#eventideintro

𓂅 * ⋆ 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖 .

name : vesper quinn da silva. meaning : latin , " evening star ". nickname : vess , espie , morphling. age : thirty two. birthdate : year forty three att. gender identity : cisgender woman , she / her. orientation : bisexual , biromantic. place of birth : district six , panem. current residence : district thirteen , panem. occupation : victor of the fifty eighth hunger games , mentor & rebel.

𓂅 * ⋆ 𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 .

face claim : mia goth. height : 5'7". hair : naturally mousy brown , bleached a warm , honey blonde along with her eyebrows following the games, worn down with very little styling day-to-day. eyes : big and brown , sore but still inexplicably bright.

𓂅 * ⋆ 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 .

myers - briggs : tbc. zodiac sign : libra. temperament : sanguine - melancholic. moral alignment : chaotic good. traits : freethinking , melancholy , perverse , reclusive , sincere & volatile. song : maybe this time ( from cabaret ) by jessie buckley. pinterest : here.

𓂅 * ⋆ 𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘

tw  :  drug  abuse ,   addiction ,   forced  prostitution ,   murder ,   death  +   suicidal  ideation.

      they’ll  say  she  was  marked  for  sorrow  from  the  beginning.  too  fragile,  too  precocious  a  girl  for  the  cold,  uncaring  world  the  districts  of  panem  are  forced  to  endure.  vesper  quinn…  or  is  it  da silva?  eldest  daughter  of  a  factory  foreman  and  the  bookkeeper  with  whom  he  began  an  affair  (both  with  their  own  hushed  up  history  of  morphling  addiction  —  what  a  self-fulfilling  prophecy  she’ll  turn  out  to  be),  vesper  was  a  girl  who  dreamt  in  soft  watercolours,  performed  to  music  no  one  else  could  hear  and  found  beauty  in  even  the  most  mundane.  named  for  a  star,  she’s  nebulous  as  a  child.  a  blithe  but  unnatural  creature  seemingly  unaffected  by  the  gloomy  greyscale  of  the  district  to  which  she  belongs,  someone  who  took  immense  pride  in  the  artistic  pursuits  she  hoped  would  one  day  carry  her  away  from  six’s  concrete  cityscape.  for  when  she  wasn’t  at  school  or  working  her  job  finishing  paint  jobs  on  capitol  traincars  and  citizen’s  automobiles,  she’d  be  holed  up  in  one  of  her  hiding  spots  around  the  neighbourhood:  the  rooftop  of  their  building,  the  decaying  loft  above  her  parents’  factory,  the  long-forgotten  boxcars  that  had  been  left  to  rot  in  the  railyard.  vesper  fashioned  a  studio  out  of  each  location  and  would  spend  hours  upon  end  there,  refining  her  art,  teaching  herself  various  styles  of  dance…  performing  to  a  crowd  of  ghosts.  if  nothing  else,  she  could  be  a  source  of  inspiration  for  her  two  younger  siblings  who  were  in  desperate  need  of  a  parental  figure  after  their  mother  walked  out  into  the  night  following  the  birth  of  her  youngest.  their  father  burying  himself  in  work  and  other  vices  to  cope  with  the  loss.  though  this  was  only  the  beginning  of  the  quinn’s  relationship  with  that  particular  feeling.

      it’s  on  her  second  reaping  day  when  vesper  is  just  sixteen  years  old,  stood  in  the  square,  fingers  crossed  behind  her  back,  begging  an  entity  she  scarcely  believes  in  to  spare  her,  that  her  name  is  one  of  two  called.  it  pours  with  rain  in  district  six  that  day.  indicative  of  the  tears  she  sheds  as  her  siblings  come  to  bid  her  farewell,  begging  her  to  win  so,  she’ll  be  able  to  come  home  to  them.  it’s  the  beginning  of  a  lifetime  of  jokes  made  at  her  expense  too.  japes  about  her  weighing  seventy  pounds  soaking  wet  are  a  dime  a  dozen.  capitol  citizens  stuck  callously  dismissing  her  outright  as  images  of  the  drenched,  mousy  brown  girl  from  six  play  on  their  holos.  she’s  told  not  to  take  it  personally,  that  it’s  “par  for  the  course”  being  from  six  (or  any  other  outlier  for  that  matter)  but  it’s  hard  not  to,  at  her  young  age.  

      despite  the  cruelty,  vesper  is  most  earnest  in  her  desire  to  survive  the  fifty-eighth  hunger  games.  for  her  siblings,  she  feels  she  must.  going  as  far  as  to  surprise  everyone  in  training  by  securing  a  score  of  seven  and  managing  to  endear  herself  to  caesar  flickerman’s  wealthy  audience  as  she  tells  him,  bright-eyed,  of  her  childhood  dream  to  be  an  artiste  in  their  fair  city.  having  built  a  steady  momentum,  she’s  something  of  a  rising  star  now.  a  genuine  sense  of  hope  amongst  the  district  six  team  that,  for  the  second  year  in  a  row,  they  won’t  be  reduced  to  short-lived  cannon  fodder  during  the  bloodbath  as  they  so  often  are.

      of  course,  their  hope  isn’t  misplaced  as  paired  with  an  arena  that  combined  two  varieties  of  wetlands,  it  lent  itself  (rather  perfectly)  to  vesper’s  deft  and  practical  skill  set.  meaning  that  whilst  other  tributes  fell  victim  to  the  elements  or  vast  array  of  mutts  released  into  the  arena  that  year,  vesper  took  to  it  with  measured  composure.  unafraid  to  get  her  hands  dirty,  panem  watched  on  in  astonishment  as  the  young,  previously  unassuming  girl  from  district  six  utilised  camouflage  and  hideaways  to  outmaneoveur  and  thus,  outlast  her  fellow  tributes.  even  as  a  day  of  acid  rainfall  wiped  out  five  tributes  in  total,  hiding  out  in  a  hollow  tree  with  a  dense  thicket  for  cover  kept  six’s  female  tribute  from  harm.  it  was  truly  something  to  behold,  tearful  finale  and  all.  for  the  games  were  not  without  heartbreak.  vesper  forced  to  take  the  lives  of  three  inside  their  swamp  of  an  arena.  the  blood,  mud  and  sweat  amalgamating  on  the  freckled  porcelain  of  her  skin,  congealing  under  dirty  fingernails.  it’s  paint,  she  tells  herself,  just  paint…  her  eventual  victory  dubbed  “a  masterpiece”  in  artful  survival  but  one  vesper  will  soon  wish  to  see  destroyed  in  every  way  something  can  be.  the  same  way  she  will  be.

      that  grime-ridden  mess  of  a  girl  who  emerges,  sopping  wet,  from  the  marshland  arena  is  to  be  done  away  with  immediately.  reinvented,  they  say…  and  that  she  is.  vesper  would  reemerge  in  the  capitol,  wholly  transformed.  made  up  to  be  every  bit  the  victor  she  is  —  scantily  clad,  bleach  blonde  with  those  pale  brows  to  match,  she’s  told  she’s  desirable  now.  branded  a  hot  commodity  by  those  whose  opinions  matter  most:  a  bright,  glistening  buzz  about  her  as  she  becomes  the  muse  rather  than  the  artist  for  the  first  time  in  her  life.  it’s  hard  not  to  feel  as  though  she’s  floating  outside  herself,  unrecognisable  as  she  is  but  such  new  found  notoriety  opens  doors.  her  siblings  are  looked  after,  tucked  away  in  the  safety  of  six’s  victor’s  village,  her  hopes  and  dreams  within  arm’s  reach  now…  and  all  she’d  had  to  do  to  achieve  it  was  survive  the  slaughter  of  twenty  three  innocents.  only,  that  wasn’t  all.  that  was  never  all  when  it  came  to  the  beloved  victors  of  panem  and  she  learns  as  much  from  the  viper  they  call  president,  his  words  of  warning,  offset  by  the  scent  of  rose,  concerning  a  star  and  how  fast  they  fade  and  fall  go  unheard  by  vesper’s  unsuspecting  ears.  unbeknownst  to  her,  it’s  interpreted  as  a  refusal.

      less  than  a  week  later,  her  younger  brother  is  killed  in  what  can  only  be  described  as  a  “freak  accident”  by  officials  who  attend  the  scene.  his  short,  still  growing  form  so  easily  torn  apart  by  the  machinery  he’s  said  to  have  been  caught  under.  the  sight  alone  causes  vesper  to  crumble  then  and  there.  the  morbid  understanding  of  why  it  happened  comes  later…  when  she’s  ultimately  called  back  to  the  capitol  and  put  to  work  as  was  always  intended.

      clients  she’s  thrust  upon  are  spirited.  new  money.  they  eagerly  introduce  her  to  babylon.  where  the  city’s  seedier  underbelly  meets  and  amalgamates  with  the  glamorous  nightlife  belonging  to  their  upper  echelon.  it's  home  to  debauchery  of  each  and  every  variety,  the  thinkable  and  unthinkable  with  vesper  its  latest  inductee.  there’s  a  stage  inside,  a  spotlight  and  it’s  framed  as  a  kindness.  the  promise  of  a  girlhood  dream  come  true,  that  she  might  just  be  able  to  salvage  something  of  her  victory.  the  rose-coloured  naïveté  her  parents  never  had  the  heart  nor  guts  to  beat  out  of  her  coming  back  to  bite  one  last  time  as  she  walks  so  willingly  into  the  future  she’s  to  be  entrapped  in.  forced  to  perform  nightly  for  frenzied  crowds,  introduced  to  morphling  to  ease  the  burden  and  she’s  left  no  choice  but  to  let  them  do  so…  indulging  them.  for  she  knows  that  if  it  goes  far  enough,  they’ll  leave  her  be.  the  capitol  never  did  deal  in  spoiled  goods  and  for  a  while,  it  actually  feels  nice.  the  high  and  its  unfathomable  weightlessness.  pleasant  even.  numbing  the  pain,  quelling  the  guilt,  taking  her  far,  far  away  from  where  she  actually  is  —  bound  to  this  exploitative  duty  she’d  never  once  asked  for.  but  eventually,  dependency  catches  up  to  her.  addiction  soon  after.  it  goes  further  than  vesper  ever  plans  and  before  long,  she  can’t  seem  to  face  a  day  of  her  miserable  life  without  the  aid  morphling  provides.

      framed  as  an  out  of  control  starlet,  a  rogue  party  girl…  she’s  pathetically  dependable.  they  call,  she  comes.  club  appearance  or  client  booking,  she  ends  up  in  an  unfamiliar  bed  at  nights  end  all  the  same  and  the  high  she  chases  provides  an  attainable  escape  from  the  bleak  reality  of  it  all.  even  in  her  most  drug  fueled  of  hazes  however,   there  are  moments  of  startling  clarity.  nights  when  the  effects  aren’t  as  desired,  when  she  still  sees  their  leering  faces,  feels  their  ravenous  hands  clutching  at  her  skirts  or  bare  skin  as  they  beg  raucously  for  more.  she’s  all  days  old  eye  shadow  by  then,  perpetual  dark  circles  from  having  smudged  her  eyeliner  or  sobbed  away  her  mascara.  since  the  day  she  won  the  games,  she’s  never  once  felt  clean.  never  looked  it  either,  if  you  were  to  ask  around.  even  as  prep  teams  agonise  over  dressing  her  in  the  shiniest  metallics  they  have  on  hand,  year  after  year.  judgement  passes  so  freely  in  panem  and  people  around  her  simply  watch  on,  in  horror  and  amusement,  as  she  deteriorates  before  their  very  eyes.  vesper  deemed  the  car  crash  they’re  unable  to  look  away  from.

      inevitable,  she’ll  dread  further  loss  all  the  same,  watching  from  afar  as  her  sister  severs  ties.  their  father  dying  with  her  by  his  side  whilst  she’s  shut  out  —  altogether  breaking  the  heart  of  the  little  girl  entombed  in  what  remains  of  their  elder  sister  and  daughter.  too  pretty  a  girl  to  be  left  alone  in  the  gutter  though…  it’s  in  the  midst  of  addiction  that  she  gains  a  brother  in  arms.  with  whom  she  feels  less  alone  in  the  drug-induced  hell  they  both  inhabit  as  victors.  joined  by  their  affinity  for  morphling,  the  pair  become  something  of  a  “dynamic  duo”  as  the  mentoring  team  from  district  six  for  the  past  two  decades…  give  or  take.  the  morphlings,  they’re  known  as.  the  people  of  panem  deride  and  demean  them  year  in  and  year  out,  discrediting  their  ability  to  mentor  in  spite  of  how  earnestly  the  pair  always  try  for  their  tributes  and  it  means  they’re  continually  overlooked.  disregarded  as  being  lost  causes  who  have  little  more  to  offer  the  capitolites  than  their  bodies.  it’s  a  humiliating  persona  to  be  chained  to  but  it’s  truthful,  vesper  thinks.  slice  her  open,  peel  back  the  blemished  skin  and  all  you’d  find  there  is  rotten  flesh.

      she  comes  to  despise  being  seen  in such  a  way.  in  any  way  really  and  in  a  sense,  they’re  not.  unproductive,  the  president  calls  them.  passing  over  the  morphlings  time  and  time  again  and  this  blatant  negligence  on  snow’s  part  soon  attracts  the  attention  of  the  rebellion  no  less.  their  cause  providing  the  pair  with  a  purpose  outside  of  one  another  and  the  children  they’re  forced to  grieve  together  as  each  games  season  rolls  by,  faster  and  faster  every  time  it  feels  like.  the  rebels  speak  directly  to  that  young  girl  trapped  within  vesper  too.  the  one  who  could  always  see  the  sun  through  dark  plumes  of  smoke  and  saw  fit  to  paint  a  destiny  all  her  own.  before  it  was  destroyed  by  the  monster  atop  the  throne  of  panem.  their  close  proximity  to  his  capitolite  elite  proves  most  useful  over  the  years,  making  the  two  morphlings  invaluable  assets  as  they  work  together  to  gain  and  feed  intel  to  those  underground.

𓂅 * ⋆ 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖 .

name : cordelia livia snow. meaning : latin , " heart " & greek , " maiden ". nickname : cora ( to all ) , delia ( if you hate her ). age : twenty two. birthdate : year fifty three att. gender identity : cisgender woman , she / her. orientation : bisexual , biromantic. place of birth : the capitol , panem. current residence : the capitol , panem. occupation : socialite , student at the academy , rebel.

𓂅 * ⋆ 𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 .

face claim : chase sui wonders. height : 5'4". hair : long , brunette in some lights , almost black in others with two faintly paler streaks in the front , alluding to her family's characteristic blonde. eyes : a warm brown , doe-like , incredibly emotive.

𓂅 * ⋆ 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 .

myers - briggs : tbc. zodiac sign : aquarius. temperament : sanguine melancholic. moral alignment : neutral good. traits : perceptive , philanthropic , reticent , sincere , stifled & wayward. song : bite the hand by boygenius. pinterest : here.

𓂅 * ⋆ 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 .

coriolanus snow i , grandfather. livia snow née cardew , grandmother. coriolanus snow ii , father. artemisia snow née dovecote , mother. caius snow , eldest brother. cyrillus snow , elder brother. cornelius snow (†) , uncle. constantinus snow , cousin.

𓂅 * ⋆ 𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘 .

tw : death, murder.

      snow does indeed fall when cordelia, known to most as simply "cora", is born to the president's golden son in the midst of a long winter. the flakes swirl in their steady descent, each as distinctive and delicate as the next and altogether indicative of the daughter panem's first family had just welcomed into their world. and make no mistake, it was theirs.

      not just the youngest member of the revered snow family but the only daughter belonging to coriolanus' line too, cora was doted upon by all who met her and provided a silver spoon upbringing unlike any other. she was simultaneously a chess piece key to a game much larger than she could comprehend at her young age but one they were all keen to safeguard and so, it was decided that she'd be kept as pure as her surname might suggest, for as long as the family could afford.

      channels were blocked, images blurred and the unbecoming reality of the games her beloved grandfather helped facilitate was to be concealed from her. the pomp and pageantry of it all cora was allowed to partake in but the blood and brutality, the children slaughtered for sport... that she was so graciously spared from. it was in this valiant quest to shield her from the unsavoury parts of life however, that her family had unknowingly sown a seed of discontent within the young girl that was certain to one day bloom.

      blossom she does, becoming something of a princess to the capitolites... and the comparison isn't entirely unfounded either. for her life reflected the lives of those fabled women far more closely than many realised. residing within the walls of a tall, ivory tower, reinforced by her unique position in the family, cora spent a great deal of time under her grandparents' wing whilst her family sustained their status'. often seeking refuge amongst the shelves of the presidential mansion's library, the young girl would listen in at doors and feel oh so victimised whenever the mansion grew occupied by the usual onslaught of extravagant partygoers — her free rein over the house rudely cut short. more often than not, she'd be spotted hanging over the bannisters on those nights, peering down at them all in wonder, dreaming up what it was they were discussing so feverishly. nothing could have quite prepared her for the reality.

      the snow's had wielded power as if it were limitless for over half a century but it ultimately proved futile against a girl's mind grown curious. cora had attended a tribute parade, only to be set upon by a tribute who felt they had nothing to lose and when they were blown sky high several days, mere moments after entering the arena, the vivid imagery of the incident became inescapable... leading to a questioning wherein the truth had no other option but to out. cora had lived in blissful ignorance all her life. it was a privilege no child of the districts had ever been afforded and it was that very fact that made the divulgence so much worse in cora's eyes. her heart thoroughly torn in two, she felt everything she had ever known or held dear begin to rot in her mouth yet the horror was silent.

      plastering a smile to her face, a skill she'd swiftly come to perfect, the president's granddaughter feigns interest in the deadly games from then on. looking at cora, she appeared every bit the pretty, little socialite her parents had groomed her to be and in resigning herself to that role, she played the part effortlessly. it was hereditary after all. looking inward was a very different story however. cora was committed to rectifying how complicit she'd been raised to be in any way she could. starting small but growing ever wary in the knowledge that she would never be viewed as her own person to those she sought to ally herself with, but rather the ideal weapon to hurt her grandfather the most with. flanked by peacekeepers at almost every turn, all in the name of "protection", the leash she'd previously thought of as short had grown even shorter still in the years following that initial incident. whilst the other members of her family fought amongst themselves, usually for coriolanus' approval, cora tried to take herself off the board entirely, choosing to dedicate herself to her academic pursuits instead.

      it was during this time at the academy that she made the acquaintance of plutarch heavensbee at a gala one evening and despite being astonished at just how he'd come to know of her innermost turmoil, hidden between the lines of his amusing colloquialisms, the man presented her with an opportunity to change the course of history, for the better.

Dark and gloomy forests of District 7 only meant one thing to the oldest child of the Oakland family; that he was bound to follow the steps of his father, his grandfather, his great-grandfather, and the many family members before them. Being a lumberjack was ingrained in the boy's blood, so as Stone mastered an axe at the age of nine, no one was surprised. It was common, in a place like this, but he was a natural, and his parents were proud. What they weren't proud about, however, was the little boy's rebellious nature. Curious from birth, Stone questioned everything, starting with why the sky was blue and ending with why the Capitol controlled everything. He loathed it, and being the immature child that he was, he often voiced his opinion, despite the long conversations his parents had with him.

A lot of it changed when his little sister was born, quickly becoming Stone's whole world. To say that he was protective over Evelyn was an understatement; no one could look at her with malicious thoughts without getting an enemy in the form of the oldest Oakland sibling. Over the years, while Stone never got rid of his rebellious streak; instead, he became a bit smarter, knowing better than to badmouth the Capitol in front of the Peacekeepers, fearing that his little sister would pay the price. However, when his name was picked from the bowl at the age of fifteen, essentially sending him to his death, no one was surprised. No matter how much Stone tried - or didn't - he stood out like a sore thumb.

Only, the Capitolites seemed to like that. Taller than your average teenager - and built like a proper young lumberjack - Stone quickly rose to the ranks of the favourite contenders to win the 48th Hunger Games. However, Stone's stubbornness played against him. Despite the many pushes to join the Careers, and become one of them, the young man refused, not wanting to lose his morals even if he was about to go into a complete life-and-death event. Obtaining an axe during the Bloodbath, he used it to his advantage, becoming one of the most threatening Tributes in the arena. Whilst blood was already on his hands, Stone refused to participate in the purposeful murders some of the Tributes seemed to enjoy. He wanted to make himself disappear, he wanted to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. However, his heroic plan fell apart easily when, soon enough, he was left to go against a couple of remaining Careers all by himself. Cleverly using the axe, he was the one to get out of the brutal, last bloodbath when he fought against two boys from Districts 1 and 3, barely making it out alive, yet managing to decapitate the duo, and earning himself the nickname of the Executioner.

Coming out of the Arena did not mean that Stone was mentally out of it. Nightmares plagued his nights and days, the blood of six other Tributes permanently soaked under his skin, reappearing any time he had an episode. Life at Seven just wasn't the same. While deep down he knew it wasn't the truth, he could see the looks on people's faces. He could see the look on his little sister's face. He was the Executioner, he was the murderer, he was someone people feared, and someone the Capitolites loved. When that love got to another level just a little after his Victory tour, Stone protested, rebelled, coming close to killing the first of his clients. Whilst he expected a punishment- anything to make his life just a little more miserable- he didn't expect to come home to his family's smoldering house. Officially, the cause of death of the Oaklands was fireplace getting out of hand, but unofficially, everyone knew; the Executioner had claimed three more lives, even if it was done indirectly.

CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY

Death TW

Life in District 7 was hard. Life was difficult in all the districts really. But Josette was unaware of this. The Capitol disliked the districts communicating. So apart from a little in history class, where she'd learnt that the districts were bad and the Capitol was great, she knew barely anything about the other districts. If she had been curious she probably would have wanted to find out more. But she wasn't curious. Or well, her father had told her not to be curious. Josie was to not be curious, to stay in line, and do what she was told.

Those orders came from personal tragedy. Though the Capitol wouldn't call it a Tragedy. They'd call it treason. Her father wanted them to stay in line because of the past. The past where her great uncle had not wanted to toe the line. Josette doesn't know what had actually happened. Her family didn't talk about it. It was almost like they were ashamed of what had happened. But since then her family had been good citiizens. Whatever that meant.

As was not unusual in 7, once she was done in school Josette joined the lumbar industry. It was physical work, involving long days. She went to bed most days exhausted. So even if she had been curious, she probably would have been too exhausted to do anything. Reflecting upon this, she wonders if this is what the Capitol had wanted all along. Tired citizens made compliant citizens since they were too tired to do anything. It was a good plan.

Josette still doesn't really know how she ended up in 13. She hadn't really been watching the games that closely. They still had to sort out all the lumbar after all. And she was used to District 7 never doing well anyway. They were just a District that did not do very well. And so, Josette didn't want to waste her time on watching her fellow district people die. Of course, it was the evening on that fateful day, but for once she wasn't actually at home.

Maybe if she hadn't been at home, she might not have made it onto the hover. She still doesn't really know how she ended up on the Hover. She just did. And the rest of her family did not. They didn't really live in the most central location of 7. If she had been at home she wouldn't have been on the so called rescue.

But she was. And now she is in 13.

Josie is still processing the whole rebellion thing. Her father wasn't here. She couldn't talk to him. But she's been thinking more of her Great Uncle, and his death. Was that due to believing in a rebellion? And if so, maybe that was why her family had never talked about it. But the rebellion was in full force now. And Josie needed to find her place in it.

PART II: CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY

Portia had always been interested in fashion. Whilst most children from the Capitol enjoyed watching the games for the actual games, Portia from a young age, always enjoyed watching for what outfits the stylists would put people in. She really couldn't care less about the districts or the actual people. What she cared about was the pretty clothes that they were put in. Of course, she did watch the actual games. Who didn't? And she wasn't going to alienate herself away from her peers by actually not caring about the actual games. But, it was a well known fact that she was in it for the outfits.

Her family were always quite middle class. They rarely got invited to any parties, and they watched a lot of the games in the public galleries. This was where she spent most of her time when the games were on. Of course they could have watched at home, but what was more interesting than watching with others? And that was where Portia found her pack.

Portia had spent most of her childhood at a sewing machine, altering anything and everything that she could get her hands on. Portia absolutely hated most of the clothing that her parents go her. And so she spent a lot of time in her room creating her own things. This created quite a unique style of Portia, and she liked that. She liked being unique. Her family might not have had loads of money to spare. But, Portia did what she could to at least look as good as some of her other peers.

Portia knew that there was only one job for her. That was to be a stylist. And Portia had always had huge dreams. And so Portia set her sights on being a stylist for the Hunger Games. She knew it was a big dream. But she never let anything stop her getting what she wanted. She knew how to work hard, and she was determined to achieve her dream. And so, she carried on working hard. She knew she wasn't going to get anywhere near the games straight away, but she could get experience, and expand her sewing.

And so Portia got a job. At 16 she started working in one of the fashion shops in the Capitol. It was some retail work, with some design. But it was the start that she needed. It gave Portia the much needed experience she needed in order to achieve her goal. And each year, when the games were on, she made notes and she watched carefully. She watched the outfits, all the glitz and the glam. She was going to be prepared because one day she was determined to be there.

Slowly but surely Portia worked her way up in the fashion world, and when it rolled around to the 74th Hunger Games she was finally given her shot. Of course, it was with District 12. But Portia could honestly not care. It was her dream to work on the Games, and here she was. And she knew that if she did a good job, she could find herself styling one of the other, better, districts like One or Two. And with that thought in her head, she went into Styling Peeta Mellark with a smile on her face.

What she didn't expect was the actually develop a friendship with the other members of the District 12 team, and with Peeta himself. She'd gone into it in a mostly transactional way. It was supposed to be a stepping stone for getting a better District. But then, District 12 won. They had two Victors. Two victors at the same time. And suddenly, she was the stylist for one of the "better" districts, one of the "famous" Districts. And she loved it.

PART II: CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY

Tw sexual assault/harrassment mentions, parent death, prostitution mentions,

Growing up in an overcrowded tenement apartment Cecelia knew hardship from a young age. Life in District Eight was hard with the long hours in the factories, which coughed out smoke. It seemed like everyone in Eight had that cough, that factory worker, breathing in toxins all day, cough. Her father, Fustian worked as a warehouse manager while her mother, Brella, worked long hours in one of the textile mills, leaving Cecelia, the oldest, to take care of her three younger siblings. Despite her father’s decent job as a manager, their family had grown rapidly and it seemed like their was never enough of anything for them. Fitting six into a two bedroom apartment was a common problem among the citizens of District Eight. 

From a young age, Cecelia’s beauty was constantly remarked on by her family and strangers alike. It always made her uncomfortable, but she learned very quickly that saying thank you and smiling got her things that she wanted. Boys paid for the things she wanted, and merchants often slipped her things here and there for free. Her mother always warned her to be careful, but Cecelia had seen her mother’s beauty get sucked out of her from working in the factories, so she decided to utilize it while she still had it. 

When Cecelia turned twelve she joined her mother and started to work in the textile mill after school, leaving her brothers to their own devices during those four hour shifts. She often returned home exhausted, and still had to help with dinner and do her homework before she could finally collapse into bed. Working in District Eight was exhausting, and what was more exhausting was the way that it broke their spirits. 

At sixteen Cecelia learned to defend herself after being continually harassed by one of the managers in the mill. She stabbed him with a sewing needle, and even though it didn’t cause much harm, she was promptly fired and nearly arrested until her father stepped in. She was assigned to a different factory as punishment, but it was worth it to see the pain and shock on his face.

The Sixty-First Hunger Games changed Cecelia’s life. At eighteen, she had made it halfway through her eligible years without getting reaped, but her luck was not in her favor. When her name was called out as District Eight’s tribute, she didn’t let her fear show on her face, instead she walked with a poise that was unlike other District Eight’s tributes. Traditionally they were some of the first to die. Most Hunger Games were in forests and the children of Eight didn’t have trees to climb and play in. The tributes of Eight were already worn down by the time they became eligible for the Games. Cecelia didn’t break when she said her goodbyes to her family, her younger brothers sobbing, she promised to try her best to come home to them. She didn’t break down until well into the night on a train bound for the Capitol. 

The people of the Capitol loved her. They loved her beauty and poise, and despite her score of five, she got a few sponsorships lined up before she was sent into the arena because they wanted the pretty girl to make it out alive. 

The Games are a blur that Cecelia doesn’t like to think about. She made it through the bloodbath with a backpack that contained some food and a knife, and she got out of there as fast as possible. Her time in the Capitol before the Games had done her well, and her years of needing to be resourceful in Eight was an asset. In the end, it came down to Cecelia and the boy from Two, and she somehow managed to come out of it alive after stabbing him to death. His face still haunts her dreams.

A favorite to the Capitol, Cecelia enjoyed being able to give her family the life that they had always deserved. She learned very quickly that she didn’t just have to survive the Games, she had to survive the after too. With her beauty it wasn’t a surprise that she was offered to rich men in the Capitol, and if she didn’t go along with it her family would die. She never talked about it, never thought about it when she was back home. She became numb to it all.

Until she met Sterling. They met by chance when he was coming out of a factory after a long shift, and it was love at first sight. It was the first time that she realized that she wanted more to this life then just being offered to whoever Snow wanted, and she went behind his back and got married when she was twenty two. Her father paid the price in a factory ‘accident’ but she is so sure that it was Snow. She was forced to continue on with her visits to the Capitol and to the men, but coming home to Sterling…it made it easier.

From that moment on she knew that Snow was going to do whatever he wanted, and she was finally going to be selfish. She was twenty-four when she had her first child, a son named Jax. His birth was exploited by the Capitol when they sent in the camera crew to show off the happy family. After all, not many victors had children that could be exploited. The message was clear to Cecelia. She could have her family so long as she continued to play the games. A second child, a daughter Satina joined their family three years later, and a third daughter Juliet was born just last year. Each birth was turned into a Capitol Special and she had to accept the cameras for all the big moments in her life. 

𓂅 * ⋆ 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖 .

name : enobaria ismene. meaning : latin , " bronze beard " & greek , " knowledgeable ". nickname : eno. age : twenty eight. birthdate : year forty seven att. gender identity : cisgender woman , she / her. orientation : homosexual , homoromantic. place of birth : district two , panem ( to her knowledge ). current residence : victor's village , district two , panem. occupation : victor of the sixty fifth hunger games & mentor.

𓂅 * ⋆ 𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 .

face claim : taylor russell. height : 5'3". hair : black curls , changes very frequently in style , typically from games to games but usually worn short with various elaborate extensions & hair pieces. eyes : a deep brown , stormy.

𓂅 * ⋆ 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 .

myers - briggs : tbc. zodiac sign : scorpio. temperament : choleric. moral alignment : chaotic neutral meets lawful evil...? traits : balletic , caustic , delusive , dogged , imposing & ruthless. song : howl by florence and the machine. pinterest : here.

𓂅 * ⋆ 𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘 .

tw : blood , graphic violence , murder , death , ( non - consensual ) body modification , mouth + teeth horror.

      ambiguous is one, and perhaps the only, way to describe enobaria's origin. very few know more than the little facts she does. an orphan left upon the doorstep of a group home in the dead of night, she was taken in and raised amongst a raucous rabble of other similarly displaced children. a small but stout girl destined to scratch and claw her way up to the top.

      win the hunger games and bring glory to your district. it's a mantra amongst the citizens of the second district, instilling malleable, young minds with a lust for blood from the second they're old enough to hold a weapon. indoctrination starts early and whilst enobaria possesses a wilful spirit, often sneaking out and around two unnoticed, it's this apparent stealth of hers that soon draws the attention of the academy. a few weeks observation later, satisfied at having glimpsed the potential of a true contender, they offer the lithesome waif a scholarship.

      in the beginning, they pick and prod at her constantly. unsure of what usefulness a baby face and small stature could possibly lend a career tribute but straight - faced and stoic, enobaria is always quick to lay doubts to rest. reminding her peers that they are her strengths, not theirs and so, trainers continue in their commitment to shape and refine her. putting a pair of knives in her hands that eventually come to be extensions of the girl. affection, approval and the like however, are frequently withheld in these most formative of years. there is to be no praise until she can scale the tallest boy in the class and bring him to his knees in close combat, a knife to his throat, just near enough to begin drawing blood or until she can land a jump on a classmate's back from the stone beams in the ceiling or until. she'd be black and blue, bruised and bloodied before a single gratifying word is uttered in her direction. it was in that cruelly narrow slant of light that enobaria learnt how to live. in which she truly came to understand her purpose in the world.

      looking to establish herself, ismene is a name enobaria gives herself, having borrowed it from a stray book of myth she'd uncovered in the floorboards of her room all those years ago and at just eighteen, she feels she's as ready for the games as she'll ever be. having exceeded far beyond any and all expectations one might've had for the once "little orphan girl", enobaria is now considered lethal and after two back - to - back wins for district one, feels a change is desperately in order. the career had skills then and now and was not going to waste time watching them fade or lessen before she had her shot at glory. those in charge at the academy warn against it. adamant about higher success rates at twenty - one but they're rendered utterly helpless to stop her when time comes for the sixty fifth games and her hand shoots up at the call for volunteers during the reaping. people's eyes are glued to her, an exhilarating buzz about the crowd and she hadn't so much as touched another tribute yet. support flowed freely from then on and enobaria became drunk on it. revelling in it all the way to the capitol.

      her time in the arena is something of a blur. for once the first body fell slack by her hand, the career pack ( she'd helped establish ) could tell it going to be an uphill battle trying to get her to slow down, let alone stop altogether. much to enobaria's delight however, nobody ever did try... and viewers were equally as elated. watching keenly as the female tribute from two stalked her prey, utilising her agility by taking to the tall acacia trees and pouncing on them from above, typically dispatching them with a pair of knives to the neck. her metaphorical claws.

      a remarkably high kill count isn't the source of enobaria ismene's fame however... the final brawl is.

      pinned down by her opponent. it's an act of depraved desperation that sees enobaria thrust her full body weight up at the male tribute from district ten (receiving the knife intended to give her the fatal blow, in the shoulder instead), enough to ultimately get a grip on his jugular using her teeth, biting down on it with all the force she can muster in the moment before ripping the muscle from the boy's quivering body in a single, fluid movement that causes audiences around panem to scream, squeal and squirm in their seats at the savagery.

      sprayed with more blood than she's glimpsed in any games she had grown up watching combined, it comes as no surprise to anyone when a voice declares enobaria victorious on the spot. hailing her a most deserving winner for the "beautiful brutality" she'd exhibited during that climactic finale. it's an image deemed instantly iconic by those watching... one to be written into the very history of the hunger games themselves but one that would soon come to haunt enobaria all the same.

      for no matter how many times she scrubbed herself raw in the months and years that follow her victory, enobaria is never able to free herself of that blood. it clings to her like a second skin, the metallic taste rising in her throat and lingering on her lips and the people all but adore her for it. at last she had what she'd long since craved for so, what choice did she have but to give in to the brutality that got her there? the capitol desired an apex predator, the games were there to test their nature and will to survive ( so she'd been told ) and gazing into each mirror's reflection, that's all she saw staring back at her. the pantheress. that's all she'd ever truly been, all she'd ever been appreciated for so, who was she really to deny them that?

      surrendering herself, they assure her it's just a "branding exercise" when she's put under sedation in the office of a cosmetic surgeon... only to immerge several hours later with two rows of perfectly shaped fangs for teeth. inlaid with pure gold no less. though she'd never let the truth that the change was far from her own idea slip, it's a tactical move that establishes enobaria as not only a fan favourite for the ages but as close to capitolite as the culture allows. filing her nails into something resembling claws to match, she goes on to amass no shortage of admirers in the city, each with their own perverse fantasies for enobaria and those sharpened teeth of hers. often the bloodier, the better. only her transformation doesn't end there. at least, enobaria doesn't like to think it does.