Fandom {OPEN} Tʜᴇ Sᴛʀᴇᴇᴛs ᴏғ Pᴀɴᴇᴍ's 49ᴛʜ Hᴜɴɢᴇʀ Gᴀᴍᴇs

[RabbitsWarren]

This is the official RP thread for the year of the 49th Hunger Games, please go HERE (click me!) to sign up!

For some, this time of year means joy. It's the beginning of summer. For the majority, summer means tense encounters, lost children, and the horror of Reapings to traumatize families. It happens every year. The citizens watch it over and over again. The Hunger Games, created as a tool by the Capitol to punish the citizens of Panem that rose up against them the first time. The first time, the Districts lost District 13 to the war as the Capitol obliterated it as a show of victory.

Now, to ‘keep the Districts in line’, every year the Capitol reaps two children between the ages of 12 to 18 to participate in the Hunger Games. Therein, they compete in pre-Game activities such as The Tribute Parade, training at the Training Center, and Interviews in order to win sponsors. Then, they compete in the Arena in a battle to the death to test their strength and with until one emerges the Victor, and the Capitol decorates them with money and fame as they go on the Victory Tour to speak to the families of the Fallen Tributes in their home Districts.

In the background, though, many things happen while the glamor and grandeur of the Games distract people. The Capitol citizens go to parties, the President and his Cabinet hunt for traitors, the Mentors try to keep their Tributes alive, the Stylists try to make their Tributes shine, the Training Center staff struggles, and the occultists in the Slums try to survive. Somewhere, beneath the streets, some citizens reignite and stir the coals of rebellion. It will be a long time before they’re ready to rise up again, but all they can do is try.

-

“It’s not a big deal,” Cuvier insisted from his perch in the chair at the back of the room. The GameMakers’ Lounge stretched out into a large space for all of the GameMakers, and the staff decorated it a few years ago with new furniture so it represented modern Capitol trends. The sleek, advanced look coupled with a lot of red, gold and grayscale made up most of the building, but this one bathed in red and gold.

“I can handle this. We know someone framed her, but we don’t know who. He doesn’t know either.” Cuvier swished around a small glass of an unknown brown liquid and ice and downed it not a second later. The taste on his tongue reminded him of mercury and oak, which made him pause and question whether or not the drink contained poison. Finally, he decided, it didn’t. He watched it the entire time.

“No, but if Arivox snoops around,” Morgan sat back in his chair and rubbed his temples as his head throbbed. “that means he’s going to find something to incriminate one of us for something, even if he has to fake it.” He steadied his shaking hands on the side of his face. This would be the first year they faced without Emily in charge of everything. She hadn’t been gone for even a year, and God, did he ache to have her standing there next to him so that they could conquer it together. Instead, Cuvier sat in her chair, looking out on everyone with an expression not nearly as kind as the woman’s that sat there before him. No, his gaze was steady, calculating, and curious.

“He will come in here, and he will take everything from us. I want to say he would kill us, but I have a feeling it will be worse than that.” Morgan spoke in a slow, clear tone even though he felt his eyes burn from the want to shed tears. Cuvier thought about the previous job he took while he went to school for genetic engineering where he met Seneca for the first time. He remembered what he thought of him then, what seemed like such a long time ago.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Seneca Arviox, from the PeaceKeeping and Execution Department. You’re the Salutatorian?” It took every single inch of Cuvier’s willpower and muscle strength to keep from laughing as he looked at a short man. Everyone talked about how intimidating this man was, and even though Cuvier knew about Seneca’s parents messing up his genetics when he was a kid, causing his stunt in growth, Cuvier didn’t realize just how odd meeting him in person felt. However, when he met the cold, purposefully mutated red eyes of the man in front of him, all of the power to laugh fizzled out of his body. No, this man could kill him. There wasn’t anything funny about that at all.

“Cuvier Shields. You’re the Val? You wanted to work here, too?” Cuvier walked with him through the hallways of the Panem Genetics Lab down to their basement, where the training would take place for all of the new employees. “Damn, what made you step down from that degree? Sounds like you had big plans.”

“Knowledge, Mr. Shields. As it stands, my parents sent me to school to be an executioner. They did everything to make me scary, even changing my natural eye color, at the expense of messing with technology that wasn’t yet ready. Therefore, I’m more interested in the genetic engineering field. I want to figure out how to fix my genetic anomaly, so I’m staying for training. I’ll quit in a few years, and continue my pursuits for Presidential Cabinet in the Department of PeaceKeeping and Execution.”

Stay he did, too. Cuvier spent the next year getting to know and hate Seneca, even to the point of them having an explosive fight in the Lab over a genetic mutt that Seneca wanted to create but Cuvier couldn’t approve of. They’ve hated each other ever since.

“You worry too much, Morrie. That gnome-sized bastard can’t hurt us.” Cuvier shrugged his shoulders and slapped his hand on the table. “Doesn’t matter. New subject. What are the scores of the Career Academies from One, Two, and Three? Or have they come in yet? I want to know who’s in the pool.” He turned to the other GameMakers in the room.

-

“Do you ever stop counting? The ones that die?” Orson inquired out loud to the room as he watched the screen near the bar with a dull, uninterested look. He had to desensitize himself now before everything went downhill. Most Mentors came to The Arrow’s Split, a dive bar dedicated specifically to the Games and known mostly as the bar that Cuvier Shields frequented in his pre-GameMaker days. Thankfully, all the obnoxious Capitol fans stayed on the first floor so they could cheer and cry over their favorites. The penthouse was exclusive to Mentors, Stylists and their sponsors, and so now, only Mentors and Stylists sat around in the room.

“It seems endless.” He murmured at the screen and took another shot of something that tasted abhorrent on his tongue and reminded him of the pungent smell it had in the first place. He didn’t care. He despised every second he had to participate. As he watched Almar Heire, the Capitol dream boy Motivational Speaker and official Announcer for the Hunger Games rattle on about the previous Games and winners. He saw a picture of himself after, and snarled at it as he heard Almar’s voice talk about his silent assassin wit. Sure, call it what you want, Orson thought, but that was luck.

Nieve Pulvil stood along the wall, silent as he listened to the soft buzz of the PeaceKeeper radio in his helmet as others used it to communicate around the center. He heard the Mentor’s conversation, too, but knew better than to butt in on a conversation where he wasn’t welcome. Instead, the short man stared forward through his darkened visor and thanked a God he didn’t believe in that no one could see his face through it. He hated watching over the Mentor’s floor. They always got a little… cagey. Besides, he knew most of them were probably hiding something or another, and he didn’t want to be the one to have to report it. That would put him under suspicion, too.

-

“We’ll have Tributes here in less than a week. It’s urgent that everything is in order.” Sibyl whispered through her soft, custom mask that filtered the air so it wouldn’t be so harsh on her lungs. Due to trying to fix her body’s original death-inducing reaction to cane sugar back when genetic engineering just started, she accidentally over-amplified her senses to the point that normal intake of sensory input is generally painful. Now, she takes medicine to dull her senses while she tries to fix both issues.

She straightened out the tables and machines in the Medical Ward and talked quietly to herself after that, unheard by others. Her speaking voice already sounded like a whisper to most, and her whisper almost didn’t exist. She liked it this way, though, as she could voice her concerns and vents out loud without having to worry about someone knowing what she was saying. The Head of the Genetics Department in the Medical Ward took in a deep breath and sent a silent prayer to Celese, kissing her knuckles to seal it. Hopefully the rumors weren’t true. Hopefully the Officials weren’t coming to monitor the Training Center for the Foreseeable Future.

“Nah, nah. You got it, Sibby. Don’t freak, no pain. All we have to do is do our best.” Ciccro gave her a crooked grin and patted her on the back. She smiled at her roommate and coworker gratefully, glad that even though he was a Trainer, that he volunteered to help get everything set up in the Medical Ward. After all, Avoxes generally set up the Training Rooms. He would be pained by them leaving, too, but he didn’t want to bring up the topic. He found it better to detach himself from the Tributes he helped.

-

((Hello! Yes, sorry, I got a bit carried away because I really wanted to make the world come to life in the first post. You don’t have to post with tributes yet if you don’t want to, as it is the day before the reaping. BKs/GMs will progress time overall. You DO NOT have to match the length of this in your replies! Have fun and Happy Hunger Games!))

 

[Reach]

THOMAS KANE
>> The Arrows Split was a must be for anyone who wanted to be someone within the Capitol, most of the time it was somewhat exclusive - you had to be the right kind of person to get in but sometimes they'd let the barriers fall and anyone could get in. Tommy wasn't ignorant as to why tonight the music thrummed to the point he could feel it in his bones and the neon lights flashed and flickered in a way that was almost mesmerising, the light catching the elaborate clothes of the capitol and magnifying them - the ice sculptures that reaching the ceiling and never seemed to melt no matter how much he looked and the fountains in the corners where the water had wisps of reds and golds and blues and lilac in them. It was for the perfect party, perfect for opening a show, perfect for the people of the Capitol to celebrate the fact the games would start tomorrow. Because tomorrow twenty four children would be chosen to go kill or be killed all for their entertainment, the must see event of the year.

Tommy weaved through the crowds, trying to make a beeline for the elevator to the penthouse but unable to get there without being assaulted by people vying for his attention - it happened every year. They always swarmed the stylists and the victors and anyone else with a hand in things, desperate for a bit of gossip about the year to come and wanting to hear all about what they thought about the coming games. And there was so much he could tell them, if he were brave enough or foolish enough or strong enough; that it was barbaric, that it was evil and he still had nightmares and days where he'd lean over the toilet bowl and retch as the smell of burnt skin overpowered him and as he felt the slick copper on his hands he'd then rub raw trying to wash off despite the fact he never could. But he doubted they'd be interested in those stories, he doubted he'd live if he told them. He stumbled for a second, almost bumping into someone before smoothly side stepping and reaching for a drink from one of the many trays being circulated around the room by the avoxes and quickly taking a sip. He shook his head as if trying to shake off the thoughts as he did so - now wasn't the time. He straightened up and made sure to smile and nod and wave; smiling whenever someone reached out to him, clapping familiar faces on the back, winking flirtatiously whenever someone grabbed his arm, greeting his regular sponsors and joking that this would be their year. Then laughing in the right places as jokes were shouted about his districts chances this year and comments were called out to him about how district 4 would steal the win yet again, he kept nodding and smiling until his cheeks hurt and slowly he managed to navigate his way to the opposite side of the room. Finally able to get into the elevator and retreat to the familiarity of the Penthouse.

The Penthouse was safer. Calmer. Much more even ground. He knew where he stood there.

The peacekeeper by the elevator merely waved him into the elevator without really taking a second look at him, something he was grateful for, the silver doors closed and the neon lights were replaced with a bright white light. He winced for a second as his eyes adapted, reaching up to shield his eyes from the abrupt change, then he could open them again and he was greeted by the mirrored walls of the elevator. The ceiling was a mirror as well, giving him the feeling of being a rabbit in the box and wondering who it would be to pull him out; he hesitated for a second at the sight of his reflection, it had been nine years and he still wasn't quite used to seeing himself in the manner those in the Capitol seemed to adore. His hair was a bleached white with cobalt blue paint streaked through it, his eyebrows were bleached in a similar fashion and idly he wondered how anyone could even see them, gaudy violet dress shirt etched with metallic silver lines that almost resembled lightning opened down to his navel, matching silver pants that he was surprised he could breathe in, glitter on his chest winking every colour of the rainbow as the light hit him and finally violet shoes that were thankfully relatively ordinary. He looked every part like the Capitol socialites he resented, every part the golden boy he needed to be - a bizarre and almost overwhelming mix of colours and fabrics and textures that he was sure Valentina would either be proud of or lamenting the fact he hadn't been more outrageous. But it worked the way he needed it to. He could wear it like armour mixed with a disarming smile and a carefully crafted easy-going nature.

He took a steading breath and fiddled with the ring on his finger, twisting the band around and around until he felt more at ease.

The doors opened and he stepped out immediately, willing himself to move and do something and distract himself - he made a beeline for the bar and thanked the relative privacy of it that meant he could order a simple drink rather than one of the dozens of bizarre Capitol concoctions with a range of bright and splashy ingredients and names that never quite managed to roll off of the tongue. His index finger tapped against the marbled bar, the ring catching and reflecting the light of the neon lights hovering over the bar. Only those involved in the Games could venture here and any back hand deals and behind the scenes schmoozing happened in the bar as it was away from prying eyes and the peacekeeper often turned a blind eye to most of the deals that surrounded the games - the walls combined with he peace-keeper standing at a respectful distance from the rest of them gave them all some semblance of privacy. But he wouldn't have been surprised should the Peacekeeper turn out to be able to hear them all perfectly. And even if the man wasn't there Tommy doubted it was truly private, chances were there were cameras everywhere - a microphone or two. The Capitol would never really let them all roam free unsupervised, all in a group together in a potentially volatile situation where those who had reason to hate the Capitol could gather without suspicion? It was likely bugged to the teeth, or he was simply allowing his paranoia to grow even more than it already had - unless that's just what he was supposed to think. Either way he eyed the drink being made apprehensively and committed to not completely drowning away his sorrows. Besides alcohol tended to loosen even the tightest lips which made it a good place for learning secrets, learning what exactly everyone's plans were for the coming games - he wouldn't mind gaining an edge for once, it had been nine years without a victor after all.

The barman signalled that his drink was ready and Tommy picked it up with a polite smile and a grateful nod of his head before turning to face the room, the room was almost as heavily decorated as the one below and the neon lights cast a strange shadow over everything, drenching it in a myriad of bright colours. Tommy took a sip of his drink, gaze flickering over to Orson who was sat at the bar and likely lamenting his woes to the gigantic television screen that took up most of the wall - he debated about going over to the man or simply letting him drink away his troubles alone but decided to wait - it likely wouldn't be long until more familiar faces started to show and he wasn't someone the older victors were especially fond of. Instead he took another sip of his drink and readied to venture over to the small groups gathering in the bar.

mentions: RabbitsWarren (open to anyone to interact with! sorry it's long )

 

[Spudbob]

"I don' hate ye, I jus' want to save ye."

Stressed about the games

Agitated

Nobody knows what I've been through

on a buzz to forget.

Jupitor Ichor

(She/Her)

No Sugar

• .
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• h
• h
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

(click play twice!)

Just behind Thomas, a figure hobbled along through the crowd. Unlike the amicable center of attention that was Thomas, the crowd seemed to part for the old woman as she made her way to the elevator.
The old hag of the games, Jupitor Ichor, took a seat at a table in the Arrow's Split. She had her prosthetic on, but carried a cane with her anyway. She wore a patchwork scarf over a relatively clean yet plain brown longcoat. Fashion meant as little as relationships to her, and she cared for neither. Her leg, for it's popularity, was a simple strong wire wrapped underneath a leather socket that her knee fit into, fitting in with her drab earthy appearance.
"I don' think I ever started, ya seaweed," she replied to Orson, as she grabbed and downed her drink (a strong whiskey) in a single gulp. She gave the District 3 mentor a stink eye as she slammed the heavy shot glass on the table loudly. The barkeep knew it meant she wanted another. She was rude, and cared little for the recent slew of mentors that had come and replaced those she knew before. These kids that grew up with the games, whose parents probably grew up with the games. None of them knew the past, not like she did. Not even Orson, and he was one of the few people she begrudgingly respected. "It's not mah problem anymore anyway," she muttered, settling into her chair and popping her prosthetic off, rubbing the swollen mound that was once her lower leg.

On the TV Countdown to the First Victor, her mugshot pulled up soon after Orson's. One could have called it a profile, or portrait, but her scowl, short dirty blonde hair pulled into a crude pony-bun, and disrespectful eyes were more in common with a Criminal than a Victor. Her name was next to it, district 8, and the number Game she won; 15. Aside from her hair turning a thin silver (naturally, unlike Tom's tacky bleached locks), she looked much the same. Scowl, hair pulled back and cut short, and rude glances.
Almar talked about her sole record: killing 17 other tributes in a single game, which had yet to be beaten in the almost 35 year run since. Career District Tributes gunned for that record, ashamed that a District 8 girl had held it for so long. To her point, Jupitor didn't care. She did what she had to, to survive and win. It quickly moved on to the 14th Games...

♡design by rabbitswarren, coded by uxie♡

 

[Spudbob]

"It's all fake smiles and leather jackets"

Mental State: Relaxed

Feeling: Confident

Thoughts: Don't give anything suspicious away.

Health: Healthy

Evander Zaffre

(he/him)

This is the Life

• .
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• h
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(click play twice!)

The Escort watched the Gamemakers from the sideline. He wasn't one, nor had he aspired to be one. But Cuvier had asked the Escorts for the Career Districts to attend for a reason. He gave an easy smile as he asked for scores. "I've got the Male Scores for District 1. The Female Scores are still under review, they'll be ready next week," he informed them, as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a blue pad. If you were gonna brand, brand hard to a theme. His dyed blue hair (including his beard and mustache, both impeccably groomed of course) and steel blue suit looked almost tacky against the bright reds and golds of the luxurious room, but he pulled it off well. That he was rather dashing played a good part in it.
He flipped through the pad, stopping at a page. It had been pre-planned with the Head Gamemaker, but only the two of them knew about it. "At the top is a young man by the name of Johnathan Simmons. Bright boy, scored a strong 94 on the aptitude tests, and a 91 on the physicals. Had a bit of an issue with a training official, but otherwise, he's practically a choir boy, albeit one with lethal skills." Another sweet smile, like nothing was wrong. In truth the boy had scored an 80 on both. Average, but the accident had made him a target.

♡design by rabbitswarren, coded by uxie♡

 

[RabbitsWarren]

art by

arithm

Wᴀʀʀᴇɴ Bᴜʀɴs

(he/him)

ʙᴜɢʙᴇᴀʀ ʙᴀʀᴅs ᴡɪᴛʜ
ʙᴀɴᴊᴏs ʏ'ᴀʟʟ

Aʙᴏᴜᴛ Mᴇ

Wᴇʙɴᴏᴠᴇʟ Lɪɴᴋ

Wᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ Lɪɴᴋ

DᴇᴠɪᴀɴᴛAʀᴛ Lɪɴᴋ

I'ᴍ ᴡᴏʀʀɪᴇᴅ 'ʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ

Tʜʀᴇᴀᴅ Hᴜʙ

Cʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ Gᴀʟʟᴇʀʏ

RP Pᴀʀᴛɴᴇʀ Sᴇᴀʀᴄʜ

Gᴀᴍᴇ Cᴇɴᴛʀᴀʟ Sᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

Tʜᴇ Fᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ

Mʏsᴛᴇʀʏ Sᴋᴜʟʟs

“Back at it again with your crack-whip wit, eh, Japes?” Orson’s expression refused to change at first, but, slowly, it melted into a sly grin. So, Jupitor wanted to start a fickle play fight, did she? “This old seaweed’s dried out, sorry. No more fight left in him.” The man effortlessly lied with a flick of his wrist and cross of his legs. “You though, you’d throw down with that PeaceKeeper over there with any half-assed excuse.” He teased and ordered another one of the tall glasses of tea-esque looking liquid despite the already empty one. He didn’t quite care, though, he could sleep it off on the Train back to District Four, and he knew he could hold his liquor better than the average person, too.

“How ‘bout you, white suit? Think you could shoot her with your rifle before she could kill you?” Orson gestured towards Nieve, the PeaceKeeper on the sidelines, who froze in place and refused to respond. “You look pretty scrawny. She could chew you up and spit you out before you knew what hit you.” He rolled his shoulders back and let out a deep sigh. It felt nice, watching a PeaceKeeper squirm in his uniform. Concerning that tattoos underneath his olive button-up shirt embroidered with gold nets that his stylist gave him so long ago. The Stylist that didn’t tell anyone about the black ink on his shoulders representing Lust and Humility, or about any of the other stories of his past lovers and glorious battle escapades. He received so many of his tattoos after coming home after his Games, though he wasn’t thrilled about most of them. Not a damn outsider soul would ever know other than that Stylist, he decided, and liked to keep it that way. Celese could be a real bitch anyways. “Capitol starts betting soon, PeaceKeeper, and my money’s on the old lady.”

“I swear by it, Varrde, if you don’t leave that poor kid alone,” The woman entered the room with a swagger, her hips swaying in her black, shredded jeans. Valentina, the District Three Stylist for the past countable years, returned from her makeup restoration from the restroom and picked up her waiting order from the bar. She stirred a fruity pink drink decorated with various red berries and sprinkles of sugar accompanied with a hot pink straw twisted to resemble a heart before taking a long, savory drink of it. The light up LEDs in the bottom of the cup sparkled. Just the way she liked it, with the alcohol untastable. “Well, it’s just not going to be pretty.” She finished, eyeing him with narrowed eyes and a wagging finger as she tapped her stiletto leather boots. She stuck her tongue out when Orson waved away her words, but she ignored him and gave the PeaceKeeper who’s face she couldn’t see behind the darkened, one-way visor an apologetic smile.

“Anyways, what are they doing this year after the Victor Countdown? Have they already showed the handsome ones?” Valentina took another drink as she settled among the giant foam bags littering the ground in a pit around the television surrounding a table for drinks. She sat hers on it, and beckoned Tommy over when she caught his eye, smiling. “Maybe they’ll do the silly ranking thing again they did on the 45th. Capitol citizens voting on Top Ten Hottest Victors, Top Ten Kills, or any other ridiculous topic they might come up with.

-

“Wow, those are high. Good, good, means some promise is showing out of One for once. I thought things went to shit after I left.” Cuvier’s words rolled off his tongue into an effortless lie and concealing joke. The plan worked, then, and no one would be the wiser. After all, who would believe a kid screaming that his scores weren’t that high versus the family of his accidental victim from the Academy and several Training Officials as witnesses. No one would. A soft smile graced the edges of his lips, and he poured another glass into the decanter and cut it with some soda. He rarely drank to excess; he liked to be in control of everything.

“Not too big of an issue. People get hurt in those academies all the time, it’s common as hell. When you give children lethal weapons, you can’t expect everything to go well.” Cuvier shrugged his shoulders and pressed into the back of the comfortable chairs. He took in a deep breath and rubbed his temple on the side of his face where he still had an eye. For some reason, he still worried about the potential danger. He couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if they had one piece of linking evidence to him, either with Johnathan’s drawing or with Amelia’s execution.

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♡design by rabbitswarren, coded by uxie♡

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[Urzula]

As Orson finished his sentence it was greeted with an eruption of giggles. Sitting in a dimmer corner of the room away from everyone was Ure, a smaller thin women. Her blue grey eyes lit with amusement. "Its hard to keep track if you didn't even start." Bouncing her leg lazily as she lounged in her chair, a tint of pink laying across her cheeks. A glass with a blue liquid swirled inside as she spoke again. "We all are going to die one day, what does it matter if its on a battle field, by an enemies hand or in your sleep? These tributes are here to make theor mark." Tilting her head to the side she spike of death as if it were a common subject, like the weather.
It was rare for Ure to even be out and about. The recluse only made an appearance before and during the games. She liked to keep it that way, less noise and people to deal wktb, thats how she always lived and she wasnt gping to change her ways.

Nodding to the screen she chuckled again. "You know why they always spew the 'may the odds be in your favor' bullshit? Because humans cant handle their own mortality and like to make sense of the fact that they are sending children to die." Shrugging she took another sip of the drink. "I could really care less honestly. I'm sure the victory to whoever wins will be bittersweet."

--------------

Seth had been helping with preparations for about two hours, which was quite difficult itself but having only one working eye at the moment made it even harder. Touching his black and blue right eye he winced. Why in the nine hells dod he even try to start that fight? The man was 3× his own size. Thankfully Sybil was always here to fox him up.

It still hurt though.

Ears perking up as instructions were given, the blonde male smiled. He may have just been a nurse but it was always nice to feel wanted. Hearing Ciccro talk to Sybil Seth cpuldnt help but laugh.
"Your the best god damn medic here, dont fret so much. Besides" he set down the instrument he was cleaning. "Maybe this year I can be more help than hindrance." Last year a tribute got hurt pretty bad during teaming, Seth was the first to respond and froze, someone had to take over and he's mentally kicked himself ever since. Shaking the memory away he went back to sanitizing the equipment.


---------

Silently slipping into the room, Red found her way to a chair in the game makers lounge. She was never one to be on time so she tried to be as quiet as she could. She couldnt help but freeze at Sencea name. The man hunted the people,of her religion and she had gotten this far without being noticed. Covering the misstep with a cough she found her seat and listened to what the men had to say.

 

[artfvlly]

scroll me!

mood

anxious and annoyed

location

the split arrow

tags

pretty much everyone lmao

Adeline park

district 10 mentor

Adeline was exhausted, she had ran most of the afternoon. District 10 was one of the bigger districts to make room for all the cattle they raised and culled each year. She had jogged down the dirt paths beside the pastures, nodding hellos to anyone who acknowledged her. She didn't really think she was liked much, most people knew her family but they seemed to interact more with pity than admiration. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, she slowed her jog to a walk as she passed the gates of the Victors Village where her and her father lived. There weren't many district 10 victors, most of them being much older than Adeline and just as fucked up. They didn't really talk to each other much, let alone acknowledge each others presence. Adeline liked it that way anyway.

Letting out a sigh she opened her front door, a blast of cooler air hitting her. Her father must've put on the fancy capitol heating system, she didn't really know how to use it herself, she preferred the heat. Steadying her breath she stepped into the darkened house, frowning. Her father had been suffering bad headaches recently, she was worried he was getting sick. He kept the curtains closed all day and would keep the house at freezing temperatures while passed out under a pile of blankets, he said the heat triggered it but... she thought he just liked to be comfortable. That was a privilege he hadn't had until she won the games.

"Pa?" Adeline called into the silent house, weaving between furniture as she pulled open the curtains and opening the windows. It was freezing in the house, it made her feel antsy. She went around the rest of the lower floor, but it was only as she stood in the hallway facing the stairs that she felt a chill run up her spine. Her father hadn't replied, the house was silent, except for the trickle of water. She slowly approached the stairs, blinking as she realised that there was water running down the stairs.
"Pa?" She called again, jogging up the stairs. The entire upper floor was flooded with a thin layer of water which was coming from the bathroom. Adeline quickly walked in to find the bathtub full and overflowing, the taps still running. She gasped, leaping forward to quickly turn them off.
"Pa! Are you home? The entire bathroom is flooded!" She called, bushing her hair out of her face in frustration, there was still no response. Was he even home? Adeline didn't know how he managed to do it. She sighed, leant over the bathtub staring at her reflection in the rippling water. She'd have to pull the plug, god she hated the fucking tub. She should've asked to have it removed for this exact reason.

Working herself up for it, she put her hand into the water. She could already feel some panic prickle across her skin, the cold of the room and the water was getting under her skin. Wincing, as if she was physically pained, she let the water come up to her upper arm as she reached for the plug. Her heart was racing, a metallic taste of fear on her tongue... she couldn't help but think herself pathetic. It was just a bit of water. She was just about the pull the plug when a hand touched her shoulder. Adeline jolted, shooting upwards and spinning around. She hadn't even pieced together who was touching her shoulder until she had her hands around their throat. It took her a few moments of blind fear and panic before she realised it was her father, looking at her with a horrified expression. Adeline stumbled back a step, releasing his throat as she gasped.
"Pa! You scared me, don't do that!" She exclaimed, holding her dry hand to her chest as she panted. Her father took a step back himself, silent and still horrified. "What were you doing? Half the house is flooded!"
"The house? Oh. I must've fallen asleep." Her responded quietly. Adeline sucked in a breath, shaking her head.
"Be more careful next time," she muttered, sucking in a breath as she quickly stuck her hand into the water to pull the bath plug.
"Why did you do that?" Her father asked, Adeline squinted at him.
"Do what? You scared me, you know what it's like."
"You're too violent, Ada. You need to stop... all this." Her father replied, motioning to her training outfit.
"Are you serious?"


The conversation had escalated into a full blown argument, which brought Adeline to be in the capitol the day before the reaping, it was Adelines least favourite day in the year. She had been dreading it for weeks, much like the rest of the underbelly of Panem. It was a cruel joke in so many ways to her. Watching years worth of footage being replayed on repeat for weeks on end before the games, it was insanity. The young woman usually drank herself into a coma the night before but this year she was trying to show a level of restraint... she doubted it would go well. She'd be helped back onto the train to district 10 at some point during the night, sometimes the other victors were nice enough to show pity on her. Sprawled across the couch in her apartment, Adeline sighed, eyes flickering to her empty alcohol cabinet. Her father was going to be pissed with her when she got back, she probably shouldn't have stormed out the door the day previous. Everyone in the country seemed to get pretty worked up around this time of year, and locking herself away in an apartment probably wasn't the best solution to things.

The young woman begrudgingly dragged herself up, walking to her bathroom. The surface was lined with a bunch of unused beauty and hair products, curtesy of her stylist, what a reminder of the situation she was stuck in. Her eyes lingered on the bathtub for a moment, a sinking feeling of shame settling on her shoulders. But that was just a lingering thought, she had fucked up, yeah. Maybe she should've stayed in district 10 and apologised. She pulled her eyes away, looking to the mirror where she ruffled her hair.
"Fuck it," she muttered under her breath, chucking on a leather jacket that she had left hanging on the door.


Adeline had weaved through the crowd of excited capitol citizens pretty easily. She didn't blend in super well as she had never let her stylist mess with her looks that much. She remembered when one had suggested dying her hair blonde to match the arctic tundra of the game she won. She was pretty sure she had to restrain herself from leaping across the table and spitting in the stylists face. The most they ever did was enhance her features, fix any scars or flaws. Anything else and she warned them they would lose their hands. As the elevator dinged, Adeline let out a breath of ease. Of course, being in the capitol she was never safe, but being around other victors who were just as fucked up as her was a comfort.

Stepping into the bar she eyed the usuals, spotting Tommy standing off in the corner. Adeline spared him a smile, planning to head his way in a moment. She paused by the bar, motioning over the bartender as Orson was winding up the peacekeeper standing guard.
"Whiskey," she muttered to the barkeeper, from the looks of it she was going to need the strong stuff. Adeline focused in on Ure for a moment, laughing to herself as she took a sip from her drink.
"Quite the optimist we have here, why don't we throw you into the arena and see how you cope?" Adeline gave the stylist a sickly sweet smile, pushing off the bar to walk over to where Tommy stood. She admired some of the older victors like Orson and Jupiter, infamous in their own right. She had probably expressed that to them at some point, but she got the impression they didn't like hanging out with her. She usually stuck to her age range, the people she grew up watching or came after her victory. She could be nice when she wanted.

"How are you coping, golden boy?" She asked Tommy, knocking his shoulder playfully as she passed. "What time are you heading back to three? I'll be on the train to ten in a few hours, wasn't planning to stay here but it's like fucking cabin fever being in that village before the reaping."

♡design by neon reverie, coded by uxie♡

Spoiler: mobile friendly

-- Adeline Park --
Adeline was exhausted, she had ran most of the afternoon. District 10 was one of the bigger districts to make room for all the cattle they raised and culled each year. She had jogged down the dirt paths beside the pastures, nodding hellos to anyone who acknowledged her. She didn't really think she was liked much, most people knew her family but they seemed to interact more with pity than admiration. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, she slowed her jog to a walk as she passed the gates of the Victors Village where her and her father lived. There weren't many district 10 victors, most of them being much older than Adeline and just as fucked up. They didn't really talk to each other much, let alone acknowledge each others presence. Adeline liked it that way anyway.

Letting out a sigh she opened her front door, a blast of cooler air hitting her. Her father must've put on the fancy capitol heating system, she didn't really know how to use it herself, she preferred the heat. Steadying her breath she stepped into the darkened house, frowning. Her father had been suffering bad headaches recently, she was worried he was getting sick. He kept the curtains closed all day and would keep the house at freezing temperatures while passed out under a pile of blankets, he said the heat triggered it but... she thought he just liked to be comfortable. That was a privilege he hadn't had until she won the games.

"Pa?" Adeline called into the silent house, weaving between furniture as she pulled open the curtains and opening the windows. It was freezing in the house, it made her feel antsy. She went around the rest of the lower floor, but it was only as she stood in the hallway facing the stairs that she felt a chill run up her spine. Her father hadn't replied, the house was silent, except for the trickle of water. She slowly approached the stairs, blinking as she realised that there was water running down the stairs.
"Pa?" She called again, jogging up the stairs. The entire upper floor was flooded with a thin layer of water which was coming from the bathroom. Adeline quickly walked in to find the bathtub full and overflowing, the taps still running. She gasped, leaping forward to quickly turn them off.
"Pa! Are you home? The entire bathroom is flooded!" She called, bushing her hair out of her face in frustration, there was still no response. Was he even home? Adeline didn't know how he managed to do it. She sighed, leant over the bathtub staring at her reflection in the rippling water. She'd have to pull the plug, god she hated the fucking tub. She should've asked to have it removed for this exact reason.

Working herself up for it, she put her hand into the water. She could already feel some panic prickle across her skin, the cold of the room and the water was getting under her skin. Wincing, as if she was physically pained, she let the water come up to her upper arm as she reached for the plug. Her heart was racing, a metallic taste of fear on her tongue... she couldn't help but think herself pathetic. It was just a bit of water. She was just about the pull the plug when a hand touched her shoulder. Adeline jolted, shooting upwards and spinning around. She hadn't even pieced together who was touching her shoulder until she had her hands around their throat. It took her a few moments of blind fear and panic before she realised it was her father, looking at her with a horrified expression. Adeline stumbled back a step, releasing his throat as she gasped.
"Pa! You scared me, don't do that!" She exclaimed, holding her dry hand to her chest as she panted. Her father took a step back himself, silent and still horrified. "What were you doing? Half the house is flooded!"
"The house? Oh. I must've fallen asleep." Her responded quietly. Adeline sucked in a breath, shaking her head.
"Be more careful next time," she muttered, sucking in a breath as she quickly stuck her hand into the water to pull the bath plug.
"Why did you do that?" Her father asked, Adeline squinted at him.
"Do what? You scared me, you know what it's like."
"You're too violent, Ada. You need to stop... all this." Her father replied, motioning to her training outfit.
"Are you serious?"


The conversation had escalated into a full blown argument, which brought Adeline to be in the capitol the day before the reaping, it was Adelines least favourite day in the year. She had been dreading it for weeks, much like the rest of the underbelly of Panem. It was a cruel joke in so many ways to her. Watching years worth of footage being replayed on repeat for weeks on end before the games, it was insanity. The young woman usually drank herself into a coma the night before but this year she was trying to show a level of restraint... she doubted it would go well. She'd be helped back onto the train to district 10 at some point during the night, sometimes the other victors were nice enough to show pity on her. Sprawled across the couch in her apartment, Adeline sighed, eyes flickering to her empty alcohol cabinet. Her father was going to be pissed with her when she got back, she probably shouldn't have stormed out the door the day previous. Everyone in the country seemed to get pretty worked up around this time of year, and locking herself away in an apartment probably wasn't the best solution to things.

The young woman begrudgingly dragged herself up, walking to her bathroom. The surface was lined with a bunch of unused beauty and hair products, curtesy of her stylist, what a reminder of the situation she was stuck in. Her eyes lingered on the bathtub for a moment, a sinking feeling of shame settling on her shoulders. But that was just a lingering thought, she had fucked up, yeah. Maybe she should've stayed in district 10 and apologised. She pulled her eyes away, looking to the mirror where she ruffled her hair.
"Fuck it," she muttered under her breath, chucking on a leather jacket that she had left hanging on the door.


Adeline had weaved through the crowd of excited capitol citizens pretty easily. She didn't blend in super well as she had never let her stylist mess with her looks that much. She remembered when one had suggested dying her hair blonde to match the arctic tundra of the game she won. She was pretty sure she had to restrain herself from leaping across the table and spitting in the stylists face. The most they ever did was enhance her features, fix any scars or flaws. Anything else and she warned them they would lose their hands. As the elevator dinged, Adeline let out a breath of ease. Of course, being in the capitol she was never safe, but being around other victors who were just as fucked up as her was a comfort.

Stepping into the bar she eyed the usuals, spotting Tommy standing off in the corner. Adeline spared him a smile, planning to head his way in a moment. She paused by the bar, motioning over the bartender as Orson was winding up the peacekeeper standing guard.
"Whiskey," she muttered to the barkeeper, from the looks of it she was going to need the strong stuff. Adeline focused in on Ure for a moment, laughing to herself as she took a sip from her drink.
"Quite the optimist we have here, why don't we throw you into the arena and see how you cope?" Adeline gave the stylist a sickly sweet smile, pushing off the bar to walk over to where Tommy stood. She admired some of the older victors like Orson and Jupiter, infamous in their own right. She had probably expressed that to them at some point, but she got the impression they didn't like hanging out with her. She usually stuck to her age range, the people she grew up watching or came after her victory. She could be nice when she wanted.

"How are you coping, golden boy?" She asked Tommy, knocking his shoulder playfully as she passed. "What time are you heading back to three? I'll be on the train to ten in a few hours, wasn't planning to stay here but it's like fucking cabin fever being in that village before the reaping."

 

[Reach]

THOMAS KANE
>> A part of him felt bad for the stylist as Ada threw the biting remark over her shoulder on her way over to him but then again it wasn't exactly the most tasteful comment. He wouldn't have said anything but he couldn't blame her for it. He let out a fond smile as she came over to him, lightly shoving her back with his shoulder - taking care not to spill his glass. "Well, I feel like a peacock," He replied as he took a sip of his drink, "Probably look like one too." He muttered over the rim of his glass, "And I'm doing great, got a nice drink, nice company, what more could I need?" He asked brightly taking another sip of his drink and gesturing around at the rest of the room - the victors seemed to be the most sombre bunch but then again they had reason to be, the capitol citizens who worked on the games tended to be happier. Truthfully he didn't know how he was coping, he tended not to think about it until he had to and this was a solid distraction. The other victors, the older victors and some of the stylists had started to gather over at the far end of the bar - he saw Valentia smile and wave him over but he inclined his head towards Ada. He'd feel strange over there and as much as he'd try to keep up appearances and talk to them he knew the elder victors like Jules and Orson weren't people he'd want to antagonise or annoy, they'd kept their distance for years and he was going to respect that. They deserved that much. Besides Ada was always interesting company.

The other group were still where they had been by the bar, thankfully they'd seemed to have left the peacekeeper alone - at least for now. He really couldn't be bothered with any actual trouble tonight although he doubted anything would actually happen if they had continued to antagonise them. The screen behind them moved on to the next set of games and the highlight reel continued, animated voice talking over the brutal footage - he grimaced and refocused back on his drink. This time tomorrow they'd have their tributes, the bright eyed and usually terrified children who they would escort to their graves. He doubted this would be his year, maybe Ada would get one or one of the career districts - it usually seemed to be them.

He turned back to Ada at her question and he hesitated, eyes flickering upwards as he tried to work it out, "Not sure but I'll probably get someone coming to escort me to the train if I stay here too late, not exactly as if the Capitol would let me miss the train." He'd tried that for his first games, thought if he missed it then he couldn't possibly mentor - they'd dragged him onto the train and made it clear it was in his best interests to do so. Since then he'd made sure to be on time. He made a noise of sympathy at the rest of her remark, if they were alone he'd probably have pressed for more details, ask what exactly had happened but he didn't want to push. Especially not here. "That's why I try to stay here, less cabin fever more being suffocated by glitter constantly, although clearly you're not dealing with that problem." He nodded down towards his own glittered chest, "I see you escaped your stylists again, I'm half expecting them to quit at this rate - unless they just don't leave little notes for you."

"You missed your chance to watch your highlights by the way," Tommy made sure to sound saddened by that as he gestured over towards the screen, "And you missed your chance to see my stunning face too, missed most the show I think. They're up to Jupitor now so careful if you go downstairs as they always go mad for her." And they did. The oldest victor was feared, respected and loved - sometimes all at once. Tommy respected her, how could he not but he was also acutely aware of the fact that she could probably still kill him without much effort on her part. Plus the old woman could drink them all under the table without trying, bar Ada maybe - somehow she managed to drink whiskey like it was water. His gaze flickered over to her drink and he let out a fond chuckle as he saw what she was drinking, "I've still got no idea how you drink that." He'd tried it once when he was younger, fresh from his victory at Valentina's - he couldn't stop coughing as the liquid burned down his throat and since then he's mostly stayed away. His drink was more fruity than that, deceptively sweet - sugar laced around the edge of the glass to the point where he was sure there was more alcohol in it than he realised.

"Happy Hunger games, ey?" He raised his glass and took another drink, maybe he would need something stronger. One more day to go.

interacting: artfvlly // open to everyone who is in the bar

 

[Spudbob]

"I don' hate ye, I jus' want to save ye."

mental state: Almost but not quite Drunk

feelings: tired and pissed off

thoughts: Why am I out here again?

health: Liver's unhappy.

Jupitor Ichor

(She/Her)

False Alarm

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(click play twice!)

Jupitor eyed the peacekeeper officer stationed at the elevator with a slightly-drunken glare. "Yeh, prob'ly could," she said simply, downing another shot of straight whiskey, barely noticing the burn of the 90-proof alcohol hidden within the brown liquid. She did not get drunk easily, her inherited alcoholism, and tolerance that came with it, now unwelcome memories of her dead father. She stared into the drink for a moment, recalling her Victory Tour, how she returned home and nearly throttled her father to death. She'd lived alone ever since. The other old Mentor mentioned bets and she was drawn back in to conversation. "May th' odds be ever in yer favor," she muttered, sneering at the Capitol quote. Odds bedamned, she'd beaten them.
She received a third shot glass, and the first two were taken away. She had outlasted many of the bartenders here, all flashy and Capitol-dressed, and were it not for her special bracelet proclaiming her a Victor, she was never sure if she'd be let in. She swirled the glass, thinking quietly on why she had even come out here. The only month she ever left her... residence... in Victor's Village of D8 was for the Games. Everything else she needed was often delivered out to her. Food, medicine... She hated it, it reminded her of the Sponsors, of the Games. She tipped back and downed the shot, exhaling as her nostrils burned from the stiff drink. She still never left though, because she knew that Orson was right. She probably would kill someone if they raised a weapon or even a hand at her. At least if she was drunk, she reasoned, she probably wouldn't be able to fight at full strength. As she leaned back, her eyes closed, heavy from the alcohol, age, and exertion of travel. It just wasn't as easy anymore. Only Districts 11 and 12 were farther East than she, and she had yet to see them come in. or the newbie from District 5. Apparently she was getting tossed onto the Mentorship right away, despite only winning it less than a year ago. How cruel.

♡design by rabbitswarren, coded by uxie♡

"It's all fake smiles and leather jackets"

mental state: Alive

feelings: Untouchable

thoughts: Yeah, accidents happen

health: Healthy

Evander Zaffre

(he/him)

You're So Vain

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(click play twice!)

Evan gave his partner-in-crime a confident smile. "Of course not. Odds just simply line up, that it's gonna happen eventually. But he'll make a fine Tribute, and bring plenty of honor to the District. And, of course, we're already in preparation for the 2nd Quarter Quell, only the best Tributes will be lined up for that." Technically it was against the rules to 'line' Tributes up and train them to fight in the games, but nobody really cared or punished it if it was discovered. The fact that the Career Districts of 1, 2, and 4 had won a good chunk of the previous 48 games, leaving few victors and mentors for the farther out regions, helped immensely. Plus, it was fantastic viewership.
"Anyway Gamemakers, if that's all you needed from me...?" He let the question hang in the air as he stuffed the notebook back into his pocket of his grey pantsuit, looking around the table, especially at the newly-arrived Red-haired game maker, to whom he flashed a quick wink.

♡design by rabbitswarren, coded by uxie♡

"I'm the lonely twin, the left hand."

mental state: Ego-inflating

feeling: Ecstatic

thought: I wish Carson were here to see this.

health: Healthy

Mara Wrichten

(She/Her)

Rainbow in the Dark

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(click play twice!)

The flash of white hair wasn't out of the ordinary in the bar, but the face attached to it still drew attention. Chocolate orbs hidden behind a chic silver pair of glasses, framed by her dyed silver locks, scanned the room as the young up-and-coming Stylist made her way to the elevator. Like Thomas, Mara was all smiles, but hers were genuine. She wore a fancy silver dress that glittered in the neon lights, changing color from the reflections depending on the angle. Accentuating all the right curves.
She signed autographs, gave smiles, hugs, and even some kisses to adoring fans. It hurt, to be doing it all alone but Ure was up there, and she wanted to see her mentor again. Not like she never saw the other Stylist, but Ure often spent time away from the Capitol, whilst Mara spent it working on personal clothing lines. She had an image to brand upon, and a Stylist's early career was always the most vulnerable. She finally reached the elevator, the mirrored walls and ceiling turning her dress into a shapeless blob without any colors to add curves. She took a step out when the doors opened, fighting the urge to step back in when she spotted Thomas.
She didn't hate the guy personally, but he had lived where Carson had died, and even after 9 years it still put a bad wrench in her craw. She took a breath, calming herself before moving past the bar and over to Ure, as she joined her mentor at the table. "Evening Ure," she greeted her elder with a very friendly smile. She had been like a mother to the young Stylist, even as their views about the games grated against each other. "It's good to see you again."

♡design by rabbitswarren, coded by uxie♡

 

[RabbitsWarren]

art by

arithm

Wᴀʀʀᴇɴ Bᴜʀɴs

(he/him)

ʙᴜɢʙᴇᴀʀ ʙᴀʀᴅs ᴡɪᴛʜ
ʙᴀɴᴊᴏs ʏ'ᴀʟʟ

Aʙᴏᴜᴛ Mᴇ

Wᴇʙɴᴏᴠᴇʟ Lɪɴᴋ

Wᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ Lɪɴᴋ

DᴇᴠɪᴀɴᴛAʀᴛ Lɪɴᴋ

I'ᴍ ᴡᴏʀʀɪᴇᴅ 'ʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ

Tʜʀᴇᴀᴅ Hᴜʙ

Cʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ Gᴀʟʟᴇʀʏ

RP Pᴀʀᴛɴᴇʀ Sᴇᴀʀᴄʜ

Gᴀᴍᴇ Cᴇɴᴛʀᴀʟ Sᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

Tʜᴇ Fᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ

Mʏsᴛᴇʀʏ Sᴋᴜʟʟs

When Tommy inclined his head towards Ada, Valentina only smiled to encourage him and blew him a platonic kiss. She didn’t mind visiting others, and continued her drink as she watched the statistics go across the screen. The footage got less and less interesting survival wise and more and more brutal the farther the Games went back, she noticed, with even the first few being held in an entirely different style akin to gladiators. She watched as old faces flashed across the screen, some dead now by natural causes or their own hand, and wondered what they thought of everything now, what the Games had changed and morphed into. She felt the slightest etches of a frown crease her face while blood splattered the screen as the Victor from the 8th Games decapitated an opponent with a longsword. Maybe these things were a little outdated. At least the old ones, anyway. Who would want to watch the Games without a GameMaker Arena that they came to be known for?

“Yeah,” Valentina cautiously agreed with Ure as she felt a strange sadness accompany her with the thought of everyone eventually dying. “I suppose you aren’t exactly wrong, but I like to look on the more bright side of things.”

Orson did finally let poor Nieve Pulvil out of his giant tiger paws as if he were playing with a mouse. He truly did enjoy watching anyone in a Capitol uniform squirm, whether it be a PeaceKeeper, an Official, or otherwise. They didn’t deserve his respect, even though he often faked it for others and to maintain civility. Oh, if only he could throw civility out the window. The world would be a whole different place, and the Capitol wouldn’t be in power, that was for sure.

“What are your plans for tomorrow, then? Got an agenda? Things to say to the Cameras? Or are you just going to be an old, rusted cog that doesn’t help the rest of the wheels turn?” Orson teased the woman with the prosthetic not too far from him, frowning at the fact that already half of his second long island iced tea was gone. Yeah, walking would be fun in a few minutes. “Surely you don’t doll yourself up and look this goddamn enchanting for nothing.” He joked, running his hands along the dark obsidian countertop so that he didn’t have to watch the television screen. “Plus, I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors. They said someone framed that Head GameMaker for murder. They’re sending members of the Cabinet and investigation teams to the Center while we work towards the Games. Lovely, isn’t it?”

Nieve Pulvil let his shoulders relax, and he let out a long, deep sigh of relief when Orson took his glare off of him. That one Victor in particular always bothered him and terrified him, along with the woman not too far away. When he mentioned cagey Victors, he definitely meant them. Though, he reminded himself, he was only here for the night. Then, he could leave on the train back to District Two and help run the Reaping Ceremonies in the morning. He wished he could drink, too, for that reason. Too many kids in his life went onto that stage and never set foot in the District. He steadied his rifle flat against his chest and straightened his back, making sure he could look as intimidating as possible.

A low, annoyed grumble left the throat of the large dog, only allowed in the bar because of his vest gleaming with the Panem insignia, and he finally roused himself from his comfortable napping position in the corner. When he looked around, though, as he stretched his long, thick legs and let out a yawn to spread his jaws big enough to fit a large box inside before giving off a big, deep sigh. Where had that old man gotten to when he fell asleep? The dog blinked in the low, neon light and struggled to see. Thankfully, he could smell all the new bodies that definitely weren’t there when he went to sleep. He waddled slowly on ancient bones over to the nearest recognizable person, relieved that the scent that graced his nose smelled familiar.

Sumo pawed up on Jupitor’s knee ever so gently, his giant bear paws almost covering her entire kneecap as he tapped his old, dry toe beans on her leg just like he was trained. At least, this was the training he was taught for when he needed to bring someone to Odie- the problem was, he really didn’t know where that was, a common occurrence of the old dog that struggled to do his job.

-

“Nice of you to join us, Miss Catalais.” Morgan murmured, his face molding into a calm, welcoming smile, even though he meant it passive aggressively. The man despised tardiness to anything ever, whether for himself or for others, and it really showed. He adjusted his seat and took a drink of his tea, pretending to only half pay attention. “You haven’t missed much. Only building our only defenses against execution, that’s all.” The nervous man quipped, and drummed his fingers on the table, tears pricking at the sides of his eyes. He could only see the flames creeping up that silk dress, fueled by gasoline.

“No, I think that’s all we need. Thank you for making the trip out.” Cuvier met Evander’s eyes after he finished speaking, a way to seal their performance for everyone in the room and continue secretly building the secret defenses and alibis that kept him alive, the same ones he hoped would save him from that snooping fox.

“As for the rest of you, though, it’s up to you. We can talk about Arviox and Kramer’s arrival tomorrow or we can talk about arena prep.” Cuvier snapped, and then had to take a deep breath to steady himself. He couldn’t chew out his other GameMakers for something that hadn’t happened yet, and it was his first year in charge. Of course, things were going to be rocky at first, but he could handle a few Officials.

-

“Nonsense,” Sibyl whispered, defiant. She shook her head and blinked her pretty eyes, refusing the compliment entirely. She put away her spare supplies that she finally finished using on Seth to stitch close the small wound right at his temple, not to mention the ice and pain killers she got down for the black eye, and more. “I am only a woman that went to college for Genetics that knows first aid. Without a Capitol machine, I’m nothing.” She insisted as her quiet, muffled voice slid through the mask and assured him of her warm presence.

“You’re not a hindrance, dude, no reason to worry. The real hindrance here is the lack of anything fun to do.” Ciccro complained and climbed up on one of the clean hospital-issue beds and plopped down on it. Without looking, he swung his hand around and tapped it along the nearby counter, knocking over several different things before finding the remote and turning the television off. He despised Game reruns. “I really want to go see Death of a Salesman tonight, Sib. C’mon. Please. First showing is at midnight.” He mumbled into the pillow.

Sibyl immediately slapped his back, hard enough to make a very loud thwack and make her cradle her arm in pain as she hissed for him to be quiet. Her eyes examined the walls, the televisions, the counters, and anything she could get them on, not to mention she began checking the equipment for any obvious cameras or bugs.

“You can’t say things like that, Ciccro. Please, be more subtle. I’m sure Aeron and Kyros would love to see you, but not at the cost of your life.” She paused, looking over at Seth. “Are… are you free? Would you like to come?” She offered a hand that she never offered to outsiders, but she trusted Seth. The surprising part was that she trusted him enough to invite him to an illegal show.

-

“What do you mean, congratulations?” Johnathan screamed, clutching papers in his hands that his mother just handed him. The modest but liveable District One house creaked underneath his booming voice while his green, panicked eyes searched the papers. That was impossible. He knew he didn’t score a 94 and a 91, respectively. He purposefully tanked his last scores because of the accident, praying that he wouldn’t have to suffer what the GameMakers had in store for accidentally fatally injuring that Academy employee.

“I thought you wanted to go off and be a Tribute.” His mother’s lip quivered, astonished at his reaction when only moments before she felt so proud of him for finally achieving one of his Games.

“No! I didn’t want to go to high school, so I signed up for the program!” The boy fretted, throwing the papers at the wall and watching as they swirled about in the caught air they found on the way. His mother backed off, taking a step back, and nodding. She understood; this wasn’t a time to celebrate, it was a tragedy. “They’re blaming me, mom. Please don’t let them do this. They’re blaming me for that kid that got killed, but I swear to you on my life, I never did anything wrong.” He continued in a smooth, steady voice, trying to convince her. Maybe they could do something. Right, right.

“You’re not going away, right?” The voice from the hallway startled them both, revealing a small girl in a lace-coated black dress and a blue bow in her curl-ridden hair. The thirteen year old girl, his little sister Dimitri peaked in from around the hallway, curious as always and worrying about her favorite brother and only brother left after the eldest, Joshua, died in the Games.

“Nah, nah, kiddo. I’m not leaving. We’re going to get this settled in the morning. It’s just a mistake. A glitch in the system. I’ll explain it to the escort in the morning, and everything will be fine. I promise.” Johnathan forced a cautious smile that Dimitri returned and seemed to accept. Yeah, everything would be okay in the morning.

-

Atticus Kramer snuck out of the top window from his room, down the lattice and safely into his backyard. There, now Jacqueline, his mother, would never know. The seventeen year old dusted off his dress slacks, wiping the dirt off of the fancy, egg-shell covered material when he noticed a hole where the fabric got caught on the lattice.

“Shit,” The kid murmured. He would have to come up with some wild, hair-brained lie for that one, and if his mother and father believed it, that would be a miracle. They already threatened to send him to live with his Uncle Ansel in the Capitol until he could straighten up, promising that next time he got caught doing something unsavory that he would be on the next train out. Maybe he could talk his way out of this one.

Regardless, he only wanted to do what he did almost every night. He joined a group of delinquent kids that often broke into the Basement of the Training Academy in order to drink illegal booze, smoke illegal weed, and play stupid card games that they managed to steal from their parents. The issue was, of course, not getting caught.

​

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♡design by rabbitswarren, coded by uxie♡

​

 

[tamarapasek]

H

filler! ignore

N

filler! ignore

• aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
• aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

• 
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  Nicola Weatherby

  
  
  
  

  Panem’s Angel

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  mood

  
  

  Stressed

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  location

  
  

  The Arrow’s Thread

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  outfit

  
  

  Dress. Innocent but not childish.

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  tags

  
  

  Anyone at the bar?

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  Nicola walked into the Arrow’s Thread with a giant smile on her face. As the previous winner, it was absolutely necessary for her to appear joyful on this day. Sure. Technically she wasn’t allowed to drink, and it may have been odd had she been anyone else. But on this night, she had found it a bad idea to stay inside. She had holed up in her room long enough. It was time to let the people see their champion.
  
  She paused to chat with a few capital citizens. Smile and hug. Smile and hug. She politely excused herself to search for other Victors.
  
  She had to appear completely un-nervous. Sure she technically couldn’t drink and didn’t even have to guess if she was the baby of the group, but it couldn’t be that terrible. She had felt a certain kinship with them. Like they all understood what she was feeling even if she couldn’t verbalize it.
  
  She continued to wander the bar, spotting a victor nearby. She slowly walked over. She didn’t need to seem more like a kid than she was already by running or introducing herself. She pulled herself up onto a stool to put herself in their environment, without seeming pushy.
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

♡design by dreamglow, coded by uxie♡

 

[Urzula]

Ure looked unimpressed by the girls remarks. she had honestly heard it all. How she a stylist would never know what its like to be thrown in the throng of the games. Ure just shrugged and sipped at her drink again. "someone doesn't seem to be in the best of moods. No I wouldn't last two seconds myself in the ring but that's why I'm here. to make sure that the other stylist's don't take away the story of my tribute." she looked Adeline up and down from her spot. "much like the way that they took the scars and battle story away from you." sighing and shaking her head Ure's eyes showed a bit of sadness. "taking away ones story is like taking the beauty out of a sunset, you cant have all the pretty colors without the darkness.... such a shame really." by now she was talking to more of herself. As Mara walked in and sat down a warm glow spread across her face.
"Mara dear! how have you been? its been so long since I've actually shown my face around here." the companionship was very much welcome as the younger girl sat down.
------------------------------------------------
Seth winced at the pain that came from the medicine. "you should take the compliment. If it weren't for you i would already be dead." he chuckled, still wincing a bit. "last nights fight I don't remember too much about, I was kinda........ wasted. I think that someone had said something about me being a weakling or something.... I cant really remember." he shrugged honestly as he watched Ciccro with some fascination. how the boy continued to have energy amazed Seth but he was always grateful to have his company. at the mention of the movie Seth was kind of shocked that he was invited. Giving a warm smile he nodded "I would love to, if your sure I wont be too much of a burden." he chuckled a bit at the reprimand that Sibyl gave Ciccro.
----------------------------------------------

Red grimaced slightly at the way she was addressed. "sorry, Sorry.... its been one crazy morning. It wont happen again." she promised and prayed that they wouldn't press the issue. She had been up reading some texts late into the night and kind of forgot that she needed to be around here today and slept in. only half listening to the scores she thought about the games. Red despised them despite her positon, she secretly wished that they actually never happened and that they didn't have to send kids to die. but she did have a job to do and follow through she did, no matter how much she hated it.

 

[artfvlly]

scroll me!

mood

anxious and annoyed

location

the split arrow

tags

talking directly to Reach // mentions pretty much everyone else

Adeline park

district 10 mentor

Ada took a long sip from her drink as Tommy spoke to her, smiling to her as she watched him from over the rim of the glass. She liked Tommy, he was nice to be around. He wasn't weird, preachy or demanding like some were. Somehow she always ended up in her drunk rants around him, he had always been a good friend to her. Part of her was always torn up when she saw him like this, all glittered up, playing the part. She knew deep down he wasn't happy, deep down everybody probably knew he was unhappy. It wasn't an unusual thing though, they were all sad in their own way.

Her eyes flickered over to Valentina, a stylist for distract three. Adeline grimaced in distaste as she blew Tommy a kiss. She had a general for most stylists, not just her own. She hated the way they blended with the victors like they understood. They would sit there and watch, twisting and turning their silk into webs to catch them, just like the bloody spiders they were. Her eyes went back to Tommy as he spoke once again, only half paying attention. Her ears were half tuned into whatever Ure was rambling on about in her direction.

Ada clenched her jaw, downing the rest of her whiskey. She signalled the bartender for another one with a quick flick of her fingers, placing the empty glass on a nearby table. With a dry snort of laughter, she responded to Tommy.
"You're too nice, letting them cover you in that shit." Adeline was pretty pissed off with this stylist thinking she was hot shit. People like that in the capitol were why she got herself so worked up and in trouble these days. She was over all the glitz and glam covering the dark underbelly of the beast, the way they hid the bloodstains and bruises with glitter. Children died for this, and all these stylists could do was give her was a quick frown, then tell her everything would be better when she was beautiful. Adeline angled her head, looking to the likes of Valetina and Ure, making sure her voice was loud enough for them to hear her.
"My stylist refuses to be alone in the same room as me. I threatened them, don't think they took it very well."

The young woman glared at Ure, only briefly breaking the look as the bartender handed Ada her drink.
"I hate stylists, you should take a page out of my book, Tommy. Bite the hand that feeds you, if you could even consider that hand help these days." With a quick quirk of her eyebrow she relaxed her shoulders. She was worked up, she needed to calm it down. If the stylist dared to respond to her, she would let it go. She hoped. Adeline was only one drink down, she was too rational to blame her anger on anything but herself. She took a quick swig from her new drink, exhaling loudly and looking to Tommy with a smile.

"Awh, I missed the highlights? What a shame, I was looking forward to seeing your handsome baby face." Ada resisted the urge to lean forward and pinch his cheeks, instead looking over to Jupitor. She looked badass and frightening per usual, Ada smiled to herself. She liked the older woman, even if they hadn't interacted much. She knew the older victors kept to their group a lot, but Jupitor had been a great inspiration to her. She would never admit it to the old woman, but before her own games she had watched some of the old tapes of Jupitor on repeat. There was a certain element of savagery that Ada had learnt from her, not so much over-confidence like most career packs but... intelligent survival.

"Maybe I'll join them down stairs for the Jupitor reel, we all know she's the one who deserves the most hype," Ada half-joked in a quiet tone. Drawing her eyes away from the old woman, Adeline raised her glass in unison with Tommy.
"Happy hunger games," she replied. She understood the somewhat sarcasm behind it all, but she couldn't help but let her sour tone slip through. Taking a sip from her drink she surveyed the surrounding area, almost spitting out the harsh liquor as she caught sight of Nicola.

"Oh shit," the woman whispered. She covered her mouth for a second before motioning with her head for Tommy to look.
"That's last years winner, right? God, I don't remember her being so... young? What the hell are they thinking having her mentor? She's what, fourteen? Fifteen if we're pushing it." Adeline muttered to Tommy, stepping closer to him so no one would over hear their conversation. "Poor girl."

Adeline stared at the girl for a long moment, before giggling to herself.
"Maybe we should take her under our wing. What an awful idea, drunk step-parents guiding her through preparing children for murder. She looks more put together than the rest of us combined." The young woman toyed with the idea for a moment, smiling to herself. What was Nicola even doing here? Poor girl couldn't even drink, she was too young. What torture, she didn't know what her situation was, but going off Adelines own experience... she felt sorry for the young girl. How would she drown out the intrusive thought, the nightmares and anxiety without some kind of abusive substance to numb the pain? She was probably here to just get a feel for things and the other mentors. What an awful situation to be in. Even if Adeline was abrasive and a trouble maker, maybe she could give the child some guidance.

♡design by neon reverie, coded by uxie♡

Spoiler: mobile friendly

Ada took a long sip from her drink as Tommy spoke to her, smiling to her as she watched him from over the rim of the glass. She liked Tommy, he was nice to be around. He wasn't weird, preachy or demanding like some were. Somehow she always ended up in her drunk rants around him, he had always been a good friend to her. Part of her was always torn up when she saw him like this, all glittered up, playing the part. She knew deep down he wasn't happy, deep down everybody probably knew he was unhappy. It wasn't an unusual thing though, they were all sad in their own way.

Her eyes flickered over to Valentina, a stylist for distract three. Adeline grimaced in distaste as she blew Tommy a kiss. She had a general for most stylists, not just her own. She hated the way they blended with the victors like they understood. They would sit there and watch, twisting and turning their silk into webs to catch them, just like the bloody spiders they were. Her eyes went back to Tommy as he spoke once again, only half paying attention. Her ears were half tuned into whatever Ure was rambling on about in her direction.

Ada clenched her jaw, downing the rest of her whiskey. She signalled the bartender for another one with a quick flick of her fingers, placing the empty glass on a nearby table. With a dry snort of laughter, she responded to Tommy.
"You're too nice, letting them cover you in that shit." Adeline was pretty pissed off with this stylist thinking she was hot shit. People like that in the capitol were why she got herself so worked up and in trouble these days. She was over all the glitz and glam covering the dark underbelly of the beast, the way they hid the bloodstains and bruises with glitter. Children died for this, and all these stylists could do was give her was a quick frown, then tell her everything would be better when she was beautiful. Adeline angled her head, looking to the likes of Valetina and Ure, making sure her voice was loud enough for them to hear her.
"My stylist refuses to be alone in the same room as me. I threatened them, don't think they took it very well."

The young woman glared at Ure, only briefly breaking the look as the bartender handed Ada her drink.
"I hate stylists, you should take a page out of my book, Tommy. Bite the hand that feeds you, if you could even consider that hand help these days." With a quick quirk of her eyebrow she relaxed her shoulders. She was worked up, she needed to calm it down. If the stylist dared to respond to her, she would let it go. She hoped. Adeline was only one drink down, she was too rational to blame her anger on anything but herself. She took a quick swig from her new drink, exhaling loudly and looking to Tommy with a smile.

"Awh, I missed the highlights? What a shame, I was looking forward to seeing your handsome baby face." Ada resisted the urge to lean forward and pinch his cheeks, instead looking over to Jupitor. She looked badass and frightening per usual, Ada smiled to herself. She liked the older woman, even if they hadn't interacted much. She knew the older victors kept to their group a lot, but Jupitor had been a great inspiration to her. She would never admit it to the old woman, but before her own games she had watched some of the old tapes of Jupitor on repeat. There was a certain element of savagery that Ada had learnt from her, not so much over-confidence like most career packs but... intelligent survival.

"Maybe I'll join them down stairs for the Jupitor reel, we all know she's the one who deserves the most hype," Ada half-joked in a quiet tone. Drawing her eyes away from the old woman, Adeline raised her glass in unison with Tommy.
"Happy hunger games," she replied. She understood the somewhat sarcasm behind it all, but she couldn't help but let her sour tone slip through. Taking a sip from her drink she surveyed the surrounding area, almost spitting out the harsh liquor as she caught sight of Nicola.

"Oh shit," the woman whispered. She covered her mouth for a second before motioning with her head for Tommy to look.
"That's last years winner, right? God, I don't remember her being so... young? What the hell are they thinking having her mentor? She's what, fourteen? Fifteen if we're pushing it." Adeline muttered to Tommy, stepping closer to him so no one would over hear their conversation. "Poor girl."

Adeline stared at the girl for a long moment, before giggling to herself.
"Maybe we should take her under our wing. What an awful idea, drunk step-parents guiding her through preparing children for murder. She looks more put together than the rest of us combined." The young woman toyed with the idea for a moment, smiling to herself. What was Nicola even doing here? Poor girl couldn't even drink, she was too young. What torture, she didn't know what her situation was, but going off Adelines own experience... she felt sorry for the young girl. How would she drown out the intrusive thought, the nightmares and anxiety without some kind of abusive substance to numb the pain? She was probably here to just get a feel for things and the other mentors. What an awful situation to be in. Even if Adeline was abrasive and a trouble maker, maybe she could give the child some guidance.

 

[Spudbob]

"It's all fake smiles and leather jackets"

Confident

Slightly Romantic

What was her name again?

Healthy

Evander Zaffre

(he/him)

You're So Vain

• .
• .

• h
• h
  
  

  
  

  
  
  

(click play twice!)

Evander gave a quick bow. "Then I shall be..." he eyed Red interestedly, a smile returning to his lips. "waiting outside in case you need any further assistance of mine," he completed, catching the door as it closed, the blue-clad man strutting out of the lounge. "Ta-ta!"
He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. She was cute. Purple... purple was a nice color. Well, he had the rest of the day off then, to get ready for a show tomorrow. It was his first year at District 1, and he wanted it to go perfectly. The test score swap hadn't been easy, but he had covered his tracks well. The short Executioner scared the escort somewhat, but not as much as Cuvier. Evan was confident in his abilities. After all, he'd made it up here by carefully poisoning his mentor, bribing to make sure Tours went off without a hitch, even stuffing the ballots in District 5 last year to net a victor. Though, he hadn't counted on the girl to win, but the boy. The girl... what was her name again? Nikki? Nicolaus? ... whatever, she was just there to win hearts for sponsorships. He hadn't expected her to win, but the extra fame had allowed him to move up to District 1, whose escort was retiring, luckily. Luck was his gamble, and it had paid off big time.

♡design by rabbitswarren, coded by uxie♡

"I don' hate ye, I jus' want to save ye."

Fatigued

Annoyed

Where's Ol' Odi again?

On a buzz, and nearly having a heart attack

Jupitor Ichor

(She/Her)

False Alarm

• .
• .

• h
• h
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

(click play twice!)

Jupitor's eyes snapped open as she felt something warm paw at her knee, just above the amputation. Her heart sped up and her hand raised in a conditioned manner, fist pausing only inches from a wet slobbery muzzle. "Goddammit," she muttered under her breath at Sumo, along with a few other choice words as she leaned back again, willing her heart to calm down. She looked back down at Sumo, who hadn't moved. Damn, that dog was either too dumb to be scared or knew her too well to be hurt. "feckin' mutt, I dunno where yer Ol Ignatius is. Go find someone else ye ol' stray," she dismissed the St Bernard, but relented and spread her hand out to pat the warm fuzzy head of the dog a few times before the paw disappeared.
Then Orson was there again, drawing her into conversation. Well obviously she planned to be that rusted old cog in the machine, though not for any reason other than she just hated being out in public. "I don't much care. Politicikin' and lookin' cutsie's for young-uns," she answered, downing another drink.

♡design by rabbitswarren, coded by uxie♡

"I'm the lonely twin, the left hand."

Excited

Lost in the past

Sumo looks so cute!

Healthy

Mara Wrichten

(She/Her)

Rainbow in the Dark

• .
• .

• h
• h
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

(click play twice!)

"I'm well, master. I heard you were out and about and I just had to come and say 'hello' before we both go our separate ways again. I assume you've already drawn up plans for your next costume for the Chariots this year, haven't you?" Mara asked with a sly smile. She knew her mentor largely stayed away from the capitol, looking for muse and inspiration from the District. That homegrown feeling that other Stylists could never quite match. It's what Mara liked about her. Ure dived headfirst into work, and came out with the most beautiful dresses and suits in her opinion. "Cause now that this is my second year as a Stylist for District 6, I've got a much better ide-oh!" She yelped as Sumo laid a paw on her leg, panting with a happy dog grin on his face. "Oh Sumo! C'mere boy! I got something for you!" Mara reached into her purse (matching her dress of course) and pulled out a few strips of fabric and a small bowler hat. She knelt down in front of the dog for a few seconds, tying knots and attaching velcro before standing up. "There!" Upon Sumo's head was the bowler hat, form fitted so it wouldn't fall off easily. And just under his slobbery chin was a (waterproof and slobberproof) little red bowtie. "Odius has a suit to get into for tomorrow too," she told the dog in a loud whisper, looking around for the old victor. "... Speaking of Odi, where is he? D'you know where he is, Sumo?" She turned to Ure quickly, as Sumo stood up but didn't move from his spot. "Sorry master, we'll have to postpone this conversation until after the games I think. We need to find Odius, hopefully he's not out cold somewhere."

♡design by rabbitswarren, coded by uxie♡

"With a Rebel Yell
She cried,
'More, More, More!'"

Bored

Bored

Gosh, this amp is heavier than I remembered

strained arm muscles

Rubi Daedra

(She/Her)

Uprising

• .
• .

• h
• h
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

(click play twice!)

Rubicon lugged her heavy amp behind her as she made her way to the Training Academy's basement (Tab). She couldn't leave it there because, well, if it was found... their whole thing would be discovered. She wouldn't let that happen. As she passed a familiar house, she saw a shape leaving the yard. "Atticus?" she whispered to herself as the shape approached. The kid was 3 years her senior, but she rarely saw him beyond their nightly jamborees in the Tab. Of course, he wasn't a career like her, either, so that was mostly why. "You look troubled, dude," she greeted as she shuffled her amp to sit down on it. Her makeshift guitar nicknamed the 'Axe' hung tightly to her back by use of a strap. In the dark, it looked like a bandolier over the teenaged punk girl. It had taken almost 4 years for each of them to make amends after Rubi had called him 'Alice' and nearly got their little club of misfits discovered.

♡design by rabbitswarren, coded by uxie♡

 

[Reach]

THOMAS KANE
>> He rolled his eyes fondly as the remark was thrown over her shoulder, he prayed that a fight wouldn't break out - more so for the stylists sake then Adas. He swirled his drink around in its glass, he'd need another one soon. His gaze flickered over to the group gathering around the bar, his eyes widened and he instinctively took a step back once he laid eyes on who was there - Mara. The hottest up and coming stylist and the girl who's brother died in his games. The boy who he outlived. He could remember first meeting her, his cheek had stung for what felt like hours, the horrified realisation settling over him when he was told exactly why she took such offence to seeing him. He remembered desperately trying to remember if he dealt the killing blow to her brother, the relief almost overwhelming when it was told he had not. Followed by the twisted guilt relating to the fact he hadn't known. But it made it almost easier to see her, as much as he tried to avoid her, the guilt was small and in the back of his head - he wasn't going to apologise for not dying - rather than at the forefront of his mind. His gaze quickly returned to Ada, swirling his drink and hoping it could last a little longer. Even the small few steps between himself and the bar.

He watched as Ada got worked up, brow creasing slightly as he debated at what point he should try to diffuse the situation, letting out a laugh as she took on the more direct approach in showing the stylists her dislike of them. "I've got no idea why they'd take that personally- after all you're such a sweetheart." It was a teasing remark full of fondness rather than malice.

Tommy hummed vaguely, an uneasy frown shaping his lips at her advice, "They're not so bad, Valentina is a godsend during the games," And after them, she'd been a lifesaver after his games and even though she didn't really understand she meant well. The clothes covered up ugly scars and an ugly truth but the clothes, outrageous and bold and bright, were what was palatable to the Capitol and regardless of how much he liked that or not they were the ones with the power to save or condemn them. Even outside of the Games. "The hand that feeds is solid gold Ada, not quite worth the pain." It wasn't worth making waves, he tended to go with things and just try to keep his head above water and live as comfortable of a life as he could. The parties and drinks couldn't quite keep the nightmare away, or the bile from rising in the back of his throat when he looked in the mirror but they could mask it slightly, dull out his jagged edges to something more usable. "Besides I think I pull off the look quite well." He added with a grin as he watched her tense up slightly, deciding to try to help diffuse the situation. Any other time or place and he'd probably think blowing off some steam was a good idea but not here and not now.

He'd have made another joke or remark but Adas horrified whisper cut him off and faintly he decided he'd definitely need another drink. He followed Ada's gesture and finally laid eyes on the newest victor to join their ranks, "God- she's so young." Tommy huffed, not quite a laugh, a little more tired, a little more bitter, as he realised they didn't know her age. "They always look bigger in the arena." And it was true, it was easier to forget just how young they all were in there - made it easier when they weren't your tributes, you went into it hoping your tributes would come out alive and so you had to bet on the others dying. And it was easier to do so if you kept yourself detached. He could remember Nicola though, she'd played the game well - charming and sweet, people had tried that tactic before whenever a kid had been reaped but he'd never saw it work so well. He had to admit she was good. Hopefully that could carry on to help her as a mentor.

He used his drink like a crutch, taking another long sip as he tried to bridge his thoughts, letting out a small chuckle as Ada started to giggle. "Maybe she can be the responsible one then, help me keep you out of trouble." He tried to at least. Ada was a good friend, one of the few people he actually trusted and made a point of seeing when everyone wasn't around - she wasn't someone using him for anything, she was just a friend. Plus her drunken rants were refreshingly honest, although he usually tried to talk over the more treasonous parts of them, and they weren't exactly wrong. They just voiced truths he tried to forget about.

His next words came out slow and deliberate as he sounded them out, "I think she could use someone on her side, not someone wanting favours-" He stumbled over the word, adams apple bobbing, "Or anything from her, she needs someone that is at least attempting to look out for her best interests." His voice regained its confidence as he finished, "I don't see why that couldn't be you." And he really didn't, Ada was a good friend and he'd go as far as to say that she was a good person. She had her moments but they all did. They all had sharp and jagged edges that could hurt people who came too close to them, or be used to keep people from looking too close at them. They were all fucked up. The difference was how they dealt with that; some of them turned to drink, some of them turned to more elicit substances, some threw themselves into the games and everything to do with them, some dressed themselves up and pretended they weren't, some lashed out and tried to destroy the system they hated and some of them threw themselves into helping it. He couldn't control or judge how others coped but he wasn't against trying to keep the younger girl away from the first two at the very least. She already seemed pretty good at the fourth one - put together and walking into the bar like she belonged, it was sad in a way that she did.

He looked from Ada to Nicola before finally deciding to bite the bullet, he downed the rest of his drink and headed over to where the girl was perched on the stool. "Another one, thanks-" He nodded at the barman and drummed against the bar for a second or two with his fingers, filling the awkward silence that seemed to settle over them. "And I'll have whatever is here that she can actually drink-" He shot her an apologetic grin, "Generally I'd advise against accepting drinks from random people in a bar but since we're now co-workers-" And god wasn't that tragic, "I thought it best to introduce myself." He shot her an attempt at a winning smile. The barman brought the drinks and he nodded his thanks, taking a sip of his own and looking down at the concoction they'd produced for her. "Don't worry, it's not poisoned or anything-" He joked lightly before the smile froze in place, the circumstances of her victory flashing to the forefront of his mind. Shit.

interacting: artfvlly tamarapasek // mentions or is at least around everyone else in the bar

 

[FoldedPages]

"The meaning of life is to give life meaning."

Strong-willed

Steadfast

What happens, happens

Fit&Healthy

Theia Emrys

(She/Her)

Unsteady

• .
• .

• h
• h
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

(click play twice!)

Despite the promise of a sweltering summer, a refreshing breeze laid claim high upon the Appalachian mountains. The distinct clank of an unsteady fence just outside of District 12's vibrated in the air as two figures twisted their way through the metal and into the outskirts. One was a young man, no older than twenty-two, with soot peppering his olive face and hands. He stood at six-foot-two, towering over his petite companion who stood at a mere five-foot-three. An ominous foreboding weaved into the breeze between the two, an awkward silence lingering in the air until the two reached a clearing far from prying ears.

"Tomorrow's the Reaping," the young girl finally broke the silence.

"Theia, your name won't be pulled. It's been seven years, and you've put your name countless times for extra rations in the pool."

"That's not it, Arlo. At least one person from our District is going to die. Twenty-three kids are going to lose their lives."

Silence fell between Theia and Arlo once more. The thought of the Games twisted and coiled Theia's insides like the overhead tree branches, the contents of her stomach slowly inching upwards. Deep in contemplation, she did not realize the two stood woodenly in the clearing, rooted to the soddened ground. Her fingers curled into her palm, imprinting crescent-shaped marks into it. It was not until Arlo placed a comforting hand on her tensed shoulder did Theia's entire body relax, her hands unfurling and her shoulders relaxing. Without uttering a single word, she offered him a smile full of thanks, and Arlo let his hand ease back to his side.

"Did you bring them?" She asked.

Arlo huffed, flinging his duffle bag right in front of his torn and battered shoes, evidence of his low economic status. Theia's clothing matched her friend's. Hand-me-down's from the local female citizens completed her entire wardrobe. Never did she complain, however. A shirt on her back was enough.

"Of course, I brought them. You wouldn't keep me around if I couldn't bring you the best throwing hatchets, would you?"

"Of course not. That's the only thing you're useful for," the lopsided grin on Theia's face and the playful hip-bump said otherwise. She unraveled her makeshift infantry belt, a combination of several different fabrics woven together, and tied it around her toned waist. Wasting no time, she delved into Arlo's bag, pulling out each hatchet and placing it into the loops of her belt. She held onto the last one, rotating the weapon in her hand to admire the craftsmanship of it. Careful, she slid her thumb down the sharpened metal, exaggerating a whistle.

"You outdid yourself this time, Arlo."

Dismissing her comment with a waved hand, Arlo shook his head. "I don't want words; I want actions."

Theia responded by nodding and threw the hatchet in the air, letting it spin once before catching it by the handle. In a seamless effort, her body twisted, and her fingers let go of the hardware. Metal collided with wood, dead-center in a tree nearly twenty-five feet away from the two. This activity went on for almost the entire day. By the end of it, Theia's chest heaved up and down, and deep brunette hair clung to her sweat-drenched forehead. Not a single Peacekeeper droid had flown above them, a rare occasion. She thumped down to the grass, laying back with sprawled out arms. A satisfied grin illuminated Theia's creamy skin. Surrounding the two were trees with distinct markings where the hatchets chucked away the bark.

"I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of your arm," Arlo commented.

Theia chose not to answer, her hazel eyes focusing on the shifting horizon. Hues of tangerine and amethyst adorned the mountainous terrain. The atmosphere between the two shifted once more. An eerie premonition plagued their space, prompting the hairs on Theia's arms to stand erect.

"Hey Arlo, if they pick my name tomorrow, promise me you'll take care of Nan and Papa for me."

An array of sarcastic answers flooded Arlo's mind for a moment, but he simply just nodded.

"Yeah, I promise."

"Thanks."

Theia rolled onto her side and then pushed herself off the ground to stand again.

"We should get going."

And the two began to pack up their belongings. Noticing a hatchet was missing, Theia transversed a bit further from the clearing and into the forest. The sunset reflected off the metal of the weapon, prompting a shift recovery of it. As she pulled it from the soil, a barren shrub caught her attention. Kneeling, her fingers lightly grazed the branches. Whatever herb that was missing, it had gone missing by human hands. Theia's brows knitted together, and without a second thought, stood up and made her way back to Arlo.

"Let's go home, Arlo."

♡design by rabbitswarren, coded by uxie♡

 

[Urzula]

"Stay safe"

Slightly embarrassed

Flattered

Please dont ask me any questions

healthy

Red Catalais

She/her

Cytus

• .
• .

• h
• h
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

(click play twice!)

Red took a deep breath, her eye had caught the blue haired Male and she gave a small, shy smile. She had heard several stories about this man.... Now what was his name again? Evan_something or other? shaking her head she couldnt stop the small smile creeping up her face. When he left her eyes lingered on the door before speaking. "It would be a nice change to see a district that hasn't won for a while claim victory." Her eyes wandered back to the people in the room. "Who was that man?" She asked. Her curious nature could never be quelled and when Red got a hold of something she wouldnt let it go.
"Wasn't he the one under investigation a while ago? Did abything ever come up with it?" Cocking her head to the side as she asked.

Red was one of the newer game makers and had a knack for pissing people off with too,many questions, did she care? No. Questions needed to be asked and answered or nothing was ever going to change around here.

Now that was a thought that scared most people, change. But Red was ready for it, and that thought alone could get her killed. So she waited and watched as things changed, silently praying to the god which ahe worshiped that things would change for the better.

Drumming her fingers on the table as she waited for the answer Red looked out the window again, the games were to start off tomorrow with the reaping. She had worked so hard to get this position and even now the sight of one child killing anothet made her sick. At least she didnt throw up when she was alone anymore.

♡design by rabbitswarren, coded by uxie♡

 

[Urzula]

"I hope victory is sweet!"

unknown

slightly drunk

I'm so happy I got to see Mara!

healthy

Ure Santos

(Her/She)

Gravity

• .
• .

• h
• h
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

(click play twice!)

Ure gazed over to Mara and listened to her. Ure adored the girl, for she was really the only one who kinda understood Ure, even if it was only a little.

Taking another sip of her blue drink Ure nodded and waved Mara goodbye. "You might want to find him before he catches a cold." Smiling at the dog Ure downed the rest of her glass.

Slamming her glass on the table she chuckled and looked directly at Ada. Ure, being away from the capital for more than 6 months a year and living realitivly on her own sometimes forgot when to keep her mouth shut. It didnt help that she was slightly drunk too.

"Go on and fucking bite me then." The once warm tone Now turned harsh and cold. Shaking her head, Ure laughed "Now I get it. I can see why your stylists wanted to change you." Her now cold eyes narrowed as she gave a harsh laugh. "Your just as ugly inside." Head swirling just a bit, the stylist didnt care what her words brought. All the mentors were just the same.
Just because they won the games no one ever thinks of all the people that helped them. Ure snorted at the thought. It just plain pissed her off.

♡design by rabbitswarren, coded by uxie♡

 

[jrink]

"Does it ever really get better?"

...

excitement, anxiety

let's try not to think tonight.

healthy

Alissa Quintero

(She/Her)

Falling Apart

• .
• .

• h
• h
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  

(click play twice!)

Where Willis (**post pending) would've shrank back from the mix of loud, booming music and neon lights occupying the Arrow's Split tonight, Alissa drank it all up as easily as she did her alcohol most nights. The excitement for her was a euphoric distraction from the stressful thoughts she'd had just hours ago, from the trauma soon to be revisited and made fresh in her mind in the coming mornings.

For now though, those thoughts were the furthest from the curly-haired woman's mind as she mingled her way through the crowd, giving the more familiar faces quick pecks on the cheek and leaving the less familiar ones with merely a squeeze of the shoulders. Tonight, unlike others, it was speed rather than cordiality that Alissa prioritized as she weaved her way to the elevator doors.

She really wasn't in the mood for any sort of conversation with the usual Capitol crowds, wasn't in the mood to sacrifice what time she had before the Games entertaining fan theories or any other absurdities she'd smile and nod at any other night.

That thought process, however, might've had a little more to do with the week Alissa had just had, entertaining multiple sponsors within her own Capitol quarters as per orders coming from much higher up, ones she'd never question. Insultingly enough, she'd even had to foot the brunt of the bill for food and accommodations. That had left the mentor fuming though she knew, by now, better than to make known her annoyance.

She'd grinned and bared it even as thoughts of her own district and the victor quarters she had there floated into her mind, tempted her with the option of reconsidering her almost ten-year refusal to step foot back in the district. But by now, there really was no point to returning. Everyone she loved that had remained was gone, dead right alongside James.

As those darker, subversive thoughts rose the forefront of her mind, Alissa bit her bottom lip hard enough to distract herself with the pain, reminded herself that tonight was supposed to be light, fun, thoughtless. But it was getting harder and harder with the coming days to keep things thoughtless. Was she supposed to be better at this by now?

She'd just made it to the elevator when an unceremonious hand closed over the bare shouldered portion of her backless, dark dress. Alissa pushed down the initial panic - the instinct to hurt, maim, kill - that touched over her senses momentarily at the upset, instead pushing an easy smile to her red-stained lips as she turned to consider the offender.

It was an orange-haired man dressed in an equally as appalling shade of bright terra cotta from his torso to his shoes. The camera in his other hand hand made his intentions quite clear though Alissa was loathe to entertain them, especially on a night such as this. Sliding herself free from his meaty grasp even as she allowed politeness to enter her tone, Alissa inched forward as she spoke -

"Sorry sweetie, tonights just not really a night for pictures. Another time, maybe..."

She allowed her voice to trail off on that last word, eyes flickering over to the peacekeeper standing closest to the elevator and swiveling her head subtly in the direction of the orangette. The peacekeeper nodded briefly, proceeding forward to give the former Victor her space. That taken care of, Alissa entered the elevator.

As soon as the doors closed, she found herself grasping the railing along the lower sides of the wall tightly. Her heart was still beating a little fast from the upset, the mix of anger and panic she'd felt in the moment the man had just so easily touched her as if he had the right to it, as if she were just an object, closing over her senses briefly.

Perhaps she was making it deeper than it was in the moment, but Alissa didn't really care as she allowed herself a couple of moments to compose herself, reel in that heavy anger. Releasing the railing as the number for her intended floor flashed on the screen, she paused to apply a fresh coat of red to her lips, the familiarity of the action steadying her as the elevator doors swung open soon after. Instinct made her eyes peal over the room the instant she stepped foot in it - over the older victors - Orson, Jupiter, sitting closer to the screen, the Peacekeeper close by on the wall nearest them. Her eyes lingered on the smaller man for a couple of moments longer, roaming over the darkened visor before they were flicking away just as fast.

Teasing the edge of her big curly mane with her free hand as she made her way into the den of familiar faces, Alissa headed to the edge of the bar near the small group of younger victors and motioned a little violently for the barkeep to give her something strong enough to dull the still relentless anger still itching at the back of her mind. As the shot was slid over the table towards her, Alissa quickly downed it, ignoring the burn of it - whiskey she dully registered- against the back of her throat. It tasted like control, and Alissa appreciated that as she turned in her seat to consider the mix of familiar faces clustered around the more unfamiliar, smaller one - oh.

Sitting the shot glass down and pushing it a little farther along the table as her dark eyes lightly appraised the newest Victor/Mentor, the child she'd unknowingly sat beside, Alissa vaguely remembered her own Victory year, the endless tours that had accompanied it and the numbness that had quickly begin to settle over her senses. Hadn't she been thirteen, fourteen - around the age this girl looked when it all started?

She hadn't had to become a mentor until much later though, not until perhaps 2-3 years later when her old mentor finally succeeded in what he'd been trying for at least 11 years now if he was to be trusted - drinking himself to an early death.

Pity mixed with streaks of old sorrow touched over her mind for a moment though Alissa quickly disregarded it, pushed it down. It wasn't helpful to feel bad for the girl. These were the cards she'd been dealt and she had to make the best of them for her own sake.

That sounded harsh even in Alissa's own mind, the mentor shaking the thought off to consider those already clustered near the girl.

The girl's attention appeared to already be being capitalized by a more familiar face from previous years, Tommy, though Alissa couldn't but wince a little as she tuned in to his intonation and caught that last uttered sentence about poison. Having viewed at least the game highlights this year, Alissa was aware of that being mode the girl had used to win, making it perhaps a sore spot. She knows hers had been anyway, for so long afterwards.

Tilting her head a little to acknowledge Tommy's presence with a little smile, Alissa turned her attention to the girl - had her name been Nickie, Nicola? That sounded about right, though she'd allow the girl to introduce herself for appearances sake.

"It's nice to see the new girl in person," she inserted her voice lightly, half-joking in an attempt to lighten the mood a little, "especially after seeing only the Capitol edited version on my screen for so long,"

"I'm Alissa, by the way, and the one getting you a drink right now is Tommy," she paused a moment to let those words sink in before continuing. "how.., are things so far for you?"

Once she'd uttered the question, it felt a little insensitive. She still at least vaguely remembered how she'd felt the night before her first mentorship, knew intimately now, how painful the process was.

♡design by rabbitswarren, coded by uxie♡

 

[RabbitsWarren]

art by

arithm

Wᴀʀʀᴇɴ Bᴜʀɴs

(he/him)

ʙᴜɢʙᴇᴀʀ ʙᴀʀᴅs ᴡɪᴛʜ
ʙᴀɴᴊᴏs ʏ'ᴀʟʟ

Aʙᴏᴜᴛ Mᴇ

Wᴇʙɴᴏᴠᴇʟ Lɪɴᴋ

Wᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ Lɪɴᴋ

DᴇᴠɪᴀɴᴛAʀᴛ Lɪɴᴋ

I'ᴍ ᴡᴏʀʀɪᴇᴅ 'ʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ

Tʜʀᴇᴀᴅ Hᴜʙ

Cʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ Gᴀʟʟᴇʀʏ

RP Pᴀʀᴛɴᴇʀ Sᴇᴀʀᴄʜ

Gᴀᴍᴇ Cᴇɴᴛʀᴀʟ Sᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

Tʜᴇ Fᴜᴛᴜʀᴇ

Mʏsᴛᴇʀʏ Sᴋᴜʟʟs

Atticus screamed, covering his mouth with his hand. Dogs barked in the distance and a few lights turned on in the surrounding, huge houses compared to the other side of District Two. He waited silently until everyone settled again, lights shut off, and the animals settled. No one would think much of it in a few minutes. Every once in a while, someone’s last screams as they were ‘dealt with’ by a PeaceKeeper would echo for blocks in District Two. Everyone was used to it by now, especially with political tensions being as high as they were here. So many people concentrated in such a small area made things rough in some places, too.

“Shit, you scared me, Rubi.” Yeah, Atticus remembered that. He remembered the cold night in the basement while he played cards with a few others in his class, all of them buzzed on illegal booze that was probably made in a bathtub by someone in the lesser parts of the Capitol. Then, Rubi came into the Tab with her makeshift guitar and amp. He made a snarky comment, something about ‘being to small to be there’, which caused a bit of a ruckus and a fist fight that Atticus barely managed to end in a stalemate. She was still a Career, and he was still a high school, rich-boy punk.

“Yeah, I just fucking ripped my coat. My mom’s been threatening to send me to the Capitol with my Uncle Ansel if I keep ‘running with delinquents’, so I’m going to have to come up with a good excuse for this.” The boy scowled at the rip in the fabric. He started to respect her more, then, and even more after the initial moment when she’d outed him in front of everyone and they fought over that. Then, she finally called him Atticus, which was still a long shot from the name of Altas that everyone called him at the Tab, lest he be associated with the Kramers. He even refused to

-

“Well, thank you dear. I appreciate your kindness, even if it isn’t quite true.” Sibyl whispered, but the faintest inches of a smile could be seen at the edges around her mask, and her eyes seemed to take in the compliment warmly, happy that he felt that way about her. She slowly took her stitching needles aside and closed up the box before storing it in a cabinet.

“You shouldn’t have to worry too much, but clean it every four hours and put this on it.” Sibyl put everything away and she pressed her hands into the counter to test if her numbing medicine wore off over time. Sure enough, her hands burned when she pressed them against the counter. Sure enough, her hands burned and painfully struck up through her wrists. She took down a small pill bottle from her personal cabinet, and struggled to open it with pained fingers.

“Of course. It will surprise Aeron, but it’ll be okay.” Sibyl assured, giving him a light smile and letting her shoulders relax. “We’ll explained that we invited you. Just, if anyone tries to tackle you, don’t fight. That’s a pretty good sign that you aren’t a threat to the Hotel.” She spoke in a hushed, cautious voice even saying Aeron’s name. According to the Capitol, they were dead, executed along with their wife Marnie so many years ago.

-

“It’s alright, I understand. Just be careful.” Morgan took in a deep breath and ignored the other people in the room for the most part. He definitely wasn’t the one to push things, he just usually brought attention to them first. This was all very ironic, as he hadn’t quite noticed Cuvier’s tension around him since the year started after his wife disappeared. If he ever found out…

“Evander Zaffre, and yes, but you’ll learn something quickly, Red.” Cuvier spoke in a calm, steady voice as he remembered the time he mistakenly called her Skylar. It didn’t bode well for him, and he learned better than to do so again immediately in order to keep the peace. No hands were thrown, no one was hurt or even insulted, but the amount of sheer hatred and tension in the room could kill anyone when it happened.

“Every single person in this building has been under investigation at some point or another.” He continued his previous rant. “All of us are under it right now. Keep it filed in your resume.” The man joked, though it wasn’t a very good one. He knew how relentless the Officials were with that building, and every year, it seemed, someone was being investigated. Back in the day, it was always Morgan. He remembered the night they spent together trying to clean the blood out of Morgan’s clothes and Cuvier’s car when Cuvier was just a Rookie. Morgan claimed that someone threatened to kill Ameila, and so he took care of it before it became a problem. Cuvier learned from the best to get away with his murders.

“As for the Districts, yeah, probably. Heard that 6 hasn’t had anyone win in a while, or at least no one that seems to stick around post-Games health wise. Most of them… come up missing.” He shrugged his shoulders.

-

Sumo gave a very big, deep sigh at Jupitor as she tried to shoo him away. No, Sumo definitely wasn’t scared, though it wasn’t due to intelligence. No, rather, Sumo just wanted everyone to like him and didn’t quite understand that some despised a slobbering, hot dog snout in their face for kisses and cuddles. Odie finally got him to quit doing that, leaping into unsuspecting laps and giving every one he saw love, but this was a different matter. He needed someone to come with him. The dog gratefully took in Jupitor’s minimal pets with a happy, long grumble of contentment. He loved any pets, and so he took them before waddling off in a different direction. He took in a big sniff, and followed the first scent he recognized.

Sumo laid his paw on Mara this time as he approached, and gave her a grunt to announce his arrival. He didn’t fight at all, and instead tilted his head up a little bit as she put the bow on him. He straightened his back, as if proud, and gave another of his happy grumbles. However, when she mentioned Odie, he thumped his paws on the floor, something he learned a long time ago to signal that was what he wanted.

When she asked where he was, the dog whined. He didn’t know, but needed to find out, lest something happen. The old St. Bernard already missed the old man and his constant attention. Since both of them had no voice to speak, they got along rather well together. Sumo’s old, brown eyes looked back to Ure when Mara told her that she would have to leave, as if to ask her if she wanted to go, too, with a weak wag of his huge, powerful tail.

“That’s fair enough.” Orson commented, finishing the last of second of the tall glass of long island iced tea. Ironically, the drink barely had any tea in it at all. Instead, it had 5 different kinds of liquor and lemon juice, stacked in a glass 8 inches tall to accommodate the sheer volume of it. He stood, then, only wobbling for a few milliseconds before steadying his gait. He’d had enough of watching Almar talk about the Games for the night, and he began to head for the door as he called back, half-volume, to the room. “No one die by the time I see you again, alright?” He spoke in a voice that wouldn’t be heard very far, but he always said it before leaving a group of his peers. The turnover rate due to death by suicide or otherwise was too high, so he always felt like it needed to be said.

Nieve froze when Ure spoke, and his armour-covered gloves tightened around the base of the standard-issue PeaceKeeping rifle and he felt all of the muscles in his body tense. This wasn’t really happening, was it? He tried to look over at Ure without moving his head so that she wouldn’t see through his visor, and it felt harder to breathe inside the suit.

He needed to get outside. He needed to breathe. Was this room smaller than before? Did the ground sway like that normally? He had to close his eyes for a few seconds and shake his head to calm down, as if shaking away the panic-ridden thoughts that wanted to creep back into his head. Should anything break out… He didn’t want to risk anything like that happening. He could see the other stylist, Valentina, too far away to hear the others, but it looked like she was to contemplative over her fruity, obnoxious drink to be a problem, unlike the rest with the tension in the room.

​

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♡design by rabbitswarren, coded by uxie♡

​

 

[tamarapasek]

H

filler! ignore

N

filler! ignore

• aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
• aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

• 
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  Nicola Weatherby

  
  
  
  

  Panem’s Angel

  
  
  

  
  
  
  
• 
  
  
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  

  mood

  
  

  Stressed

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  location

  
  

  The Arrow’s Thread

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  outfit

  
  

  Dress. Innocent but not childish.

  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  

  tags

  
  

  Anyone at the bar?

  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  

  
  
  
  
  

  
  Nicola approached the group with a giant smile on her face. It was time for her to mingle with the fellow mentors. She was sure they wouldn’t mind her too much. Maybe she’d get a look of pity or two, but that was to be expected. Unless she killed one of their mentee’s she had no reason to make an enemy of them.
  
  She noticed the District 10 mentor eyeing her. Probably one of those pity looks. She offered her a polite wave to counteract. “Hello.” She mouthed, hoping that no one would give her the ‘poor child’ treatment.
  
  Then she spotted Evander. Though he appeared to avoid her. If she was being completely honest that saddened her a little. She had seen him as her ally, and he couldn’t even greet her.
  
  What she didn’t expect was for Thomas to approach her. “Thank you.” She offered a friendly smile. As the drink arrived, she eyed it cautiously. Holding a palm to her mouth, she spit on a finger, sticking it into her drink. “I hope you don’t mind. I’d rather be disgusting than dead.” She whispered in response to his comment, not appearing flustered at
  
  Then another girl introduced herself. “Nice to meet you Alissa. I’m Nicola, but I’m sure you already know that.” She laughed, swapping to her Games persona.(This was record persona swapping. Good on her!). “As for how I’m holding up? Couldn’t be better.” She lied through her teeth. “The fact that I’m alive is good enough for me.”
  
  Which was true. She would be in far worse condition, had she faltered and drank the water before her opponent. In comparison, feeling a little guilty was a far better fate.
  interactions: artfvlly , Spudbob , Reach , jrink
  

  
  
  

  
  
  
  

♡design by dreamglow, coded by uxie♡

 

[artfvlly]

scroll me!

mood

anxious and annoyed

location

the split arrow

tags

Urzula // Reach // jrink // tamarapasek

Adeline park

district 10 mentor

Adelines eyes flickered between Tommy and Nicola, contemplating what she was witnessing. Nicola had sent her a small smile and wave, which Ada quickly returned before adverting her gaze. Poor kid. Probably thought she was being looked at like a tigers next lunch. Instead, Ada quietly sipped her whiskey while listening to Tommy.
"Oh, as if anyone could keep me out of trouble," the young woman said with a grin. That was a lie, her father totally could if he cared enough. Adeline bit her tongue, she was still stuck up on all that had happened. She was horrified thinking about what could have happened, what if she had been asleep? Or blind for some reason? Anything where she hadn't realised whose neck she was wrapping her hands around. She had known for a long time she was capable of murder, she had come to terms with it, in fact. Something about the idea of her accidentally killing her father in a fear filled rage... it scared her. A lot.

"I don't think anyone like her would want my guidance," Adeline mumbled to him, eyes looking down to her half-empty glass, swirling the brown liquid. "But, if she listens, I'll give it to her." Ada concluded, tapping her glass with her finger nails briefly before looking up. Tommy downed his drink and Ada quietly grinned to herself, watching as he went over to Nicola. Although, Adeline hung back for the moment by herself, quietly pondering what had been said. Ada hardly considered herself a mentor to the tributes, let alone another mentor who was a literal child. More child that the usual tributes she had.

Adeline was about to walk over herself, introduce herself, save Tommy as he made a badly judged joke. Ada cringed and downed the rest of her drink, sliding the glass onto the nearest table. She would introduce herself, offer her guidance and wisdom. Whatever that was, but Ada wanted to be helpful. At least, Ada planned to do so. Then she heard Ure drunkly shouting after her.

With an eyeroll, the young woman looked over with a glare. The older woman was swaying, obviously drunk. Adeline squared her shoulder and jaw, straightening her posture as she tilted her head. What a mess this was, if it were any other day or Adeline wasn't on edge... maybe she could've ignored it. Something about the stuff that had happened with her father, the games looming, a child victor just a few steps away. Her patience had worn away and snapped, so she strode over to Ure.

Adelines expression was one of daggers and sharp edges as she got closer to Ure. Even though Ada was shorter than the older woman, she got right up in her face.
"How about you close your mouth before I cut out your goddamn tongue," Ada hissed, "Maybe they'll do you the honour of making you into an Avox. Then maybe you'll have time to mull over things? Instead of spouting Captiol propaganda at people you know damn well aren't going to kiss the ground you walk on." Her voice was close to a growl as she finished, taking a step back as she assessed the situation further. She was glad she had said it, it felt good. A part of her also felt guilty, the woman was obviously drunk. Plus she had a group of other mentors standing a few feet away, and they were far more composed than her. Adeline was only two drinks in and she was spouting shit. This had to be a new record.

She looked over to Alissa, Nicola and Tommy and sighed. Loosening her shoulder, she lifted her chin. There was a peacekeeper present, she suddenly remembered. She didn't know how she could've forgotten, they were always being watched. Sometimes her anger got control of her. She needed to keep it cool, not only for her own sanity and wellbeing, but for the others nearby. She wouldn't be able to forgive herself if Nicola got dragged into some Captiol questioning because of her actions. The young woman cleared her throat.
"Look at you, you're pathetic and drunk. Sit the fuck down and chill out," she said to Ure. "Can someone please get this woman some water," Adeline said loudly to anyone who felt like listening. She saw the bartender spring into action as she rolled her eyes.
"I need another drink too, before I'm forced to care for this piece of shit," She said, flicking her finger in the direction of the bartender to signal him.

With an annoyed huff, she wrapped her jacket closer around her torso. Crossing her arms, she walked back over to the others, forcing herself to smile.
"Alissa," she said with a nod of her head, "How are you doing?"
There wasn't really much point in asking such questions, the response would be a lie. They would say they're happy and doing great, when they all knew they were all suffering a bit outwardly and inwardly. Adelines attention then went to Nicola, giving her the friendliest smile she could bare to hold.
"Hey kid, nice to meet you finally. I'm Adeline, or Ada. District 10," Ada looked over to Tommy, "Don't mind this idiot, he's a sweetheart but I swear sometimes he forgets about that big brain of his."

Adeline paused for a moment, unsure of how to word her next set of thoughts. Even if he had meant it as a joke, Adelines mind still hovered on the idea of being some kind of help. Guidance, maybe, would be a better word. She could already bet Nicola was over the pitying stares, people pretending to be nice... as Tommy said, the offers of favours. She almost shuddered at that point, to think of what the Capitol could do to the young girl. The three older mentors surrounding Nicola probably knew the reality all too well, Tommy even more so. Her heart often ached for poor Tommy, yet she had trouble expressing it.
"Listen, you've probably had plenty of offers so far but, if you ever need help? Just give us a shout. First year mentoring is pretty scary and rough, even more so if you're fresh out of the arena. Even if you don't want to, it's always nice to have a supportive group to lean on if you need it. The Capitol can be an alien landscape at it's best, so just know we're here for you, kid. Take it slow, okay?"

It felt rather overly sentimental for Adeline to say, but she said it anyway. She would've appreciated it when she first started mentoring. Clearing her throat awkwardly, she looked over to the bar where her drink was waiting. With a brief smile, she dismissed herself to go grab it.

Spoiler: mobile friendly

Adelines eyes flickered between Tommy and Nicola, contemplating what she was witnessing. Nicola had sent her a small smile and wave, which Ada quickly returned before adverting her gaze. Poor kid. Probably thought she was being looked at like a tigers next lunch. Instead, Ada quietly sipped her whiskey while listening to Tommy.
"Oh, as if anyone could keep me out of trouble," the young woman said with a grin. That was a lie, her father totally could if he cared enough. Adeline bit her tongue, she was still stuck up on all that had happened. She was horrified thinking about what could have happened, what if she had been asleep? Or blind for some reason? Anything where she hadn't realised whose neck she was wrapping her hands around. She had known for a long time she was capable of murder, she had come to terms with it, in fact. Something about the idea of her accidentally killing her father in a fear filled rage... it scared her. A lot.

"I don't think anyone like her would want my guidance," Adeline mumbled to him, eyes looking down to her half-empty glass, swirling the brown liquid. "But, if she listens, I'll give it to her." Ada concluded, tapping her glass with her finger nails briefly before looking up. Tommy downed his drink and Ada quietly grinned to herself, watching as he went over to Nicola. Although, Adeline hung back for the moment by herself, quietly pondering what had been said. Ada hardly considered herself a mentor to the tributes, let alone another mentor who was a literal child. More child that the usual tributes she had.

Adeline was about to walk over herself, introduce herself, save Tommy as he made a badly judged joke. Ada cringed and downed the rest of her drink, sliding the glass onto the nearest table. She would introduce herself, offer her guidance and wisdom. Whatever that was, but Ada wanted to be helpful. At least, Ada planned to do so. Then she heard Ure drunkly shouting after her.

With an eyeroll, the young woman looked over with a glare. The older woman was swaying, obviously drunk. Adeline squared her shoulder and jaw, straightening her posture as she tilted her head. What a mess this was, if it were any other day or Adeline wasn't on edge... maybe she could've ignored it. Something about the stuff that had happened with her father, the games looming, a child victor just a few steps away. Her patience had worn away and snapped, so she strode over to Ure.

Adelines expression was one of daggers and sharp edges as she got closer to Ure. Even though Ada was shorter than the older woman, she got right up in her face.
"How about you close your mouth before I cut out your goddamn tongue," Ada hissed, "Maybe they'll do you the honour of making you into an Avox. Then maybe you'll have time to mull over things? Instead of spouting Captiol propaganda at people you know damn well aren't going to kiss the ground you walk on." Her voice was close to a growl as she finished, taking a step back as she assessed the situation further. She was glad she had said it, it felt good. A part of her also felt guilty, the woman was obviously drunk. Plus she had a group of other mentors standing a few feet away, and they were far more composed than her. Adeline was only two drinks in and she was spouting shit. This had to be a new record.

She looked over to Alissa, Nicola and Tommy and sighed. Loosening her shoulder, she lifted her chin. There was a peacekeeper present, she suddenly remembered. She didn't know how she could've forgotten, they were always being watched. Sometimes her anger got control of her. She needed to keep it cool, not only for her own sanity and wellbeing, but for the others nearby. She wouldn't be able to forgive herself if Nicola got dragged into some Captiol questioning because of her actions. The young woman cleared her throat.
"Look at you, you're pathetic and drunk. Sit the fuck down and chill out," she said to Ure. "Can someone please get this woman some water," Adeline said loudly to anyone who felt like listening. She saw the bartender spring into action as she rolled her eyes.
"I need another drink too, before I'm forced to care for this piece of shit," She said, flicking her finger in the direction of the bartender to signal him.

With an annoyed huff, she wrapped her jacket closer around her torso. Crossing her arms, she walked back over to the others, forcing herself to smile.
"Alissa," she said with a nod of her head, "How are you doing?"
There wasn't really much point in asking such questions, the response would be a lie. They would say they're happy and doing great, when they all knew they were all suffering a bit outwardly and inwardly. Adelines attention then went to Nicola, giving her the friendliest smile she could bare to hold.
"Hey kid, nice to meet you finally. I'm Adeline, or Ada. District 10," Ada looked over to Tommy, "Don't mind this idiot, he's a sweetheart but I swear sometimes he forgets about that big brain of his."

Adeline paused for a moment, unsure of how to word her next set of thoughts. Even if he had meant it as a joke, Adelines mind still hovered on the idea of being some kind of help. Guidance, maybe, would be a better word. She could already bet Nicola was over the pitying stares, people pretending to be nice... as Tommy said, the offers of favours. She almost shuddered at that point, to think of what the Capitol could do to the young girl. The three older mentors surrounding Nicola probably knew the reality all too well, Tommy even more so. Her heart often ached for poor Tommy, yet she had trouble expressing it.
"Listen, you've probably had plenty of offers so far but, if you ever need help? Just give us a shout. First year mentoring is pretty scary and rough, even more so if you're fresh out of the arena. Even if you don't want to, it's always nice to have a supportive group to lean on if you need it. The Capitol can be an alien landscape at it's best, so just know we're here for you, kid. Take it slow, okay?"

It felt rather overly sentimental for Adeline to say, but she said it anyway. She would've appreciated it when she first started mentoring. Clearing her throat awkwardly, she looked over to the bar where her drink was waiting. With a brief smile, she dismissed herself to go grab it.

 

[Spudbob]

"I'm the lonely twin, the left hand."

Worried

Confused

Let's go find Odi

Healthy

Mara Wrichten

(She/Her)

Rainbow in the Dark

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Mara frowned when Sumo pawed at the ground. So he didn't know where Odius was either. "Well, he couldn't have gone far, Sumo. Let's start by checking out the lower bar?" She suggested to the St Bernard, pointing to the elevator. "Use that big powerful fluffy nose of yours and sniff him out!" She slung her purse back over a shoulder and led the dog into the elevator. Sumo was trained to never need a leash, and Mara had gotten into the big dog's good graces quickly, so he knew to return to her if nothing else.

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"With a Rebel Yell
She cried,
'More, More, More!'"

Unfazed

Bored

I wish I hadn't made this so heavy

strained arms

Rubi Daedra

(She/Her)

Uprising

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Rubi was unfazed by the scream, quietly waiting it out. Her pitch black hair gave the faintest glow in the moonlight. "You still scream like a girl," she said flatly, standing up and stretching her worn out arms before gripping the handle of her amp. "Anyway c'mon, you're gonna be late. Everyone's already waiting." It's not like she cared for him or his woes or anything. "Besides, we can't stay out too late, the Reaping's tomorrow. Old Man Pulvil is gonna be back soon, and we'll all have to be there, asleep or dead." with a grunt, she lifted the amp, and turned towards the Training Academy. Nieve really wasn't that old, but Rubicon didn't care. He was her 'old man', and she was his confidant. He had been posted in the Capitol today, to watch over the crusty old mentors, and left his second-in-command in charge. Which was perfect, since Rubi knew the standard patrol patterns well enough to avoid them, even with her heavy amp and guitar combo.

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"I don' hate ye, I jus' want to save ye."

Stressed and Fatigued

Overwhelmed

They're too loud

Tired

Jupitor Ichor

(She/Her)

False Alarm

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Jupitor sighed as Orson left, and the tensions began to rise with drunken furor. Like Ada, she didn't care much for stylists, but they were both becoming too loud. She grabbed her leather prosthetic, and slowly but surely strapped it back on tight. She rose to her feet with a creak, gripping her cane tightly. She headed for the elevator, trademark gait resulting in a 'pok-pok' of her artificial foot and cane in tempo. Without saying a word, the old mentor seemed to attract attention. She stopped by the bar to give Nicole a look-over, her sour look softening for but a moment before she continued her quest. As she stepped into the elevator, she pokked her cane in front of her and pushed herself to stand a bit straighter as the doors closed. When she was alone in the mirrored realm, her scowl slid off her face with a long, tired sigh. Another long night ahead, another Reaping tomorrow. More worthless kids to train, just to watch them die. Jupitor couldn't decide whether it was easier or harder year after year.

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"Don't give me that do goody good bull..."

Stressed

Perturbed

Everything must be ready!

Stress Headache

Ouranos Casca

(him/he)

Money

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"'Love to' do what?" Ouranos asked as he barged into the medical ward uninvited. "I take a walk to make sure everything is ready for tomorrow and here I find employees chattering about nonsense! It's late and you're not on payroll to chit-chat! Not even you, Ms. Watson," He said, jabbing a finger in her direction angrily. He was stressed about the upcoming week, for good reason. In the past month, paperwork had increased triplefold as the Games approached, from Districts asking for more resources, to organizing Tesserae distribution, all of it required increased payroll that he had to send to the his partner, the Head of Treasury. It gave the old man a headache. "And? Is it ready?"

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[Reach]

"Give them a show."

A Mess

Trying to stay calm

Showtime

Healthy

Thomas Kane

(He/Him)

now playing

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» He nodded at Alissa as she joined them, letting out a small breath of laughter as she tried to lighten the mood - Alissa was another one of the victors he tried to get along with. And she did have a point, it was their first chance to meet the newest victor in person - instead of staring at the version the Capitol had presented them with. He was intrigued to see how different she was in the flesh. He winced slightly at her choice of question, if he answered it honestly he wouldn't know whether to see her as brave or stupid. At least it would let them see her in action. They'd watched her charm her way through the interviews, calmer than she really had any right to be and she'd won the hearts of the Capitol. Something he prayed wouldn't come back to bite her. He waved off her response, she'd have been well in her rights to snap at him. "Oh don't worry about it, fancy manners aren't exactly needed here-" He replied lightly as gestured around the bar, it had certainly survived worse things than a bit of spit. "Think we'd all rather you were alive." And he meant it, he wasn't quite brave enough to voice the full meaning of that statement but despite the fact he'd lost tributes in her games - despite the fact they all had, he was glad that she'd made it. He wouldn't have begrudged whichever kid had managed to survive, it was the nature of the games. She'd learn that soon, presumably, their latest mentor - he hoped she'd get an easy year. Whatever could count as that. Maybe she'd be a good mentor, maybe she'd even manage to keep it together better than the rest of them - maybe he wouldn't find her in a few years drinking her sorrows away or using morphling as a crutch. It wasn't exactly a secret that that was how most of them ended up at some point. They'd get left to sink or swim and then pretend they didn't see everyone else desperately trying to stay afloat. Maybe that was why he'd pushed Ada to talk to her, he'd gotten lucky with Ada - she'd approached him and the two of them had become friends. He'd like to think good enough friends that he'd helped her when she was just starting out with it all. It had helped him to have her around, maybe Nicola could be that for her.

He took another sip of his drink, eyeing up the concoction - really Nicola probably could drink something alcoholic. Not that she should and he'd never push it in her direction, god knows that would probably await her but it was always strange the lines that would be drawn in the side after the games. He could remember his parents getting annoyed about him having alcohol when in the Capitol or the less than modest outfits he'd be dressed up in, despite the fact he was a murderer. He'd killed people. And yet alcohol was too far. He wondered if Nicola had that waiting for her, he hoped she had someone. He hadn't paid much attention to the games the past year. His tributes had died early and he'd been otherwise occupied afterwards. She was so young. Too young really but that never mattered. They'd all been close to her age when they won, he'd been a year older when he won and another year older when he mentored. But regardless of her age and her somewhat small frame she'd won, he had to give her that much credit. It was still strange seeing the girl he'd only seen on tv screens in front of him. It was always strange, first meeting the newest addition to their ranks although usually it would take a year or two before they joined the mentors. It seemed the kid had gotten the short end of the stick, she'd be stuck mentoring kids whilst she was still a kid herself. Although she seemed able to hold her own, either she was more okay than she had any right to be or she was good at pretending already. Judging by her interviews he wouldn't be shocked that it was the latter. His heart ached slightly in his chest as he watched her smile brightly in response to Alissa's question, was this how they'd all looked after the games? So young and fake. And scared. She was probably scared too, he knew he had been. Maybe he should offer up some attempt at advice or support - not that he thought he could be much of a guiding light, especially in such a public place. He'd always tended to choose the better part of valour.

His mouth opened and closed as he weighed up his options, thankfully the moment was stolen from him before he could get particularly brave with his words as he caught sight of Ada and the stylist from before. Ure. Warily he moved slightly closer, fingers clenched around the neck of his glass, his gaze flickered between the pair and the peacekeeper stationed in the corner. He tensed up slightly, unsure whether it was him getting ready to pull Ada away from Ure or directly get involved, waiting to see what happened with almost baited breath. After what felt like an eternity the fight between the pair seemed to have stopped before it could really begin and he was relieved. He doubted they'd get away with a fight tonight of all nights, at least if one had happened the stylist would be able to cover up any visible marks. Ada came back over and he shot her a small grin, nodding his head towards Ure's drunken form - as close to a silent commendation for not getting into a fistfight as he could give her in public.

He good naturedly rolled his eyes as Ada called him an idiot, raising his hand to his chest in mock offence and letting a smile play at his lips. He'd been called worse and she wasn't entirely wrong. Sobering up slightly when she imparted her advice onto their youngest victor, listening intently and waiting until she'd left to grab her drink before he added to it. He leaned in and flashed them a conspiratorial grin, "She's right, don't ever tell her I said that but she's right-" He weighed up the wisdom of him adding his own advice to the mix before shrugging and going for it, his words were heavier than normal and had a more serious edge. "The Capitol isn't always the most friendly of places and everyone here isn't your friend. Find people who can be your friends and trust them, mentoring is never easy and you really don't want to go it alone-" He gestured between himself and Alissa and then at Ada's retreating form, "If you ever did need help we wouldn't be the worst people you could go to." Better to show her how to navigate the political minefield that was the Capitol and the Games rather than letting her go it alone and end up tangled up in something avoidable.

Tommy leaned back and shook off the tension, firmly going back into as happy of a mode as he could muster - knowing that it wouldn't be too long before they were ushered away to go and bring the Capitol their newest tributes. What fun that was going to be. He flashed the group a winning smile, one reserved for the Capitol - full of teeth and devoid of any real emotion, "And we tend to have quite a good taste in drinks." He raised his in a mock toast and took a sip.

interacting with: // artfvlly tamarapasek jrink

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[Urzula]

"I hope victory is sweet!"

I'm here?

tired

Ill follow the cute puppy

healthy

Ure Santos

(Her/She)

Gravity

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Ure just laughed at the young spitfire. The girl thought Ure was drunk and that made her giggle. A little buzzed, yes but it took more than a glass of wine to make the stylist loose her tongue. She ment every word she spoke but as Ada's face drew closer, Ure realized she might have gone just a bit too far. Ure wasnt afraid of Ada, most of the mentors like to talk a lot but after the games they didnt really do anything to hurt anyone. No. If Ure wasnt careful, Ada's rage might put her in mentally back in a place that she worked too hard to crawl out of.

Sighing and waving off the bartender, Ure stood and adjusted the sweater she was wearing, kneeling down and patting Sumo's head she smiled. "I think ill go with you and Mara to find your master, this place is too hot blooded for my taste." She smiled and looked deeply into those brown eyes. then looking up at Mara she added "If you will have me? I think my mouth may cause a fight or two.... dont you think?" she laughed a bit.

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"Why would life give you Lemons?"

sober... for now

a bit fired up

who the fuck does this guy think he is?

healthy with stitches

Seth Britt

He/Him

Sunshine Duration-SingSingRabbit

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Seth took a deep breath as the last of the patchwork for his eye was done. The boy couldn't say no to a fight but he hated what the medicine felt like. "Tackle me?" He chuckled kinda nervously, "trying not to fight isnt in my Nature but I'll do it for you-" before he could finish it a voice that grated on his nerves resonated off the walls.
The haor on the back of his neck stood on end as the nagging rant of the old man went on. "Why don't you just shut up?" Seth growled lowly as his good eye met Ouranos. "Sibyl is working her ads off and all you do is stupid paper work." He spat "so cut us some god damn slack, we're the ones saving lives here. I dont see you doing one god damn thing." The anger and bile rose into his throat as he stared at the man. Seth was tired and all he wanted to do was help get ready for the games but the nagging really sparked a fire in him. Sibyl does mpre than anyone around here and just to be yelled at... It just wasnt right.

Seth shook his head, he probably was going to get lectured later about speaking out of place, but when he got riled up he didnt care.

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"Stay safe"

tired

slightly bored

why are these men so boring?

healthy

Red Catalais

She/her

Cytus

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Red listened quietly to what he had to say. Giving a sly smile as Cuvier carefully called her Red, the only person who she would ever allow to call her by her actual name would be her grandfather and he.... well he wasn't around anymore. So when the name slipped from the older mans tongue as he first tried to get her attention the glare could melt the snow that had just settled on the ground. A small chuckle made its way out of her throat at the memory. But hearing more about the man who openly watched her intriuged her. "Yes I understand that we may all be under investigation, but that's nothing new to me. If you recall my father was under investigation most of his adult life. Its something I'm very accustomed to Gentlemen. some of us are just better at handling it than others." she chuckled a bit. Marcus Catalais was well known among some circles for being a man of many faults. Most were being a crooked buisness man and the way he earned his fortune. But the authorities could never really land a finger on what was going on. Red never condoned it and if she could she would give her wealth away to help those who couldnt help themselves.... but with the way things were standing at the moment, that would cast too much suspicion on the poor girl.

Stretching her arms a bit, Red was still newer to this game maker role, for she had only recently gotten the title near 2 years ago. Sighing she started to tap her leg. "and by missing you mean either dead or they just don't show their face around the city anymore." can't blame them honestly. When your a victor everyone wants a piece of you when there's none left... poor kids. Being blunt was a quality that the red head was never quite able to tame. some liked it others... did not.

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