#vb128

“I have to say, the food here is much better than prison food.” Holland’s crown sat atop her head, a weight that she was getting used to over the course of the night. While she knew the highlight of this event was the drinks for most people, she’d already visited the buffet table three or four times, returning to her table in the corner to eat. If anyone wanted to speak to her, they could. But there seemed to be a strange distance between her and everyone else. Maybe it was the thick ankle monitor; maybe it was the Peacekeeper who hovered a few yards away from her at all times.

Slate was sipping on a virgin cocktail with a crazy straw — definitely something they were serving for the under-ten crowd in attendance — as he approached Moxie. “I wanna show you something,” he said, “do you have ten minutes to slip away?”

Georgia had gone all out for her first victor’s ball. Of course, the victor was not one of her tributes -- but she told herself that was mostly due to the fact that she had not yet, in fact, had any tributes.

“How are you holding up?” Moxie asked, she wanted more than anything to keep Clementine as far away from the new victor as possible. She had seen what Holland had done to Honey in the arena and now...Honey was gone and Holland stood alive, out of prison. “Sorry, I feel like I’m probably the millionth person to ask you that,” She said, arms coming to almost compulsively cross in front of her midsection, wanting to feel smaller, less noticable.

“You know, if you sent Jeannie on an apology tour, you can tell her there’s no need,” Everett said. He hadn’t yet spoken to Jeannie at the ball, but their conversation in the viewing room at the end of the Games stood out, left him feeling uncertain, uncomfortable. Had she been genuine? Was she trying to lure him into a false sense of security?

@georgia-plains​

@selenehoneybell​