if the fires that had taken to her city shook her, it did not show. there was one thing bellona was sure of, and it was her father's inability to simply stand by and let his authority be undermined -- a snow trait, it seemed, no matter the bloodline. she'd been in the room when he announced the strike on twelve. in fact, she'd suggested they take more than just twelve -- but she knew no such thing could be done. despite its nature, war was a delicate thing -- the slightest wrong move would tear them asunder right alongside those they aimed to destroy in the first place.
her destination was clear even with a jumble of thoughts taking root inside of her mind, something to sort through later when she had more time to put the beginnings of more course of action to fruition -- she was not heartless, after all. a friend was a friend, and nobody was immune to flames. "aria." she croons, a small smile on her lips as she greets the girl. "how are you doing, dear? not too charred, i hope."
a few minor burns, nothing to write home about, unless you asked cassius, and the young woman who had patched her up ( the girl on fire's sister, how ironic ) had been exceptionally kind . aria would be mostly fine . there was, however, the rest of the capitol to worry about , along with -- yknow, the newly declared war .
she's pulled from any thoughts she may have been having -- mostly about how her meeting with ares was going to go after this -- by a good friend, and a semi-relative. "i'm just peachy, bellona," and it's supposed to be a joke -- but honestly, the words fall flat on her tongue. to aria, she doesn't sound like aria. a strange feeling to have. she lightly rubs the "how are you ? everything going okay ?" she knows it's not.
@wvrricrs — amelia . ( the tribute tower . the end is near )
something is wrong , carla can feel it when the delicate hairs upon her arms stand on edge . but it evades her — this sense that she is being watched , that they all are ; it feels as though she is back in the arena , every camera trained upon her face as she fights her way to the vicious end . who would have thought that someone like her could make it out alive ? it was , she believes , annie and finnick's belief which brought her to this place , standing in her pretty shoes , watching the people she loves as they die .
her comfort is amelia , and carla is quick to seek her out . gill's death , finnick's injury , all of it leading to what ? are all of those victors going to die in there ? will snow allow it ? she finds her , and the coil in her chest unwinds as she wordlessly wraps her dainty arms around her friend , doe eyes fluttering to a comforted close . " please distract me , " she sighs as she pulls free of the hug claimed from her fellow vicotr . " it's getting to be too much . "
amelia was unaware of how much this year's games would affect her. she had viewed it for some time as a necessary evil, never looking beyond what had been read to her since she was barely old enough to speak. things were different now. perhaps no one understood that better than carla. someone young enough to understand what she was feeling, but wise enough to tell her when she was being ridiculous.
it was not uncommon for carla to greet her with a hug, but when it's silent, that's when she had to worry. "oh, distract you ?" she had been distracted herself, she didnt even notice that others might be feeling the same. that was something to mark down for later. "yes, of course !" masking your feelings was the way to go, it seemed, "lets see, i had a really good cheesecake with lunch today," it had been nibbled at for no more than a minute, but she had it on her plate.
eugene denver ft. electra price ( @damagedflames )
eugene had no ties to district twelve . not that he didn't care , but it didn't personally effect him . something that did effect him, however, was the attack on the capitol . because, though he hated it, he could hardly remember a time where he was not considering the capitol at least partway home. electra price had become a huge part of that, which was a strange feeling. when the attack happened... he panicked, and before he knows it, he's at her door, furiously knocking. he doesn't want to scare her, but ... goddamnit, she should just answer.
haymitch abernathy ft. primrose everdeen ( @damagedflames ) !
there's a reason haymitch was not in charge of anything regarding feelings . it's not that he was a heartless person, but the constant fear of letting people in & having it thrown in his face was the problem . the district , however, was a different story . and up to this point , he had thought nothing could happen to it . god, he was wrong .
after making sure sugar & spice were alive and well ( they were , they were smart dogs ) he had a grieving period, one to just himself. ( and after throwing some things, then picking up those things, then apologizing for throwing those things. ) then , on to the next issue . a knock on the door, "prim ?" a deep breath to compose himself, no shakiness will be present, "it's me."
baby , baby , baby boy -- bullet bio under the cut hehe <3
this is eugene denver ! he was the victor of the sixty seventh annual hunger games. he currently lives in district six's victor's village , his cat , lil garden , and a whole lot of guilt ! he is a part of the uprising , please don't ask him about it. he's bad at keeping secrets.
TW FOR CANON TYPICAL COERCED SEX WORK !!!
eugene grew up the son of a train conductor , something that was a big deal in district six , something not any one can boast. his mother is a school teacher . they both tell him that he can do anything he wants to with his life , that he can grow up and see the world. he grew up comfortable , with a false sense of security, and a knack for the way trains work.
the capitol sends eugene’s family bags of coal every week — in their eyes, it’s easier to send it directly to who will be using it. eugene’s job is to cut open the bags and sort them into smaller bags for each day. his family gives him three advantages over any one in his district or below — he’s fed more than almost any one in his district, he’s strong, and he knows his way around a sharp object. he knows the best way
when he is reaped, his mother holds him so tightly, he thinks he might not even make it to games. his mother holds him like she’s saying goodbye — and really, this is probably for the best. his father is less realistic, puts a hand on his shoulder and tells him that he simply must do whatever it takes. he tells him that it's okay to do whatever he needs to do, that he won’t love him any less. he promises his father that he will do it, that he'll make it out alive.
he makes good on that promise.
he is darling in interviews & capitolites love it. he’s such a cute kid, they say. i’m sure he’ll be such a looker when he’s older. the boy is a charmer. his escort tells him it’s a good thing — he’s so skinny, how will he ever beat those big careers ? ( he remembers being a "big kid" in six . much bigger than some of his peers . it is a shock to the system to go from being hated for having meat on your bones to being disregarded for being so small . )
he is brutal in the arena . no one sees it coming , not even him . eugene denver is the name sounded across the arena . across the capitol . across all of panem . he does not feel like a victor until he is clean , until he is back at his mother's kitchen , dinner given to him with a smile .
they don't have him open coal bags any more, however, having seen every minute of the massacre .
the day of his eighteenth birthday, he begins being whisked back and forth to the captiol. and it doesn’t end until he is not a capitolite darling any more. he's not sure when it happens -- when he slips from public's favor . at least now he can be alone . at least now he can live in peace .
& then the war darkens his doorstep .
and he remembers that somethings are worth fighting for .
terrifying , that was the only word to describe what was happening . penelope had grown up with a false sense of security , the idea that her father's war stories were just that: stories . but this war had come to darken their front door step & they had no idea how long it would take for the storm to pass . or if it would pass . everything had been so stable and now all of a sudden it -- "oof," they're running into someone . she doesn't have to look up . she knows who it is . so many years of closeness and love and anger and frustration and pain . it all belongs to one person, " maxim ." there's no malice in their shaky voice, she doesn't have it in her anymore "sorry, i didn't see you there."
"Where are - where are-" Effie repeated, the usually bubbly self, the effervescent and delightful queen of every interaction like most people were glued to the monitors in the viewing areas. There had been invites to viewing parties but they had been declined to stay here, where sponsors and other escorts and mentors would mostly be. Yes, Effie was positively radiant but distracted with motherly worry. None of the little ones were there, on screen. When the tubes rose, there was the standard amount. When the countdown was announced, a heart pounded, and when the cannon sounded, Effie nearly jumped, clutching her chest and making a fuss as attention was pulled from the screen. "That frightens me all the time. My goodness - did anyone see the younger tributes? Am I missing something?"
haymitch was a planner — always had been, always will be. anxiously seeking the end every possible scenario that could come to mind . he’s been made fun of it before , particularly by his mother . now , as he looks out onto the terrain in front of him , snowy terrain, d12 could be used to that , he realizes that he couldn’t have planned for this. “no, sweetheart, you’re not missin’ anything” any usual kind of jovial tone is gone — for once, haymitch & effie might have the same sort of seriousness. “but hey, hey” he puts a hand on her back, anything for her to know that he’s THERE for her, “it’s going to be okay”
amelia copperheart ft. soleil flemming ( @victoriams )
amelia & soleil were vastly different people — particularly in the eyes of the capitol. amelia was a by the book career , someone who had won their games in a very by the book sort of way. soleil, on the other hand, had thrown the book to the wind, then lit it on fire.
although she felt it would be weird to say out loud, amelia really admired the other person. she wished she was just a little less awkward — maybe they could be friends. she finds the other victor sitting down, definitely not looking to be bothered, but… “hey , soleil ! is this seat taken ? i’m looking to escape all this sponsor madness.” she gives them a hopeful grin, truly, she needs to be with someone who isn’t trying to take advantage of her.
amelia copperheart ft. oberon whimsiwick ( @gcdeater )
“oh my gosh ! you’re the one who hosts all those super exclusive parties !” amelia was certain that she recognized the man she’s been talking to for the past five minutes — she’s spent those five minutes trying to place where she knows him. being sent on her own to retrieve some sort of sponsors ( especially when the games had JUST started ) was brutal , she can’t imagine how she’s going to feel by the end of this. “whew, our escort told me about them all. the. time. when i won my games. it’s so great to finally meet you !” be charming. be charming. be charming. be charming. think of gloss , think of tre.
amelia copperheart ft. ash dewitt ( @damagedflames )
if you had told amelia five years ago that she would call a dewitt one of her best friends, she would’ve called you absolutely insane. growing up a career, she had studied every single victor of the games. this included the dewitts, who had all ( at one point or another ) been sick inspiration for her.
now, she recognized ash was one of the handful of things she actually looked forward to seeing during the games. tonight was girls night — they deserved it after the way things had shaken out. amelia doesn’t even have to check, she knows ash is on her bed before she even opens the door “hey you !” a huge smile on her face, “so, s’mores or ice cream first ?”
as much as amelia had tried to deny it , the games were tomorrow. that meant that ( for better or worse ) the one person she had ever considered a father figure would be launched. she finds herself knocking on their door, actively seeking out what is likely going to be a very awkward conversation. how do you thank someone who’s done so much for you ? ‘thanks for your help in my games , i’ll try my best !’ didn’t seem appropriate, but she couldn’t not say anything. she doesn’t have time to think of anything else, because when they open the door, all she can think to say is “hey you !” and suddenly, she’s the little kid who didn’t think she had a chance in hell at winning again.
WHO: rory hawthorne & haymitch abernathy @wvrricrs
WHERE: a hallway leading from the tribute center infirmary
WHEN: post failed launch
it had worked-- another piece put into motion, he knows it the moment that word passes through the ranks that the games have been delayed. ( another step closer to home. ) the tributes were being released back to their floors and the gamemakers were frantically trying to fix whatever bugs had so greatly affected their systems ( bugs that more brilliant minds than his had quietly and painstakingly placed deep into their computers that it would take up their attention for hours-- god, there's a feeling of something beautiful being created in the violence and chaos, different pieces coming together to create a symphony, growing louder to drown out tyranny ) and rory walks tall down the hall of the tribute center, making his way to relieve another peacekeeper from their post at the infirmary. it was all coming together-- a domino effect that was gaining speed.
he's not expecting to see haymitch walking from the infirmary-- there's no reason that haymitch should've been there from how the other man's strides register in rory's mind as it moves very quickly; he doesn't slow his stride and fixes his eyes ahead of him, hoping that the passing glance of his gaze isn't anything heavy enough ( carrying enough familiarity ) to catch the victor's attention. ( don't see me-- it's been seven years, would you even recognize-- don't see me, keep walking-- )
haymitch was not the brains behind any sort of sabotage, of course. haymitch's expertise laid with people, something he felt was very obvious. it was a good thing they didn't ask him about anything more technical. he's walking away from the infirmary, a little visit with one of his many district twelve kiddos, and he's doing it very quickly. no time for distractions and no time for...
the other man truly does his best to not draw any attention, and if haymitch weren't so paranoid && fine tuned to recognize every little detail of what's around him, rory probably would've gotten away with it. he's staring so straight ahead that... oh. oh, haymitch recognizes this one. he recognizes the sticky fingers from marshmallows, he recognizes the kids that all fell asleep on the couch by the fire, he recognizes the sad eyes that made him keep his dogs, he knows this person. deep in his bones, he knows this person. a part of him wants to keep walking, let one of the only people he's ever let close enough to be family just walk away, but ( selfishly ) he can't. he turns around towards him, not realizing how far the boy's gotten, " rory !" his tone is tense, barely above a whisper, but the grip on rory's shoulder is very real "kiddo, what are are you doing here?"
shaky breaths , fingers trembling , fulvia navigates the day as they would any crisis ; full of self importance , frazzled but without a hair out of place . perfection was bred into them , the cardew line weighing upon statuesque shoulders as heavy as a boulder — they cannot forget what is expected as they chirp towards the cameras that everything is fine .
the journalists turn elsewhere , and she glimpses a spokesperson from snow's office before she dashes free of it all . a rotten rebel they make , stumbling free and into the fresh air where they immediately light the cigarette they've been saving for this exact moment . " don't judge . plutarch has officially pushed me above my pay grade . " they grumble around the cigarette , struggling to light with shaking fingers .
that's all aria's life seemed to be at the moment -- when she wasn't being begged to sponsor tributes, there was always something else to do. always. she knows she signed up for this, but a little heads up before things got busy would've been nice. she's sighing, thinking she's alone, when the person next to her speaks.
"no judgement," aria muses, "i was thinking about how jealous i am of you." having quit the vice when lucius was born, she tried to tell herself that she didnt need it any more. stressful moments like this, however, made her desperate for a cigarette. desperate for something else to focus on. "do you need some help getting that going ? it's been a while, but, yknow, old habits die hard."
haymitch & jett had been through a lot together. more so, jett had been through a lot with haymitch. he was not an easy person to be around. despite this, he had grown to enjoy the other's company -- viewing him as one of his & effie's so called 'children.'
all this being said, something was off with jett, and haymitch could tell. now, was he absolutely sure what it was ? absolutely not. he wasn't very intuitive, and he was even worse about feelings. but he had noticed, and there was no denying it. he finds jett on the couch on the district 12 floor's couch. two drinks in hand, haymitch sits next to him, "hey -- in the mood for a drink ?"
