#afterdecay

he could hear the exhausted hissing a mile away. ❛ see, this was something i was assured wouldn't happen living in a house with hair gel guys. and dean. ❜ he mumbled to himself, his volume increasing with each stomp up the staircase. ❛ i thooooought you guys said the products cabinet was off limits to overnight visitors! ❜ volume: MAX. steve wasn't even sure which of the guys was home, or which one had a visitor. all he knew was he could smell his hairspray from the kitchen. his last can. the last drops.

without a second thought, steve flung the bathroom door open, ready to catch a complete stranger red handed. ❛ alright, you owe me twel–– what the–? ❜ except it wasn't a complete stranger. at all. it was hannah's best friend, the one with the nice hair. ❛ allie? when did you even get here? ❜

sera nods slowly, and puts the empty glass she's been pushing around the table while listening back onto the coaster. the already small joint has quieted down substantially, and the low late-night prattle has faded well into the background.

she's been taking it in, all of vi's song. when she speaks of her upbringing it becomes so full of guilt, there's barely any space there left for hope. there are the colors of zaun, though, reflected all throughout it, a countermelody that belongs just as much within the whole piece as the darkness.

Alternate meme response for @afterdecay

It's haunting, the way Victor's Village stands untouched by the war, cold and empty: a symbol of Capitol luxury at its finest and Effie frowns at the thought. It's the first time she's visited since the war ended. She's been busy, certainly, helping to reorganize structure in the Capitol and acting as a face for change and hope amongst her jaded peers. But more importantly it felt...wrong? Wrong for anything Capitol, herself included, to step foot in Twelve as it worked to rebuild and start fresh. She isn't unaware of her part in the past; for years, her presence in this District brought grief and death.

But behind them, when she turns her back to the Village and faces the debris of Twelve, TRUE District Twelve, she sees change. The bulk of the rubble had been cleared, anything that could be lifted out without equipment, and the once blackened ground was spotted with bits of green, new life forcing its way through the once heavily walked paths. Homes are being rebuilt beyond, the fences stripped, and in the far distance she knows nothing stands between the citizens of Twelve and the borders. Effie nods and inhales, pretending there isn't a shakiness to her breath, turning to Haymitch with a soft, proud smile.

Effie sighs, exhasperated, as if talking to a toddler. " I see the Tributes, Haymitch, yes. "

The walls of the room (the one they are very much unauthorized to be in right now) are lined with monitors, different camera angles encompasing different portions of the arena, and at the very top are twenty-four screens showcasing the individual tributes' photos, their scores and locations....many of which boldly labeled "DECEASED" across their fragile little faces.

This is their eighth year working together as Mentor and Escort and without fail he's done this at some point during the Games for the past three: tried to make her see something beyond what the cameras showed. It's a harsh reality of the Games, the carnage, the loss, and it isn't as if she doesn't know that! Truly Effie just hates looking at it.

Becaue it's unavoidable.