#hcrdcreeks

Roux doesn’t realize what his feet are doing, taking him to Two’s floor without realizing until he is inside and an avox tries to escort him towards some living room that looks like it has seen better days. It feels weird to care, to realize that he is actually kind of worried about Slate. For Roux, this is the year of realizing stuff and he’s been doing a lot of that in the past few weeks.

It feels weird to care, to stand by Slate’s door with his hands in his pockets and actually be glad he is still alive. Not that they’re the best of pals, but Slate has been there for Roux. At least in his own way. Whether it was because he wanted something out of Roux or he actually felt something genuine, Roux isn’t too concerned about that. 

“I suppose now is a good time to offer you a pair of signed Roux sunglasses.“

Robyn is a wonderful nurse. Diose wishes she could tell them that. After the arduous work they’ve done, spending hours tending to her wounds, the least they deserve is to be told how wonderful they are. She can’t bring herself to do it, though. Her lips won’t fully connect with her mouth. After having spent so much of her breath on DeeZee, poor and sweet Robyn is left but nothing but hushed apologies. The barely managed to beg them to leave her and go check on Silver before her tongue stopped to her brain’s orders. 

She’s managed to get a couple of hours of sleep before a loud bang followed by the sound of glass shattering wakes her up. The sounds take her right back to the previous night. Did they notice she got help before something happened and they’ve decided to finish her off? She is convinced of it, until whoever is out there curses and she swears they sound exactly like Slate.

With her brain not working at its full capacity, Diose ignores Robyn’s pleas for her to stay in bed and runs towards the living room. Or attempts to. Three steps is all she is able to take before she falls onto the ground, her left leg giving up and forcing her to crawl towards Slate.

A sigh of relief leaves past her lips when she spots him and knows they’re both safe. That gives her the push she needs to stand up and stop him from running into another flower vase. But, what she doesn’t understand, is why is this happening. 

“S-s-ssslate,“ she whispers, voice hoarse from lack of usage. A shaky hands grabs onto his arm for support, the other going to his chin and forcing him to look at her. And that’s when she sees it. She is horrified, but her scream is stuck in her throat and she is crying so much her tears continuously end in her mouth. 

The last meeting she had with Slate could only be described as glum. Everyone seems to be in good spirits that night, almost as if they all had decided to pretend the games are set to happen soon. Even Diose is actually smiling, feeling at peace thanks to the calming presence of her plus once. She can only hope Slate feels the same, especially after their last conversation.

Diose wants to show him that she is somewhat okay, that she is at least improving and has decided to fight back and not let the Capitol end her life so easily. She can’t let that happen now. Diose is trying, and she wants Slate to see it as she can’t bear knowing her friend left her room thinking he’d be losing her soon.

“Mind if I keep you company for a while?“

Has she been avoiding Slate? Without a doubt. Because if there is someone that does not need any more unneeded stress, it’s him.

That and Diose just doesn’t have the energy to see anyone. It’s her own fault, really. She is stupidly stubborn, firmly believing that the Capitol has her on their sights. If it wasn’t for Pista playing dumb and pretending he doesn’t get extra food for her to eat off his plate, Diose would be severely malnourished. Right now, she is just tired and in need of sugar. 

Sleep would help too, but that escaped her a long time ago and she doesn’t want to take anything for it. Diose would spend the entire day in bed, but she has sponsorships to secure, which means she has calls to make. So, she drags herself out of bed and lets her languid movements take her to her living room. Which is where she sees Slate waiting for her, which almost gives her a heart attack. 

“What are y— How did you get in here?“ If he was able to enter her room, it means anyone can. Add that to the list of the things to be paranoid about.

— inspo —

The second she heard, Diose packed her things and traveled to District 2. She knew she did not have even one minute to waste, so she didn’t bothered to know on Slate’s door. Diose dragged her things inside, dropping everything before she desperately began looking for him. “Slate?” She swore she was keeping it together. She was all smiles when she watched the announcement with her assistants, but as soon as they left and that awful phone call, Diose trashed her studio. Is this what those who rebelled against the Capitol felt? No, she couldn’t think about that right now. She needed to talk to Slate. So, she continued trying to find him, looking in every room until she spotted him, blankly staring at her. 

“I just... I don’t know what this means.“ Or more like she didn’t want to think of the implications of the announcement. He was safe, right? He needed to. Walking up to him, Diose wrapped her arms around him and began sobbing. 

EIGHT: What is your end goal? What happens after it's reached?

Vindication. More so than rebellion, vengeance is what she craves.

Rebellion is the means to get it. Vindication is the ultimate goal. Once that is reached, the new goal is to ensure another vomit-inducing man doesn’t rise to power again. That children will no longer live in fear, that families won’t suffer as they’re forced to see their babies die for the entertainment of others. Maybe it’s too late for her. Vindication won’t bring any of her dead back, but at least it will keep others from suffering as much as Blythe has.