#eventidemd08

District Twelve is nothing but smoke and ash due to the devastation that The Capitol caused. Just like the fallen District, District Eight has also been dealing with cruel bombings and The Capitol's militia. A district that once had over 122 thousand people, has lost over twenty-five thousand people in over twenty some days of war. Those numbers are a combination of confirmed deaths as well as people being missing in action. Had the rebel forces not been strong and united in the underground scene of District Eight, their fate might have been just as fatal as the one seen in District Twelve.

President Alma Coin of District Thirteen has begun to send troops to aid those in Eight in an act of showing unity within the rebellion. This is the first combined efforts of a District acknowledged by Panem working with physical forces of Thirteen outside of providing hovercrafts. President Snow of The Capitol has been working tirelessly to consistently air footage of District Eight, ensuring that the citizens of that District seem like bloodthirsty heathens who thrive on anarchy. Information of all the monstrosities his military forces have done against the District has conveniently been withheld from Panem's public.

This mission has many objectives: provide aid to District Eight, show Panem what its government is willing to do those who don't blindly support the nation, and to utilize the symbol of The Mockingjay to show how Katniss Everdeen stands with The People. Before leaving the safety of District Thirteen, the volunteers are ominously given a speech by a nameless officer.

"Being told of war and witnessing the carnage are vastly different beasts. With the training you've received, each one of you has garnered your clearance. This means the Rebellion sees you as someone capable of being on the battlefield. District Eight has lost a considerable amount of its people. Some of you will likely not be joining us when we fly back to Thirteen. Be sure to make your life worth it, whether it ends in Eight or continues in spite of the brutality you will witness."

While this plot drop will not actively involve everyone, it will take place over the 26th through 35th days of the rebellion. All our muns are welcome to play through the thirty-fifth day at this point. The end of this mission will play out similarly to canon in Mockingjay. The beginning and middle of it that we do not see in Mockingjay will play out however our muns see fit. If you would like your muse(s) to have seen or done something significant during the mission, please let the admins know. We plan to compile a list and post it for easy access for our roleplayers. This plot drop begins now and will run until at least September 25th.

During this plot drop, propos from The Capitol and the rebels will be airing. If there is cross interference, our roleplayers will be notified. This means if a rebel propo plays in The Capitol or a Capitol propo plays in Thirteen, a detailed post will be made as such. Additionally, we still plan on posting captive and freely roaming individuals' Caesar Flickerman interviews during this time. Also, the possibility of airing rebellion propos to Panem's public will begin. For those interested, please reach out to the admins!

Threads that pertain to anything in regards to the District Eight mission should be tagged with both #eventideevent04 and #eventidemd08. Under the read more includes information regarding the roles muses directly involved with the event will play. Some roles are individualistic, while others are paired. As always, happy roleplaying! To everyone, thank you for continuing to be a part of our roleplay.

grief comes in waves. it's the worst when yazmin doesn't have a means of keeping busy. she begs the people in thirteen to keep her schedule packed. there's plenty to do in the infirmary as there are no shortage of refugees needing treatment as well as thirteen residents requiring general care too. it's moments where she's eating dinner alone or doing a nighttime routine before heading to an empty bed that it feels most apparent that amara isn't here.

the dreaded timestamp in her arm appears today. after days of zero time with the propos team — and no word if any of them have been successful; she's been all but barred from the command room for over a week now — it seems that she will need to deliver another lackluster performance for cressida again. the thought is not one bit comforting, but after days of nothingness, she thinks she may as well do it — she doesn't realize she's still nervous about this until it's been hours after her last meal and she can still feel it half-digested, and no amount of walking around seems to help her queasiness.

she knows the room where the cameramen work by now, so she goes towards it, and almost laughs at herself because how easily this could be played as eagerness to be in front of the cameras when she appears out of nowhere, several hours before the time demanded in her forearm, without an ounce of the make up and the hairdo effie still has to put on her. but it's not for the actual filming that she is looking forward to, but the anxiety that disturbs her is for what they'll ask her. if she practices her response, instead of being caught off-guard, they won't have to spend hours deleting footage of her frowning and pausing and looking lost. yes, cressida would help her with that, wouldn't she?

indeed, it is the filmmaker she finds in the room. her credentials and fingerprint allow her in the room without the need for another's — thankfully — and katniss is content that she isn't barging on anyone's filming time; the only person that she finds, instead, is cressida herself, in front of what seems to be a computer of sorts, sorting through clips of videos. she sees a few of herself, and can not help but to cringe at the much older, yet flatter, mockingjay. "so you're back," katniss speaks, breaking the real human silence, not bearing to see any more of that. "i was told you went. in the mission." she didn't have all the details, mostly because the one that truly mattered is that it was in district eight, and that the mockingjay couldn't go — they can't have her damaged because that wouldn't fare well in front of the cameras, supposedly (capitol logic, no matter how far away from there they are; it's all much of the same, katniss was right from the beginning). "but it's not over." she supposes even she would know if they brought in the soldiers with more refugees, unless they were all dead (and because gale and sterling are there, she'd rather not to think on that possibility). "is filmin' the victors that important for 'em to bring ya back and forth?" she hasn’t seen the others’ film, though she has heard from finnick — maybe everyone isn’t as bad as she is, and that warrants the trips and the constant filming.

his apartment has been almost entirely abandoned in favor for his wing in the snow mansion — now entirely his, after his cousin's 'kidnapping'. it's another kind of apparent sacrifice, but it's merely a way of saving his own skin, because not even constantinus snow would be so stupid as to behave inappropriately or treacherous under his grandfather's own roof. that's a half truth, he thinks. he tries to keep all communication between thirteen and himself to the walls of the building he currently worked with, where he could pin the source of the signal to anyone else; still, there's something particularly grimmy when he hopes that anyone who works there will disappear from questioning, if only because it means his grandfather doesn't directly blames him.

but he does. constantinus can see it, though the change is almost imperceptible. coriolanus snow hasn't made it to where he is today by trusting people — he's discarded blood before, he could do it again. it's another reason for him to stay permanently at the mansion but it doesn't really make anything better. the movement in the house has increased these days — it has always been constant, but the pretense of hospitality does not hang as luxuriously as it did in the past, when these halls were filled with party goers. the anxiety is more present in the faces that circulate around the mansion, and connie can't tell if it's worse and more plain on the faces of the people coming in or those coming out. it is certainly obvious on the pale face of some blonde that is awfully familiar. he thinks she remembers him of his mother — his stepmother, the only one he's known, though he remembers, faintly, the woman's hair tended to orange. he's heard his grandmother tell how he's taken after his alleged mother for years, until the truth came tumbling out of drunken lips.

she's slept through the afternoon, some of the evening, and a minor leg surgery. when katniss wakes up, the bomb shards pulled out of her leg are there to prove it, along with the rumbling in her stomach and her mother, who brushes the hair away from her face and takes her life signs; lilian leaves the medical ward after making her daughter promise not to move too much — you will need to keep that leg still for at least two days — and leaving a promise of her own that someone will bring her food soon enough. soon takes a while, but katniss remains obedient, even if boredom bites into her, even under the familiar haziness of the morphling. she can hear people talking around her, here and now. a doctor greets her with the lightest tone she's ever heard in here, basically parrots what her mother had already told her, only with the addition that said everdeen has been urged to another's surgery, and a cheeky "good job, miss everdeen" that makes katniss frown. the face earns her a "oh, the concussion!", with a short explanation that katniss' proximity to action earlier had given her a minor concussion, which seems to explain the unusual cloudiness, the confusion. some of it fades as she realizes that this doctor has probably seen the filming from eight. that explains it. does it mean that they are pleased with her now?

as she has the opportunity to look at the propo itself, katniss can understand the change of mood. cressida's team has captured the horror of it all, and the mockingjay, in the middle of it; they've said they wanted katniss, but katniss herself is a bit taken aback by the woman in the screen, the wavering she had felt undetected on screen, replaced only by someone who runs on rage and adrenaline, who shoots at planes, who walks amongst the injury and the fire, who screams at the screen. katniss almost misses someone who approaches, while looking at the flaming images that urges people to join the fight. "hey, delly," her countrywoman is greeted with a smile, born from the odd feeling that grows in her chest. usefulness, maybe even some pride. the thought that she's finally proven herself somehow, but, more than that, that she can make a difference. that the lives lost — the pride is drowned momentarily by familiar sorrow — in the bombing will not be for nothing; they will be remembered, somehow. of course, when the smile grows in her face, it is also because delly has brought a tray with her.

"thank you." she readily shows appreciation, careful as she scoots to give delly some room. it's been over two weeks since a promise was struck between these two broken hearted women, and though katniss is hardly optimistic, she thinks that things are...better. "'s 'bout bedtime. who's got the kid?" dirk, she means; perhaps a bit too old — preteens are sensitive to that and all — to be called a child, but prim is older and katniss will always see her as such.

yazmin had been working doubles in the infirmary. following the schedule on her arm has become less of a concern. sometimes her time in a day seems to lean towards sixteen hours in the medical wing before being expected to sleep eight hours and repeat. her sleep patterns have been irregular as silverhorn's mind has a difficult time turning off after a long day. when thoughts aren't directed towards her missing wife, it's about ethical issues she's witnessed in thirteen or a patient who had particularly heartbreaking diagnoses. maybe it's her growing age or thirteen's lack of coffee, but she isn't as spry as she was at twenty-five. how she used to feel refreshed after only sleeping three hours at a time is beyond her.

there's no make up on her face today. the meeting last night seemed to have been successful in all ways, from allowing her to go on the field, to the excessive criticism to how she's been portrayed — so now she must be just katniss, or the katniss that the country saw in the arena, half-starved, half-desperate to make it out with her allies, a girl barely in teenagehood and a boy with a bad leg. underdogs, like the rebellion troops and the people just fighting back for their lives in the districts. the weight of perfection is eased then, replaced by nerves that come accompanied by the pattering recovering drunk in her ear and the camera still on her face.

"yes," she tries to start, to ground herself. as if that's possible when you're who knows how many hundred feet off the ground, on the way to a battlefield. "we are goin' to district eight, where the capitol has been bombin' civillians and fightin' troops alike for over a week. snow may not care 'bout people's lives, but we..." boggs gives her a look. she swallows. raises her voice just a pitch, looks back into the camera with whatever fire she can muster. "snow may not care about people's lives, but we, at thirteen, do. we are going to rescue and house as many people from eight as we can, so they're safe."

the clothes she's brought are a size too big. she can tell from the moment he disrobes, and she can barely restrain a sigh as she thinks of the work that will take to make this boy properly presentable; at least she's brought the material to give his clothing a pinching or two, but she wonders what the girl who does his make up will do. there's a morbid curiosity, mingled with a necessary profissional assignment, for her to approach. 

"darling, will you keep the robe off for just a little longer? i need to take the proper measurements." it's all bodies to her, not something of consequence — especially not someone so young — but the contrast between today and the first day she's been able to style peeta mellark is astonishing, as are the strong lines rising from his arms, where the track marks can be seen. she can't help but to feel a little pity for the boy. it is all too unlikely he did not know something, despite his good acting in the first interview, but did he need to do this to himself? or were they doing this to him? no, it couldn't be. who hasn't turned to an illicit substance now and then at the loss of a loved one?

the make up artist comes in and exhales a little gasp. domitila has to let out that sigh she held in just now, as she hopes the girl won't quit — she would rather not be the one covering up all of peeta's bruises. "are you okay if she starts first?" the stylist asks, nodding towards the other woman who is still gawking a bit. "sorry about her bad manners, honey. do you want to cover up?" she'd rather he didn't, as she hasn't even gotten the precise number of the boy's new waist size.