WATTSON ELLORY

who you callin' pinhead?

[sloane-cruise]

@wattsup​

Caesar turned out to be more useful than she could have imagined. Late in the afternoon, her legs tired he’d urged her toward the west edge of the park. The enclosures there were loud and boisterous. She’d rested between a pair of bushes, trying to refasten her makeshift bandage, and within a half hour he returned. This time in his hands there weren’t bugs but fruits. Together they had a makeshift dinner, trading bits back and forth. When she tossed a pit at him he’d rolled onto his back, grabbed at his feet, and let out what she imagined was the monkey version of laughter.

Afterward, they’d taken back to the southern stretches of the park. She’d hoped to reach the sheep and pigs by dark, bunker down there, but night fell fast. Instead she’d taken shelter for the time at the playground, beneath the slides. Caesar swung from monkey bars in joyous circles before taking turns at the carousel. He was loud but she imagined any passing tribute might just assume he was a wanderer from the exhibits. She was resting her head against the cool metal of the slide when Caesar came bounding in front of her. He’d noticed the intruder before her and come to stand between them, teeth barred. She focused behind him, sitting tall and trying not to look like someone with an open wound to her shoulder. “I’d hold back there,” she said. “My boy has already taken on an ostrich today.”

[wattsup]

Wattson had been tired of running. He knew he would need to stand and fight at some point if he wanted to make it home. Silence had filled the air thus far on their second day, not cannons to be heard thus far. That needed to change. Not enough had sounded after the bloodbath, which meant more people stood in between him and home. By now the amber hologram, he was convinced it was one, horizon streaked above him. Sera had already left once the cost was clear from the back, leaving Wattson to exit out front. Lady Luck needed to spread her wings, and who knows, maybe she could find something for him.

As he exited the shop and walked back, another burly black figure stood before him. "Fucking hell" he grumbled, hearing the stranger's voice speak up. "Look, i'm not here to dance with the ape. If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you like I did with the capitolite back there" he said in reference to the Cornucopia. Trying to make the most of it, despite his knife tight in his grasp, he asked, "you got a name? I'm Wattson, District Three." It was a shit introduction, but he wanted to know her name at least. It was the least he could do before something arose if at all, not that he was inching for a fight with that beast in front of him.

[when-the-canary-sings]

She didn’t know how long she’d walked, fingers tightly wrapped around the blade of one of her shiny knives. The sound of monkies and water disappeared and the further away she got from her hidey tree, it seemed there were more and more plants. Plants and bugs, but even those disappeared after some time and she came into view of something - much like the zoo itself - Seraphina had only seen in books. Swings and slides? a Playground? In the middle of the arena? She paused, looking around herself. Was anyone else around here? Was this a trap? Tentatively, ever so slowly, she moved onto the softer ground that surrounded the facilities. 

Seraphina’d been playing, for how long, when she saw someone else approaching. Jumping from the swing, she landed on her feet, stumbling and scrapping her hands as she was knocked back to reality. She was in a fight to the death. The rabbit she’d see watching her hopped over and followed as she darted for the climbing set. “Shoo.” She hissed at the creature, smirking as it didn’t follow her up the stairs, but quickly the smirk was gone as again she realized someone was approaching and she didn’t know if they were friendly or not. Slipping into a tube slide, Seraphina anchored her feet against the sides, trying her best to keep herself hidden within the colorful tube. But as she looked down, trying to see if she could see the other person pass, she noticed the rabbit at the mouth of the slide. “Go away.” She whispered harshly. Whoever the newcomer was would surely wonder what the rabbit was staring at, Seraphina knew she would have. 

Carefully, ever so carefully Sera dug into her pants’ pocket where she’d stashed them and pulled one out. She’d already killed one person - on accident - and she was covered in blood, brown and crusty from the day before. She told herself she could do it again if need be. Especially from the top, she’d have the upper hand, that’s what the rule was right?

@wattsup​

[wattsup]

Wattson awoke that day in the cave from squelching chills from his half dried clothes to the glaring heat that cast overhead in the dome. The snake he had kicked earlier didn’t lay by the dome’s edge where he left it, causing him some concern as he stepped out, unsure where it laid. But it seemed like there were bigger problems, namely, was that a fucking puma? Wattson couldn’t be sure, since he had never seen a large cat before in person, but surely didn’t want to find out. Attempting to not make any sudden movements that would earn its attention, the plan was going accordingly until the same snake reared its head. Muttering under his breath, he declared war on the beast. “Let’s do it baby, I vaguely know the law.” Wattson hadn’t been a zoologist or anything, but he knew that humans were higher on the pecking order than snakes, and he wasn’t about to be taken down by one.

Swiping his knife out from the side of his foot, the metal thankfully didn’t sting thanks to the heat, although he felt it quickly. It stung at his amassing sores that he obtained from the night before, namely the one on his exposed bicep and hand searing, The water had thankfully helped with the swelling, but injuries like these were the kind that took days to go down. On his nightly trek back, however, before mistakes were made, he recalled the gift shop when passing by. Maybe there was a first aid kit underneath the register for supposed employees, like what they had at the factory offices. He could only hope he’d make it to find out, but first he would have to skin the son of a bitch before him. The familiar telltale rattle chittered from behind, turning to see the coiling snake. He knew it had been the same, for it had a cut lining its side from where it hit the dome’s edge, a bit of blood dappling its bastard eye too. Hissing, it readied to strike, with Wattson readying himself, knife in hand, until he saw a black mass dip towards his way.

But it wasn’t the puma, instead it had been what he least expected. A vulture. Was this the gamemaker’s sick way of saying he was marked for death? Dipping from the sky, it barreled its way towards him, Wattson bracing himself to dive to the side, but once he made contact with the blistering sand, feet away from a cactus mind you, it seems as if it hadn’t gone for him. It had gone for the snake instead. Picking at it and stomping, the snake laid dead soon afterward, the vulture spreading its wings territorially when Wattson reached out for the snake. He could harvest its corpse for materials, maybe venom? Although bigger problems seemingly arose, as the puma had graced its green eyes onto no one but him. The vulture seemed to have sensed this too, taking flight. Stumbling to his feet, he quickly grasped the deceased snake by its neck, running to the exit as the puma sprinted his way. The vulture flew by his side, Wattson muttering, “fuck off, fuck off, fuck off” under his breath. Couldn’t it see that there were bigger fish to fry? Like the giant cat that was mutually chasing after both of them.

The bird fell back, leaving the snake to the boy, circling back and seemingly heading towards the large cat, clawing at its face. It wasn’t of Wattson’s concern, him reaching the exit to find the bird and cat still after him. “Shit! Shit,” swiveling, he ran past the cuddly creatures, not being able to risk bringing it to them, and towards the playground. There he spotted a familiar face, ignoring her words, he quickly shouted, pointing to the shop doors. “Run! Get inside!”

[wattsup]

A Dance Amongst Rattlesnakes

Last night hadn’t went as desired, but one thing was certain. He was alive. And that was a start. Walking away from that encounter with nothing but his pride handed to him a tad by the beautiful career, it only served to harden him. Wattson knew there was a time to be jovial, it was something he deflected on for so long, but he couldn’t hide behind that mask for long. After all, because of his electrical scarred hands someone laid dead in the cornucopia, only disappearing from site from a clawed hand. Her face had shown in the sky, proceeding after a face he had hoped to not see. She had been up there amongst what couldn’t have been the real stars, but still broke him just the same as he strode back to his oasis. He should have protected her. She had been from Three too, and it certainly wasn’t a good look to allow her to die so quickly. She would have to meet her fate eventually if he had any hope of making it out. It was only natural. But were Addison and Xavier safe? Was little Tera with bolts, or did Electra and Theodore protect them in his place from the crowds. 

Or what if worse broke out, what if their windows crashed and burst in flames like it had done when he was alone? No. It couldn’t happen, not without him there at least. Damn if Three’s bolts are rusted and have combusted inward into itself, but he won’t let the Ellory machine fold to their hands. Their factory was a sanctuary, and it would stay that way. That’s why he had to make it back home. If riots broke out, damned be at least then he could be there to protect his brood. Because only god knows where his parents were, if they were safe, or were they under the thumbs because of the Eagles activities. They had been subjected to speculation for some time, seeing their children less and less. In moments like these, as the girl from Three’s face faded into oblivion, he tried to imagine their faces. What motivated him was the prospect that their faces won’t appear in the sky so long as he didn’t. He had taken the long way back as his mind sank into itself like quicksand. 

The first day was closing out; he was alive, not a scratch on him fortunately, and only a knife. There were worse positions to be, but being alone certainly didn’t help. On his twilight lit trek back, the arena seemed too quiet, not a soul amongst him. It felt so small in comparison to others he had seen. The red pandas were just as cuddly, offering them a brief chin scratch as he contemplated his next move. Even though hunger had started to gnaw at his stomach, he wouldn’t dare consider harming them. Perhaps he would have better luck with the dome across, eyeing it tentatively. He was in the open here, and that was one of the most dangerous things you could be. Peering around to make sure the coast was clear, his large frame stalked into the dome cautiously. The chill of the wind immediately struck him. Black masses littered the top of the dome, unable to make out what they were immediately. Yet, towards the edge something had caught his eye, a cavelike structure that extended towards the back. He didn’t think twice, that being his goal. 

Stepping cautiously into the structure, his boot seeped into the sand underneath him, realizing it was clustered with an assortment of animals sparse yet overwhelming in the stature. He made sure to jog in a tip toed manner, probably seeming hysterical on the camera as his dreads bounced in stride. Making it near the cave, a snake had crossed his path, its attention turning to him as he cursed under his breath. Its coiled mass pulled back, hissing and aiming in striking distance, Wattson making the split decision to do something very ambitious yet stupid. Sliding his leg back, as the snake lunged, so did his leg, colliding with its body and knocking it into the glass with a satisfying thud. He considered attempting to stomp it out, but knew Olive would be cursing out the screen by now, so he hopped away back to the cave. The cave inside felt moist, making him cringe slightly at the smell. Well, bat shit wasn’t supposed to be appealing anyway. What did seem appealing to him inside the cold structure had been the well spring. 

Feet trampling one over the other through sand until he reached his destination, he shoved his knife carefully in the side of his boot before bending down and drinking greedily, water running down his Adam’s apple and staining the tip of his shirt collar. Chittering could be heard surrounding him, to which he looked up. The black masses had littered the walls above, having been alerted from his snake kicking antics and clopping feet, now dropped down with several aimed his way. The first had crawled up his shirt from behind, biting him square in the back of the neck to which he grasped, wacking it against the wall. Yet in the process, before it fell dead to the floor, it had bitten the corner of his right hand, making him grimace as it stung his skin. Another had bit the back of his bicep as he unsheathed his knife, turning away and swinging blindly. Having largely missed as he swung, fortunately, he felt his blade knick some of their wings. It felt satisfying, but he knew his luck wouldn’t last long. The running water behind him called to him, and in that moment he did as he feared. He sank, not in quicksand, however, but into the water behind him. 

It wasn’t as deep as he thought it would be, however, finding only the base of his foot was covered, but it was enough. Using his hands, he flicked water in front of them with a wide grin, feeling like a child playing in a stream. Some bats fell to the floor, flapping wildly while others scrambled away with their screeching noises. Although he was soaked, and his hair wet, he stood there still after the chilling chaos ceased, basking in the afterglow. 

[velvettear]

Ask my muses anything 💌

Send 💬 + a rumor and my muse will react to it.

Wattson

Charmilly

Domitia

Florencia

[wattsup]

rocky-chiffon​:

Rocky stood still, didn’t move or flinch away. He was used to his father squaring up to him like this, it didn’t frighten him. Not in the slightest, which was probably a con rather than a pro at this point. “Don’t threaten my sister” he growled, holding the dagger tight on his right hand. 

He wasn’t expecting it, for some reason he’d decided that this kid didn’t have it in him, so when the rock collided with his head he stood in place for a second before he fell over. His body connected with the ground with a loud thud and then dagger fell out of his hand. “Fucking–” he started but he’d already lost his train of thought as the pain finally kicked in, and the blood dripped down past his eye.

.

He swallowed when the man before him said that, clenching his teeth. This wasn’t him. But he had to step out of that shell and shed it to become what he needs to, in order to get back to his Electra, his Tera, and even Addison too. Theodore shouldn’t have to carry that burden on his back of being the sole person to care for the younger five. 

No, none of it mattered. It all was just nuts and bolts, right? What mattered in this moment wasn’t that he had someone in here, what mattered was the knife that would carry him to victory. The rock upon impact made a sickening sound, a clunk that caused the man to go ridged then collapse. Dagger sliding out of his palm, Wattson didn’t wait to see if the man was okay. 

He was selfish. 

He grabbed the knife from his palm, blood leaking from the side of his temple down to the man’s vision. Stepping back, he watched him for a second before shouting. “Get up! You have to for her, go find her!” Tossing the rock to the man’s side, he then took off in a sprint past him, out towards the front leftward path. He didn’t want to stay for the arrows or the knives that could fly his way. He would come at night. Just as that man did when the Molotov connected to his kitchen window.  

[wattsup]

rocky-chiffon​:

Rocky didn’t understand half of what this kid was saying. But now wasn’t exactly the time to ask him to explain himself, and he didn’t particularly care all that much either. He just needed out of here, to go find Pebble before she took it upon herself to run. He might never find her then, might not be able to protect her.

He breathed heavy, and shoved him again, a little harder this time, not anywhere near enough to hurt him, he just wanted him out of his way. Rocky knew eventually it might come to hurting someone, killing someone even, but he wasn’t ready for that right now. “Go find another one” he repeated. 

.

Sighing, Wattson’s face down turned, pointing back to the Capitolite he just had killed after stumbling back a bit. Her body laid face down behind the duo; she never had a chance for the dagger compared to two large men before her. “You want to end up like her, huh? You want your sister to end up like her?!” Striding forward, his eyes narrowed tauntingly, forearm stern and readied. He understood Rocky, and if Tera were in with him, he would feel the same instinct to not let go, so he could protect her. But yet, the boy didn’t fight back. He didn’t seem to care that Wattson stood his ground, and that put a fire in his stomach. 

Wattson was reborn, rising from the ashes of his kitchen that burnt down that fateful day during the Alice riots. He had become what the man said he was, and wouldn’t back down. Because he knew how others viewed him. Wattson can’t control their narrative, but in this case he would. He wasn’t just an aloof boy, he was a force to reckon with; he wasn’t a fucking layup, despite what his six said. Raising his arm back, he swung with a ferocity straight to the elder man’s temple, pulling back to ready for another swing. As his arm fell, he muttered, watching for Rocky’s reaction. “Drop it and go protect her. You’re wasting your time here.” His sister didn’t deserve to lose her brother, and he didn’t want to be the one to rip them apart. Let someone like Dexter do it, but not him.

[wattsup]

ariadneah​:

The nightfall didn’t scare Ariadne. Even without all the fingers tied to her hand, she had moved all weapons into the gift shop and waited there, guarding from a safe distance and relaxing for a moment. She needed the respite, playing absently with a knife, ironically stabbing the space between her fingers. To show she wasn’t afraid of sharp blades. To show this has been an accident, not something that had to happen. To show she still had it and that she was unafraid. However, Ariadne stopped as soon as she noticed motion near the Cornucopia. She pointed the knife in her hand upwards and left the comfort of the air conditioning, hit by the warm night they were having. 

“Hey! What the fuck are you doing? Do you wanna die?” It was the Gamemakers’ child. She didn’t want to kill him. It didn’t sit right with her, but it didn’t mean she would let her guard down or be too nice. It wasn’t a reputation she wanted to build for herself. They were still at a fair distance. “What are you trying to steal?”

Stepping out from the side of the Cornucopia, out of hiding, he pushed back some of his dreads in his way to see the girl before him. Dagger glinting against their questionable moon above. Putting the dagger over his lips, he shushed, jogging slightly over to close the distance yet stopping, placing still a considerate amount of space but yet a comfortable one. One where they didn’t have to shout to hear each other. “Careful Ari, there could be others patrolling around here.” His traditional smile was lacking, yet his voice was softer, less cocky than typical showing sincerity.

Eyes flickering to her hand, he squinted his eyes brows, looking up at her. “You get that from the bloodbath? It looks like it hurts. But I’m glad you’re okay.” Meanwhile, standing in front of her, his blond caught the moonlight, back towards the Cornucopia, seeming unscathed as if he had just stepped off the pedestal. The only thing on him were light scratch marks through his shirt that rippled through the slight warm breeze and curious red fur. Seeing her in the state she was made him forget for a second about his mission, before he rubbed the back of his neck, asserting. “Ah yeah, sorry if I scared you. I was trying to avoid your, ‘friend’.”

[wattsup]

rocky-chiffon​:

“I don’t want a fucking rock are you taking the piss, mate?” Rocky growled. He knew people might think he was a bit dense, but he wasn’t that stupid. He stood tall, puffed his chest out a little to come across bigger, not that he needed to, size was definitely not an issue. Height on the other hand, could be the downfall here, he was slightly shorter than Wattson. “Just move, find something else” he said then, shoving him back slightly while he tried to move away.

.

Pressing his lips together, he couldn’t help but snicker at his words, raising his eyebrows before sputtering air out from his lips in disbelief. Was this guy even speaking English? “You missing a few bolts in there? I’m not trying to harvest your piss, you should save that for off the cameras.” A wide grin spread across his lips with the answer was clear as day. He was now officially fucking with Rocky. He made it way too easy, and as one of the elder siblings of six, he couldn’t help but instinctively respond back in that nature. It was in his hard wiring. 

With the tilt of his head back down, his jovial demeanor shifted, seeing the shorter boy puff his chest like a penguin. The boy had shoved him in response, seeming less harsh than before. The battle lines had been drawn, it just depending on who made the first move. “Go find your smaller boulder, dude. I just want the fucking knife.” It was clear his patience was starting to wane, as his lack of witty one-liners started to die out. Forearm flexing in hand with the decently sized rock, he attempted to show this would be one of his final requests. 

[wattsup]

rocky-chiffon​:

“Fuck off” Rocky replied. Was this kid delusional? As if Rocky would just hand over the dagger to him. He might be taller, but Rocky was bigger, stronger, and he wasn’t about to back down. He didn’t even really want the dagger all that badly. he wanted the axe, but it might help Pebble out later on, so he wasn’t giving it up.

“Get out of my way” Rocky said then, trying to get passed him without running into another tribute. Really, he didn’t want any trouble, he just wanted to go find Pebble, make sure she was okay and make a plan.

.

Scrunching his face as he approached, he scoffed, readying his rock. “The hell do you think I’m trying to do?” Seriously, was this guy as stiff as the rock in his hand? Wattson had been trying to do him a favor, offering a proper tradeoff. But it looks like the tribute didn’t appreciate his generosity. Shoulder ramming into his harshly as he attempted to dismiss him, Wattson’s right hand which clutched the rock roughly shoved the tribute back, eyes hardening as he stated. “I was trying to be nice, so let me try this again. That knife is mine, and this rock is yours. Got it? Or else this is going into the side of your face.”

[wattsup]

of hugs and daggers-

Wattson still was unsure of whether the timing was a part of the manufactured force field that he assumed had shaped the arena, despite it seeming like a simple outdoor area that you could easily walk out of, but a moon had hung over them. The canons were to start soon from what he presumed, as he held his dagger and maneuvered away from the red pandas he had been holed up with, with a scratch on the chin for good measure. He knew Olive wouldn’t have approved, but they seemed so sweet and to him didn’t have the traits of mutts that is. Then again, if she thought that was bad, she would not have want to see the one that laid on his lip for a solid half an hour as he drank water and hid, sleeping before it woke up, rolling on his stomach and stretching his arms, with Wattson mirroring the creature. Although they could be dangerous, they didn’t sense a threat against him and seemingly respected his space, as he did with the sloths who crept slowly around.

Abandoning his newfound ‘allies’, he made his way by the river, clinging to the sides until he reached the butterfly house, then dashing to hide behind the restrooms. Peering his head around, he made his way stealthily to hide behind a remaining podium. Now that it had been cleared, a large spool of wire clearly sat in the center. Bingo. Who knows, maybe if he were lucky he could steal more. That was until Ariadne had rounded the corner. He wasn’t sure if she had caught site of him in particular, but hoped if she did that maybe they still were on close terms. He knew many had a frosty outlook on the career, but frankly, he found her sincere, having a soft side for the girl. Holding his breath, he waited for her next moves, still behind the podium and crouched, knife ready to maim if need be. 

@ariadneah​

[vix-holt]

@wattsup​

Rocky ran for the axe first, but there was already a pair there, fighting, so he turned away. He had told Pebble to run and hide, wait for him and he’d come find her once he’d retrieved the weapon. He couldn’t get stuck in the middle of what looked like two careers, he had to make it back to her. He wanted the axe, of course, it was the only thing he had the faintest idea of how to use, so he could just leave now. But he was here, in the midst of it all, so he might as well try to grab something anyway. He looked down at his feet and noticed the shiny dagger a couple of feet away.

Rocky moved towards it, scooped it up and went to run away. He paused for a second, trying to figure out where Pebble had ran off to. He’d seen her, for a split second, knew the general direction, but the hesitation in his movements had cost him. He knew it, he could hear someone around him, the dagger still in its case, useless to him in that moment.

[wattsup]

The capitolite laid limp by his feet as he stepped over, swallowing at what used to be her, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of the man before him. Licking his lips, rock in hand, he approached slowly in a prowl, attempting to anticipate his movement yet not startle him either. Like a hunter stalking its prey. The enclosed dagger hung in an equal direction from them, forearm strained from his grip as his golden eyes watched the case and Rocky’s movements. 

Calling over to him as they both approached, he proposed. “Hey man, I’m not trying to have you end up like her. Let’s trade, yeah? Seems like these kinds of things suit you best” he offered, holding the rock out with a playful yet cocky grin. There was a hunger in his eyes that showed he wasn’t shy to get down and dirty, but also a hesitancy that seemed genuine: Wattson didn’t want to hurt Rocky. That is unless needed. It was his choice, run off to find his smaller Pebble or risk finding out what his name really means. 

[wattsup]

Heart of Darkness

Wattson Ellory had been alone, again. It was a role he had longed to forget, one that plagued his deepest insecurities that originated from when he was just a boy, alone with comics spread across his floor of victors in all their shining glory, watching games with fascination and yearning for his parents who were off doing god knows what. The radio had been his friend, instructing him on the basics of how to create power that he could wield for himself. And sure, it didn’t protect him when he needed it before, but Wattson wasn’t one to give up. He wanted to be like those victors who everyone looked up to, head held high and one who doesn’t give up. A fighter, like Chip. He felt as if he had been stumbling in life before Theo, and even after as they slowly came he wondered, had he been sinking into himself since the start, or was he coming out of his shell? Who was Wattson Ellory aside from his nuts, bolts, and the family that held him together? As the podium raised, he found himself in neutrals as if he were a factory worker once again, work boots reminding him of the ones he wore back home when he would walk there with Xavier and Addison. 

His versions of those two, Gemma and Niko, were a bit of ways across from him this time as the numbers counted down. Surrounding him was an environment he hadn’t anticipated, but one he had read of in picture books and heard when younger, as his mom would hold him and stroke his coiled head of tales of what she had learned today. Except, the stories he heard were of monsters, and yet surrounding him were ones in flesh and bone, not mechanical, not creations of the abnormal. The monsters he had to fear would later he realize be of course the crocodiles and lions, but mostly it was the people surrounding him. 

These are your enemies, Wattson. 

These are who you need to dispatch to survive. So you can get back home to your family. But would they want you back, or do they need you? Did they crave what Wattson meant for the family, or who he truly was? He had been a loyal factory worker, one who prepped morning dishes with Theodore for the younger ones. A friend to Electra who had sat on his bed and rambled about her day to countlessly without care as he worked on his robots. Tera had given him his electrical scars, and Addison shut the door on him often, while Xavier would let him in. And then there were his parents, the ones he clung to their earlier memories for salvation more than his latest ones. Those had been fueled with fighting, and he couldn’t leave them behind. 

Thirty seconds had already passed since his head had been underground like an ostrich. Clearing his head, he didn’t think of the words Olive had spat to him earlier about physicality, or of the role he were to play that Clover had reassured him about. He focused on surviving somehow. Because for once, Wattson wanted to know what it was like to roam Panem deep down not as a unit, not cloaked under the mask he wore, but face that had laid underneath. And so, he mentally reverted back to those days. 

Bombs went off outside his window, the heat of a fire had seared his door and scuffling of fists from peacekeepers and the intruder. The intruder called him a killer, selfish, and abhorrent. The radio played in the background, which he raised to drown out the sound. Laid under a comforter, light in hand, he read his comics of victors, wanting to feel that glory. And maybe that man had been right. Maybe he was right all along. As the countdown ceased, his legs leapt off the podium and onto concrete, which he stumbled slightly from as he ran. He searched for the spool of wire, yet there had been a mass of bodies, scuffling between each other, like the streets had been outside his window that day and outside his door. The heat of July, one he questioned whether it was manufactured or not, had bore onto his neck, beads of sweat dripping against his temple from anxiety as he had rushed forth. And through it his eyes caught the glint of a blade. 

A girl had seemed to have grasped the same idea, her brunette braided curved locks rushing forth ahead of him. He reacted in instinct, one that surged him and pressed down in his stomach in a low growl of nausea. Her head felt fragile in between his palms, ignoring the loud crack and squeal she let out. A canon sounded, and she fell limp by his feet as he stepped over. The words of that man rung in his head, that he had been a killer, selfish, and abhorrent. The radio had by then shifted into tales of a mechanical wasteland. Grabbing the rock that he found by her head curiously, he approached the tribute with the same name who had gotten to the blade first. 

The man was right; he was a killer. 

Selfish and abhorrent all at once, but thats exactly what barred him from the nuts and bolts he crafted. Or did they make him just that the drones from the mechanical horror shows that played on the radio, one and the same, as opposed to the glory guided victors that were under his thumb? He couldn’t confidently answer in that moment, and for once, Wattson was afraid to learn the truth of what it was to be an Ellory.

[wattsup]

Task Tallies

*Task 001. The Reaping: $100

Task 002. Daemon: $100

Sparrow

Task 003. Social Media: $100

Task 004. Opening Ceremonies & Training prompts: $100 per prompt; $100 per chariot outfit = $600

Suck up to a GM (Chip or Dale)

Speculate on Arena (Gemma)

Play with forcefield on rooftop (Chip)

Practice a skill from back home (Gemma)

Form an alliance you intend to keep (Gemma/Niko)

*Task 005. Skills Presentation: $100 x 6 = $600

Task 006. Star Signs: $100

Gemini

Task 007. Closet: $100

*Task 008. Skills: $100

*Task 009. Interview: $500 per completed interview; $100 for outfit

Task 010. Love Languages: $100

Quality Time (30%)

*Task 011. Arena Plans: $100

Sponsor Funds: $1,600

Skeeter Goldendod

TOTAL: $4,000

[wattsup]

ruleandinterviews​:

Oh well. Maybe next time there’d be a scandal to uncover. “Clover is certainly one of my very favorite Victors,” he said, as if he were confiding a secret. “You’re lucky to have her as a mentor. Perhaps to close out our time together, you could tell us why we can expect to see you as our next Victor.”

Nodding to his confession as if appreciating the admission of such a personal detail being shared, he smiled earnestly before answering his final question. “Because I know what I’m getting myself into far more than the other tributes combined. I was built for this, I was raised to be our next victor.”

[wattsup]

gemmaraz​:

Gemma thought about Niko and his likely disapproval of anybody she brought to him as a potential ally. The boy had made it clear before how much he wanted it to be just the two of them, but she harbored doubts about their overall potential as a duo. They were in no way lacking, but they were missing something. More was better, even if they would ultimately end up not needing whatever they acquired. “It works on my district partner and he’ll just have to deal with it,” she explained to him confidently. “I think we both knew I’d be the one finding us friends to work with.”

She gazed at what Wattson had created and was then holding it in her own hands. “You want me to try it? Oh no, oh no. You have to test it first!”

Although Wattson didn’t know much about Niko, part of him told him that he could trust the duo. They reminded him of Addison and Xavier, except friendlier, and the roles reversed, perhaps. There was still much to learn on about the two of them, but Wattson was confident on himself, and if he were to want anyone else to win, he thought a girl with a smile as bright as his would make for a great ally to go through hell with at least. Chuckling, he nodded, free hands now grabbing the copper rod he harvested from the wall and a knife, whittling holes in the sides for his hydroelectric experiment. “I can respect that. I’m like that too with my siblings, not that they appreciate my mouth all the time.”

Looking up at her hesitancy holding the newly crafted weapon, he chuckled, patting her shoulder with his free left hand. “Of course! Whats the harm in practicing with the unfamiliar? After all, you never know what they could throw us in there. For all we know, it could just be stick and spear city.” Smiling reassuringly as his hand returned to the rod, he sat up a bit before speaking. “If it’s too scary, we can always swap. I think the water one will be a lower voltage anyway.” Lifting his palm up to show her his electrical scars, he shrugged his shoulders, admitting. “Besides, I’m used to getting shocked here and there.” 

[wattsup]

ruleandinterviews​:

Calix chuckled; he wasn’t sure what exactly was meant by that — did this boy have a crush on Chip Foster? “Has Chip been offering you much help while you’ve been here?” he asked, raising his eyebrows, playful. A Gamemaker playing the role of mentor, now that would be a scandal, wouldn’t it? Perhaps the sponsors wouldn’t have a field day with this, but the Gazette would surely thank him.

.

With a shake of his head, knowing Calix’s aim to get him caught in something he didn’t want to say, he shrugged. “I wish, I don’t see him too often. The one time I did though, he said I’d be in great hands with Clover and Olive, and he’s right. Clover has been my guiding light throughout this. I wouldn’t know what to do without her, honestly.” Sure, the answer was a bit safe, aside from leaving Olive out entirely, but he’d rather play it safe than sorry. Especially with what happened after his training session and with the peacekeeper waiting clearly on the sidelines for him. 

[wattsup]

clover-c-darwin​:

“It’s not about anyone targeting you. This whole thing can play out in to ways for us. Ideally: your story will become one that brings people to tears: The tradgedy of parents having to work on an arena that might harm their own child. The less preferred one: It will turn into a conflict of interest and sponsors will be reluctant to sponsor you. I really hope for this not to happen.” As he continued talking she watched him gaze softening which each words. There was his motivation. She wasn’t surprised - in the end it always came down to family.

“That’s good. It’s on your shoulders to get home. Keep that drive.” Her words were plain and simply trying to get her point across: “You are going to have your whole team behind you, but once in the arena it is mostly up to you. never forget why you want to go home.”

Leaning back in her chair she observed him for a moment still not quiet getting a grip on him: “Try not to annoy the important people too much though. Provocative can be good, but that is always a thin thread to walk on.”

A more joyful smirk entered her face nodding her head along: “Seems like a plan. Some tributes will alway go nuts - try to avoid those as much as you can. Mental instability is what gets most of you killed. Regarding the spear: First of all can you handle a simple spear? if not it’s completely out of question. No fancy weapons is going to help you if you aren’t capable of using it correctly. if you know how to it’s a different question - it will need to be a simple construction though. We can only send you the material for it: what do you need for it? Is there anything you can cut?”

.

Smile faltering a tad, he shook his head with a sigh. “Most people have their own narratives of us pre-established, but that’s not who I’m trying to impress. I’m confident the sponsors will see me for who I am, for my brain that is.” Licking his lips, he rubbed the back of his head, smoothing the locks by his neck before dropping them, for once somewhat out of words. He was a great talker, but he could recognize when he was backed into a corner. “You know, when I was younger I always told myself if I went into the games, I wanted to be like Finnick Odair. He held his head up high, knew how to charm the crowd effortlessly, and was like a beacon for his district. I feel like with everything that’s happened in the past years, after Alice and the riots, we need that kind of figure. I want to try to give our district new hope if I do win. I don’t want to see more kids like my siblings, who lost more during these years than someone like me.” 

Shifting in his seat, his eyes rose to her, a deepness to his golden brown that echoed of storm clouds. “If I do, can you promise to keep an eye on them? I know you have a lot going on, being pregnant and all, but- I’m scared. I’m scared what will happen to them if I’m not there anymore.” His eyes watered a bit, gaze turning away before he sat up straight, jaw tightening as he blinked back tears, clearly uncomfortable with this display amongst others around him. He couldn’t have them thinking he was anything but strong, not with potential sponsors around. If he had to be strong, it had to be for them. Clover seemed to grasp that based on her softened gaze. And maybe it was a story well played out by now, but he wasn’t born just to die; he was born to create and build life all around him. 

She reassured him of his drive, earning a smile with a soft nod. “Thank you, for actually listening to me.” It seemed like Olive hadn’t the time, only focusing on outer shell, but to get to know him, you had to look at the bolts that held the cogs in place. And yet, as brief as that vulnerable moment had crossed his face, his wattage smile resurface, his demeanor completely shifting as if that hadn’t happened at her semi-playful words. Chuckling lightly, his eyes rolling at her concerns. “The only one whose coil I’ve snapped is Olive. Not that I really care. I’m pretty sure anyway all she liked me for is my height” he said with a simple shrug, not going on more about the fine details of why they had a falling out. 

Answering candidly at her line of questioning that rapidly followed, he pressed on, elaborating. “It’s a spear, shouldn’t be too difficult. Hell, a trident could work even with what I had in mind, but the aerodynamic structure of the tip would make it more simplistic, and I may need more wiring if I were to use a trident.” Getting easily side tracked, he perked up and restarted. “Yes, a spear I can do. Heavy things shouldn’t be an issue either, I worked at a factory back in Three with Theo before all of this. Just make sure I get some wire at least. I have tons of ideas aside from my passion project, but what I mainly need is wire. Sure a prebuilt battery would be fine, but I can always harvest from what I find around. Ugh, could you imagine if we got placed in a junkyard like the 73rd? Now THAT would be wicked.”