— • conquests • —

Destan attempted a trick he’d seen more skilled knife throwers do where they flipped the knife between their fingers, but failed miserably and cut himself in the process. He laughed heartily. His attempt had been to amuse her enough to evade a direct question about his skills, but he’d failed. Harper wouldn’t like that. She was not keen on sharing any advantage he or Delta may have before it was game time.

“Well,” he began, thinking of a tactful way to sidestep the question. “At home I’m a sea fairing kid mostly. My dad is a ship captain. It involves a lot of rope work and manual labor.”

Harper nor his mother could fault an answer like that.

as he accidentally nicked himself, althea almost forgot to wince in reaction to the injury, her eyes settling on the blood settling on his hands. she blinked once, twice, trying to ground herself once more before delivering a delayed and noticeably fake reaction, her eyebrows furrowing as she asked him if he was okay. 

Rem looked down at the skinny kid who’d walked up beside him. Considering his stature, Rem pegged him for a dagger wielder if he had any knowledge of what he was doing here. Simply because anything else could likely be too weighty for him to control, but his lack of decisiveness about his choice in weapon made it clear the kid was not too familiar with what he was doing.

“You outta try out somethin’ simple first,” Rem said taking a set of daggers from the rack and offering them to the kid. “Simple can still save your life. I’m Rem. What’s your name kid?”

Destan turned with a start at the sound of a voice he didn’t recognize. When he saw her face he recognized her immediately and smiled. Althea was the District Eleven winner from several years ago. He hadn’t been at the academy long then, but they had all the students watch the games each year so he remembered her. She’d been clever.

“These,” Destan began, toying with the star he still had in hand. “Have never been my strong suit either. My name is Destan Leeward. It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss.”

miss. she couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at that. no one back home called her miss, they all had known her since she was a baby, it would be weird. the only people who called her miss were little kids and people trying to sweet talk her into liking them. still, it was flattering. “glad to know i’m in good company, althea kilgore, nice to meet you too destan. what’s your specialty?”

Open Starter|Melee Weapons Station

@tbpstarters​

Rem watched his tributes enter the training center and head in different directions. The girl headed for the throwing weapons station while the boy seemed more interested in, to his amusement, the aquatics station. Meanwhile he loitered by the door for a few minutes observing the room with the air of a man taking measure of himself before plunging head first into a deep pool. Finally, Rem headed in the direction of his old acquaintance and his favorite training station. North the Melee instructor was a calming presence and Rem could never forget his time training under the man. He’d been the closest thing Rem had in the Capital at the time.

Leaning against a support beam, Rem watched as North instructed a few tributes in their form and handling of various bladed weapons. It brought him back. A particular memory sprang to the fore front of his mind, one in which he and North had debated over which weapon he ought to be using. North had favored an axe for him since he came from District Seven, but Rem -just as stubborn then as he was now- had insisted on being instructed in the art of a sword. 

North must’ve felt his gaze because the man in question looked up and gave Rem a nod and a smile of acknowledgment that he returned. A moment later, North ever dedicated was focused again on his trainee and Rem was left to watch. However, he did not seem to be alone anymore. He felt someone had walked up next to him and turned to look at them.

thread felt a bit like he was on display, like his reactions were being watched, studied, and recorded for later investigation. it wasn’t a good feeling, and part of him wanted to run and hide and not have to deal with all the eyes on him. but he knew that wasn’t a good choice, that it would come back to bite him in the butt. so instead he walked up to someone at the first station his eyes landed on, looking up at them with a distressed look on his face.

OPEN|Throwing Weapons

@tbpstarters​

Destan’s eyes moved around the room observing the training stations with interest. Many of them he’d studied at the academy or at least dabbled with, but he knew where his strengths lay (shooting weapons, fitness, and survival) so since this was the first day of training he wanted to try something new. After all the advice he’d received was not to reveal your strengths too early because that only made them liabilities. So instead of the shooting weapons station he walked around for a few minutes looking closer before making a decision.

The throwing weapons station instructor looked like she had a fair bit of a sharper eye than the one they had at the academy but it didn’t stop Destan from approaching an introducing himself. She seemed to take stock of him before giving him a nod and allowing him to step up and take a shot with the throwing stars. Destan had tried before, but despite his good eye with a crossbow he’d never managed the follow through with his own hand. Still he gave a few throws before the instructor, Octavia, stopped him with a little sigh of disapproval and started to explain what he’d been doing wrong.

althea sat in the corner of the training room, her eyes scanning its inhabitants. it was interesting to her to see what people deemed important enough to be practicing. some seemed to gravitate towards what they were good at and excelled easily, others, like the one tribute she was watching, seemed to try and push themselves away from their comfort zones in order to learn something they were less proficient in. 

Axel shrugged. “Why be in a rush? I’ve not got anywhere else to go.” She groaned as the elevator seemed to be moving at a glacial speed. She’d been bored out of her mind in her rooms. She’d been bored out of her mind on the roof. She’d been bored out of her mind in the lobby even. Axel was beyond prepared to move past the make-over and the parades and get involved in the training. “It’s not like you get a lot of freedom in this place. Well, you might. Not so much for us.”

those words were that of someone who saw the outside of a victor’s life without seeing the inner intricacies of it. sure, she could walk where she pleased and wasn’t limited to a certain schedule, but there were far more expectations, more appearances she had to uphold. there were some moments when she wished she got to be a tribute again, instead of forever tied to this fucking nonsense she was doing every year. she reacted to the girl’s words with a light laugh. “just because you don’t see the ankle bracelet doesn’t mean it’s not there. i’m about as ‘free’ as the rest of y’all, just minus the literal fight to the death and plus a lot more excruciatingly painful social obligations.” 

The Capitol held very little allure to Camilla. She had been mentoring for seven years now, and the rollercoaster never seemed to stop. Her public persona consisted of coy smiles, gentle brushing of hands, and sauntering across ballrooms with a champagne flute. Her private persona included screaming in vacant rooms and reapplying her makeup to face the piranhas once more. Frankly, the constant necessity to switch between both versions of Camilla drained her far earlier than it should each year.

Mia entered the Tribute Tower’s elevator with the intention of disappearing to an exclusive viewing room. She calculated these areas would be far less occupied now, since the Games hadn’t started yet. She quirked her brow upon seeing victor Althea Kilgore in the elevator. Mia’s lips curled into a light smirk, and she eyed the girl carefully. “I’m not in a hurry. Sometimes it’s nice to take in the moment and make it last longer.” Making her solitude longer meant less time surrounded by cameras, after all. 

victory gave you a certain status in panem that althea had not received before returning home from the games. district eleven was looked down upon, was poor, was forgotten about, much to althea’s dismay. in her view, they were the most important district. they could sustain themselves without the help of any other, while the other districts would starve without them. but now that she was a victor, she was seen as almost an equal to those that came from the inner and richer districts. she didn’t know how she felt about it, even now.

althea nodded, shoving her hands in her pants pockets. “i don’t know why you’d want to take in the moment of being stuck in a metal death trap, but hey, i’m not gonna judge you, this is a judgement free stuck elevator,” she said, her words light and her laugh quiet.

as soon as althea introduced herself, amira registered that she was a victor. a recent one, too. it was nearly too much to try and keep up with how the tribute from ten were doing in the arena, the heartbreak when they didn’t make it out, amira hardly committed to memory who it was that ended up going back to their families. and so, with a smile, she shook the other girl’s hand and tried not to think too hard about what she must have had to do to get where she was, “it’s nice to meet you too.”

it took a moment for amira to register that althea wasn’t joking about stuffing her sweatshirt pockets with food and she couldn’t help but smile wider. “i don’t have a lot to work with in terms of pockets,” she mentioned, gesturing to the simple fabric pants and blouse she had put on this morning, “but i have heard great things about the food here”. refusing to dwell on just how little time had passed since then, she looked back up at the victor in front of her. “how does anyone not got lost around here,” amira caught herself musing out loud as they turned the corner to yet another room. 

some victors took offense when people didn’t recognize them, but not althea. she didn’t want to be recognized for the atrocities she had committed, for the things she did that she didn’t feel regret or remorse towards. she had a complicated relationship with her victory, one that resulted in the pride others felt towards making out not being present in her life. she didn’t have any words of wisdom to offer the girl, so she didn’t dwell on it.

when thread started walking towards her, vanessa scooted further to the side. “only if you promise to try not to vomit on me. i don’t wanna smell bad all day.” although, maybe if she smelled really rancid the capitolites wouldn’t be able to take it and they’d send her home. maybe that should be their game plan. her own stomach wasn’t very pleased. “i’ll be okay, i just need a moment to get used to this.” at least tomorrow she wouldn’t be wondering if she was dreaming.

running her fingers through thread’s hair, vanessa let out a long sigh as she thought back to their home. saying goodbye had been the hardest part, she wished they had just thrown her straight from the stage onto the train. the justice building had so many happy memories tied to it, of running up and down stairs as her father worked, drawing on the walls of his office without him knowing and now they were all ruined. all the justice building brought to mind were the looks on her brother and parent’s faces as they hugged for the last time. “what did mom and dad tell you?”

he laughed lightly, the kind of laugh that lingered in the air and felt thick in the room, that stayed for too long, that echoed in his brain. laughing at a moment like this felt wrong. with a nod in agreement, he let his eyes close for a moment, leaning into her a bit more. moments like this were something he hadn’t realized he had been taken for granted until now. he didn’t have any reason to, and yet at this moment in time, he realized this might me his last chance to sit with just his sister.

he didn’t want it to be his last chance.

“I… Ive never seen as much as there is here.” She said. “ other than groves, you know? But I haven’t been to one since I was… little.” Before the accident, when she’d worked on peach groves.

how to make cookies? Monday would’ve jumped in excitement if she could. As it was, she clapped as a smile threatened to split her face. “You will? Really? I won’t, I promise!” They wouldn’t let her before the arena, anyways.that would be bad.

she nodded in understanding. every kid from eleven has seen the groves, been in them in one way or another. it was part of growing up there, part of eleven’s culture and the way they lived their day to day lives. but for althea, it was so much more than that. the groves reminded her of the power the capitol had over them, of the liberation she craved more than anything. 

“maybe, we’ll see, no promises or anything, okay? i don’t want you to like, get your hopes up or anything.”

Monday smiled as her mentor took the cookie. It was good, they were bonding. Offering food was a big offer of friendship for a twilight. Unfortunately… rejecting the food was highly offensive. If everyone is starving, rejecting food is a personal offense. Monday gasped, a little.

Until her shock turned on the words that fallowed the rejection. “You make these at HOME? As in… in eleven? I didn’t know… I didn’t think there WAS food in eleven.” Other than the obvious tesserae grain that was sold and bought more frequently than other grain and the fruit that all got sent to the Capitol.

althea raised an eyebrow. “you didn’t know there’s food in eleven? sure there is, maybe we have to sell it all to this fuckshow of a place, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t there in the first place. if we grow it, it should be ours to use to do what we want with it. it’s fucked up that they keep taking it from us.” she sighed, hands in her pocket. “tell you what kid, don’t die over the next few days and maybe once i’m settled in i’ll teach ya how to make ‘em.”

there weren’t many things raf loved more than a good coffee, and unfortunately for him (and unsurprisingly) the capitol had the best coffee in panem, it was definitely better than what he got in district six, and better than the few cups he tasted during his tour as well. but when raf went to get his signature oat milk vanilla latte, and it transpired that they had simply ran out of oat milk he was equal parts confused and annoyed. “what do you mean you don’t have oat milk? this is the capitol you have everything.” he ended up settling with soya milk but begrudgingly so. “ridiculous.” he whispered halfway through his groaning.

raf turned to the person who had just witnessed him stress himself out about dairy free milk, not many people cared too much about what they put into their bodies but raf was definitely one of them. putting his hand up to stop them from speaking, he rambled on further, “i already know what you’re going to say - ‘is there a difference?’ and yes, yes there is.”  he tipped a few spoonfuls of sugar into his coffee and stirred begrudgingly as he carried on mumbling underneath his breath. “soya milk… am i savage?”

fourteen year old boys should not be given caffeine, ever, that should just be like a general rule. and yet, none of the staff at the capitol coffee shop seemed to be aware of that well intentioned rule. so, thread had just ordered his third cup of coffee for the day, and he was already pretty jittery.

it didn’t matter how many times raf would go to the capitol, he would hate it each and every time. granted there were some visits that were worse than other, namely his first time, and the time he came having to mentor lizzie - the other occasions were by no means anymore pleasant. so when the most minor of inconveniences happened, his mood moved from a slightly alluring and brooding to irritated in seconds. looking at the girl from district eleven, one he recognised as a recent victor, he closed his eyes and slowly raised his hand to his forehead. 

‘you’ve just got here rafaele, you haven’t even peed yet and you’re already mad.’ 

it took him a moment to calm his shit before opening his mouth, “you’d think with all the fucking money the capitol has, they’d be more than one elevator in this building.” needless to say, he was never going to be happy in the capitol - but the current version of raf available, was as good as anybody was going to get. “and they say the capitol spares no expense.”

she didn’t want to be here anymore than this guy did, apparently. but hey, at least she was in good company. “they’re too busy spending money on figuring out new and innovative ways to kill us all, so, i guess they’ve spent their entire elevator budget on that.” 

closed starter for @ofconqvests​

the first thing vanessa stevens did when she stepped onto that train was take a quiet moment to embrace everything around her. the train was beautiful, and she would’ve taken more time to take it all in if it wasn’t for the dark tones tainting the experience. the second thing vanessa did was grab a glass wine. if it was there, she was going to drink it.

the hunger games were cruel. she should’ve reached that conclusion years prior, but she just hadn’t. and the whole ordeal wasn’t even cruel because she got reaped, for absolutely no reason whatsoever, except some kind of cosmic failure. no, the cruelty came from the fact that she couldn’t even take this moment to feel sorry for herself. because her little brother was there, and how are you supposed to focus on yourself when all you feel is fear for somebody else?

“hey,” she called out to thread, her hand patting the free spot on the couch. “come sit next to me, will you?” vanessa wasn’t sure how she was going to do it, but she needed to keep thread near her at all times. if she looked away, even for a second, he might vanish. “are you alright?”

thread didn’t want to be here. he had been secretly hoping that this was all another one of his daydreams, that none of this was really happening, that he could safely go home to his mom and dad and sister and brother and not have to worry about his death at age fourteen. 

and yet, here he was, heading towards the capitol. life wasn’t fair, this was bullshit.

he moved from his seat by the window when he heard vanessa call his name and nodded, moving towards her obediently. there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for vanessa, moving to sit next to her on the couch was such a small request that fulfilling it seemed almost too easy.

amira had somehow wandered away from jude amidst the chaos that was their walk from the train to the tower. after getting turned around by flashing lights and the calls of capitolites, she finally found her way to the nearest elevator and tried to take a moment to breathe. she had been doing surprisingly well, her mother would have been proud that she kept a good head on her shoulders through all of it. the only sign that she was still reeling from the morning was the way she toyed with charm at the end of the dull chain around her neck.

when the young woman next to her turned to greet her, amira widened her already small smile. “i don’t think i’m in a rush, not that i’ve been really told anything so far,” she said with a breathy laugh - she’d already heard some tributes being reprimanded for being late to an appointment they didn’t know about. “i’m amira by the way,” and she had to stop herself from continuing to say ‘merona hereford’s daughter’ as she so often introduced herself back home. “i’m one of the tributes from ten.” she took a second glance at the person standing beside her and could have sworn she recognized her face. “i’m sorry, i feel like i’ve seen your face before but i can’t place your name,” she apologized after feeling as though she maybe had stared a second too long.

she didn’t know how much she had missed anonymity until it was right in front of her once more. the fact that there was someone who didn’t know her name, her story, the shit she did to people in the arena by just seeing her face, was comforting for her. maybe her life wasn’t entirely different from before. 

The train had been spent sitting at a big table on a super high chair. Monday had found a buffet. That was like… food. But lots of it. So much, and you could pick as much as you wanted! It was wonderful, and Fatastic, and amazing. The little girl had already decided she was going to spend every second in the Capitol eating and having fun. She’d already heard rumors that she wouldn’t even be allowed to bring her crutch to the arena. The crunch she was using now to limp to the elevator.

her solution? A soda pop, cookie, and pretending it wasn’t real.

as she walked to the elevator, she smiled up at the face she’d seen at her reaping. Her mentor. Someone from HOME. “Um… I’m not good at stairs…” she made a motion to her foot, pointed nearly behind her. It barely held her weight. Forget stairs. “I can wait, though. Cookie? They’re real good. Like… happiness, but crumbly.”

althea let her eyes wander down the girl next to her, giving her a once over. it was one of her tributes, the female, monday she believed her name was. she was small, at a serious disadvantage due to her leg, and probably not worth getting attached to. the chances were that this one wasn’t coming home. she nodded. “yeah kid, neither am i,” she said, leaning back against the wall behind her.

her eyes darted between the cookie, the kid, and the elevator. “what the hell, yeah, i’ll take it,” she said, taking the baked good from the girl and holding it in her hands for a moment before taking a bite. it tasted artificial, fake, like it had been made in a test tube. she threw the rest in a trash can. “doesn’t compare to homemade.”