#cgevent

Luckily, as it was so often the case, Aphrodite knew exactly what to do about this particular itch. She jumped into the elevator, impatiently tapping the button over and over until she finally reached the floor she sought, and then she meandered through the halls to the tributes door, not even knocking as she pulled the door open and entered their bedroom.

When the fine pink mist descended on the tributes, the smell heavy and fragrant, Rowan simply thought it was one of those air-freshening things that he's heard so much about from a couple of other lumberjacks but never really seen in action back home. That memory, of home, made him smile. At least he thought that was the reason for his smile. 

Soon, he was shirtless once again, leaning back against the soft, fluffy white chair at the lounge, beefy arms on the armrest, as he stared at someone who was just entering, the same goofy smile still on his face. "Sup?"

Just down the hall from her bedroom was one of the building's elevators. There wasn’t a single working elevator in the part of District Eight she had lived in, and here one was just for her. She felt overjoyed at the Capitol’s thoughtfulness. She felt overjoyed being in the Capitol at all. As she waited for the elevator to come to her, she wondered if she knew how to do a cartwheel. Maybe? The thought was interrupted by the opening of the metal doors.

Cosima entered the elevator and sat under the panel of buttons, letting the doors shut without giving a destination. The elevator knew where she wanted to go. It was seconds or minutes or hours before the elevator moved for her, opening its doors once it came to a stop. 

Instinctively, she ducked as the rounds clipped the side of the window. Who would be shooting at the train and who were they aiming at? Even after the emergency lights came on, Savanna found herself still sitting propped up against the wall. It was silly to still be scared, there were now shutters on the windows, but who to say the people outside wouldn’t come onto the train?

“Who’s there?” She asked softly hearing footsteps in the darkened hall associated with a shadowy form approaching.

As lights went out Valkyrie immediately went very still, out of instinct. Then as the announcement called out over the speakers, she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. Most of these tributes probably weren’t great with navigating a new space in the darkness, meaning they’d probably be sticking to the main areas- their rooms, the bar, maybe the games room. Most likely, none of them would venture to the furthest carriages open to the tributes. This was probably going to be the last chance she’d have in a long time, one she thought she wasn’t going to get.

She silently left the room, careful to avoid the other tributes, and made her way down to the last carriage. She could finally sing the snippet of the song that had been circling round her head ever since the reaping. It was one of the old songs, from before Panem. One of the few things from her parents that she had allowed to stay, or if she was being truthful with herself, that she couldn’t let go. 

In District Two there had never been much chance to sneak away to sing, but there had always been some chance. It was one of the few things she did not because she needed to be seen doing it, but because she loved it. And ever since Tai’s drawing she’d felt the urge like an itch under her skin.

She knew it was stupid, but Valkyrie was a woman of risk and benefit. This was the lowest risk she was going to see in a very long time, and the benefit was strong enough that she couldn’t not take the chance. As she moved into the room she quietly pulled the door closed behind her, waited a second to listen for movement, and allowed herself just to sing just up to the first chorus. Quietly, so as not to draw the attention of any wanderers. 

Atticus got out of bed and opened the door, his eyes adjusting to the dark and trying to pick out the outline of Beverly hidden in the shadows. He drifted down the halls of the train car, moving as silently as his large frame would allow, until he came across someone. “Beverly?” he asked, though they were far enough away that he was still unsure. 

За подробный отчёт меня отпускают с пар на мегакрутое мероприятие по компьютерной графике! Начнётся сие действо в субботу и продолжится во вторник. Вот уже третий год я участвую в нем. Началось все с предложения расписывать участников мероприятия хной и аквагримом. Работа была хорошая, а событие оказалось невероятно впечатляющим и вдохновляющим! С тех пор я продолжаю участие за стендом с хной, помогаю отвечать на почту, а с недавнего времени создаю тематический мерч для конференции. Для съемки материала для рассылки пробовала новые методы, такие как глитч и ноллинг. Искала ракурсы и пользовалась редакторами, составила коллаж.

A part of it felt good. It was pushing her and elevating her to new heights, allowing her for the first time in a long time to think about no one but herself. And what she wanted, more than anything else in the world, was to punch something. To let loose all the emotions in the most fun way she knew how to.

That’s how she had ended up in the training centre, beating into a punching bag with unrelenting force, the sweat pouring off her. Typically, she swayed away from using her fists because she found it boring, but right now she couldn’t figure out why she had ever thought that. There was nothing better than the brutality of a fist, nothing more satisfying than hard knuckles finding their desired target.

And nothing more frustrating that being interrupted in the middle of it.