#interactions.78

as someone walked up to him, he immediately became self conscious and looked at the station, feeling guilty about his inability to conquer the skill easily. “i know, i know, i’m not the best, but if you’d be willing to help me, i’d owe you one super giant favor.” // @ttwstarters

he had been trying to find royce and dem again, if he could find them, then everything would be okay, if he could find them, then he could ground himself once more in a real life purpose, protecting them from the dangers that lurked in the arena.

and then music played, and it was the sweetest song ember had ever heard.

it had been the first time ember had heard music since entering the arena, and it beckoned him to walk further away from where he suspected his two allies were, to walk closer and closer to the source of the sound.

he was captivated, hypnotized, overtaken by the melody, that he lost complete sense of where he was and what he was doing. all that existed was him, and the music, and nothing else. // @laurelscrowned

he decided to start by rewatching the most recent ones, pixel’s games, taking notes on decisions that people had made that had ended them up in a bad situation, one that had left them injured, impaired somehow, or dead. he watched as pixel waited in that tight spot, clearly uncomfortable, watched as the last canon fired, and wondered if he would ever make it to that point.

with a sigh, he turned off the tv and looked over his notes. it was two pages of barely readable nonsense, his handwriting had never been the best, but he could read it and that was that. he set the notebook aside, twiddling his thumbs for a moment before the door to the apartment opened.

he stood, fixed his hair, fixed his shirt and then looked back at the person who had entered. “mr. dorian, hi again, i’m, um, i’m ember, in case you forgot, from the reaping and the train ride. that’s me, hi.” // starter for @dorian-hawthorne​

it was one in the morning and november lowell couldn’t sleep. it was his last night before he went into the games, his last night of freedom, and he was spending it laying in bed and staring at the ceiling. he sighed, letting the sound fill up the empty space that he couldn’t fill on his own. he knew he should be sleeping, knew that this would probably be the last night of sound sleep he ever got, but every time he shut his eyes, sleep refused to come.

this was one of the parts of being a tribute he was not looking forward to. being paraded around like a spectacle was truly something he wanted to avoid at all costs, and yet there was no way for him to get out of it. so instead, he sat in his stylist’s chair, trying to not pick at his fingers, as his hair was messed with and his face was poked and prodded.

by the time they got to the eyelashes, he was almost on the verge of a panic attack, but his stylist had such a calming voice, such a soothing presence, that he managed to sit through the process and not have his eyeballs poked out. he was surprised at how weird it felt to have something so heavy on his face and how often he had to fight the urge to rub his eyes. 

by the time he was on the chariot, he was exhausted and squinting at the bright lights that covered both him and his district partner. so focused on not falling off, he could barely lift his head to look at the crowd. however, after the motion became constant, he felt more confident, smiling and waving at the people in the crowd clamoring to get a look at them.

for the rest time in his life, he felt completely comfortable with people staring at him. and then the cheering got louder, and he wasn’t sure why, until he saw royce skating beside them. what was that feeling in his chest? did his heart skip a beat? for the boy he met in the hallway the day before? 

and then, just as fast as he had caught up with them he was gone, and ember risked a look back at him. the two made eye contact for a moment, until he removed his gaze and focused back forward for the rest of the parade. he could not let a boy distract him from making his district proud.

he hated this feeling, this feeling of being alone and unfamiliar with his surroundings and still nauseous even though he he didn’t think there was anything left in him to come back up. he made his way towards the trail, hoping he wouldn’t run into anyone, but then he ran into the only person that he wanted to run into.

royce.

he began to tear up. “i-. i thought you might have been gone.” // starter for @vxctxrx

he looked around him, trying to distract himself from that awful feeling. he saw royce, demelza, finley, the people he had interacted with in the tribute tower now supposed to be his foes instead of his friends. he didn’t like that, he didn’t want to hurt someone he liked.

when the countdown stopped, he ran for something that happened to be right in front of him. it was a small sword, sort of like the one that cashmere had shown him how to use in training, not as small as a dagger but not big enough for him to feel uncomfortable. it was perfect, but there was someone else’s hands on it too.

“excuse me,” he asked, yelling over the sound of fighting. “could i have this, please?” // starter for @swntiwnt

he decided to go try and make himself some waffles, but he was never that good at cooking, and the toaster somehow began to smoke. he promptly started freaking out, going into panic mode about what he should do. he grabbed a dish towel and made it damp, throwing it over the small fire to try and kill it before it spread to anywhere else in the apartment.

it was this moment when he realized that someone else was in the kitchen, echo. “oh, um, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to, um, it’s out now and i’m going to clean this up, i promise.” // starter for @echohuxley