[ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ∴𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤∵]

[sheepish]

˓〈 Ｌｕｃｉｕｓ　Ｅｌｄ 〉˒
━━━━━━━━━location; district two━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━tags; the reaping━━━━━━━━━

　　lucius hadn't slept the night prior and he couldn't remember if he slept the night before that. the reaping was coming and thanks to his district's record, his chances of being chosen were slim, but never zero. nevertheless, he had anxiety around the whole event. the capitol told him that he should feel excited and honored, however, the way his body quivered wasn't with excitement.
　　this morning, a small crew had gathered him and prepped him for the ceremony just like the other men for district two. they had decided to gel his usually messy hair down and carefully applied makeup to hide the blue that had started to show under his eyes. receiving scolding for letting his bags get so bad, lucius could only sheepishly apologize. he was then quickly dressed in a slim crimson blazer and matching pants and then adorned with gold accessories. a pinch on his earlobe told him that they had decided to forcibly put an earring in the closing hole there. only offering a small wince, he was too preoccupied to care. there were other things to think about.
　　meeting with his parents briefly before, he blushed at the shower of compliments his mother offered and ducked away so she couldn't mess up his carefully gelled hair. giving his father a short nod, he trotted up towards the stage where roughly a dozen other men stood. their district won often, so he should be fine. right? taking his place in the middle of the group, his grey eyes examined the stage. there had to be just as many women. most of them would go home after this and continue live their life. he hoped that his stress would pass and he could finally catch a wink of sleep.
　　soon enough, their escort talked and stalled for some time before choosing one of the women first. however, his consciousness seemed to skip as the next thing he knew they were calling the men. watching as a name was plucked, the escort leaned into the mic. "Lucius Eld!" she spoke clearly. the next thing he knew, the men around him parted as he stumbled up to the mic. very nice lucius, the first thing they see you do is almost fall on your face. as he steadied himself with the assistance of the metal microphone stand, he let out a little chuckle. ❝i haven't slept much. i guess i was too excited to catch a bit of sleep. geez-! my heart can't stop pounding!❞ he then held a hand over his chest in futile hopes of calming himself down. ❝wish me luck. though i hope i don't need it.❞ he flashed a smile, hoping to cover his weak performance. he hadn't really planned on this and due to his lack of rest, his improvisation was rather poor. his words had made sense, right? he wasn't so certain.
　　offering a quick goodbye to his mother and father, he allowed her to muss up his hair this time around. soon after, he was led to the train where he found a seat in the common area. deciding to sip some water in hopes of not passing out, he gave small smiles to the other tributes. usually he would strike up a conversation. and usually he was pretty bad at reading people. but it didn't take a genius to figure out everyone needed a minute to cope.

[Euthymios]

♛───𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚
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『 𝗗𝗔𝗠𝗔𝗚𝗘𝗗 𝗣𝗘𝗢𝗣𝗟𝗘 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗗𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗦 ; 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗬 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗛𝗢𝗪 𝗧𝗢 𝗠𝗔𝗞𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗟 𝗙𝗘𝗘𝗟 𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘 𝗛𝗢𝗠𝗘 』

The loose mist hanging over the isolated alleyways of the Victor’s village draped and shrouded the figure who prowled through it, water displaced from puddles splashing as a heel crisply stepped over it. The woman lingered almost wistfully on the outskirts of the crowd that had gathered uniformly in the middle of the square. Though the air was laden with moisture in a way that could indicate spring, the lurking storm clouds that were purposefully darkening the sky during the last few hours along with the crispness of the air suggested that they were on the cusp of autumn. The victors shifted, anxiously murmuring, the sound caressing the woman’s very bones. It wasn’t a very welcoming sound, rather it was one that proceeded the announcement of disaster. It stood at stark contrast with the brightly decorated splendor that surrounded the Victor’s Village. The heavy chain of the amethyst amulet, the only jewelry she would ever allow herself to wear and genuinely love, felt colder than ever along the nape of her neck. Nonetheless, the metal had grounded her in this horrible reality when other things couldn’t. This woman called herself Boudica Manon, a cold female that at the age of 14 had been crowned victor and now resided on the extravagant yet colder streets of the Village. She’d used to hope that a certain redhead would come to live with her here, but Boudica was past the age of childish wishing long ago.

Boudica didn’t really care what the other victors from her district said or how they spoke to her. Reaping Day was a day that she would inevitably hand-wringing, nail-biting anxiety. But not because she was actually nervous about her fate. No. Her hands had long stopped trembling at the prospect of the arena, the prospect of her life being on the line as she fought and clawed for survival. But the feral barbarity she saw displayed on screen had never quite left her mind. It disturbed her much more than one would expect, leaving a cold imprint on her brow like Death, but she’d always watched them until the victor was crowned. Nothing from her mother, no amount of coaxing, arguing with her father or threats, was going to change her morbid fascination with the Games. Especially because there were indeed streak of the victors, and their brutality, that she actually saw within herself. Boudica would be dishonest if she said that she did not enjoy the occasional fight, be it with her blade or her own two fists. Blonde braid swaying violently, fair fists often bloodied from one fight or another flying out in a precise staccato rhythm. Yes, it felt good, although these practice bouts were made with less of a passive intent since Kardia had disappeared. Forever. Boudica bit her lip. a grimace twisting her lips as a twinge of pain started to coil in her gut. But Boudica was past that too, and as she blended into the side of the crowd, a cold fist wrapped itself around that ounce of pain and grief, squashing it to a pulp. Effectively stifling the long, long list of memories that would come with it. Later. It would do her well to dwell on Kardia later. Especially since it was Reaping Day, and she definitely didn’t want to come in a sobbing, emotional puddle. She wore white this time, nothing extravagant, with a high collar that hid the amulet from sight. The pale pink gemstone sparkled mischievously at the peripherals of the victor’s vision, at odds with the cool, composed expression she plastered onto her face like glue as she pricked her finger on the needle and slid in with her age group. There were two emotions that were the most prevalent in Reaping; outright gut-wrenching terror or glee. Glee was the rarer one to come by, but it was most certainly more preferable to being scared out of your god-forsaken wits. District 2 had a remarkably large pool of victors, as always, since their tributes as children were trained for war every minute of their lives. A powerful ally, but ruthless enemies at best and predators at worst. Savage, wild, and vicious. The young fae next to Boudica inclined her head in respect for the victor, her too-thin arms trembling nervously as she shifted her pearly gaze forward. The sky was even darker in the square, Boudica noted, the dreary breeze and ominously dark clouds threatened to worsen the children’s mood with a downpour. A cold breeze had Boudica shivering slightly, arms reaching up to vigorously rub her arms. She suddenly wished she’d brought something a little warmer. Pristine heels clacked on the wood as the capital escort, gaudy and well-dressed as usual, slunk on stage. There was something off in the sheer extremes that the Capital Citizens would push themselves in terms of beauty. It often crossed the line into repellence in her book, and it left her feeling physically sick. As if she wanted to rip her eyeballs out of her head. Why would anyone would want to live their life as a shallow, narcissistic freak? The escort, named Dionysus, beamed proudly at the crowd, oblivious to Boudica’s disgust at his garish design. Meanwhile, a deep hush had fallen over the crowd, along with a heavy shroud of anticipation.

“Welcome, welcome, citizens of District 2 to the Fourth Annual Quarter Quell and the 100th annual Hunger Games!” Dionysus’s light and reedy voice, scraped along Boudica’s very bones, leaving behind cold streaks of goosebumps on her biceps. “As per the rules given, we will be reaping from the existing pool of victors from District 2. Today, the boy and girl selected will vie for the ultimate crown!” His smile, just like his voice, sent a chill down Boudica’s spine. Ridiculous as they were, the one thing that never settled well for the fae was their stupid accent and their grotesque smiles. Stretched and tampered til they stretched the boundaries of all imagination, all for style and vanity. The victor wasn’t one to concern herself with baubles and wealth, although she was more than willing to bet that the smallest blemish would send Dionysus on the stage into a hysterical hissy fit. Boudica bit her cheek to stifle a chuckle at the very thought of such childish antics ; any thoughts of amusement died as Dionysus made his way towards the bowl of female victors “Ladies first!” The escort chirped, smiling widely. What a pitiful sight it was. It seemed as if the entire audiences’ eyes were fixated on that white slip of paper that he held as he made his way back to the podium.

“Boudica Manon!”
And every damn head in the square turned to look at her. Parted for her, as Boudica took a single breath to collect herself and ascended the stage gracefully. She was too aware of every breath, of at least a hundred eyes pinned on her form. Boudica hated crowds and large groups of people; the feeling of people squashing against her, of all their voices clamoring harshly to be heard made her want to stuff cotton balls in her ears and shriek in utter frustration. Now, even with the silence, walls pressed down on her senses. But she didn’t waver in the slightest, only offering the crowd a stone cold mask.

The Peacekeepers at her heels kept pace with her easily as they guided her towards the visiting area. The last time she’d been here, she’d actually had people visit her. It was pointless, as far as Boudica’s opinion went. Being the cold, reserved girl that she was, nobody could get much out of her. Boudica indulgently reclined on the lavish cushions, the butter-soft fabric caressing her bottom as she waited patiently to be collected for the train. Minutes ticked past, and the door didn’t move an inch. She yawned, picking at her nails, when the door nearly flew off its hinges. Her head jerked up in surprise as she took in her visitor. An elderly male, a mane of white hair and a powerful body with wild eyes. No one other than Zephiri, Kardia’s mentor in masonry, and the only other person other than Boudica herself whom the street urchin could’ve called family. The two had gotten closer after Kardia’s demise in the arena, and he was the only one whom she was willing to trust to help her cope with the grief. He sat down awkwardly nearby, trying and failing to hide his despair. When he spoke, his voice was ragged; both he and Boudica were people of few words when the situation was awkward enough. The peacekeepers came to collect him when the five minutes were up, and she could’ve sworn his eyes lingered on the amulet on Boudica’s neck. The last remnant of Kardia that Boudica clung to. Would always cling to. She knew better than to think that her parents were coming, especially her father.

The walk to the train wasn’t far. Boudica quickly ensconced herself in a private compartment and locked the door.

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— { Location; Victor’s Village Reaping Square; The Train; Feeling; Defiant; Apprehensive; Furious; District Two; Words; 1,512 Tags; Open; } —

[mahou shoujo]

x
AVERY HALE____________________________________________
location. district ten train car | mentions. arya | tagged. arya

Upon hearing Arya's words, Avery directed his gaze to her face, looking away from the window. She was looking at the window, though, just as he had been, watching the scenery fly by. He wanted to say something, express his gratitude for her sentiment. She had essentially just implied that she would risk her own life to know that his was safe. "I-" He started, words sticking in his throat. "Thank you." He settled on those simple words, hoping his tone conveyed how much she meant to him. While he couldn't stand the idea of Arya doing her first games all over again, at least one of them would be safe. This time, they were both in the other tributes' cross-hairs, targets to be killed.

She went quiet for a while, so he took to looking back out the window. Watching the terrain speed by, it all felt like a dream, some nasty nightmare. Everything outside passed by in a blur, like it wasn't real. He wished that soon, he'd wake up in his bed back at home. He'd be able to get ready for the day, cross the street and see Arya, safe and sound. He would go spend some time with the animals, watching as they mill about, grazing in the pastures. But, unfortunately, this was reality. No matter what he did, this was his life now. He'd have to go and fight for his life again and watch his best friend do the same.

He was a little surprised when Arya spoke up again. Her words hung heavy in the air, their weight crushing in the quiet. The sentiment was so sweet, but he felt his heart break at the unspoken implications. If they did happen to make it to the end together, no matter how slim the chance, she wouldn't kill him. But, that meant, since there could only be one victor, that he would have to kill her. Just the thought was enough to have a cold grip seizing his heart and have his stomach drop. He was destroyed when he killed a random girl he'd never met before who was actively trying to kill him. How would he be able to take the life of his best friend and someone who had his back throughout everything?

Avery wanted to say so many things. He wanted to tell her that he was so grateful for the sentiment. He wanted to say that he would love to work with her and spend what could be their last days together. He wanted to bristle and tell her that he'd never be responsible for her death. He wanted to tell her that her protection would mean the world to him. Yet, none of those things felt right. "I hope it doesn't come to that." He knew the implications of his words were just as grave as her own.

He'd never had someone he could count on like Arya before, though. He didn't really have any allies in the first game, figuring that he'd be able to hide and run more effectively on his own. But this time, if she wanted, they could work together. Her fighting skill was worlds apart from his own, so her protection would probably be the only thing keeping him alive. He hoped that his knowledge of survival skill could help her as well. However, what felt the most important though, was having some form of company during the games. He wouldn't have to be alone this time; he'd have someone to rely on.

[kalo.]

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx( ♠ )━━━━━━ 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐔𝐒 𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐃 ! !
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx( district five ) ( tags; family ) ( mentions; 5 female ) ( wc; 1687 )

indent
indentThe sun just barely managed to sneak through the heavy curtains hanging up in one of the almost identical victor houses. The sun wrapped around the eyes of the victor, causing him to stir and slowly open his eyes. Wincing from the sudden intrusion. As Atticus shifted to sit upon the large bed the female beside him grumbled and promptly pulled the thick quick to cover her face from the sun. A heavy left the victors lips before he leaned down to kiss the top of his wife's head. He heard her let out a soft whine of protest as he shifted away and finally stood up, opening the curtains as soon as he could. "C'mon Amanda. We can't lay in bed all day. At least not today." The males voice drifted off slowly at the thought of the games. The years he spent trying to avoid it. The years he spent after trying to cope. He was lucky to survive. He was lucky to be standing here in Victor Village when so many people didn't have that luxury. The feeling of two arms slinking around him and hugging him from behind brought Atticus out of his thoughts. A soft smile escaped him before moving out of the hug and towards the bathroom. "Why don't you go and get the boys up. I have to get ready."

indentThe morning flew by for Atticus. Mostly because he wasn't paying attention. Wherever he was told to go by his stylist he went. Whatever he was asked to do he did. By the end of the hour, he was standing in front of his mirror. His hair wasn't changed, staying short and fluffy. His beard was only trimmed slightly to match the suit he wore. It was a simple suit-he never liked to draw attention to himself when it came to the games. But looking the part with a flashing smile on your face did you wonders. So the suit was tailored to fit his broad build with a matching silver pin of a lightning bolt to represent his district. His glasses rested on the dresser. Freshly cleaned and polished to match the silver of the pin. He never liked wearing the glasses his stylist chose. They didn't feel like him. He wanted his thick glasses on instead. They fit his face better than the silver pair did. A sigh escaped his lips at the anxieties and fear start to climb up his chest. Wrapping around his shoulders and squeezing him. Suffocating him. His breath caught in his throat as he heard the sound of his sons downstairs arguing over breakfast. He braced himself against the dresser to calm himself, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. He wanted his kids to grow up and not have to worry about the games. To live a life free of the horrors of the game. The thought of his boys having to go into that hell was enough to get Atticus up and walking down the stairs. His footsteps were heavy against the polished wooden flooring, alerting the family of his arrival.

indentStepping into the kitchen to see his wife adorn in her maroon suit and his two sons dressed up [but only slightly. they were notorious for getting anything clean dirty] caused a smile to escape the victor's lips. "Now don't we all look lovely." The twins were quick to make fake gagging noises, moving back to their argument over breakfast. Amanda only rolled her eyes before her smile faltered. He knew why. She was thinking about the stakes. The odds that Atticus would be re-selected for the games. That she might never see him again. The tension held thick in the air enough to distract the rowdy boys to stop and stare at their parents. The rest of breakfast was silent.

indentIt didn't take long for the family to finally get situated and start on their way to the ceremony. The two boys laughing and running ahead while Amanda scolded them and lectured them about behaving properly. Atticus never spoke a word. His gaze was soft as he watched the events before him unfold. He would miss this. Miss seeing the light in his children's eyes as he told them various stories from his childhood. Miss the way his wife laughed at his god-awful jokes over dinner. He folded his fingers together behind him as they drew nearer. His heart hammering in his chest and his eyes void of emotion. He knew what he had to do. He only wished his family would forgive him. He knew they would blame him for being selfless. Yell at him to be selfish for once in his life.


• • •

indentSilence. The silence was the only thing Atticus heard as he watched the female victor make her way to the stage. His chest yet again went through the familiar suffocating feeling. His throat dry as the capitol made her way over to the men's bowl. Now it wasn't terribly full-but the odds of Atticus being selected again wasn't terribly high. He could get by if he wanted to. As soon as her hand reached in Atticus felt his fingers twitch. To just stand up and tell her he was going to go. That he was fine with volunteering now. But he couldn't. He knew if he stepped out of line the peacekeepers would have him on the ground and in pain. That wasn't how he wanted his family to see him in person for the last time. He wanted them to see him how he always was. Strong. Regal. Put-together. Not emptying his stomach on the floor. Plus that would ruin his lovely suit. Impressions were everything after all. So when the name was drawn and it wasn't his name he instantly looked to his left at the young boy next to him. He was what, twenty-six? Atticus swiftly put his hand on his shoulder before looking up at the capitol lady [listen Atticus was fairly good with names, but anyone directly connected to the capitol he tended to 'forget'] and cleared his throat. "Now that won't do. I'll be taking his place." The district was silent. Watching as Atticus made his way towards the stage, his tall build giving him a look of superiority over the small lady before him. The soft smile never left his face, trying to ease his district that he was going to be okay.

indentAtticus wasn't famous among his district for anything special. But most knew him. They knew he would offer a helping hand to people that needed it. That he would give them some of his earnings and food to people who needed it. His nickname from the beginning of the games lived in the district. Pops. That's what everyone called him. Even his own children. So he had to choose his next words carefully. He didn't want the district to see their beloved pops break down on stage in agony of what he'd done. "I'll remember all of you while i'm gone. And I expect everything to be just as I left it when I come back. Take care of yourselves." With a quick bow Atticus turned on his heels and followed his fellow victor away from the crowd. His expression dropping to reveal just exhausted he was. Mentally and physically. A ragged sigh escaped his lips as he heard the thundering footsteps of his boys making their way to him. They were quick. He expected that. The two flew into the room and wrapped Atticus in a hug, their grips like steel around him. He gently placed his arms around them before lifting his gaze to see Amanda staring at him. She gave off a cold aura but he could see past that. She was scared. Her lips trembling. But she held strong. For Matthew and Taylor. She had to take care of them now. Because they both knew Atticus wasn't returning.

indentAtticus broke the hug to crouch down to look at Matthew and Taylor in the eyes. He used his hands to ruffle their hair before clearing his throat. "I expect you two to behave for your mother. Keep your rooms clean and do the dishes. If I come home and see that you're rooms are dirty i'm going to ground you so fast." The two let out a chuckle but it was strained. The way Atticus had worded that made them realize he might not come home. That this might be their last time to hug and touch their father. Ever. The sound of one of the peacekeepers clearing their throats alerted Atticus that he had to go. He slowly stood up, embracing Amanda in a tight hug. The last time he'd get to hug her. Tears prickled his eyes but he ignored them, pushing her away with a pained smile. "I'll see you soon"

indentThe walk to the train was short but heavy. The expressions of his wife and kids laying heavy on him. Slowing him down and making him question if he had made the right decision. The other male victors all were young-they didn't deserve to go back into the games. Atticus on the other hand had lived his life. He got to come home and have a family. They deserved the same treatment. A chance to have a future as he did. Even if he was cutting his short. But he wouldn't have been able to live with himself if he let that young kid go off instead of him. It would have eaten him alive until he couldn't take it anymore. So as he stepped onto the train with the other chosen victors he tried to keep the soft smile on his face. It was easy to look past it and see how exhausted he was. Terrified. But he had a mission here. To embody Pops and help the other victors. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't at least try to make their lives a little easier. Offer up tips, tricks, and even strategies to them. If they trusted him.

[natrillie]

𝒸𝓁𝑒𝓂𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝑒𝓏𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾
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[ district four ] [ 26 ] [ mentioned: callista, holland ] [ tagged: atticus ] [ location: train common room ]

the train was nearly soundless as it pulled up to the district four station. the waves were too far to be heard now, and clementine pondered why she hadn't relished in the last moments she had on the fishing boat. it just seemed so unlikely that she'd be picked once again to fight to the death. but now clem's life was essentially over in her eyes, and she'd never get the chance to hug her little brother again, or dive ten feet into the ocean to reclaim some lobster traps. it was the simple things she'd miss. the things that would pull a slight smile to her face; the things that made life worth living.
the squeal of the train's brakes finally fell silent and clementine pulled herself inside, gaping at the luxuries within. she'd forgotten how much the capitol buttered up the tributes before their slaughter. the entryway to the section assigned to district four was stacked with all sort of treats and decorations. the sides of the train was lined with white deep seated cushions and was lit from a massive chandelier hanging from the ceiling. the caterers must've done their research, because the treats stacked nicely on a fondue tray were all seafood related: crab cakes, tuna crackers, shrimp cocktails, and much more. that or they just assumed the people from four would prefer such snacks; in that case, they'd be right.
after giving herself a moment to take in the views, clementine snagged a handful of crab cakes and nodded at the peacekeeper who pointed her in the direction of the common room. her heart still ached with the agony of leaving newt, but she knew if there was any sort of chance of seeing him again, she'd have to make some friends. making her way through a few of the other district's cabins, clem came to a stop as she found herself in a rather large train car filled with more food trays and tributes. examining her surroundings, the first to grab clementine's attention was a rather familiar face. the young female victor from last year's game. callista, she was pretty sure was the kid's name. the familiar feeling of bad blood towards the capitol seeped through clem's veins as she ripped her gaze from the girl. she couldn't bear to confront her.
sitting on a bench just a few spaces away from a rather tattered boy, likely from a lower district, clementine shot a quick grin at him before taking the smallest bite out of one of the many crab cakes in her hand. she sat in silence with the rest, wanting to communicate but not bringing herself to break the ice. it was all too fresh. it was hardly likely that anybody here had even really accepted what was going to happen. clem could hear some chatter from a few hallways down, likely the carrying voices of some district partners who had something other than being chosen to either die or murder in common. some time passed, and clem had managed to chow through two more crab cakes before a much larger and older man made his way into the common area. his face carried a welcoming grin, and clementine almost felt inclined to talk to him. watching as he wandered down to her side of the cabin, clem mustered up the little bit of courage that was left from after the reaping, and stood up. with extreme amounts of caution, she approached the man, a grin similar to his etched across her face. "eh, hello!" her scratchy voice was filled with unease, but she continued with the hopes of making a friend. "crab cake?" clem offered, holding out the last of the handful she'd taken from the district four cabin.

[rose petals.]

🎕𝐍𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐀𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝
(𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚝 𝟷𝟷)→|female.|22.|93rd victor.|location: d11.| tags: calista|

Nilla had practically bullied the peacekeepers for them to get her jacket for her. At first they said no, they probably weren't allowed, but if she was going to be dead in a few days, she at least wanted to be comfortable. Finally, a small kid, probably 17 or so, took pity on her and went to fetch her jacket. Although she was thankful, she couldn't help but feel bad for him. Being a peacekeeper in the poorer districts was a noble profession, it made decent wage that could be sent back to their family. However in the richer districts, like 1, or even the Capitol, becoming a peacekeeper or being related to one was almost a curse. The boy who went to get her jacket was probably the sole income for his family.

Her jacket felt comforting to have tightly wrapped around her shoulders, it distracted Nilla from the fact that she had been standing her alone for some time. She still had lots of family alive, her mom and two little sisters. Her father had died in a farming accident a few years before her first games. Nilla still shivered every time she saw a big piece of machinery. District eleven was second to be picked up by the train. Which meant two pair from twelve would be the only ones aboard when she got on. Nilla didn't really care though.

She climbed into the train and quickly went to her personal car, not wanting to just sit in the commons while everyone else got on. Nilla would wait for others to get there first, but maybe a short nap would do. Yes, a nap would do. She shuffled into her train car and collapsed on a couch, feeling herself drift off into much needed sleep, despite the two cups of coffee earlier. Nilla would need at least five cups to keep her awake too long.

When she awoke she assumed more people would be on the train. Nilla yawned and moved back to the common car. She was right, they had picked up more districts by this point. She noticed the small girl from eight, she had won the previous year. Nilla offered her a smile, she didn't want her to feel scared or anything. "Hey kid." Nilla said, sitting beside her. "You're new. I'm Nilla Amberwood- from eleven."

[bunny,]

𝙹𝙴𝚁𝙸𝙲𝙷𝙾 𝙻𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ tags: velvet

the train was quite luxurious, filled with bouquets of elegant white flowers, delicate glassware, and soft velvet seating colored in the bluest of blues. there was even a bar. he felt his nervousness ebbing away as he got comfortable, remembering the last time he was here. he'd been just a kid, and everyone else was slightly if not much older than he was. he remembered getting dirty looks, looks of pity, and death stares. every single face on that train, he remembered. and now, as he was back, those faces flashes through his mind once again. he knew the same would happen again, and he'd have even more dead people in his head, assuming he lived.
velvet replied that she'd volunteered herself for the district. well, who gives a damn about the district? he sure didn't. was it better living than some of the other districts had? sure, but to him that meant almost nothing. he didn't care much for status. rich or poor, friends would still be friends to him, as well as family. he couldn't help but say his thoughts out loud. "the district," he scoffed. "i don't see why you care. was volunteering for an old lady a great thing to do? yeah, sure, whatever. but you shouldn't give a crap about how our district looks." jericho snorted and glanced away for a moment. he knew he was acting like this because he was upset. if anything happened to her out there, he wouldn't know what to do. but he wasn't the type to go all mushy, so he just got angry. he was still the same kid as seven years ago, only now he'd be able to protect her if he needed to.
"you had a choice. you could've let that woman go. you know she doesn't have much of a life left anyways." he muttered. he may have sounded cold, saying such a thing, but he also wasn't the type to really care. he decided to clarify what he said. "i wish you hadn't done it. because obviously i'm not gonna let you die, so now i'll have to protect you. i'm sure someone else could've volunteered for that old bag." he sighed, not realizing he hadn't inhaled in a while. jericho was unaware who exactly that old woman was, all he knew was that his old mentor didn't deserve to be here again, even if it was her own choice. but, she was here anyway, and there was nothing else he could do.

he followed her to sit down, a relieved grunt releasing from his throat as he plopped down in the comfy seats. he rubbed the fabric with his thumbs, glad he was old enough to drink this time around. he'd be needing it. he looked over at velvet again, nodding at her words. "of course. i could never turn on you, you're the only one that helped me survive last time. i'd probably be dead now if it wasn't for you." he supposed he felt like he owed her, maybe that's why he wanted to protect her so badly. of course there was only so much he could do. he chewed the inside of his cheek, peering into the next car, which featured a bar. "wanna get a drink?"

[rose petals.]

⚜𝐕𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐲𝐱 𝐑𝐲𝐥𝐞
(𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚝 𝟷)→|female.|27.|91st victor|location: train| tags: jericho|

Velvet raised an eyebrow at Jericho. Did he not care a bit for his district? Velvet had trained her whole life to bring honor to the luxury district, which she had done in her victory. Wasn't that the whole point of the careers? At least that was how she was raised. "Train harder Velvet dear. You must show the others that we are the best." Her mother's words rang through her ears. Her mother had died shortly after she won- but the look of pride on her face when Velvet stepped off of the train, with a crown on her head, was the proudest she had ever been. Onyx was her mother's first name, and had given Velvet her name when she was born. After her death, Velvet considered dropping her first name and taking after her mother, but her father convinced her not to. "Panem knows you as Velvet- change that and yo lose everything you've won." He was probably right.

Onyx Ryle was in her late thirties when she had Velvet. Velvet never worried about it, even though her mom was in her late fifties when she won the Hunger Games. Onyx trained as a career just like Velvet did, but never ended up volunteering, another girl always did before her. Velvet never met her aunt, Jewel. Jewel was Onyx's older sister, and volunteered for the hunger games when Onyx was twelve. Jewel made it to the final two before she was struck down and killed in a fair fight. That stuck with Velvet's mom though, and that was why Onyx wanted a daughter who bought honor upon the district so badly.

"Don't for get she would've ruined your chances to. It would look bad if you sat there and let a frail, helpless, old woman die in the games. Not to mention I'd lose my good reputation by not volunteering." Velvet was surprised when Jericho said he had to protect her. "Strange that you think I need protecting, I was the one who protected you." Of course Velvet could take care of herself, but it was better for Jericho to be watching her back than to be out for it. Besides that, Velvet had too much composition to admit that. Velvet nodded to him, "You're correct, you would be dead." It wouldn't hurt her to keep reminding Jericho of that. It was better to keep someone in your corner than to trust them blindly.

'Alright, I could use a drink." Velvet said, standing up elegantly and walking into the bar car. The bartender was an Avox, so there wasn't any chance of him intruding on their conversation. "Red wine please." Velvet said smoothly, it was classy, just like her. The Avox seemed a little confused, why would somebody who was just served a death sentence ask for red wine? Surely they'd want something a little... stronger. Velvet wasn't most people though, and she sipped her wine with a calm expression.

[sheepish]

˓〈 Ｌｕｃｉｕｓ　Ｅｌｄ 〉˒
━━━━━━━━━location; common cart━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━tags; boudica━━━━━━━━━

　　deciding that there wasn't much to do at the common cart as the other tributes either sat with a somber cloud hanging over their heads or were already engrossed in conversation, lucius excused himself. getting up and giving each individual a look of innocent curiosity, something that seemed so out of place for a killer like himself, he carefully maneuvered around the others to make his way towards his district's cart. giving apologies to those he accidentally brushed with his shoulders, he finally approached the door and slid inside. noticing that the female from his district already locked herself in her room, he realized he had no idea who it was. directing his question towards the escort, he was informed that the woman was boudica manon. well, that was unfortunate- for him of course. she was a strong tribute and her chances were much greater than his own.
　　maybe they could have a little chat before they reached the capitol? she had won before him and was technically a mentor to his victory, so he was curious if she remembered him. walking up to the door, he rapped his knuckles against it and spoke up. ❝hey, boudica? can we talk or is it too soon...?❞ he asked cautiously. he knew if she was not in the mood to talk, he would quickly become her first target in the arena even if they were from the same district.

[kalo.]

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx( ♠ )━━━━━━ 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐔𝐒 𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐃 ! !
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx( district five ) ( tags; clem ) ( mentions; n/a ) ( wc; 509 )

indent
indentThe train was different than Atticus had remembered. But most things were. It was roughly twenty years since he was last on this train. It definitely had more food and furniture than when he was on it. The memory of his first games sent a shiver down his spine. He really didn't want to think about that. He had to stay positive... at least somewhat positive. For the other tributes. For his family. No use in moping around accepting your death. His eyes scanned the various food trays that were laid out on a large table, servers walking by and picking and putting down different trays. He felt the corners of his lips turn down but it was never for long. Trying to keep a neutral expression was his goal. To look inviting. Welcoming. Have other tributes want to talk to him so they could release some of their jitters. Provide a lending hand.

indentIt seemed to have worked. The bouncing of curly blonde hair caused Atticus to turn his head to look at a female victor walking towards him. She had what seemed to be some sort of food, one that Atticus couldn't quite place, in her hand, and a soft smile on her face. "Eh, hello! Crab cake?" So that's what it was. A crab cake. Atticus let out a warm smile before shaking his head politely. "You don't get crab cakes in district five. Guessing you're from four then. I'm Atticus." Keeping his friendly demeanor around the victor was easy as her aura, while it was rather hesitant and almost scared, had a positive tinge to it. The crab cake was tempting to Atticus-but he had made a vow after his games to never eat meat again. And he stuck by it. No matter how hard the temptation it was he wouldn't give in. "Appreciate the offer. I don't eat meat though. But let's say I am jealous." A deep chuckle escaped him-his chest becoming loose and the suffocating feeling fleeing. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard.

indentFor a moment the smile of the victor's face brought him back to his own games. Sitting next to the young girl that was reaped and trying to get her to lighten up. He tried everything he could to protect her. She was so young... barely fifteen was it? The thought had him casting his gaze down, eyes cloudy for a moment. Atticus was quick to pull himself out. He couldn't afford to get dragged back into that hellhole. In going down that road he'd most likely bring the victor next to him, and she already looked somewhat nervous. He couldn't have that. She may remind him of his tribute during his games but he wasn't going to repeat past mistakes. "I don't think I caught your name. Unless you'd like to be known as crab cake girl," another chuckle left Atticus. His attempts in trying to lighten the mood were mostly reserved to bad jokes and puns. But sometimes comforting others and telling them everything would be okay.