THEA ELLIS. / FORTY SEVEN. / DISTRICT TWO. / MENTOR.
𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘. 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐑. 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.
LIVIA SNOW. / EIGHTY THREE. / THE CAPITOL. / FIRST LADY OF PANEM.
𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘. 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐑. 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.
THEA ELLIS — TLDR;
Thea grew up in a harsh environment — the daughter of the ruthless Head Peacekeeper in District Two, a man widowed because of her very existence. She was enrolled in the Career Academy as soon as she possibly could be and she excelled immediately, which wasn’t shocking to anyone. Savagery seemed to be in her blood.
As cold and brutal as she was during training, Thea was never one to put on a show. She remained quiet and standoffish, keeping to herself for the majority of her life and even after her Games.
She was reaped at fifteen for the 43rd Hunger Games and was quickly a crowd favorite, although she didn’t really have the charisma to go hand in hand with her obvious strength. Still, she won after brutally slaughtering a good portion of the tributes in her Games, but a display of humanity by Thea in the final hour led to her winning by a fluke that caused her to break.
After her Games, she got the standard ‘desirable Victor’ treatment for a few years, but it was obvious she was becoming more and more mentally unstable as time went on. They allowed her to become a mentor once the previous Two mentor resigned (most likely to keep a close eye on her and keep her coming back to the Capitol) which hasn’t been great for her mental state either, but she likes at least trying to help the tributes despite the fact that she’s the opposite of nurturing.
Thea mostly keeps to herself and is kind of a ghost around the Tribute Center when she’s in the Capitol, so I doubt she’s been approached by any rebel figureheads as she’s never been one to speak out against anything. She has disdain for the Games — both from what they’ve done to her and because of the tributes she’s lost — so she would definitely be interested in joining the rebel movement, she just likely has no in as of now.
My character inspo for her from thg is Wiress if she was a savage murderous girlie so hopefully that helps!!!!
LIVIA SNOW —
Livia Cardew was born into a prominent Capitol family, known for its influence and wealth. Growing up in the heart of the Capitol, she was exposed to the excesses and extravagance that defined society from a young age, and she’s never had a problem indulging in the finer things life had to offer. Her childhood was marked by privilege, attending elite schools, and being groomed for a future of societal prominence. During her time in school, Livia crossed paths with a young Coriolanus Snow. The two shared classes, and even then, Snow exhibited the cunning and ambition that would later propel him to power. Livia, being equally intelligent and strategic, gained his respect and friendship. Their connection grew stronger as they navigated the intricacies of Capitol politics even in their formative years.
As they entered adulthood, the political landscape of Panem underwent significant changes. Coriolanus rose to power, and Livia found herself drawn into the web of Capitol intrigue. Recognizing her intelligence and appeal, Snow saw in Livia a valuable ally — someone he could control, and someone whose charm wouldn’t force him to compromise his thirst for power. Livia understood her role well enough, and though she had ambitions for herself, she couldn’t deny the intrigue of occupying the arm of a man whom she was sure would soon be the most powerful in Panem. The two eventually married and Livia found herself falling into the comforts of the life his affluence brought, her previous ambition all but drying up with the ink signed on their marriage license.
Soon her sacrifices would pay off, and not long after their marriage, Livia became the First Lady of Panem — a position that required a delicate balance of grace and influence. While President Snow ruled with an iron fist, Livia played a crucial role in maintaining the facade of a harmonious and glamorous Capitol. Behind the scenes, she was instrumental in shaping public perception and managing the intricate social dynamics of the elite. She threw parties and attended social events, posed for magazine covers and effortlessly embodied the epitome of Capitol glamour. Indulgence was not something Livia decided she would shy away from, and why should she? With the entire country at her fingertips, it was almost impossible to keep herself from falling down the road of endless gluttony and excess that her lifestyle could provide.
Time has a way of warping even the most lovely memories, though. As her children grew older and the life of a socialite became less exciting, Livia began to resent Coriolanus for trapping her in a life of insipid nothingness. She drinks more than she should, does less and less to hide her affairs and quite frankly, it’s a shock to her that her husband hasn’t already ordered her death. But Livia’s got a very specific type of leverage — her strategic brilliance and unwavering support played a pivotal role in the success of his regime. She may still firmly believe in the almighty reign of the Capitol, and to her the districts will always be scum, but if Coriolanus ends up dead by his own arrogance, she’ll be laughing all the way to his funeral.
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Cadence is glad that they are all finally in 13. Or well, most of them, since she supposes she should think about Xiomara. But her fellow victor wasn't her favourite person in the world, and when she was distracted by finally being reunited with Thea and Enobaria, it wasn't hard to forget Xio. It wasn't necessarily intentional, she just had others higher up on her priority list. Right now, she wanted to concentrate on her family, now that she was allowed to see them. Cadie didn't think she would ever forgive District 13 for keeping her from them for so long.
She bites her lip as she looks at Thea. She knew Thea had wanted her to go. That didn't change how guilty she felt though. "Didn't mean I had to do it though" Cadence had always had a problem with following instructions. She supposed she might not have actually made it onto the hover if it hadn't been for Brutus. That was just some more added guilt. Brutus might have been alive if it wasn't for her. But she knew it wasn't worth going too much into that now. It was in the past, and even if she regretted it, she couldn't change the past. "Xio's not here. I don't' know where she is." And she didn't really care. Cadie was pretty certain Xio didn't care where she was either. At the mention of Brutus tears automatically fill Cadence's eyes, and she had to fight to keep even more tears from falling down her cheeks. She still hadn't fully come to terms with the fact that Brutus was gone. For so long he'd been a somewhat paternal figure in her life. He'd been the first adult she'd trusted after her father had died and her mother abandoned her. It had taken her a long time to even trust Brutus. So for him to gone, it was something she really did not to believe.
"He's gone." She murmured, swiping away at the tears. She assumed that Ezra had told Thea. It felt bittersweet. She had gotten Thea and Enobaria back, but had lost Brutus. It felt so long ago that they were all in District 2. Sometimes, at night, she wished they could be back there, despite all the horrible things that had come with it. At least her family had been complete then. Back before she'd lost Clove. Before she'd lost Brutus. "He's gone.... and he died hating me....." Her hand loosens Thea's a little, scared that her remaining mentor would dislike her too. "It's all my fault." Of course she was being overly dramatic. Getting her here might have been the reason why Brutus had ended up in 13, but she had told him to join the rescue mission. But maybe if she hadn't joined the rebellion he'd have still been alive. Or maybe they'd have both been stuck in the Capitol cells too. Her mind was full of so many "What Ifs" and it was hard to deal with.
Her head shakes again quickly, a pure sense of fear washes over her when Thea thinks about what might have happened if Cadie never got on the hovercraft that was meant for them all. Surely, she'd have faced time in the cells like the rest of them — or worse, she'd be dead. Forcefully, she pushes that thought away, because it hadn't happened and they are here now, all of them are safe. At least, she'd assumed as much until Cadie lets her know that Xiomara is nowhere to be found, and a sense of dread washes over her all the same. "She wasn't with us." It's hard for her to admit, because as horrible as it was to have Enobaria beside her in captivity, at least Thea knew she was alive. The unknowing that surrounds Xiomara's whereabouts puts a pit in her stomach that's hard to ignore.
And Brutus — she'd assumed he was here with Cadence, that he'd been with her when they fled the Capitol that night. But Cadie's words wreak havoc on her already muddled mind, alarm bells of confusion ringing through her thoughts. He's gone, she'd just said. He died hating me. That couldn't be true, could it? Surely someone would have told her if he was truly dead — or maybe they had? Thea wracks her brain for moments and pieces of the last few days here, but they're all blurred and jumbled, and she can't quite pull any specific memory from her mind. It's a terrifying feeling, something she's only felt in the aftermath of a nightmare or Capitol drug-induced haze. But this is different — it's as though her mind is purposely keeping itself from allowing her to remember anything. Her brows furrow as her gaze shifts to Cadence, unfocused and afraid. "He isn't dead," she murmurs, almost matter-of-factly even though she's got no idea if that's true or not. "He was with you. He is with you."
Delly noticed the way that the nurses shot her a look when she approached Thea. She had gotten quite the reputation in the medical ward with the way that she spoke to the nurses. But Delly didn't blame her. After everything that she had been through...everything that all of the captives had gone through...they deserved to react however they wanted to. And there was nothing that Thea could say that was worse than spending time with her best friend whom she didn't recognize anymore. And it wasn't Peeta's fault. It was the Capitol's fault. They had turned Peeta into something unrecognizable and Delly wasn't going to stop until she found a way to fix him. Thea Ellis could tell her to go away, could call her anything that she wanted and it wouldn't feel nearly as terrible as watching Peeta. Delly had thought that things would be better when they rescued Peeta but nothing could have prepared her for what they rescued.
She offered Thea a small smile in return for her own attempt to smile. What had Delly done that the other nurses hadn't? But she certainly wasn't going to complain about it. "You are in luck they signed off for you to have water this morning," She informed Thea. "Would you like it sort of cold or mostly room temperature? There aren't a lot of options," Delly told her softly, glancing around to make sure nobody heard her comment. "I think that that's normal, but it sounds terrible. I'm sorry," Delly apologized, even though she wasn't the one giving the medicine, and the medicine was for Thea's own good they said. She shook her head. "I'm not really a nurse so they don't tell me much. I'm just a volunteer. I like to stay busy," she explained. Especially now, she didn't add but she wanted to. Thea had been there with Peeta. Did she know what they had done to him?
Just the thought of cold water is enough to perk Thea up even further, her mind going back to the dirty, disgusting water they'd been forced to drink if they wanted to keep themselves alive in the cells. How funny that she'd now consider water that's been even somewhat refrigerated and clean and a luxury. "Cold, please." Even the polite request feels foreign to her, but this girl seems at least like she deserves it and there are only so many people who haven't treated her like a feral animal since her arrival, so Thea will rip the last dregs of kindness she's got buried deep down from the pits of herself if she must, in order not to scare Delly away.
Thea listens quietly as the young girl explains things to her, tilts her head slightly when she mentions she's a volunteer. Why anyone would subject themselves to the torture of caring for malnourished, broken captives of the Capitol is beyond Thea, but she's certainly grateful for it. Her mind brings her back to what she thinks must be the real reason for Delly's voluntary exposure on the horrors they've faced — the boy from Twelve. And since she's got no interest in upsetting Katniss Everdeen with her probing questions, Thea figures this girl may very well be her key to getting answers. "You know Peeta Mellark?" It's a question, of course, but it comes out more accusatory than anything, and Thea has to remind herself that she is trying to be kind. "He is here, yes?"
attention is split between his partner and the pancakes he's preparing for the two of them. vision darts between the two in an attempt to let her know he's listening as well as making sure their breakfast doesn't turn an unfortunate burnt hue. there's certain meals that have become a staple between the pair, and he knows thea enjoy his pancakes. he's flipping the flapjack as ellis crosses her arms. at first, he's wondering if he's upset her. thea had gotten ... better at expressing how she's feeling over the years. it's a little bit of push and pull. she still withholds he can tell, but over the years he's also gotten better at reading her as well. he's quick to realize that he hasn't upset her, rather he's seemed have worried her.
thea confirms it herself as she expressed her concerns about him staying here. the tug of war never becomes easier, rather frayed rope burns skin. he never faults her for how she sleeps. it's not like she has many places to turn for her nightmares. maybe the capitol ... but it all feels a bit oxymoronic: the goliath of the city providing aid for the very actions that the monster itself caused ? or even worse, her confessing what she sees and feels and them deeming her some sort of threat ? his steady descent into the rebellion already might be putting a marker on her, even if intention is protect her and others from the tyrants. the last thing needed is more ammunition for snow and other government officials deciding to take measures in their own hands. the only arms he wants around thea ellis is his own.
once the breakfast pastry is cooked, ezra turns off stove and puts the remaining batter on the figurative back burner. he moves that short distance from the kitchen to where she stands. callused hands take unbelievably softer ones in his own, even though he yearns to take her in his arms. it's important that he's able to look his lover in the eye though. " thea, " he says, almost always like her name requires a deep reverence. to ezra, it does. " i'm always gonna stand by what you want and what you need. but we've done this before, are you sure ? " eyes scan her striking features, looking for an inkling of reservation. " if your nightmares are back - i hate the thought of you sleeping alone. " the thought of her waking up frazzled concerning him. sometimes it takes a while before she comes to and feels safe again. she doesn't need him, he knows. but if he could help stifle the burn of the flame, he'd like to.
Every time he says her name, Thea feels as though she is gliding through heaven, and every terrible thing in the world melts away for a few blissful moments. She can almost ignore the problem at hand when he says her name like that and takes her hands in his, with so much tenderness that she can hardly breathe. But reality hits her as he speaks. Is she sure? Of course not. She's never sure any time she tries to distance herself from him, and it never works out the way she wants it to anyway. The only thing Thea is sure of is how much she loves him. Even if she fears telling him, even if she sometimes tries to deny herself of it — her love for him is always there, vibrating within her as steady as her own heartbeat, and it drives nearly everything she does these days if she really thinks about it. But if that's true, she feels it even more from him, especially at times like this.
“You do so much for me.” The admission comes out in a pained whisper, eyes squeezing tighter still before she forces herself to look at him. It’s evident even now, with the pancakes he’s just made to perfection cooling on the countertop and the gentle way he holds her hands and tells her he’ll do what she wants and what she needs, that he’d allow himself to endure her delirious and deranged episodes if it means she’ll feel safe when she wakes up. He does that for her, provides comfort and peace for her. The only things she can provide him with are silly trinkets she finds on her walks and haircuts if her hands are steady enough that day and vacant stares and the pain of watching her deteriorate — all she does is take and take and take.
It isn't fair, and she knows it. "You shouldn’t have to.” There's weight to her statement, a million things he shouldn't have to do for her aside from the glaringly obvious ones. He shouldn't have to endure pain inflicted by her own hand, shouldn't have to be wary of falling asleep next to her just because she might see him as an enemy in her dreams. He shouldn't have to sneak in and out of her house. They shouldn't have to hide. Nothing about their lives is fair, but it's the one they have, and Thea's learned long ago that trying to run from it doesn't work. But if she can ease his burden just slightly, she will do whatever it takes, and she needs him to understand that. “There will never be peace to be found as long as we live in this world, I’ll always be this way. If I ever did something irreversible—" Even the thought of it sends a shiver down her spine, her blood running cold. "I don't want to keep hurting you."
The scene on the monitor was unchanging, and for that, Finnick was grateful. Of all the resources available to a tribute in the arena, rest was one of the most important, and unfortunately, often in the shortest supply. The more downtime Adria and Irving managed to score, the better off they’d be when the Games wound down. But rest for them didn’t mean rest for him. If anything, Finnick found himself more on edge, as if he were serving as a lookout for them, even when there was nothing he could do to protect them from a potential threat. Not from here, not from behind a screen. But knowing that fact didn’t dull the edge of anxiety he felt, even if others thought he appeared lax or detached.
He takes a moment to consider if Thea is the same. Was her icy front a cover for the worry she was holding on to? Or was she truly so unbothered? Either way, there would be no judgment. If Finnick had learned anything his (short, in comparison to some of the other mentors around) time as a victor, they all dealt with it in their own way, and who was he to say how she should be feeling at a time like this? So even if it were an act, she had shown up, and that was more than what could be said for some of their peers. Finnick couldn’t imagine leaving those kids all alone, not when he was their mediocre last line of defense.
The man takes the quiet moment as an opportunity to stretch before swiveling his chair around to face her. He offers a shrug. I thought you might be the same. The implication was not lost on him, but again, her skewed perception of him wasn’t any of his business. Not tonight, at least. “And risk missing out on such thrilling action?” Finnick motioned to the monitor behind him that was still displaying a sleeping pair of tributes. “Never. There’s no place I’d rather be than right here. You, me, and our good ol’ sponsor friends.”
The nonchalance that comes from this kid is astounding, although she can admit she's almost surprised by the admission that accompanies it. If you'd asked Thea only five minutes ago whether or not she truly believed Finnick egotist Odair would rather be here helping is tributes than anywhere else, she might have scoffed. But there's a sincerity in his tone that she can't deny despite the way he tries to play it off, and it's enough to get her to leave him alone. She is prepared to simply leave it at that — she settles comfortably in her own seat once they’ve established that he’s apparently here to stay, even lets the tension release just slightly in her shoulders. It doesn’t last long, though, and Thea should have expected as much. Very rarely is there a truly calm night in the duration of the Hunger Games — especially for Career tributes, who often let their confidence hinder them and set their camp up in plain sight near the Cornucopia. Normally, it’s a decent tactic, but she can see from their monitors that another pack of tributes is inching closer to them by the minute.
“Looks like you’ve got your action.” Even as Thea says it, she nearly grimaces — if he’s being truly honest and this is fun for him, that’s all well and good, but watching the children she’s supposed to help live come face to face with a certain death will never been fun for her. She shifts slightly in her seat, back rigid as she readies herself to send whatever supplies she deems appropriate in the moment, but it’s the realization that she may as well try to work with Finnick while they’re both here and their tributes are aligned that keeps her from shutting herself off from him completely. Glancing over at him, she decides to feed her own curiosity as to whether he’s truly interested in what’s about to happen. “It seems they’re coming from the north side — they may attack from the high ground if they can manage to scale it.”
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there's no such thing as privacy in the cells. they all learn new things about each other often. she'd never spoken about finnick much in the capitol, other than in hunger games related conversations or the few stragglers who have long seen past the vacant facade. before speaking on it in the block, thea had known. not a lot by any means, but similar enough to how she'd eventually realize what was happening between her friend and ezra klair. she'd spoken some about her love within here, but with a reservation brought on by the chance she'd never see him again. as days become uncountable, the likelihood kept increasing ... until the boiling point of now.
annie cresta knows what's coming. they all get choked up in the cells, some more often than others. but it's in the way that thea acts like looking the woman from four in the eye will turn her into a beautiful statue of stone that is annie's first confirmation. it's hard not to let the woe wash over her own features, like the rain that can clear district four during storm season. it stops in lungs that freeze over. air cannot seem to move as she's desperate not to let tears flow. lids squeeze shut. ( waterfalls can and will roam freely when she's curled up in that uncomfortable cot near the back of her cell later. ) she can't even call it all a twisted bluff. she's heard what thea has heard. she knows finn like she knows herself. there's no way she can deny the now silenced screams. and it seems hers left with his too, as a dreary stillness fills the space between annie's cell to the woman from two's. there had been a delusional hope that maybe finn had not been seperated from their boy, that somehow they had gotten reunited. reality shakes her earth. snow will toss her scraps and all. if baby cas survives the rebellion, he'll know neither of his parents. they won't even be a faint memory, he's that young.
she looks at the other woman for a while, before currently explaining, " i know. " hands cross the front of her body as fingers nervously fidget, like somehow feeling nail against skin reaffirms this isn't a nightmare - well not a literal one that she can be awaken from. it's that or the need to crush one's knuckles against glass to test if it's really unbreakable. ( it is, highjacked peeta has proven time and time again. ) the volume of voice is low, just above a whisper. there's a real attempt at steadiness, but it's lacking. " they have me listen in on your ... " she trails off, both trying to fight sobbing by shutting eyes again as well as attempting to find the right word. because even now, she feels the need to apologize for easedropping as though it's ever been consensual. head leans forward to press against the window of the door. she attempts to focus on how chilly her forward is. she needs something to ground her, anything other than the death of the man she loves. the death of the man she loved ? " is ezra ... " she trails off. in with the voices ? dead ? annie's almost afraid to ask. like if she speaks any of it into existence, will thea's man meet the same sudden and cruel fate as her finn ?
I know. The moment Thea hears those words, it feels like thousands of knives have pierced her skin. Annie knows — she knows because… she’s heard it all too? They’ve been there for weeks, Thea’s been tortured over and over by the sounds of her loved ones going through an indescribable pain, some loved ones that Annie shares as well. If she’s listened in every time, if they’ve forced her to go through the same thing Thea has over and over again, to hear the cries of everyone they’ve lost to the rebels — it’s a pain Thea wouldn’t wish on anyone, let alone this young woman that’s become one of her closest friends. “Every time?” She almost can’t bear to ask it, because the answer might be debilitating. Annie deserves every good and pure thing in the world, and for her to be forced to endure everything Thea’s been through during their time in the cells is a cruelty she can’t even imagine.
Her stance mirrors Annie’s almost, fingers unfurling from the fist she’d formed and coming to rest on the thick glass that separates them. Would it be easier if they could be together, to find comfort in each other’s presence instead of the isolation of their respective cells? Thea doesn’t think so — for her, it’d likely be much worse. As selfish as it is, she doesn’t want to feel Annie’s trembles as she cries over the possibility of Finnick’s death, not because she doesn’t care but because it’d break her much further than she’s already been broken. And for Annie to witness her own agony over Ezra’s fate might be even more unbearable for Thea. “He—" Thea can barely get the words out as she thinks of her own partner, how he’s been painfully screaming in her ear for weeks now along with the others. “He’s there too. Or was.” It’s all she can get out, the broken words are all she can really focus on as her mind is being split in different directions of grief. And then, somehow in the depths of it, she remembers something — a small sliver of hope. “Peeta… he said it might not be real. Do you— have you any idea what he meant?”
The silence weighed heavily on him, making him question whether he'd even said anything, and giving him even more time alone with his thoughts. Everything seemed to echo in his mind with numbness and an overwhelming mix of the emotions he always tried so hard to keep in check taking their turns with him. They came in wave after unbearable wave, disorientating him enough that he didn’t know which to focus on and could only feel himself slipping deep and deeper into the depths of his mind.
Then she started to speak and his eyes opened wide, fixing on her as he waited to see whether she’d play the saviour or leave him to drown. She tossed him a lifeline ( a surprise and one he’s not sure he’s done enough to deserve ) and he grasped hold of it, standing up quickly. He can’t say anything more, not yet, but he’s beginning to feel like he can breathe again or at least start to come up for air. There’s a curt nod given to her, his usual way with words evading him when he could barely string together a coherent thought let alone form a sentence.
Throat is cleared and eyes shifted towards the door, eyeing the exit like it's some sort of salvation. He'd feel better once he was out of this room, right? It was just stuffy in there, nothing some fresh air wouldn't cure. "Sure, not like I've got anything better to do." Voice is gruff and he practically scuffs his feet over the floor, acting the part of the brooding teenager he'd never really been. It's a thought that made him consider once again how much he might have lost by being so fixated on glory, one he's quick to swallow down.
It's not a thought he wanted to keep turning over in his head so he started to move towards to door, finally finding it in himself to voice some kind of gratitude. "Thanks. I'll try anything."
If she’s being honest, Thea truly hadn’t expected the boy to take her suggestion she easily, but she won’t complain. She gets up when he does, walking quickly and quietly to the center’s street exit while he shuffles alongside her. I’ll try anything. Thea only nods, resonating with his sentiment more than he could ever truly know. She too has tried nearly everything — she’s tried pills, she’s tried avoidance, she’s even allowed herself an indulgent night or two of partying before she realized the lack of control that came with it was ultimately worse than any pain she might be feeling. In the end, she’s come to the conclusion that she’s sure Helios likely fears the most. There is nothing that will take the pain away — their only option is to move right through it.
Thea doesn’t tell him as much, though; at least not yet. Instead she looks around briefly before they exit, ensuring no one is following them before she slips outside. A few moments pass, they turn on to an empty street, and only then is Thea comfortable enough to truly speak her mind. “When I first started mentoring, I thought maybe it might be better. There were less appointments,” she looks at him pointedly as they walk, knowing too well that Helios will understand what she means by that. It’s no secret that she’d once been the prize of the Capitol, but newer and shinier toys have of course come out of the Games in the years since then. Still, that doesn’t mean she’s been exempt from her victor duties outside of mentoring and from what she can tell, he isn’t either. “I hoped, like you, that over time it might get easier to watch them die, and it’d be worth not having to perform as often. But I won’t lie to you and say it does. Losing them…” The tributes, the children she’s failed to protect in the last ten years — Thea takes a moment to remember them before she continues. “It will stay with you forever.”
They meet when they’re children — forced to train in combat the moment they are able. Thea is easily at the top of her class almost immediately. Ezra Klair is not far behind her.
It perplexes her that he could be as good as he is when he acts like that. Thea thinks she dislikes this boy, with his happy-go-lucky grin and his gentle disposition and good sportsmanship. Really, she just doesn’t understand him. She can’t for the life of her figure out why he’s the first to help one of their classmates up from a fall or why he’s willing to show anyone how to angle their weapons to hit their marks. The kid could run circles around everyone in their class, but he’ll stay back to run with kids who are struggling or ask their instructor for extra laps until the last person has finished.
Thea despises him, she decides.
These people are not her friends, they are her competitors, and she thinks he’d do well to look at them the same way. At this rate, he’ll never get chosen for the glory of entering the Games. Ezra Klair is too kind, too eager to help the little guy. He’d get crushed like a bug in an arena, she’s absolutely sure of it.
Still, she can’t help but study him. Her gaze drifts toward him during their combat sessions, Thea watches how he overpowers his opponent with ease and then kindly gives them tips on how to get the upper hand next time. It makes her so angry that she nearly snaps the neck of her own opponent, the kid falling to the ground with a painful sounding thud and what will probably be a week-long headache. She’s told to go a bit easier on her classmates, but still she’s rewarded for her skill.
That day at lunch no one sits with her, as usual, but she feels the wary looks and glares from her classmates even as she keeps her eyes trained on the military style lunch she’s been packed. Chicken and rice, as usual.
She’s halfway through her meal when she feels a presence sit down across from her and her scowl is instinctual.
It’s her nemesis, of course, because why would she be allowed any semblance of peace in her life while he’s around to irritate her? Ezra smiles brightly at her instead of returning her glare, lets her know that his mom accidentally packed him an extra chocolate chip cookie today and he was wondering if she’d like it. It takes everything in Thea not to let her jaw drop on the ground, refusal on the tip of her tongue because she’s never been allowed sweets on any day other than her birthday, and even then it’s Dianne who smuggles her a small cupcake.
Her suspicion must be evident, because before she can even get a word out, Ezra tells her, “really, it’s no big deal. I’m just full and it shouldn't go to waste.”
She hesitates, unwilling to take anything from this boy who she’s recently decided to loathe forever. But despite everything in her gut telling her not to accept the monstrosity presented to her, at the end of the day, Thea is still only a seven year old girl. The promise of something sweet is too strong, too severe for even tight-laced Thea to deny. So she reaches across the table tentatively, keeping her eyes on him as she takes the cookie — the peace offering.
Their fingers brush and a jolt of electricity spikes through her.
She still hates him, but he clearly hasn’t gotten the memo because he sits with her every day at lunch after that. Thea decides maybe she can respect his ridiculous level of commitment, if nothing else.
TWO.
Her hatred quickly melts away, despite her best efforts.
The respect she has for Ezra remains, though — even increases tenfold. He is kind to others where she is distant, and he’s gentle with her in a way she ends up craving. Thea has never experienced such softness in her life but once she fully lets him in, she’s almost willing to drown in it.
It’s difficult for her to express her feelings, especially when her home life is so devoid of any kind of softness or emotion. So their friendship remains a friendship for years, although with teenage hormones involved it’s almost impossible to ignore that they may be evolving into something more. When Thea is told she’s been chosen to volunteer thanks to her position at the top of their class and her lethal skills, she realizes that Ezra may be the only one who will truly miss her if she doesn’t come back.
He walks her home from the Academy that night, as is their usual routine if neither of them have other obligations.
“You don’t have to, you know.”
Her head jerks slightly as her gaze fixes on him, brows furrowing. It’d be easier for Thea to pretend she doesn’t know what he’s talking about, to pretend that her meeting with the board had been about her grades and not her inevitable venture into an arena.
But it’d be a disservice to him to pretend he’s that stupid.
Thea remains quiet aside from a mumbled maybe as they walk the path they've both long memorized by heart, but before they can reach her house, her fingers intertwine with his and her lips find his cheek, then his lips. If her intention is to shut Ezra up before he can say anything else about what's to come, it works despite his obvious distress about her future. For a moment, her actions have led them to a new section of their own little world that they haven’t yet explored before.
When it happens again a few days later, and then steadily throughout the rest of the school year, Thea tries not to think about how she wouldn’t mind kissing him for the rest of her life. The reality is, this may very well be the rest of it.
He tries again the morning before the reaping, begs her not to do what’s already been done and promises her a future that doesn’t involve risking her life for glory. Thea has already made up her mind, but her lips brush his as her fingers clasp his own just as they’d done months ago when he’d first tried convincing her to stay. She hopes maybe if she dies, it will bring him some peace to at least remember her like this.
THREE.
As it turns out, she never ends up having to volunteer.
Her name is called out through the town square, and at just sixteen years old Thea is able to walk to the podium with a ridiculous amount of pride. No females volunteer that year because they don’t need to — it’d be a crime to take the chosen one’s chance at glory away from her.
She can barely look at Ezra when he comes to visit her before she’s taken to the Capitol. He’d begged her not to volunteer, but the pleading had been unnecessary anyway. Even if she hadn’t been reaped, Thea knows she’d have never shirked her duty to her district. She’d never bring shame to her family in that way and most importantly, she could never disappoint her father.
When she comes home, everything has changed — but Ezra remains steady, a constant that she can cling to.
The months before her victory tour blur together as one, between moving into her house in the village and adjusting to life as a victor in Two. She doesn’t attend the Academy anymore, and her father has opted to stay in the home she grew up in. Over time, Thea realizes she’s got nothing to live for now that she’s accomplished what she’d trained her entire life to do. Instead she spends her days working on her victor talent, embroidery of all things, and she spends her nights trying hard not to let the terrors of the arena overcome her completely.
Through it all, Ezra is there.
He’ll be out of the academy after this year, apprenticing with a blacksmith despite his family’s pushes to enroll as a Peacekeeper. Thea isn’t surprised, he’s never had the urge to kill like some of the trigger-happy people in their military and besides, he’s very good with his hands.
Hands that brush through her hair, roam over her back and her arms but not anywhere she secretly wants them to go because he’s a gentleman, always has been. They’ve only ever gone at her pace, only ever gotten to a point she was comfortable with. But now, when she’s practically crawled into his lap in front of her roaring fireplace, Thea wants more. She’s a victor now — a murderer, whispers the voice in her head that’s been pestering her since her win — and she’s more than capable of taking action.
If Ezra’s surprised when she takes their silly make-out session further than they’ve ever gone, he recovers quickly. But where Thea is fast and fumbling and worried about doing everything the right way like she’d heard some other girls talking about in the locker room, Ezra is only worried about her.
“Do you want this?” he’d asked her.
Of course he had. Her sweet, gentle Ezra would never take anything from her that she didn’t willingly give him. Not her friendship (although something could be said about his persistence, Thea knows in her heart that he’d have left her alone if she truly wanted him to), not her shy kisses after school, not her love that had grown for him on its on accord — and now, certainly not this.
With one hand, she threads their fingers together, the other cupping Ezra’s jaw as her thumb brushes over his cheek. “More than anything,” she answers, and she’s thankful he takes her word for it.
FOUR.
As years pass, Thea Ellis becomes something of a sex symbol in the Capitol, all plush lips and alluring eyes and slender legs for days. They’ve even modified her a bit, built her into some kind of doll — a plaything for those who can afford it.
Behind it all, she is breaking into pieces, but Thea does everything she can to hold onto the parts of her that are still whole. She’s seen what happens to victors who can’t perform. Even if she hates her father, she doesn’t want him dead, and there are others to think about too — Dianne, who has watched over her since childhood when her father wasn’t present, who still checks in on her occasionally just to make sure she’s alright; Elijah, who Thea won’t pretend to know well but still considers to be a friend, who could easily find a stray bullet in his line of duty if Thea isn’t careful.
Ezra.
Thea will admit she’s been too reckless with him in the years since her return from the Games. With her father choosing to stay in their pristine home by the barracks, Thea’s got almost too much freedom in the village to do what she pleases. They are just barely careful, he comes by almost every day after apprenticing in the forge, makes her meals and keeps her calm when her mind becomes too much for her to handle alone. It isn’t normal by any means but Thea almost thinks she could be happy like this — then she is called back to the Capitol and reminded that life is much too cruel for true happiness.
This time, Thea is out of her mind with grief upon her return. One of them is sure to bear the consequences of her mistakes (it’d happened too quickly, she hadn’t meant to lose control and then before she knew it, she was soaked in blood pouring from the man’s carotid.)
When she walks through her front door, the first thing she notices is Dianne sitting primly upright in a chair in the middle of her foyer. Thea almost asks her what she’s doing but upon closer inspection, there is a single white rose sitting in the woman’s lap. And once she’s truly able to understand what’s happened, she notices the small, bloody bullet hole in the dead center of Dianne’s forehead, and the lifelessness behind her eyes.
She doesn’t scream, she doesn’t cry. Almost immediately, she turns to run — and of course it’s Ezra’s doorstep that she runs to. It’s so incredibly stupid of her, because he very well could be waiting for her in the same position Dianne had been in, and Thea knows she wouldn’t be able to handle losing them both in one night. But when she reaches Ezra’s home he’s waiting for her like he often does when she’s not sure what time she’ll be back from the Capitol — alive and breathing and warm in the way he always is. Before she can think not to, Thea throws herself against him in an attempt to ground herself and convince herself that he’s safe.
Unfortunately, their reunion can’t last long.
Thea doesn’t explain everything that’s happened over the last day and a half, doesn’t burden him with the gory details now that she’s scrubbed herself clean of the blood that once stained her. All she tells him is that this isn’t safe anymore. He can’t be around her if he wants to keep living, if he wants his family and Elijah to remain safe and blissfully unharmed by the Capitol. It breaks her heart to watch his break in real time before her, but this is what has to be done.
Her hands linger at his jaw, down his neck and over his chest. One last touch, she thinks, then you cannot be selfish like this anymore. What she thinks will be her final moments with him are excruciating, but Thea eventually finds the strength to pull herself away — to leave him alone to live his life in peace, like she should have done the second she won the Games.
FIVE.
Of course, her self-imposed isolation doesn’t last long. As much as Thea would like to keep Ezra away from her, their gravitational pull is much stronger than she's ever been.
It's slow, at first. She sees him in the square on market day and can't dodge him fast enough, then she finds freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on her doorstep made from the ingredients he must have been shopping for. Of course, Thea couldn't possibly go without thanking him for the kind gesture, so she shows up at his house the next day — and from then on, they pretend they aren't anything more than passive friends, because clearly she can't stay away from him.
But Thea must always remind herself that it's safer this way.
Sometimes they toe the line too candidly and she pushes him away again, only for the look of hurt that crosses Ezra's features to haunt her dreams at night until she shows up on his doorstep with her tail between her legs. When he tries dating other people, she pretends to be happy for him. If they're frightened by her death stares and affinity for knives, then they simply weren't right for him anyway.
Over time, it becomes more and more obvious that they simply just can't be apart.
Mentoring keeps her in the Capitol for lengthy periods of time, as does her duties to her suitors. They rarely talk about it, but the deterioration of Thea's mental state is clear for anyone to see. She becomes erratic, unable to keep herself calm. Ezra visits early in the morning before work, and stays until late at night. Eventually he starts sleeping on her couch, then in her bed — Thea isn't sure when her resolve started to crumble again when it comes to him, only that she doesn't have much control over it.
She still has moments when she pushes him away, when the terror of anyone finding out how close they are becomes too much, but somehow he always finds his way back to her.
Her nightmares become more frequent, but Ezra manages to stay with her through the worst of them. This time when she comes to, the first thing Thea notices are the gentle hands that weave her blond strands together at the back of her head. She sits comfortably against his chest, letting the steady movement of his touch bring her back to reality. Thea's hand eventually drifts upward, holding softly onto his forearm as he finishes the braid, her face pushing just slightly into his chest while his arms move to wrap around her.
It’s a reminder that she’s here, and Ezra is too, despite the horrors her mind conjures up and the nightmares that leave them both struggling in the aftermath. A reminder that they can find peace in this hell they've been subject to, even if it only lasts a moment.
Livia prefers working with Domitila. She's told the woman this, time and time again harping at her that she doesn't enjoy working with her incompetent apprentices. She's told these apprentices as much to their faces, as well — sent them running and likely crying after a lengthy berating and a promise they'll never amount to anything if she has any say in it (unfortunately, they know she does). This woman, Portia, is no different. She's been a stylist for a painfully poor and hopeless district, the same one that breeds barbarians like Katniss Everdeen and Livia's sure even coming in contact with those kinds of people must be grounds for developing some sort of venereal disease. So, she's kept her distance for the entirety of their meeting. "Domitila says you've got promise," she comments, but it's flippant at best. There's no promise to be had coming from a throwaway district even if this woman has styled victors — and especially when those victors turned out to be such complete disappointments. "Quite frankly, I don't recall anything you've made. Perhaps I remember that horrifying fiery disaster your partner designed — oh, the name eludes me. Anyway! I can't imagine you've got anything for me that I'd actually like to see, do you?"
Despite everything, the Snows have still managed to find the time for a lavish dinner, in an attempt to keep at the sense of normalcy that Livia is desperately holding to. Not that Coriolanus bothers much with certain pretenses anymore — not that either of them have for long before this whole rebellion business began. Where Livia would once tend to him like a mother hen in the early days, she now takes joy in watching everyone else around them fuss over their dear President while she sits queenly on her throne at the opposite head of the table, doing nothing to add to his comfort or really, his life. What's he going to do? Divorce her? Kill her? She's beloved by the Capitol. It'd be terrible press, absolutely horrible for his own image to even have to play at the part of grieving husband. He'd look weak, Livia knows all of this. It's what keeps her so smug, so youthful. "Darling, I asked if they've made any progress in Four getting those fishermen to do their jobs," she snaps, with a faux sweetness laced through her words. Maybe she hadn't actually voiced the sentiment aloud, or maybe she had — either way, it wouldn't be the first time they've ignored each other. "I'm tiring of lamb. Lobster sounds just heavenly."
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A party is a party is a party — and Livia's thrown enough of them to know they're really all the same at the end of the day. But as much as she'd like to ignore the growing unrest, she knows there is more riding on her affluent social gatherings now than there ever has been before. Every whisper in a dark room needs to be accounted for, every look and nudge and sideways glance by guests should be scrutinized and analyzed until she is absolutely certain there are no rebel sympathizers in their midst — and that, if there are, they are properly taken care of without so much as a blink from those who are clueless to the situation. When she spots Eris in the crowd, the night may as well be deemed over with. She’s quick to find the woman and guide her away from the bustle to a secluded corner of the mansion — there are passive hellos and how are yous on the way, but nothing can truly deviate Livia from her mission. “Well?” It’s funny how Livia’s voice can sound almost melodic, almost pleasing to the ear — and yet still have the bark of authority behind it. “What have you got for me? I’ve not spent hours preparing for this, all afternoon, to find myself empty handed at the end of the night.”
where / the snow mansion
with / @thecapitolprincess
Despite everything, Livia simply refuses to cease. Her mentality is similar to the expression 'the show must go on' — a silly uprising or two in the districts couldn't possibly sway her from living her life. And so she continues the same ostentatious display of oppulence she's put on dutifully for decades now, nothing needs to change. Maybe they've got less caviar from Four or less veal from Ten, but who really will notice when she's pouring everything she can into these parties? It's all they have left to live for, and besides — even district people that have proven their loyalty seem to be having a wonderful time! As if to convince herself of this, Livia corners the first one she finds; the victor from Five is very clearly not one of them, but she's close enough and in these times of turmoil, it's important to remind the people that their loyalty will go far. "Lyah, dear," Livia's hand snakes eerily around the girl's upper arm, almost as a warning that she's to stay put where she is — but it's a party, of course, and she's free to mingle however she'd like! (so long as Livia has no use for her). "Are you having a wonderful time?"
where / district 13 tech wing, day 82
with / @fatefought
Being escorted through the halls of Thirteen reminds Thea almost too much of her time in the Capitol's grasp, and it takes everything in her not to let her mind fall into the repetitive pattern it's been in for the last three weeks, making her think she's back there instead of here in the present. She can walk on her own now, at least, but she's a 'fall risk' waiting to happen and clearly, she isn't yet trusted to make her way directly to the tech wing and back on her own. Ezra has his own duties in the kitchen that she can't continue keeping him from, so Thea puts on a brave face and does as she's told, moving quickly and quietly through the halls and ignoring the nasty glares she gets from some of the people she passes. Apparently, she hasn't quite been forgiven for the things she's said about Thirteen while in captivity — and while she doesn't fault these people for their anger, Thea doesn't have much sympathy for them either. If they'd had to listen to the dying screams of their loved ones, she can't imagine they might have acted differently.
Relief floods her when they make it to their destination and she's greeted not by the judgmental faces of Thirteen's citizens, but by a friend. Beetee has always been one of Thea’s favorite colleagues, if only because she’s felt they share an understanding. Her brain isn’t nearly is brilliant as his and his partner’s, but their minds seem to work similarly in a way that not everyone can stand — a perk for Thea and her often self-imposed solitude, but a hinderance when she would find herself in a situation where she’d need to mingle with her fellow mentors. Beetee was easy, and if he finds her to be as cold and standoffish as some of their other colleagues think she is, she’s never picked up on it. "I thought I might be in trouble," she admits, standing awkwardly by him as she wavers on whether or not to take a seat. Her escort, at least, has decided to leave them be for now. "You're not who I expected to find at the end of this journey."
where / district 13 hospital wing hallway, day 70
with / @monumented
She’s allowed to go on adventures now (or so the medical staff calls them, but Thea has been unable to find the adventure in a lap around the medical wing in a wheelchair before she’s promptly deposited back into her hospital bed). It’s good for blood flow, they tell her, and because she’s been trying and failing to walk again without toppling over thirty seconds in, this is her only means of exploration in Thirteen. Frankly, it’s boring, and Thea is nearly ready to summon the nurse that’d gotten distracted by something while taking her out so they can just get on with it and she can find peace back in her bed — but just as she’s about to call out, someone else trying to brush by her in the hallway catches her eye.
It’s a face she could never claim to know well — in fact, she doesn’t even know the woman’s name. But her features plague Thea’s memories, swimming in and out of her mind any time she tries to recall what happened the night Ezra saved her from her metaphorical tomb. If Thea remembers correctly — and she can never truly be sure about that, because her mind is always playing tricks on her — but if she does, then this woman was there too. “You.” It’s a terrifying way to greet someone, a finger lifted weakly in the woman’s direction as her gaze is fixed sharply on the features she’s still trying to distinguish as real. But Thea is sure about this, and this is the person that’d been by Ezra’s side, helping her to Thirteen. She’d been almost completely out of it for the majority of the ride but now that some time has passed, this is not something she thinks she’s wrong about. “I know you. You helped me.”
it's a bit of a bumbled mess within the rebel insurgents here on the capitol captive's mission. many have seemed to stray from their primary objectives. familiar faces, but klair has a lack of knowledge of their names, are sprinkled throughout the tribute center building. others he is more familiar with. sterling whitvale, who was suppose to be working with johanna mason, was here in the cellblock. brutus steele was too, with cadence kentwell nowhere in sight. ( he'll learn eventually that the two hadn't made up before steele's abrupt and tragic death. ) ezra and juniper had done as instructed on their communicuffs, which is why they find themselves in the cellblock. in truth, he cannot blame anybody from straying. the rebel had a primary objective too: save the captives. he will do just that, but his attention is consumed by one captive in particular.
the entire mission occurred in the spam of maybe not even an hour. ( he hasn't actually confirmed that with anyone, people have been busy. ) it felt much longer, maybe due to a combination of tension and every moment without thea ellis was a moment that dragged. from hovercraft to thirteen to the hospital wing was much more vast in length - yet it felt like those events happened much faster. there's a blink and something else arises. maybe he should feel bad about it, but the only thing on his mind is thea. into the earliest hours of day sixty-one, anything that doesn't have to do with the love of his life merely gets met with klair going through the motions. and in truth, he's not sure how long that undeniable haze will shadow him.
hospital staff doesn't brush him away like they do many others. seeing the now freed captive sedated and restrained is haunting. it's a pairing of wanting to continue to be allowed access to thea as well as trusting certain staff when they say it's for her safety that causes ezra to be able to hold back his tongue - for now. she looks like an angel when she sleeps, even after months of torment. a few hours of thea being soundly resting, and ezra's eyes follow suit.
tech squad is able to aid in the opening of the entrances of the cell cages. it makes opening the door to thea's facilities easy. it's just him that wanders in. later on, he'll wonder if juniper had extended a kindness to him be allotting that. ( maybe one day he'll even ask her. ) thought doesn't enter his subconscious at the moment however. instead, heart aches. it looks like snow and his cronies left thea there to rot. bruises and blood freckle thea's emaciated body, looking not that different from how he assumes she did when she first left the arena. " thea, " it's all that can leave his choked up throat. it's soft, even if a desperate scream wants to leave him. they have to be careful ; he has to be careful. who knows when more peacekeepers will be alerted to the rebels ? quickly, he gets closer to her. he kneels down, before taking her into strong arms. they have to be careful.
her call to him isn't what wakes him. it's too soft even if alert. instead, it's the different pace of beeping that comes through the medical machinery. when she was resting, the sounds emulated that on repeat to a point where it started to effortlessly blend into the background. legs, while stiff from how he slept, propel themselves to move heavy chair closer to her. he's right beside her. two hands cradle her right one in his. " did you sleep okay ? do you need some water or can i call your nurse - how's your pain ? " questions flow freely as voice is still groggy from slumber. he leans down and gives her knuckles a kiss, before he sits back up straight. eyes don't leave her, waiting for any indication of what he can do for her.
It was her name that broke Thea from her reverie, a name she’d long memorized the sound of coming from his lips. She would listen to him say her name a thousand times over if she could, he made it sound like the most beautiful melody she’s ever had the privilege to listen to. Despite the pain she’d been in, and the decay that overtook her, she still found the strength to reach for him. But this Ezra had to be an angel and he came to her with ease despite the fact that there must have been guards lurking around the hallways — if he were real, he could never have found her this way without facing a certain death. It’s how she knew this must be the end, and she was to be escorted by her very own angel to the other side.
Now, that moment is the fuel to her increasing confusion. This all seems too real. The scrape of Ezra’s chair against the floor, the hands that find her own. They are perfectly calloused in a way she’s learned by heart over and over again through decades — she’s tracked their lives together through the roughness of his palms. Part of Thea had always hoped he never stopped working for that very reason, despite the fact that she was adamant about him deserving an early retirement; it was simply to easy to remind herself that they were living and growing through the story his hands would tell each time she held them.
She thinks that may have been what crushed her the most when she watched him die in front of her — the fact that she’d never hold those hands in hers again. But that was only part of her agony, of course. Thea may have been almost completely out of her mind by then, and she may have hazy memories and no understanding of her surroundings now, but she is acutely aware of everything that encompassed Ezra’s death. It would be difficult to forget the way her heart shattered, the distinct feeling of loss that overtook her when she watched as her other half was ripped away from her. It had been her driving force in thinking he was the one saving her from the purgatory she’d been sentenced to.
With ease, he’d lifted her from a floor stained with her own blood, and Thea had allowed that moment to be the one that brought her peace. Laid against his chest, she’d resigned herself to her fate in the arms of the man she loved most, and the world went dark as she succumbed to death.
Or at least, so she’d thought.
“Are we dead?” It can’t be true, she realizes — her surroundings have become too real, and his hand in hers is solid and grounding in a way that brings her back to reality. But how lovely it would be if she was given the privilege of spending life after death with the one soul that has always intertwined so effortlessly with her own? Ezra is attentive, as he always is, but Thea pays no mind to his concern for her comfort. “I don’t understand,” she rasps out the words, willing him to understand where she cannot. Her fingers grip his hands with all the strength she can muster, as if he will disappear if she lets go even slightly. “You were dead. They killed you. The rebels killed you and I watched it, I—" Tears begin to form in the corners of her eyes despite her dehydration, and that’s when Thea realizes that she isn’t on the brink of death anymore as she'd thought — in fact, she may even be coming back to life. “How are you here?”
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Thirteen's Medical Wing || with Thea Ellis @perfectaches
Friendships had once seemed to be something entirely out of his reach, no matter how much he grasped and stretched for them he had been so denied them during his childhood in Seven. A lonely existence but one that had just made him all the more grateful for the bonds that he had managed to forge throughout his years as a Victor. It helped that they had all existed in the same fire that the Capitol kept fixed on them, providing the perfect crucible for their bonds to harden and strengthen, melting down even the most stubborn of them. He would never be able to pinpoint the moment that he won Thea over, if it had even been a single moment, only that he was glad that somewhere along the way he had. She wasn't the only one that he'd anxiously awaited news from when it came to the rescue but there was no denying that he'd felt her absence keenly.
He'd waited his turn to see her, as well as waiting to have enough time that he could spend with her guilt free with all his other commitments taken care of. Throat is cleared in an attempt to dislodge the rising lump of emotion forming there. “Thea.” Her name is said quietly when the last thing he wants is to disturb her. Silence hovers in the air between them as he walked further into the room, wondering what exactly was the right thing to say at times like these. But his strength had never been in finding the perfect words to make someone feel better but rather in his steady, quiet company which he had always hoped spoke volumes. If nothing else, he hoped it made them feel less alone. “I’m glad you’re back.” Were the only words he could offer Thea, thick with emotion that would probably never be given voice, as he took a seat next to her bed and prepared to spend however long she needed in silence.
Everyone is safe, they’d told her. All the screams she’d heard from those she’s stupidly grown to care for were fake, all the deaths she’d watched at the hands of District Thirteen were fabricated by the Capitol. Of course, Thea wants desperately to believe that. And she’s come to terms with the fact that some of it must be true — Ezra has barely left her side, so she knows he must be real and every time she reaches for him, the feel of his hands in hers and his lips on her forehead reminds her as much. Cadence has been to visit her and Annie has told her countless times that Finnick is alive. Brutus hadn’t made it back from the mission to retrieve them from the Capitol, but Thea has to be reminded frequently that his death hadn’t come at the hands of Thirteen but rather from the very captors that had convinced her otherwise. It’s a lot to take in, so it’s only fair that her reality wavers in and out like some kind of light switch.
Through it all, she hasn’t had much of any confirmation of Thatcher’s fate. She remembers hearing his screams. She remembers seeing him die along with everyone else, remembers the agony she felt at the loss of her dear friend, and the worry that came when she thought of little Lennox. But now he’s here, sitting by her bedside and Thea starts wondering how she could be so lucky that almost everyone she cares about, and everyone she thought she’d lost, has turned out to be safe. “You’re real too.” The words are accompanied with some semblance of finality, as if she might refuse to hear it if he tries to tell her otherwise — but what she’s really seeking is a confirmation she can’t quite seem to get a grasp on yet. Everyone has told her the same, but Thea will ask anyone who will listen to her to confirm that she’s truly here and this isn’t all just a dream — and especially, she'll ask those she’d thought she lost. “I watched you die with all the others.”
what an irony it is that her presence is, once again, recognized with denial of it — katniss is altogether in agreement that she should not be here, either that here is thea's room or even alive. not for the first nor the last time, she wishes snow's gift had been successful in its purpose; at least, then, she would not have to cope with this horrible aftermath, nor have to be a witness to anyone else's suffering. to see thea, in all of their unfamiliarity with one another, still wounds her, and katniss is so distraught that, for a minute, she can do nothing but watch. flight is her usual choice for moments like this, but her feet work too slow.
so she stays, the hand that was extended to offer warmth moving downwards with a nimble expertise — she's made and unmade knots until her fingers bled over the past week, and the experience allows her to undo the straps that tie thea down swiftly. there is something to say about her carelessness then, when she has just barely recovered from the last assault, but if that one hadn't killed her, maybe she would be gladdened if this alleged one did. her face twists, a ghost of a smile that goes by too quickly, at the better sight — thea is by no means whole, but at least she no longer seems like a tied down animal.
"he went for a piss." comes the shattered voice, in all of its misery. "i'm same as you, down the hall." she tries to explain, but it seems poorly. had it been thea, she would attempt to run away right now, knock her captor and search for her lover. are you? are you? the dark haired closes her eyes for a moment, wishing away the damned song; she brings her hands for herself, trying to prove she means no harm. she's no hangman. "he ain't leavin' you 'gain, thea. you safe."
Panic aside, Thea’s gaze curiously follows the girl’s movements, watching as her hands untie the soft restraints that bind her wrists to the sides of her bed. Once they’re undone, she holds her hands close to her face, as if she can’t possibly believe she is free. A look of confusion overtakes her — why have you done this for me? what could you stand to gain from it? — but Katniss seems entirely unapologetic. Either she trusts that Thea won’t kill her or she’s indifferent to the possibility that she might, and while the latter would be reckless, the former is just plain stupid. So Thea has a feeling that they may be similar in that regard, and they might share the same kind of indifference when it comes to their lives, or lack thereof.
It could also be that, despite her years of training in the art of murder, Thea very clearly isn’t a threat anymore.
Once she is fully oriented to her surroundings she realizes that the machines around her are likely there to help her heal. The Capitol would never put such resources into her wellbeing, not after she’d tried to strangle Caesar Flickerman to death on national television and all but denounced the Capitol’s cruelty. So she is in Thirteen with Katniss Everdeen unless they’ve taken them both somewhere else, and she’s just started to work through what that means when Katniss speaks up again. Confused, she looks sharply toward the girl. “You were captured?” It doesn’t make sense — Katniss is the face of Thirteen, the doll of the rebel forces. Thea hadn’t known much in her cell, but she knew they punished Peeta for it at the very least. It’s only then that Thea notices the collar around the girl’s neck, a telltale sign of some kind of abuse she must be recovering from. It makes her stomach turn, blood going cold and she tries to shrink further into the hospital bed — because if Thirteen can treat their most prized victor this way, how will they treat a woman who has called them monsters in front of the entire nation?
She’s about to plan an escape when the words wash over her — ‘he ain’t leavin’ you again, Thea.’ If Katniss is right and Ezra is here somewhere, then she will eat glass before she leaves him too. So her plan is momentarily stunted, but if anyone would understand her need to get out of here after everything she’s just convinced herself to be true, she supposes it might be the girl in the neck brace sitting at her bedside. “He has to come back,” she starts, then realizes it isn’t even close to an articulation of what she’s actually trying to say. So she tries again. “If they’ve done this to you, they’ll kill all of us. We all have to leave — you need to find Peeta and we have to leave. They’ll kill us both for what we’ve said.”