invincible

last day on earth by beabadoobee

You made it It's your last day on Earth Oh, you made it For what it's worth

Rhea walked and walked, lighter after removing her space suit, and exposed, and grateful to be alive. Her own steps took her down a tunnel, seemingly never-ending. A couple of right turns later, there she was, somewhere loosely resembling what she knew best. It was dumb not to stick around.

When a voice broke through her frozen meditation, she turned around with panic. It didn’t relax her significantly to see Cecil, even though they’d talked about allying. They did, but now Rhea almost died. Still, a gasp of relief exited her lips. Then, he offered thread, and she wanted to argue that she didn’t need any, but her hands were already stretched out, taking any help she could get. Howsoever, thread wasn’t useful for now. All she could feel was that her wrist was probably splintered, courtesy of her encounter with Summer. Thread didn’t help, but emotional support did. With her hands stretched, she squeezed Cecil’s hand. The move hurt.

“I did not look in the drawers. I keep worrying a monster– a mutt is going to come off. How are you feeling? Are you ready?”

.

As much as he wanted to offer a comforting squeeze back, Cecil didn’t think he had it in him after what he’d seen during the bloodbath. These people weren’t his friends. They’d sooner stick a knife in his back. Could he say the same about Rhea? As nice as she was, he didn’t trust her any more than the others. Cecil pulled his hand back slowly, offering her a curt nod instead. Though he was never the trusting type, it was near torture having to be so wary of people he was supposed to consider allies.

“Do you think they’d do that? Throw some green, big-eyed freak in here to fuck with us? I don’t like it—this.” he said, gesturing around the room. “Is any of this even real? Are we actually, you know, floating a million miles above Panem?”

last day on earth by beabadoobee

The world's about to end so I'm gonna have to finish I guess if it were nicer, we'd be better off innit? Haven't got a plan, so I'm think I'm gonna wing it

Cecil had spoken aloud only to find a robotic voice answer from a speaker system above him. After having escaped the bloodbath in one piece and shedding his heavy suit, the ship was eerily quiet now that he was by himself. He whipped his head around expecting a hologram, a robot, a mutt—anything. The disembodied voice only made him feel that much lonelier. He knew that they would be watching, listening, but it annoyed him that he couldn’t even be alone with his own thoughts. Worse was that someone else might hear it too, like a homing beacon telling everyone within earshot where he was. Well, shit.

Ducking into the quarters lined with workstations and monitors, Cecil waited as if the robotic voice would provide him further instructions. When nothing followed, he decided to take his chances on another question. 

“Where’s Rhea? The tribute from the Capitol?”

Silence. No, that would have been too easy. He would have to find her himself, probably scoping out one of the areas she would be most familiar with.

“Is there a medical center here or some kind of hospital wing? Can you tell me how to get there?”

The directions came quickly and Cecil had to move fast to keep up. Eventually, he reached the med-bay only to find that the first floor was empty. He’d be shit out of luck if he didn’t manage to meet with Rhea at the one place he thought she would be. Climbing up the stairs to the second floor, Cecil let out a sigh of relief as he spotted her and approached with his hands up as if to say that he was unarmed. 

“It’s just me. I have some thread from the cornucopia. It might be of better use to you, though. Did you find anything useful up here?”

@rheassurance​

“It’s fine, Knox. We can share it, if you want,” he lied, having every intention of making a break for it as soon as possible.

@knoxxcarbon​

TASK 012. ARENA AND SUPPORT PLANS

TASK 009. THE INTERVIEW

TASK 003. TRIBUTE PARADE

TASK 005. THE APPLE DOESN’T FALL FAR FROM THE TREE

The kiss did not take him by surprise; the tension between them had been growing, he’d only hoped that Cecil felt it too, and so he did not hesitate to seize the opportunity when it came, back pressed against the wall. He pulled Cecil in closer, clutching at his shirt to do so, then sliding his hands up beneath the shirt, the kiss just as deep and desperate from him as it was from Cecil. The tribute—

—but don’t think like that.

It was bodies, just bodies, two bodies wanting each other in the dark while blocks away sirens sounded. The danger of it turned him on all the more and he was sure Cecil could feel it.

Calix nodded solemnly, his face grave and sensible (to take death of a working man seriously, as one should) until his mouth tweaked into a small smile, one that radiated confidence and faith in the tribute in front of him, the same way he appreciated everybody else, too. “Well, Cecil, it’s touching to see such a humble, strong and intelligent young man. Now, if I may, since we got this close in our short time together, I can’t help but ask… How are you planning on becoming victor? Just between you and me, what’s the ace up your sleeve?”

.

Cecil met Calix’s smile with his own, trying to keep the contempt out of it as he did so. What a shit show. Even if it was bound to come out eventually, Cecil never imagined having to explain himself in front of all of Panem. He couldn’t tell if anything he’d said played well with the crowd, but he couldn’t dare to look at any of them with the shame and guilt so clearly drawn on his face. If he managed to get out of the interview with his reputation still in tact, maybe he still might stand to gain a few sponsors. “I’m willing to do anything to win, Calix. I mean it,” he said as confidently as he could.  “I’ve had to watch my own back my entire life and I know myself better than anyone.”

Then, he glanced off-stage. Cecil breathed a sigh when he couldn’t find Hestia or Moxie or even Sera waiting in the wings. It would make what he would say next a whole lot easier if he didn’t have to see the look on their faces. “Since I’ve been here, I’ve been pulled in a million different directions. It’s been hard. I was even almost convinced that the Capitol is wrong. That this is all bad and that it shouldn’t exist. But, I just don’t agree, Calix. How am I supposed to believe that? You’ve welcomed me with open arms. I know myself and this is where I want to be,” he lied, trying to come off as sincere as possible. 

Cecil was used to screwing people over and it was one of the many reasons why everyone had it out for him in Twelve. And even though he hadn’t named Slate or Moxie, a part of him felt sorry for throwing them under the bus. The feeling wouldn’t pass even when he looked at Calix with his answer.

“And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that happens.”

TASK 008. PRIOR & LEARNED SKILLS

“Creative?” Knox asked him curiously. What was the point in getting creative? Why worry about the arena being so advanced when the tributes would just worry about the killing? “So not only do you have to worry about twenty-seven other people killing you, the arena could kill you, too?” She asked him, shocked. She figured someone had probably already warned her of this but it was really now hitting her. “A message? What do you suppose the message could be?” Knox asked him, not fully understanding what the message to Thorn could be or mean. “Let’s just hope we aren’t apart of a message.”

.

Cecil’s mouth formed a hard line, failing to find the right answers to her questions. He thought to ask the Gamemakers the very same questions, but after twenty-one years of living with the Games Cecil begrudgingly already knew the answer. Knox might have been spared the gory details, but even Cecil had to admit that watching the Games play out on screen was equal parts gruesome and entertaining. “It’s prime time television. The arena kills are always more interesting. Anything to keep the Capitol entertained,” Cecil answered, his voice lacking any real humour. “Do you think your Sovereign is going to be watching? I bet she has something to say about all of this.”

TASK 011. A TIME AND A PLACE

1960s

Hazel wished she could’ve willed away the fully crooked grin plastered across her face, but she couldn’t. To be able to be lauded any variety of heroic was bound to give her an edge, right? That’s at least how she viewed it all. She sucked in a heavy breath through her nose and joined Cecil where he stood.

“Oh, definitely,” Hazel commented through a mumble. She fumbled to reach to squeeze his hand, mostly out of excitement – and well, she definitely felt the need to find an ounce of support. “This is insane – you’re insane – we’re fuckin’ insane,” Hazel joked hiding behind a laugh.

Cecil couldn’t help but join in with a small chuckle. As much as he wanted to say that he hated it all, he could feel something swell in his chest. He tried to fight against it, but the shy smile on his face suddenly grew into a wide grin as the chariot continued down the track. 

He really wasn’t in the best of shape, which became clear as he ran, gasping for breath. If he were ever running for his life, he’d be done for — which, it occurred to him a bit late, as Cecil slowed down, he sort of was. It wasn’t like he had committed zero crimes in his life. Aiding and abetting a tribute in what probably looked like a textbook escape plot could land him tongueless or dead. Which was worse?

Slate was about to take it, a bit surprised to have it offered to him but not going to second-guess, when Cecil got down on one knee. He snorted an amused laugh at that. “Things are moving very quickly,” he said, but took the bracelet nonetheless and clasped it around his wrist, fingers fumbling slightly with the delicate metal. “Here, I’m not trying to owe your ass.” He pulled a necklace from his pocket, a longer but very simple gold chain, and held it out to Cecil. What was he doing, what were they doing, what was this?

It only seemed right that he go and get himself into trouble on one of his last days of freedom. If the victor from Six could go and murder a Capitolite, then what did he really have to lose? Cecil didn’t care—if they were going to kill him, a little keepsake for the road was the least they could have given him. That and a night out with a cute guy. Maybe now he actually had something to come back to that didn’t involve shoving his victory in everyone’s faces back in Twelve.

Sera rolled her eyes, not caring if he or anyone else saw. “No, it was just a blackberry, but what if it wasn’t?” Hopefully he wouldn’t jump straight to swallowing the damn things in the arena. “They don’t have any that’ll kill you out on the tables anyways because of tributes just like you that’ll just swallow it without a second thought.” 

.

Crossing his arms, Cecil abandoned the idea of training altogether. It might all be for nothing if the Gamemakers dropped them into an arena without any greenery to speak of. “Go on, you can say it. Tell me I’m hopeless then we can be on our way. No use wasting our time here if you have somewhere better to be.”