We're All Mad Here

Victor of the 65th Hunger Games, District 6, Runaway, Addict, Resentful, The Cloud has Lifted This blog is for an RP and may contain mature material, continue at your own risk.

[wren-golde]

Make Yourself a Spectacle| Self-Para

"And of course, we can't forget your miraculous rise from the dead last year," Caesar said, his bright white teeth smiling at Wren.  Stage lights blinded her so that she couldn't see the crowd of people in front of them, but she could hear them. Murmurs and giggles, oohs and ahhs.  An infinite sea of idiots, Wren decided.  She plucked at the skirt her Capitol stylist forced her into, it fit her body fine but it was still designed for Old Wren, even after a year of New Wren's presence.  "Before we end, I have to ask.  What is it like, even now, being back from the dead?  Is there anything more you can tell us about your absence?  We in the Capitol really are dying to know and you've been so tight lipped about the whole thing."

Wren turned to Caesar, a cruel smile sown across her pretty face.  She ignored his questions and turned the interview on him.  "Did you go to my funeral, Caesar?  I heard it was the social event of the year in District 6.  Surely you went.  We were such good friends after all, and you must have thought I was gone for good."

She had caught him off guard, as she expected.  And now he was trapped.  Everyone knew he hadn't gone.  From what she heard, her funeral had been a somber affair: family, a few dignitaries.  No friends through, Wren hadn't had friends since before her games.  He couldn't lie.  But everyone knew how the crowd would react when he confessed he hadn't attended.  Shock, outrage.  She was a Victor after all, even if she was a poor one.  Her rank deserved a certain amount of respect, and her death had been so young.  Yet this man who claimed to be a friend to all Victors hadn't attended.  It would enrage the audience.  But that would enrage President Snow.

"Oh, well," Caesar started, trying to fish his way out of the inevitable.

Before the brightly colored man could finish his response Wren flashed a smile at the crowd and gave a jolly laugh.  "Oh it's alright, Caesar, I didn't go either."

The audience erupted into laughter and Caesar joined.  And just like that any discontent the crowed felt had been soothed.  Wren gave a hollow smile, not that anyone would notice.  The interview was almost over.  The sooner it was over, the soon she could be back in her room, loosing herself in a bottle.  Alcohol, pills, or morphling, it didn't matter so long as it took her away, far away.

[wren-golde]

ooc:

Currently without a computer (yay for hard drive problems) but as soon as it’s back I’m planning on writing some Naima and Wren one-shots because I miss my girls like crazy (also possibly Parish or Brady one-shots).

(Also, just went and reread Parish’s death and that was a very bad idea.  Don’t go reread death posts, it will hurt.)

[wren-golde]

well never got around to doing those one-shots >.> hopefully soon though

[wren-golde]

ooc:

Currently without a computer (yay for hard drive problems) but as soon as it's back I'm planning on writing some Naima and Wren one-shots because I miss my girls like crazy (also possibly Parish or Brady one-shots).

(Also, just went and reread Parish's death and that was a very bad idea.  Don't go reread death posts, it will hurt.)

[naima-creek]

ooc:

Miss you all like crazy!  Hope everyone is doing well <3

[wren-golde]

My Body tells me no, but I won’t quit

Cause I want more, cause I want more

[laratits]

[wren-golde]

Submerge | Selfpara

Wren woke slowly.  Light streamed into the room through cracks between the curtains.  Her head was pounding.  The light stabbed at her eyes, sending waves of pain through her body.  It took several attempts for Wren to push herself up off the floor into an upright position.  

Where was she?  It certainly wasn't her room in the Training Center.  It wasn't any room in the Training Center that Wren recognized.  The room was so white.  White walls, white curtains, white bedding.  All white.  

All except the dark smears of across the white carpet.  Drops of dark red blood.  Streaks of black makeup.  A pool of yellow vomit in the corner.  What Wren could only assume was half a bottle of liquor soaked into the carpet by her feet.

How it had all happened was blurry, but one fact came rushing back to the broken mentor.  Her tributes were dead.  The swarm had taken them.  Wren had been completely unable to help them.  They had died and she had failed.

Wren remembered running down the Capitol streets after watching the footage, tearing the stupid blonde wig off her head and smearing the soft makeup off her face.  She had run, or maybe she had found a cab.  Then she was in a club, enveloped in darkness and noise so loud she couldn't hear her own thoughts.

It hadn't taken her long to find a dealer.  A handful of pills mixed with buckets of alcohol blacked out most of the night.  A few more vague memories came back as Wren pushed herself off the ground.  Borrowing a Capitolite's black eyeliner in the ladies' room, screaming while dancing on the bar top, smashing a half-empty vodka bottle to the ground upon entering the white room.

As she stood pain shot through her right leg.  She found the source of the blood.  A shard of broken glass was embedded in the bottom of her foot.  It hurt but she couldn't bring herself to care.

She left bloodied footprints across the white carpets.  There was a pair of blonde women passed out on the floor next to the bed, still dressed in clothes that Capitol women only wore to go out clubbing.  Maybe the vomit had come from them.

Wren had to get out of there.  She stumbled towards the door, stepping in the various colored pools in the carpet.  A packet of pills on the ground near the pair of women caught her attention.  It sat silver and shining on the white carpet floor.

Morphling.  She had never taken the pills before.  The injection were her vice.  And she had been clean, or at least tried to be clean for so long, or had she?  Had she even tried at all?  Before Wren knew it the pack of pills was in her hand.   

She felt a wave of nausea overwhelm her.  In moments a new stain was added to the white carpet.  At this rate it wouldn't be the white carpet much longer.

Wren pushed her way into the bathroom.  More white and another Capitol citizen sprawled on the ground.  Wren wasn't sure of everything that happened the previous night, but she knew these three would have stories to sell to the tabloids once they woke up.

Her reflection was foreign, as it always was.  Dark circles surrounded her pale eyes.  Her hands must have been shaking terribly (a reaction to one of the drugs she had taken, no doubt) when she applied make up in the dimly lit club bathroom.  There was dried blood crusted to her face, most likely from her foot.  She'd know when the stories of last night eventually made headlines.

She looked down at the pills in her hand.  Was she going to spiral down into morphling again?  She already knew the answer, she just had to convince herself.  It wasn't hard.  The pills popped through the wrapping easily, and she cradled them in her hands.  Staring hard at her reflection Wren brought the pills up to her mouth.  

With a long hard swallow Wren downed the Morphling and closed her eyes tight, waiting for the high to wash over her.

[aprilbeaujangles]

[wren-golde]

annakariinas:

Rooney Mara as Lisbeth Salander as Irene Nesser

She looked ridiculous, stupid, downright idiotic.  A long blonde wig, oversized sunglasses, and a trench coat.  That was her attempt at reimagining herself.  (x)

[two-red-lips]

[wren-golde]

It had taken several hours with top Capitol stylists, but the result was unbelievable.  Pin straight yellow tresses and sharp edged bangs across her forehead.  Makeup covered the marks of piercings and the dark bags that had made residence under her eyes.

And, best of all, no one would recognize her now.  She had gone the entire morning completely anonymous.  No paparazzi, no old clients, no Capitol fan rushing for autographs.  No Wren Golde.  (x)

[wren-golde]

I'm in my last week of the semester (next friday I'll be on a plane back to the US, wah), and on top of having about 6 essays to write my computer screen which had been threatening to die for the past few months finally kicked the bucket.  Hopefully I'll be able to get that fixed soon after arriving home (and bum off of my parents' computer).  Then I'll be attacking this rp with all the activity I owe it.  Love you guys!

[wren-golde]

Run, Run, Run | Selfpara

Wren strut down the Capitol sidewalk with her head held high.  Dark sunglasses protected her eyes from the harsh gleam of summer sun against the windows of Capitol skyscrapers.  Long locks of blonde hair hung over her shoulders, descending halfway down her back.  It bounced lightly with every step she took.

It had taken several hours with top Captiol stylists, but the result was unbelievable.  Pin straight yellow tresses and sharp edged bangs across her forehead.  Makeup covered the marks of piercings and the dark bags that had made residence under her eyes.

And, best of all, no one would recognize her now.  She had gone the entire morning completely anonymous.  No paparazzi, no old clients, no Capitol fan rushing for autographs.  No Wren Golde.  

Wren continued her strut, smiling to herself.  Maybe this was who she really was.  Anonymous.  No one special, no one the media flocks to, no on that killed people.  She was better now.  She felt almost as if she was floating, free of everything she had once been.  She was so much better now.

She had taken a cocktail of pills that morning, mostly the pink ones. 

Color were so vibrant.

She had so much focus. 

Every sound, every smell, every sight. It was so wonderful.  She missed nothing.

The Capitol family down the block was arguing about when the daughter was allowed to start dating.  The restaurant two stores down had just burnt a batch of fries.  The sound on the advertisements displayed the bright, glowing screens lining the streets was off by a fraction of a second.

Wren noticed it all.

Unfortunately that also meant she noticed the largest screen.  The one showing 24 hour live coverage of the games.  She tried not to notice.  She focused on other things happening around her.  The snippets of conversations she overheard, the distinct designs of passersby clothing, the many hues of hair color.  But avoiding the screen was impossible.

Especially when everyone stopped, pointing towards the screen.  At first there was a hush, then the crowd was gasping, cheering, and screaming.

Her eyes scanned the images above her.  Coverage of the games were spreading to the other screens, rapidly, one by one.

The tributes were under attack.

Darkness formed in the pit of her stomach as the screens displayed her tributes.  Ryan and Harper.  They had been together thus far in the games.  Protecting each other because Wren couldn't.

Wren felt her stomach churn.  Bile bit at her throat.  They were being attacked and she knew, she just knew, that neither would survive.

And she was right.  Boom, boom.  Two cannons announcing the death of District 6.

Ryan and Harper were dead.

Her fingers flew instinctively to her the back of her head and entwined themselves in her hair.  They tugged and pulled, twisting and digging into her scalp.  She tugged too hard and the blond hair began to slip.  As the pain of tugging began to build, rage ran through Wren like an electric track.  Dead, dead, dead.  They were dead.  Both of them were dead.  She hadn’t been able to do anything for them. 

So she ran.   

And she ran and she ran.

Out of the corner of her eye Wren saw a figure move.  Turning she found herself face to face with her own reflection, staring back at her from a store window.

A cruel laugh bubbled in her throat. 

She looked ridiculous, stupid, downright idiotic.  A long blonde wig, oversized sunglasses, and a trench coat.  That was her attempt at reimagining herself.  Who was she kidding?  She would never be anyone besides the pathetic drug addicted Victor from District 6.  She would never be strong or put together and neither would her tributes.  She would never save them and they would never live.  She was simply lying to herself. 

Wren was doing nothing but avoiding the truth.  She could hide her hair, she could don as many wigs as she wanted, she could cover up the scars and cake her face with makeup, but she’d always be Wren Golde.  A failure.  A pathetic mess.

Her hand flew to her face and ripped off the glasses, then the coat, and finally the wig.  She scratched at her face, smearing the makeup and leaving harsh red abrasions lining her face.

She was recognizable now, and people noticed.  Shouts and jeers.  Laughs and cries.  Sympathy for her losses, hostility for her failures.  She kept running.  Running from the games, running from the crowds, running from herself.

There was no ‘real Wren Golde’ no true self.  It was just a grand lie she made up so she could deny the truth:

She was nothing.

[wren-golde]

Discovering Atlantis | Elius and Wren

[elius-hart]

Elius lowered his gaze in response to Wren feeding off of his sentiments.  They were more than mean when he thought in a round-about fashion.  All of his life most of the people that he knew only seemed to care for themselves; their scrutinizing looks always being cast upon him as if he were some wounded animal.  It was not fair.  He did not approve of any action misplaced against him or anyone else.  Equality was always something that he strived to obtain from everyone but for some reason, it never worked out no matter how much he tried.

Shuffling further down the corridors, a weird smile crept upon his cheeks.  Hidden to Wren’s eyes, Elius kept the gesture long enough to let a bitter laugh flow out until speaking.  “They are more than mean.  They look at me weird.  They say things behind my back; they tell me that I am crazy.” he chuckled again, dry emotions shaking his body.  “I am not crazy.  I am Elius J. Hart, and I am definitely not crazy.”

Pulling the blanket further around his shoulders, gripping it tighter than it would go, he turned to look at the girl again curiously.  With an eyebrow arched, he nodded and turned back around as he walked.  Friendship was a glorious thing.  In loneliness, it was everything.  To have someone dear, to be loved – it was all a foreign concept to him.  Elius did not feel that he loved anyone but he did feel the closeness that amity allowed.  Even the shards of it left behind, like the ones that Wren spoke about.

Speaking in past tense was a bad sign to begin with, let alone the disparity that followed.  “Trent sounds like a good name.  It’s strong.  Like a boulder.” he noted, continuing to saunter along the walls as he spoke to her.  But Elius could sense something else behind Wren’s words.  There was something of heartache in her tone as she spoke.  Then the sudden switch to present tense cued the Victor into something else.  Pausing, he tilted his head to turn and look at her.  “Why?  Why are you no longer friends?” the young victor posed, taking the left like she mentioned.

And while he waited for a response, his eyes scanned the room to find Claire.  Nearly empty except for the occasional sponsor walking around, Elius’s heart began pumping quickly.  Where could Claire be?  She had to be here by now.  Wildly walking around the room in desperate search for Claire, he only turned to look at Wren with a hopeless look on his face.  She wasn’t here; his best friend had deserted him and now there was only this girl – just as broken and confused as he was. 

Reaching his hands up and running his fingers through his long, wavy locks, he groaned in distress as the shroud around his shoulders gently floated to the ground.  His one guard had floated away and now he was defenseless.  Not knowing what else to do, he ran to the girl and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, chest moving quickly in deep breaths.  Staring deep into her verdant eyes, he began begging.  “Please help me.  Please.  I don’t know what I did wrong for her to not show up.  She’s always here.” looking around again madly as if Claire would be standing there, his anxiety only heightened.  “Please fix this.”

[wren-golde]

"I believe you, Elius.  You're not crazy." Wren said, though she wasn't quite sure.  She had never met a Victor who wasn't at least a little bit crazy.  There was Lila who liked to knife people, Burton Ashleen, Keegan, Harrison, Jasmine, Aleks, Calloway, all battling for their sanity.  Even Minnie hadn't been 100%.  And of course there was Wren herself, the poster child for crazy.  But she didn't say any of this to the man beside her.  Sometimes it was better not to know.  "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

“Trent wasn’t a boulder, but he was strong,” Wren said.  “He was more of an anchor.  My anchor.”  He was the one who kept her steady during their childhood, then again when he saved her from herself a few years ago.  But now he was gone and it was all her fault.  Elius asked why they weren’t friends anymore, but the truth hurt too much.  So she lied instead.  “The games, I suppose.  They change people.”  Before she had to say anymore on the subject of Trent, they had reached the lobby.

It was empty.  There was no pretty woman named Claire.  There was no real Wren Golde.  There was no one.  Wren felt a hollow drop in her chest.  This was wrong, all wrong.  There was supposed to be something.  Answers, comfort, someone, something.  But there was nothing.

There was always nothing.

As terrible as Wren felt about the empty lobby, it was nothing compared to how Elius reacted.  He was absolutely broken.  He was practically hyperventilating.  Wren didn’t know how to react.  She should help him, but how?  Wren wasn’t exactly good at comforting people.  Her efforts usually met opposite ends.  But before she could do anything, Elius came to her.

Wren froze as the man wrapped himself around her.  Her muscles tensed and her jaw tightened.  It had been so long since anyone touched her.  She had put so many boundaries up.  Her family knew better. Trent had given her space as she needed it.  Burton had never hugged her or held her.  Minnie used to hug her, but then she died.  The only people who touched her were the men from the Capitol.  That was vastly different than this.  After a moment she relaxed into his embrace.  Elius was just scared and looking for her help, he wasn’t one of the Capitol men coming to her for their own pleasure.  He was different.  She was safe.

Not sure what the appropriate response for this situation was, Wren reached up and patted Elius' back in a way that she meant to be comforting but the motion felt awkward and unfamiliar.  

"Maybe she's just late," Wren said, but she had the terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach that it wasn't true.  There was something wrong here, but she couldn't figure out just what.  A foggy idea started to form, but she ignored it.  “It’s okay, Elius, you’re alright.”

[from-the-capitol]

Cannon # 13 - Harper Reed

Deceased: Harper Reed of District 6

Killed by: The Gamemakers

How tragic, folks. After accidentally killing her lover, Harper herself succumbed to the tide of the lake. Whether it was the shock of Ryan’s death or pure exhaustion we are not sure, but Harper lost all ability to move her body and sunk to the bottom of the lake like a stone. Within minutes, her cannon had also sounded. This is such a sad ending to their love story, folks, but we in the Capitol are glad they died together.

Para can be found here.

[wren-golde]

"Oh..."

[from-the-capitol]

Cannon # 12 - Ryan Saunders

Deceased: Ryan Saunders of District 6

Killed by: Harper Reed of District 6

The swarm found our lovebirds asleep, and they had little time to react to the onslaught of bugs. The two took off and dove into a lake – which was a technique we saw from several other Tributes including Alaricus Keir and Amber Mason. While they succeeded in avoiding the swarm, what they did not expect was how far the tide of the lake would take them. The two were swept far out, and the tide was against them. After several minutes of trying to fight their way back to shore, Harper’s arms gave out. She clung to Ryan for her life, inadvertently holding him under the water. She didn’t let go until his cannon sounded and she realized the mistake she had made. How tragic!

Para can be found here.

[wren-golde]

[wren-golde]

Discovering Atlantis | Elius and Wren

[elius-hart]

Elius could take an educated guess as to the background of the young woman.  Wren, a Victor, was also one of the survivors that had their demeanor and spirit ripped apart while within the arena.  Besides the enigmatic aura she admitted behind her eyes, there was a certain void that pulled up when looking at him.  Almost as if she was looking past him – which was nice to consider even if it was untrue.  That would mean that he did not have to worry about her taking a face-value analysis.  He liked those kinds of analyses.

Other than that, Elius nearly felt unstable in her presence.  She was wound up, tattered, tested, and equally unsound.  He could tell that much.  Fearful that even the smallest of lapses around Wren would cause him to spiral off again, his guard had to be wide and ready to combat anything that happened.

Yet he caught a glimpse of a spotty smile, his eyes widening a bit at the unexpected behavior.  Though it vanished as quickly as it appeared, he shrugged his gaze to the side and made sure to try not looking in her direction again.  Promises or not, Elius could not afford to believe anyone but himself and Claire anymore. 

A long sigh slipped out of his mouth, shaky with a reply of his own.  “Okay.  Okay, I’ll hold you to keeping your word but if—if you, uh, do something I won’t take kindly to it.  Wren.”  He warned with a small voice.  Although it was not a proper threat, it all held true.  Elius could not handle the pressure of judgment all alone. 

Though how could he resist speaking fondly of his best friend?  Lulling his head to turn to her, hot blush streamed to the pale pallor of his cheeks as he nervously tugged tighter at the blanket on his shoulders.  To no avail, he gave an anxious shrug as he fumbled with the tassels.  “She likes blueberry doughnuts, panpipe music, dogs, and her favorite color is blue.  Like the color of the sea, is what she tells me.  I-I haven’t seen the sea, but she says it’s a blue-green color.  Mostly blue.  And it’s pretty.” he noted quickly, rattling off things with a crooked smile. 

“Claire is very pretty, too.  My best friend.” he whispered excitedly as he picked up his pace.  “D-don’t you have a best friend?  I read once that it’s good to ask a question back in response when talking to someone.  To show you’re paying attention.  I-I, I’m paying attention, I swear.”

[wren-golde]

"I don't blame you," Wren said, adjusting her hat again, "for being cautious.  People can be... mean."  Her thoughts traveled bitterly to the friendships she used to have or, more accurately, thought she had.  People she had thought of as friends and allies who were just cruel. It was her own fault really.  She was the one too distracted by morphling to know what people were really like.

Wren nodded along as Elius told her about his friend Claire.  Blue was a good color to like, especially like the sea.  Wren liked the sea.  There wasn't any access to the ocean in District 6.  She hadn't even seen the sea before her victory tour, and that was only a short glimpse while riding the train through District 4.  It was when she ran away and traveled through the districts that she learned to love the water.  A girl in 4 had taught her how to swim.  But Wren could never swim far enough.  

She wondered where Claire was from that she knew the sea.  Elius was a victor and still hadn't seen the sea, it would be hard for a regular District 9 citizen to have that kind of opportunity.  Maybe she was from the Capitol.  That made Wren a little reluctant to meet her, but if Elius, who was so quiet and reserved, liked this Capitol woman she couldn't be so bad.  And Elius said that Claire was pretty, the scary ones weren't pretty.

"I- I used to have a best friend," Wren answered, caught off guard for a moment.  Her stomach twisted at the thought of him.  "Trent.  We would watch trains together.  Not anymore though.  He's-" she paused unable to finish the sentence.  The truth was that Trent was dead.  That Wren had killed him.  But she couldn't bare to say it.  She couldn't bare to admit to anyone that she was the reason her best friend was dead.  Her voice nearly broke as she finally spoke again.  "We're not friends anymore."

Wren shoved her hands into the large pocket on the front of her sweatshirt.  Her fingers twisted together, pinching and pulling as if her hands weren't empty, as if they held paper to fold.  How long had it been since she folded?  Longer than it had been since she let morphling run through her veins.  "We have to take the next left to get to the lobby."

[wren-golde]

OOC

I know I haven't been super active lately, I've had school and touristy things going on, but I have a favor to ask.  In one of my classes we're talking about how Americans are perceived by others.  If anyone who is from somewhere other than the USA could fill out a quick survey (shouldn't take more than 3 minutes) I would really appreciate it.  Thank you in advance.

Here's the link.

On the topic of replies, I have one left until I'm all caught up and will be trying to get some more paras started soon.  Let me know if you'd like to para with any of my babies.

[wren-golde]

Black Tie | Cayden, Wren

[cayden-joseph]

Cayden was sitting on the edge of his bed, still in a little shock. He figured that he shouldn’t be, he knew things like this happened when you were a mentor, but he just didn’t think it would happen to him. Cayden had just come back from a meeting with a potential sponsor. Matthias was already dead, and Amber didn’t need anything at the time, but there was a great chance that she would be in need of something later that could save her life and Cayden wanted to be there and supply for her.

He had taken a car over to the sponsor’s house and had dinner with her. All the while they were talking about the Games, and Cayden’s Games and how he won. Cayden had even laid on more charm than usual, really trying to seal the deal for Amber. After dinner, they were served dessert, which was some delicious chocolate cake. Then once that had finished the meal, they made their way into the living room and were talking on the couch. Cayden was beginning to get annoyed at how long it was taking to get an answer from this woman. Once he began to talk numbers, the woman had practically attacked him. Cayden had backed up off the couch and asked what she was doing.

Of course, she was only going to shell out if he put out. Disgusted, he left and returned to his room. He didn’t want to let Amber down, but sex with a stranger for money? He was not a fucking prostitute. He was so frustrated, that he didn’t even hear Wren coming into his room until she appeared in his doorway. He met her gaze.

"Oh fuck no." He stood up and pushed past her and into the kitchen, he needed a drink. "Not the fuck now, that shit is nasty." He drank a full glass and was in the middle of pouring another when he looked to Wren, "Sorry, I am so rude. You want some?"

He began to pour her a glass too. He finished his second glass and was pouring a third when he asked, “How about you? What are you up to tonight?”

[wren-golde]

Cayden's first response to seeing her was yelling.  Screams of anger and disgust in particular.  This wasn't exactly shocking to Wren.  It wouldn't be the first time someone began yelling at the sight of her, especially with anger.  But she didn't think he was actually yelling because of her this time, his voice didn't seem to be directed at her.  That was a pleasant surprise.  Recently most yelling Wren was around seemed to be directed at her.  Burton, Peacekeepers, people who owned the things she accidentally set on fire or destroyed.  This was a nice change of pace.  Wren silently followed Cayden out to the kitchen.

She was on the edge of sobriety.  The pills she had swallowed that morning were wearing off.  Her body was crying out for more.  It wanted morphling in particular, but that wasn't an option.  Any other drug would do.  She was less than an hour away from her body being empty.  

Being sober was, to but it simply, a bitch.  Wren couldn't last more than a few hours without something in her system.  Her body would ache and her veins screamed in pain, but the real suffering was the memories.  The images of a small girl bleeding from a slit in her throat, tributes piercing each other with spears, her own hands stained with blood, and men pushing themselves on top of her.  The mental torment was more than she could stand so she loaded her body with chemicals.  The ends justified the means.  She took the glass Cayden offered her and drank it empty, then approached the counter to get another.

"The plan was to avoid feeling empty," Wren said, pouring herself another drink.  She left the alcohol cascade into the glass and fill nearly to the rim.  She drank that too before continuing.  "I'm not really sure what that means, but this," Wren raised her glass in indication, "feels like a good place to start."