* 𝑺𝑯𝑶𝑪𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮 !

the second garrett stepped off the train from twelve, he wanted to turn around. he wasn’t happy to be there, and he didn’t think he ever would be.

of course, it was beautiful, he wouldn’t deny that. certainly more attractive then anything back in twelve. walking through the golden halls of the tribute tower, he felt more than out of place. he genuinely couldn’t believe his wife had grown up here. mary, where was she now? hopefully somewhere with michael, george, todd, and eliza . eliza had been here just last year. was she with her mother now?

his thoughts are interrupted by someone tapping his shoulder and asking a question, which he totally missed. “sorry, what?”

@thqstarter

          “   you  look  distracted.   ”     having  grown  up  in  the  capitol,  much  didn’t  really  seem  to  surprise  her  anymore.   liv  was  grateful  she’d  had  parents  who  earned  their  spot  in  the  president’s  good  books  &  now  she  was  living  up  to  their  legacies  with  her  own  twist.   unlike  most  people  that  stood  around  them,  she  was  never  a  tribute.   she’d  never  been  inside  the  arena  &  never  had  to  worry  about  death  at  such  a  young  age.   those  six  years  of  sitting  through  reapings  went  by  fast,  but  she  knew  it  wasn’t  like  that  for  everyone.

With the training period just a few days away from beginning, Rosie had arrived to the Capitol last night and was already feeling dreadful. Being here reminded her of what had been nine years ago but felt nine seconds away most of the times. Every bump, every clatter and every clang sent the young girl into a state of alert which was honestly, very exhausting. Decked out in black army boots, black trousers, a white t-shirt and a leather jacket, Rosie walked along the hallways fiddling with a poker chip she’d stolen from the casino last night (God, how foolish were the Capitol citizens, throwing money into a table because they’d never wanted for it) when she heard something fall onto the floor. The shock simmered down when she saw what it was and who it belonged to, so with a few short steps, the brunette bent down and picked it up before reaching out to the person “I’m sorry, you dropped this” She said with the smallest complacent smile. @thqstarter​

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Rosie chuckled at her neighbor’s comment, rolling her eyes. She was about to make a comment on how dolphins were definitely much less hostile than dinosaurs, but the prospect of him bringing up the electric eel attack that he still felt the lashback for was enough to dissuade her from it “Come on, be real, Dawson, you’d get stomped on by one of them before you could ever manage to get on top of a mammoth” She said with a shrug “I count myself lucky, all I had to deal with in the arena were people”

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flicker had slipped out of the clutches of her escort and left the suite as soon as she’d been able — she just couldn’t sit there with her father’s stony silence and her mother’s nervous energy that manifested as her pacing in circles around the living area, which was going to drive flicker mad if she had to watch it for any longer. unfortunately, she was in such a rush to get some space from the oppressive energy of the district three suite that she collided directly with someone walking the opposite direction.

“oh, shit, are you okay? i’m so sorry; i didn’t see you there!”

location / tribute tower. open starter / @thqstarter​

the second garrett stepped off the train from twelve, he wanted to turn around. he wasn’t happy to be there, and he didn’t think he ever would be.

of course, it was beautiful, he wouldn’t deny that. certainly more attractive then anything back in twelve. walking through the golden halls of the tribute tower, he felt more than out of place. he genuinely couldn’t believe his wife had grown up here. mary, where was she now? hopefully somewhere with michael, george, todd, and eliza . eliza had been here just last year. was she with her mother now?

his thoughts are interrupted by someone tapping his shoulder and asking a question, which he totally missed. “sorry, what?”

@thqstarter

          parades  were  not  for  the  colloquial  at  heart,  sending  waves  of  irritation  &  uncertainty  coursing  through  his  veins  as  dawson  prepared  five’s  tributes  for  the  inevitable.   the  careers  were  strong  this  year,  along  with  a  lot  of  the  other  tributes.   the  games  would  be  ruthless,  even  more  explosive  than  the  past  few  years,  but  only  because  there  was  more  at  stake  now.   five  had  their  fair  share  of  victors  to  help  with  the  whole  tesserae  situation,  but  that  didn’t  mean  they  had  it  easy.   recluse  behavior  is  pounded  into  dust  as  dawson  is  tossed  into  the  capitol.   victors  &  tributes  on  display,  the  room  for  error  was  minimal. 

“Fair enough,” Soleil shrugged and took another sip from her mimosa. “Guess it feels just… so much worse this year for us. Wiress and Beetee’s daughter was reaped, so the suite isn’t, uh… super fun right now. Probably why I look stressed.”

Not that it ever was super fun, of course. But the weird tension that hung in the air among the victors from Three now was palpable. Wiress and Beetee had already lost a son in the Games several years prior, and Soleil had felt like she’d failed them then. Now it seemed like the same situation all over again, but the stakes were higher. They didn’t have any other children. 

“How are your tributes looking this year?” she asked, reaching to scratch the back of her head, where just an ounce of that pesky headache still sat and poked at her sanity. “I talked to Rory earlier, but she didn’t mention anything about them.”

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          the  misfortune  of  soleil’s  tributes  this  year  hadn’t  much  affected  him.   in  fact,  dawson  barely  even  had  time  to  think  about  his  own  tributes.   he  let  rory  &  the  other  victors  have  a  go  at  trying  to  keep  them  alive  because,  to  put  in  simple  terms,  dawson  just  wasn’t  in  the  right  mindset  to  do  so.   brows  furrow,  but  it  only  lasts  for  a  moment  before  he  shrugs.     “   guess  you  got  the  short  end  of  the  stick  this  year.   ”

𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐊  #𝟎𝟎𝟑        𝒚𝒊𝒑  𝒚𝒊𝒑  

@dawsonfms​

It was a stressful day. Between the conversation with Hemingway, shuffling her tributes from suite to remake center to parade area, and trying to manage her own emotions with her fellow victors who were dealing with more than she could imagine in the reaping of their daughter, Soleil had been nursing a headache for several hours that had, luckily, been abated with a couple of pills handed to her by her escort an hour ago.

So, as the chariots began to roll away from the victors and escorts and stylists, Soleil reached for the Avox holding mimosas. Taking a long sip, she drew a deep breath and closed her eyes for several moments, relishing in the temporary moment of peace before she opened them once again. This time, she came to see a familiar face. 

“Dawson,” she smiled politely, taking a couple of steps closer to him. “Should’ve known I’d run into you here.”

Soleil pulled a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “How is everything? District Five has to be a little bit less of a shit show right now than District Three, right?”

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          this  whole  mentor  life  never  got  easier  for  him.   dawson  had  offered  some  advice,  given  his  tributes  his  two  cents  about  how  the  games  were  only  based  off  of  popularity  &  luck,  which  was  something  he  found  out  the  hard  way  during  his.   district  five  often  provided  underdogs,  tributes  that  were  constantly  overlooked  during  the  games.   besides,  he’d  already  seen  what  most  of  the  careers  &  other  tributes  had  to  offer.   you  were  supposed  to  believe  in  your  own  district,  but  his  hopes  weren’t  as  high  as  they  were  meant  to  be.

          that,  of  course,  didn’t  seem  like  the  case  since  he’d  been  walking  around  with  a  smile  plastered  on  his  face  for  the  capitol.   it  might  have  been  the  alcohol  in  his  system,  but  dawson  was  just  happy  he  could  have  a  second  to  himself  once  the  parade  had  actually  started.   his  name  is  called  as  he’s  wandering  absently  &  his  head  turns  to  flash  at  smile  at  the  blonde  before  taking  a  couple  steps  towards  her.     “   hey  !   ”

Well, damn. It was happening. 

She’d been preparing for months for this, but it didn’t entirely feel real. As she stood in the lobby of the Tower, it was the first time she’d really felt small. She touched Fern’s hair ribbon, tied to the strap of her cutoff overalls, and then the pocket where she’d stashed an apple turnover from the train, just in case they didn’t have them in the tribute building. 

But as it turned out, they had those and so much more. A table in the lobby had soft, cheesy dinner rolls, dispensers full of drinks in a bunch of bright, sparkling colours, perfectly plump and shining fruits of every colour and type. Laid out for everyone to enjoy as they made their way to their suites and to their prep sessions for the parade.

Cricket made a beeline for it as soon as she could, admiring the food as she walked by. A bright, crisp apple that she could nearly see her reflection in went into her pocket for later, but she sampled a couple of sweet strawberries. It was as Cricket was shoving an extra couple cheese-covered rolls into her pockets with that she looked up to make eye contact with someone on the other side of the buffet table and her eyes widened, staring them down as she finished tucking the roll away. “Uh, hello,” she said, the twang to her voice standing out as much as her general dishevelled appearance in this beautiful building. // OPEN @thqstarter​

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          ten  years  later  &  dawson  still  had  flashbacks  to  when  he  was  standing  where  all  the  current  tributes  were.   he  didn’t  go  into  the  arena  with  high  hopes  or  even  a  game  plan.   his  competitors  were  ruthless,  but  his  ultimate  enemy  had  been  the  gamemakers   –––   with  their  goddamn  electric  eels  &  fake - nice  dolphins  that  tried  to  end  his  life.   if  he  hadn’t  gotten  lucky,  he  wouldn’t  be  there.   there  were  few  people  that  could  get  him  to  break  in  the  capitol  &  he  wasn’t  sure  if  he  was  ready  to  be  triggered  by  all  the  attention  yet  again,  but  it  wasn’t  exactly  like  he  had  a  choice.

Ellery hated the noise. Why did one place have to be so loud? Not only were there so many people running around (some even pulling at her hair and clothes) and too many voices to process. Everyone, alive and dead, had something to say.

“Shush,” Ellery said without looking up to her constant companion,  the one that had followed her from District Seven. All she needed was for the people here to think she was a freak and confirm what others at home already knew. Dead people were awfully chatting sometimes.

Instead, she shuffled her homemade cards and tried to focus her attention on them instead. The World, reversed. Loose ends that need tidying up. A journey that is nearing completion…

“Can I help you?” She asked without looking up at the stranger who sat beside her. You see, Ellery couldn’t just see a person and who wanted to be friendly with a person like her?

@thqstarter​​

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          this  was  the  most  dreadful  time  of  year  for  dawson.   he  would  have  much  preferred  to  be  sitting  at  home,  curled  up  on  his  bed.   dissociation  was  normal  for  the  danvers  boy  when  the  games  came  around.   he  almost  pitied  those  who  had  to  deal  with  him  &  his  sudden  absent  gazes.   most  asked  about  five’s  tributes  &  what  they  could  bring  to  the  games.   truthfully,  he  hadn’t  known  much  about  what  was  going  on,  but  he  knew  they  at  least  had  a  shot  at  winning.   everyone  did. 

          even  people  who...  talked  to  themselves  ?   it’s  quick,  but  dawson  notices  her  begs  of  silence  to  absolutely  nothing  beside  her  &  it  brings  him  into  a  phase  of  curiosity  that  won’t  last  too  long.   at  least  it’s  something  to  do,  though.   he’s  careful  with  his  approach,  hands  in  his  pockets  as  he  scans  the  area  to  make  sure  no  interviewers  had  weaseled  their  way  into  the  holding  room.

A tense hush seemed to have fallen over the victors after President Snow announced the change in policy, particularly over the victors of non-Career districts. Capitolites were now back to mingling, and the buzz that Soleil had garnered from two glasses of champagne had quickly worn off after the announcement. She’d already sacrificed an enormous amount of her sanity for the sake of her district. Now they demanded even more. She could feel her face getting warm in frustration and grit her teeth to keep her emotions at bay, remembering the impoverished families she’d known back in Three who relied on tesserae to keep themselves fed each month.

A man approached her and she buried the frustration and smiled politely, tucking her arms into herself and folding them over her abdomen in defense; the usual, more predatorial men who approached her at these events were all blackout drunk at this point, and her stomach dropped at the approach of a new one. But she needn’t have worried, she realized with relief as he drew closer. Soleil knew who Dawson Danvers was, though that was partly because he’d won when she was a teenager, and partly because she’d spent a decent amount of time with Rory over the past couple of years.

“You got it,” Soleil nodded, taking the glass from his hand. “And you’re Dawson, I believe. Thanks. This is… needed.”

She lifted the glass to her lips and took a long sip, then looked back up at Dawson, laughing a little at his remark. “Trust me, you don’t want my stylist’s information. I haven’t been able to feel my feet all night since she insisted on putting me in shoes two sizes too small.”

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          there  was  no  denying  the  strategic  wit  of  their  victories  ;   indirect  forms  of  attack  seemingly  a  go - to  while  in  the  arena,  both  will  kill  counts  that  were  pretty  significant  for  their  games.   victors,  unlike  many  other  citizens,  knew  what  loss  felt  like.   they  knew  what  fear  could  do  &  what  selfish  intentions  the  capitol  held  when  it  came  to  the  games.   his  triumphs  left  him  unscathed,  but  he  deems  it  a  blessing  in  disguise.   people  feared  speaking  with  him  because  of  the  big,  scary  scar  that  stretched  from  his  cheek  to  the  back  of  his  shoulder.   if  he  saw  a  guy  like  that  as  one  of  the  main  sources  of  survival  in  his  district,  dawson  was  sure  he’d  have  lost  hope  by  then.   part  of  him  felt  bad.   he  survived,  rory  survived,  but  he  had  less  to  offer.   he  was  selfish  in  a  different  way,  lazy  even.

          “   it  might  be  a  little  distilled.   ”     warning  is  given,  but  it’s  accompanied  by  a  flash  of  a  smile   –––   a  genuine  one.   such  emotions  are  a  rare  catch  when  it  came  to  dawson,  but  only  because  grief  had  a  way  of  weighing  down  his  features  with  an  uneasy  pull.   he  wasn’t  an  alcoholic,  but  events  like  these  made  his  mentors  weary  of  the  mixture  between  a  victor  &  liquor.   in  most  cases,  he’d  be  stumbling  back  to  a  room  drunk,  but  he  figured  ten  years  might  have  been  enough  time  to  let  himself  spiral.   sobriety  is  both  a  blessing  &  a  curse  in  his  life  now.

          paraded  like  animals,  as  if  bred  killers  weren’t  what  the  capitol  forced  every  child  to  become  one  day.   victor  or  not,  there  was  guilt  to  be  shared  for  the  mere  tolerance  of  it  all.   each  games,  there’s  victory  celebrated   –––   another  joyous  ceremony  that  applauded  the  death  of  other  tributes  to  ensure  the  victors  felt  like  they  had  a  purpose.   and  each  year,  dawson  could  swear  his  delusions  in  the  capitol  got  harder  to  separate  from  true  reality.   at  least  the  suit  &  tie  made  him  seem  put  together.   the  night  was  dwindling,  coming  to  an  ever - anticipated  end  &  he  couldn’t  be  happier.   of  course,  they  were  still  stuck  in  the  capitol  for  a  while  until  the  comfort  of  being  home  would  be  achieved.   HOME.   as  if  he  really  had  one  anymore.

”c‘mon, then,” ariadne smiled, she wasn’t sure why she felt she needed to protect the younger victor ( who, honestly, wasn’t that much younger than her ), but she did; she wanted to make sure he was okay, so him asking her if she was okay, that came off odd to her. “i’m fine,” she said, reaching out an elbow for him to take, “the whole thing is…” she gestured a hand around, “a mess, and i don’t know how to fix it,” she shook her head, “but who does? anyways,” always better to change the subject, “how are you?”

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