#ahw134

This was her fourth birthday at District Zero, but her first with a co-host. Slate, somewhere in the crowd, and wasn't that the most peculiar thing? That Cress was here, draped across her throne, and Slate was lost in the thralls of the revelry, the shadowy corners where indulgences took hold.

Cress watched the crowd with a practiced elegance, her eyes glinting with amusement and concern. A kiss blown to a passing guest. A wink to another. Some attendees were wearing masks, but Cress' must have been the best: that of perfection, of regality. But she was searching for him -- for her lover, her victor, her king.

@slate-skylar

@alder-reid

It was ironic that the only way to get the Hunger Games' claws out of you was to have a parent die. Then you could be granted a reprieve, at least temporarily, before the letter would arrive on your door again, smelling of roses, that your service was once again required. And so Lee would come back, bound by an oath sworn for him, to the Tower in 135.

But until then, there was still the wrap of of 134 for which he wasn't responsible. But there was someone who was. And it wasn't Alder's fault that he hadn't seen Lee in a while; Lee had reclused. But it was time to reconnect. So a quick text message sent out, Meet me a Gracie's? and the time decided upon.

Lee didn't wait for Alder to arrive before ordering his own meal. But when Alder did finally arrive, Lee stood to greet him, his arms open wide for a hug. "Alder," he said, his voice oddly hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken in weeks. "How've you been?"

The mix of the music, the vibes, the drinks, it was not hard to get caught up in the ethereal nature of the party that was happening in a place that know one truly knew. Pyxis's hair hung, gel making it seem as if she had just climbed out of the ocean, the pearls in her headpiece catching in the light as she danced with the others. The fabric wrapped around her shimmered in the lights, making her feel as if it was shimmering water in the soft light of dawn.

Pulling herself out of the mix of people, giving a smile to the woman who had been keeping her company on the dance floor, Pyxis watched her move on to her next partner as the redhead left the area. Walking to the bar, she raised a hand lightly to summon another drink as she looked at the person who was next to her.

So, for the better part of those first few days, he slept.

Eventually, he graduated to an expanded routine. He met with a counselor, though he didn't trust a Capitol shrink. They let him have markers and crayons, but not pencils or pens. But he still avoided the television. Nano couldn't bear to see the reruns of the Games or the stupid fucking victory tour on screen.

It was afternoon, distinguished by his set time to stare blankly out the window while eating a cup of chocolate pudding, when he heard a voice. He turned, staring at the doorway. Staring at Link.

@linkcache

But now . . . now things were more confused to her than ever before. Things she thought she knew, she did not. It reminded her of what happened all those years ago, where those watching her had said it had been obvious all along. Had it really be obvious? It was these thoughts, the realization that she didn't quite want to be home yet, that made her finally take the invite and go.

And naturally, as the Fates would have it, the one who caused all of this mess, the veil to rise from her eyes at least a little, was here. Honestly, he probably had more place than her. It was his birthday after all.

Twice a year, the train would pull into the station, carrying the newest Victor to show to the world. Every time, Pyx would stand to the side, a former Victor ready to greet the latest in to share the honor. In her simple white dress, simple ballet flats are on her feet and hair tied in its normal braid, Pyxis waited like it was just another year. As if these games hadn't brought more tragedy than normal.

When they all stepped off the train, she had her smile on her face. It took a mention in the speech for her to remember one of her tributes names, her face having a moment of 'aha!' before trying to subdue it. The skies above were grey and overcast, the waves reacting to the skies anger and thrumming against the shores loud enough to be heard from the center of the district.

When the speeches were over, and any greeting and celebration was to occur, is when Pyxis went over to Cress. The woman had traveled with the District Twelve Victor (something Pyxis was sure had a reason that she had missed or forgotten).

Slate didn't sound like himself, but Nano hadn't sounded like himself either when he was on his stupid fucking tour. It was a requirement. A skin-searing, vocal-chord-melting slow torture across the country, and Slate was just doing what he had to do. So Nano clapped when it was time, and stood when it was time, and then he bolted for the back of the stage, eager to see his best friend again -- at last! -- after everything they'd been through.

@slate-skylar