#subsiist

the night has dragged on, but is far from over. any other year, the scores of four and six would be the most eventful aspect of the day. instead, focus was on the interruption that transpired at caesar's afterparty. it hung in the air like a smog, even if most partygoers seemed unconcerned to it all. after witnessing it with effie, and subsequently talking to katniss, haymitch had spent the rest of his time at the event talking with sponsors and other mentors. at the end of the day, the quell still begins tomorrow. it's ever apparent when the team is in the town car with chandler and hazelle. had they had more time, haymitch would have gruffed about leaving it for the next day when their tributes were training. that luxury is one that none of them can afford.

soon they're up on the roof top. he can only assume the tributes are sleeping. ( he hopes they are, but he couldn't the night before the second quell. ) pink fabric is suffocating and itchy, but there was no time to change out of this capitolite costume. the summer, night air is warm. lights of the city shine bright below. people are still out and about, excited for what's to come at noon tomorrow. the older victor turns to look at the rest of the team, arms crossed. ( very friendly look, haymitch ! ) " it's good that we decided to stick around after ... everything. " he first acknowledges. some of the mentors did return to the tribute center soon after. seeder retired soon after ; she waved him goodnight as she did. " do we wanna start with the elephant in the room or better news ? i think effie had something she wanted to say. " thought of what the escort had to say has since left his mind. abernathy was still shocked she'd never watched the tribute deaths !

Finnick was no stranger to the glamor and the drama of the capitol. The crowds buzzing with cruel excitement, spilling outlandish gossip and drunken comments were exhausting, but after being in the game for over a decade now, he had grown used to it. Thick skin was a requirement for the job, and while it had certainly taken a lot of growth, he finally learned how to manage it all. Mostly.

He took in the party happening around him. The Presidential Mansion was a notable venue, and even he had to admit that Snow really knew how to throw a party. Of course the Capitol spared no expense when the Games were involved, and but the Quarter Quell — at least in Snow's opinion, it seemed — deserved to be commemorated with something bigger and better.

Despite the fine food, elegant decor, and nearly enchanting music though, if Finnick's attendance not been required, he would have skipped out entirely. According to Snow, however, declining the invitation was simply not an option, and so there he stood alone, having managed to break away from conversations with potential sponsors and clients for just a moment of peace.

He knew it wouldn't last forever. He would be expected to finish making his rounds and playing it up for the cameras. The charisma, the charm...it was getting to be exhausting, but what other choice was there? He was well aware that Snow would make good on all promises, so he's have to grit his teeth and bear it through the rest of the evening.

Finnick's green eyes scanned the crowd, only to stop on one of the newest victors. Peeta Mellark. The two had only met in passing at the wedding, having the opportunity to exchange only a few words. Would now be a good time for a more formal introduction?

He momentarily considered his options, and he realized that in a choice between a fellow victor and literally any Capitol sponsor, the victor would win every time. He decided to make his way across the floor, cutting through the crowd and hoping no one would stop him on his way.

"Peeta Mellark," he said in greeting once he had gotten close enough to be heard over the awful din of the crowd. "Fancy seeing you here. How are you finding the party?"

who: chandler ( @subsiist ) & hazelle ( @perfectaches ) & ezra

nightfall had landed over the arena. the districts of one, two, and four had formed an alliance. it's easier to navigate the arena with a larger group. it also means he cannot escape the blood. some of his peers are grizzly, and he isn't guiltless in this. abel's blood clings onto his hands, even if it's been washed away. after dealing with feral monkey mutts and sheer pain inducing fog, the lot is tired. they set up camp, and establish a night watch system. the night is still early, but klair takes the first watch. he can see it in the eyes of those with him: equal parts hunger and exhaustion.

domitila had been right to nudge him to eat more. he's hardly satiated but he's not starving. too much is going on the arena for him to think of eating. some fresh water however ? that would be refreshing. he leans against a tree for now. everyone seems to be sleeping soundly. he's relieved nobody has stumbled in yet. the more people stay away, the greater that tribute's chance of leaving the arena. boredom does take him somewhat, so he's been busy whittling a stick with one of his blades. it's quiet, other than sounds of nocturnal insects.

it's two hours into the afterparty. it will likely drag on for hours as not a soul seems to have an end time in mind. it's counterproductive when twenty-four tributes are in attendance, and will be in the arena in less than twenty-four hours. but lips are zipped plastering a smile while he also gets closer to plastered. he had avoided the younger mentor intentionally, but ice is meant to be broken. at least peeta is less likely to lash out than his wife. ( though you never know ! )

he's pressing a champagne flute into peeta's hands. it's just for appearences ! though haymitch certainly wouldn't be one to judge if the blond needed something to take the edge off. " how are you holding up ? " it's a brief moment of being traditionally caring. abernathy doesn't lack it, but he shows it in different ways. the arena was a terrible example of this, and it still shocks him that the other chooses to speak to him. ( but peeta's kinder than either two other victors from twelve after all ! ) " a six isn't terrible. chandler could have done worse. "

hazelle did. it lingers in the air. he knows peeta has been less than keen on the favoritsm showed to the hawthorne matriarch. ( perhaps it's like picking at a scab that hasn't healed yet, but haymitch shoves that thought down. ) " he seems in good spirits about it. " the townie was practically gallivanting around the party due to it, like the likelihood of a district twelve victor wasn't essentially zero.

when: day five

who: brutus steel & beetee latier ( @subsiist )

beetee latier is face to face with another victor. brutus steele towers over him. intimidation is nowhere to be seen when the man from two is behind prison bars. it's unfortunate, both he and cadence kentwell being here. aloysius is too, who was the escort from three. ( though beetee is hardly heartbroken over such a thing. ) latier is here for a singular objective.

" this is quite the predicament, brutus, " he begins but there is no teasing in his tone ; no, beetee gets no amusement out of this. he'd mentioned it previously to higher ups how brutus could be an asset to the cause. he finally has clearance today to speak with him. " what if i told you i could help get you out ? " he swears he can hear rand's familiar snicker a few cells over. coin is no rush to free the former escort, so there's no use there.