do you think i’ll respect you if you continue being this fucking stubborn ? why don’t you realise that i simply want the best for you, why don’t you listen to me for once ? is it that difficult not to get everything you want for once ?! ” she paced through the room, ignoring that he was probably tired of this, of this conversation and everything would follow. “ what are the plans for the arena ? “ livia demanded at last, turning to face him, even if he didn’t look at her “ i need you to give them to me. ”
open : to everyone.
where : capitol party post - reaping.
frame was slight but tense, all wiry precision. shoulders square, jaw set. skin was pale in a way that wasn’t delicate so much as stark, like she’d been carved out of colder weather and forced into all this artificial warmth. dark hair fell bluntly to her shoulders, intentionally unmanaged, the ends uneven as if cut with a blunt knife and no mirror. it contrasted too sharply with the capitol lights, turning ink - black whenever she moved.
they’d tried to dress her up for the party. capitol stylists could only do so much. the dress they put her in was sleek, metallic, far too polished. she wore it stiffly, like she’d rather peel her skin off than adjust to it. jewelry was kept minimal, leaving only a thin choker she tugged at like a leash. faint calluses sanded down, a healing cut near her knuckle, a bruise half - hidden beneath makeup she’d let them apply but didn’t bother maintaining.
so when someone drifted close enough to count as company, her gaze cut sideways. snapped wire.
hearing her own name at the reaping must have twisted her morality enough that she finally noticed that she must’ve returned wrong. nothing inside her has settled where it used to ( it’s been since years if she were honest for once ). strangely, she found herself somehow relieved that she at least recognized a few familiar faces. despite everything. despite the tragedy of it all. perhaps this is how the capitol wanted to twist you, tributes and capitolites all alike. if you’ve already watch someone almost die, you could convince yourself as prepared, whether for your own death or that of one another. still, selin didn’t know if she was prepared to see someone else die. her own death, however, that she'd imagined many times. not how she’d die, not even how it’d feel, more what she’d not feel. no bottomless guilt, no memories, no name dragged by a bloody victory.
when selin spotted violet, she couldn’t help but to notice the way how the dress suited her. of course, only in the way the capitol wanted it to fit her. it was supposed to be an illusion of understanding, as if they’d ever understand a tribute, silver plastered on bruises that would never fade, and yet here they were, we know where you’re coming from, but we need to make it more digestible, you’re the exception, we see you and we care about you now. only that they didn’t. never. it was even worse when they remembered you.
she was wrapped in white silk. people from district eight only knew it by touch, never by the right to wear it. selin felt like she was choking in it, fingers lifting to the silken bow, tied too tightly to her neck as she stepped towards violet.
“ how long do you think they'll make us stay here ? ” she asked, trying to keep a casual tone, in a pretend casual atmosphere . “ though i doubt they’ll let us leave any time soon. but even after the party ends, there isn’t really anywhere to go anyway …”
he found himself in the odd predicament of wishing to be able to extend some sympathy, but both his pride and the shooting pain in his leg preventing him from it. he stood hunched over, weight off the bad leg for as much as he could manage, a hand pressed to the wall for aid. the thing was, he'd never particularly disliked eden. in his ever-present mission to just not pay attention to victors unless forced to, eden had been an afterthought at best until she started pulling on this thread and refused to let it go -- why the fuck would she even think he was faking it?
regardless of reason, he wasn't saved from her prodding. he braced himself against the wall, to both cope with the pain (ever-present, curling up his leg like thorns), and simply the sheer annoyance of having to deal with eden once more.
"this leg's already broken in three places, eden. if i kicked this thing with my good leg, i'd have no leg left to stand on," he lamented in reply. he was trying to not let his anger bubble to the surface, or to at least not aim it at her. he wasn't particularly close to succeeding in this goal, though, as the irritation could be read from him like the sweat off his brows.
in what was almost an act of defiance, he dragged himself over to take the space next to her, leaning his back against the wall at her side.
"you're just bitter because i would've put on a better show than you did, for sure," he said, surprisingly nonchalantly. it was easier to give into a feigned career-like arrogance than it was to pick her up on the other part of her words. that he was a coward. that he should've volunteered. that hit him as something icy that spread from his straightened shoulders all the way down his spine. she didn't know what she was saying. he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of actually knowing why that one stung.
her eyes tracked his performance, the dragging of his injured leg, followed by the dramatic collapse against the wall he apparently needed to support himself. this was the part where the audience's smiles would soften into pity as they watched icarus cross deliver the role of his life. but eden only scoffed, her lips twitching upwards. perhaps she was supposed to clap now, maybe then icarus would finally drop this act, realising she wasn’t the one she needed to fool. as if.
her expression dropped with her gaze, and as he lied, she couldn’t help but look at his leg again. surely, she’d heard that he claimed it was only broken in two places. odd.
“ of course, you’d do that as a liar. the greatest pretender.” she leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms, resting her head against the cold surface “ i think a real injured person would not use that leg at all, no ?”
observing the ceiling she made it a point not to pay any more attention to him. the job was done. whatever needed to be said had already been said. the moment he took the space next to her, she immediately stepped away, her gaze already fixated on the door, she was ready to leave. then the cold of his following words slid down her spine, and she turned around. reason splintered into hesitation, and hesitation turned to anger. only in two steps she was on him, and leaned in closer, allowing another second to pass before she shoved his supposedly damaged leg against the wall, her own leg pinning his in place as his collar crinkled under her tight grip.
eden wished she could believe she snapped. but the violence had stuck to her since the arena. a dead body she didn’t know where to bury. not beneath the rotten glamour of the capitol, nor the steel of district 6.
“ so that’s what you think ? you can’t even fake that damn injury and you’re telling me you’d have put on a better show ?” she dragged him closer, and she could almost see how her face contorted in the reflection of his eyes. “ and what if i told you the show never ends ?” she hissed. “ what if I told you that when the games are over, everyone loses and you. you just somehow made it out alive ? that’s all you get” the capitol might not get you the first time, but it would make sure to end you the second time. slowly. “ and if the people you care about don’t leave you once they see who you really are, you make sure they do. can you do this alone ? with no single soul who gives a damn about you ?” she drew a breath, the words tasted like her own blood.
“ maybe you’re right.” her fingers were trembling but her grip remained tight “ maybe you would’ve put on a better show. because you don’t have anyone to lose. or anyone who’d bother caring about someone like you.” at this point, eden didn’t know whether she was talking about icarus or herself, but it somehow hurt the same way. “ and if you ever did, i’m sure you already lost them to that pathetic act of yours.” silence.
“ again. why didn’t you volunteer back then, you fucking coward ? there were enough chances, but you’re just loud like an empty can, even now you wouldn’t even dare to step into that arena.”
WHO: alden & @vilebodys (cashmere) . WHERE: capitol party WHEN: post reaping TW: smoking
No matter how many times stylists slick back his hair or powder his nose it feels unnatural. The make up, the fancy clothes... They serve as a faux skin as to what the Capitol wants people to see. They want people to view the games as both a punishment and a reward... They want people to view the bloodshed to be viewed as a necessary evil. He's got a hand running through his gelled and crunchy hair, trying to comb the gross material out with his fingertips and a cigarette in the other when unexpected company joins him.
it seemed as if the light bounced from her golden dress, as if every source that was somehow meant to encapsulate hope, wanted to flee from the tragedy she refused to become. back then, and now. yet, the smile lingered on her lips easily, plastered and shiny as the sweet taste of some capitol lipgloss tried to be swallowed. of course, it was another product, that oh-so-sweet cashmere dupont, capitol’s darling, was expected to promote. as if her name, and more important along with her brother’s, hadn’t been called out barely one day ago. as if the same sickly sweet taste did not linger even then, trying to coat her tongue. always a product, always a tribute, always a tragedy. forced or not.
“ your hair will fall off if you keep doing that. i don’t think a bald head will suit you. but to be honest, that whole outfit looks a little forced. ” she said, her lips still curled into the usual smile. they’ve all been dressed up to die. some simply wore it a little better than others. “ no need to worry, you at least get the honor to be a mentor.” cashmere shrugged, her voice falling mindlessly, ever so distant from reality. “ you don’t even have to be a good one, or do anything . we’ve all done this before. we’ve all won once.” and only one will win the second time.”
characters whose philosophy is “if i cannot be wanted, i will be needed and if i cannot be needed, let me be used until there’s nothing left of me.” thank you for everyone’s attention. falls off stage and dies
who: gloss dupont & cashmere dupont ( @vilebodys ) where: in the tribute tower post reaping
Gloss waited until the door slid shut behind them and the seal clicked, that soft, mechanical snick that meant no cameras, no microphones, no Capitol voyeurs pretending they weren’t salivating over every tremor in a victor’s voice. Then he exhaled. Not gracefully. Not theatrically. Just… out. Like someone had cracked a rib.
The suite in the Tribute Tower gleamed gold and glass, polished within an inch of its life. It felt like a mausoleum. Gloss didn’t sit. He didn’t pace, either. He stood in the center of the room, hands braced on his hips, spine locked too straight; the poised Capitol darling he’d been trained to perform as, except for the part where he wasn’t performing anymore. “Okay,” he said, voice low, stripped bare of its usual glitter. “Enough of the act.”
He looked at Cash at last, really looked at her, not the version he kept beside him on red carpets, but the girl who’d grown up in the same house, under the same roof, in the same womb, under the same noose of expectation. His twin. His other half. The one person he couldn’t protect from this because she had walked straight into it. “Cash,” he said, quieter this time, “what the hell did you do?” He dragged a hand through his hair, restless, almost angry - but not at her. Never at her. “You were supposed to let me go in. If one of us had to… it should’ve been me. But you-” His voice cracked around a word he didn’t want to use. “You jumped. You didn’t even look at me.”
He stepped closer, close enough she couldn’t dodge the weight of it. “I can’t watch you die in there. I lived through that once with you and then with Emmy. I’m not-” He swallowed hard. “I can’t do it again. Not with you.” A beat. A breath. No armor left. “Talk to me. Please. Just...” Perhaps he only realized just then how selfish he was being. How he was saying that he couldn't stomach her death, like the thought of Cash watching him die didn't tear him apart the same. "Why?"
the automatic door slid shut and the curtains of a doomed play were falling with the conclusion of the final act. cashmere would no longer need to act. she couldn’t , not as she watched gloss unfold. unravelling so far, that all she could see was that boy with his silly round glasses, somehow always slipping down. the one who she’d hoped would return unchanged after the games. the one she begged her parents to bring back, when the screen held him captive in a reality even the torture they’d endured could’ve prepared them for. the only one who hadn’t cheered when her name was called.
" i .. i'm not - " cashmere wanted to protest, to tell him she wasn’t acting now, that she hadn’t planned every second down to this breath. but when gloss looked at her, the void that had built inside her collapsed, and the edges of her vision threatened to blur. the ache of already missing him, pushed through all the emotions she’d expected to come first. it cut like glass embedded in her chest, scraping blood with every word he spoke.
she drew a breath, her entire body trembling. the words that were supposed to stitch an argument had been lost when stardust rained across the stage. it was glitter. plastic. lies. instead she stood there helplessly, realising that she was the reason that he looked at her that way. her gaze dropped, focusing on her unsteady breathing rather than his voice breaking. he had every reason to be angry at her. she broke that promise that never shattered under the cruelty of their parents. we stay together. we survive together .
never apart. never alone. but cashmere had asked the capitol to bury her.
“ we don’t make different choices, i just did the same thing you would’ve done. ” she finally said, still not looking up, still ignoring the warmth drowning in the blue of her eyes. “ only i was lucky and they didn’t say my name.” when emmy’s name was called she felt a sick sense of relief, because she knew it meant that emmy couldn’t volunteer for her. that she could make sure gloss would be safe. perhaps for once the odds had bent to her favor.
“ i’ve never agreed to this, gloss.” their decisions were rarely finalized by words. they always simply knew. they always simply agreed. even now. one would give their life for the other, because loving someone meant knowing them completely.but perhaps this time because their love was so strong, it blurred the final step of deciding who would fall. “ i would never agree to any harm coming to you.” her voice broke. cashmere dupont victor of the 64th games didn’t cry, unless she needed to. her tears were deliberate. but a tear fell now truthful, helpless. the same way it had fallen when she’d once asked why their parents couldn’t love them. now she cried because she was loved enough that her death would matter to someone.
" what else was i supposed to do ? "she brushed the tear away in a sharp motion, ashamed of the lie she was hiding. “of course i couldn’t let you go in there alone. it was the only option. going in with emmy would’ve been worse.” she noticed the way he stepped closer, how she wanted to take his hands ( a safe pair of hands ), but he would notice how her own trembled under the weight of an unspoken truth she would take to her grave. “i couldn't protect you the first time you went in there but this is my job, this is what i'm supposed to do .” she tried to smile, but it broke at the corners. “you can do it ... for emmy ... i’ll help you, this time you won’t need to do it alone. i’ll be with you.” until …
“ i’ve only got you to lose. nothing else matters to me anyway. ” cashmere had always believed there was only supposed to be one of them anyway. a single soul split by accident or mercy into two bodies, because even the fates would never be as cruel as their parents were. because they knew one soul alone couldn’t endure all that pain. so one soul became two. and cashmere born only four minutes later would become the second part. the one who was supposed to shelter him from the pain. the one who wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place. “ you’ve got more to lose than me. you deserve that chance. i know that you want to mend things with emmy. i know that you still can.” i know that losing you would be worse than death. “ you know that i’m right and i don’t regret anything. i’m not afraid, not of this, only of the things that could happen to you. i don't want to watch you -" she halted, as if speaking it out loud would ruin her whole plan. " i just, i just need to do this. so please let me do just this one thing for you ... please ... please promise me that i can do that for you. ”
