Hemingway Paylor

-

Soleil bit her lip, thinking through her schedule. She had to bring her tributes back to the suite, talk through logistics with Wiress and Beetee, attend a dinner with one of her Capitol regulars. But there was, so far, nothing scheduled for her late tonight (though that could change on a dime depending on how certain men might be feeling tonight).

“Nothing at the moment, but…” She took another bite from her sandwich and scratched the top of her head. “Depending on the whims of certain men in the Capitol, I might be, um… busy. They like to change their minds, and I don’t exactly…”

Soleil took a sip from her iced latte. “Let’s just say I’m required to be at their whims. But… I’m in.”

-

Hemingway stared at her a moment trying to decide if she was making up excuse or had vaild reasons for not showing up. Not that he would blame her if she didn’t want to because getting caught could bring serious consequences. Hemingway would give her small tasks at first anyhow to see if she would be good for what he needed to do. His goal for this Games was to get some food trickling in the Districts but that was going to be extremely hard. He didn’t want tesserae to be so expensive on the black market no one could afford it.

“Hey, say you had to much to drink.” Her was sure Capitol men did not want to watch a Victor get sick. “If not,” he thought about it a moment. “I meet people almost every night of the week. No big deal.”

He reached for something purposely across from Soleil so he could look like he was interested in food more than he was interested in a whispered conversation. “Something needs to be done to help our Districts.”

🌱

“None that I know of,” she said, brows furrowing as she tried to figure out the man’s angle. He seemed to know something, and what Cricket lacked in intellect, she made up for in her perception and insight. “But we don’t know a lotta people, anyhow, so I ain’t the best source of all the other families.” A tiny glimmer of something stirred inside Cricket. It had been years since they’d had any rebels at their barn, but the people travelling illegally through the country had to still exist. Maybe that was what he knew. 

“We live out kinda near the wilds, and we have a farm- we grow food for the livestock, a lot of hay and grain and apples and stuff, but there ain’t a lot to go around after we meet the Capitol’s quotas. We have a barn, and it’s real big. The hayloft itself fits me and most of my family.” Maybe that would strike some kind of memory or thought. And if not, Cricket could just be excited to talk about her farm. No trouble needed. 

-

“Sometimes it’s about who you know,” Hemingway pointed out wanting to be a little cryptic just in case. He couldn’t imagine his whole organization blown in by a teenaged tribute. Still if she really was one of the children of the man he used to work with... “I knew a few people with that name from District Ten, why I ask.” He added in what he hoped was a casual manner.

He nodded. “Sounds like a good life for the most part.” Things were hard in Panem but at least they had a little space of their own. Some families didn’t have that even. “Seems like a good place to play hide and seek too if you ask me.” He said not wanting to mention rebels or anything of the like in a place he could be overheard.

“Played any games of hide and seek latetly?”

If they’d actually been talking about the weather, Soleil would have ripped into a miniature rant about how much she hated the overcast and how it never seemed to go away and that all she ever wanted was a week of sunlight to walk through and bask in. The greenhouses she’d established in Three were nice and helpful but the greenery in the district would be blooming if only there was the sunlight.

“I hope so,” she answered instead, grabbing an iced latte from a nearby platter and taking a long sip from it. “I like to say that if there was anything I could do to help the clouds move along, I’d volunteer in an instant.”

Soleil raised an eyebrow, hoping that Hemingway understood where she was coming from. Rebellion was not something to speak aloud in a snakepit such as where they stood, but there were rumors among some of the victors about what Hemingway was working toward. And she wanted in.

-

Hemingway pondered this admission for a moment because he could always use an extra pair of hands peddling information or gathering it. It had been a long time since he had someone reliable in District Three. It was easier to get people to volunteer in Districts like Eleven where they had nothing to lose but District Three was a middle ground.

“Yeah, in an instant?” He asked with a raised eyebrow wondering again if he could trust this Victor. Perhaps he needed a little test for her to see how she would work and how much she could keep a secret. “What are you doing tonight then? You know after most sensible people have gone to bed?”

Soleil was busy stuffing a vegetable wrap into her mouth as she was approached by another victor. Hemingway Paylor was a presence among the victors, and if the whispers she’d caught from Beetee were true, he was someone that she wanted to be acquainted with. Perhaps he was feeling out that same rumor with her. 

“Terrible, as always,” she answered as she swallowed down her bite. “I’m not sure how it is in Eight, but we’ve got a pretty steady overcast going most of the year. That’s why everyone from Three is so pale-looking.”

Soleil raised an eyebrow and took another bite from her wrap. There was a tinge of something else in his question to her; he certainly wasn’t only asking about the weather, and Soleil’s attention had been captured.

-

Hemingway reached for a tiny little pastry in an attempt to seem nonchalant to anyone that might be watching their interaction. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for him to be talking to someone from District Three. It wasn’t like Soleil was from One or Two. “Can’t say much is different in District Eight, but ya can’t tell from looking at me.”

The weather however was tricker in District Eight. “It’s like there is always a storm on the horizon but people tell me it’s just the smog.” The factories polluted the air but no one seemed to care. The joke was you wouldn’t be able to see the sky even if it was a clear and sunny day, but they weren’t talking about the weather, were they?

“Do you see sunnier days ahead for District Three?”

🌱

Cricket looked from the man to the table, back to the man, and then reached out to snatch one of the tiny sandwiches. At least try not to look desperate, damn, she thought to herself, and flashed him what she hoped was a winning smile. When she bit it in half, her eyes widened. “Oh, that bread’s so good,” she said through a full mouth, already eyeing the platter to take another. Whoa there, she could nearly hear in Alder’s voice, and that stopped her from adding a sandwich to the stockpile in her pocket. 

“They’re real tasty,” she enthused. “Got lots of, uh, flavours, yeah. Lotta punch in a li’l package. Kinda like me,” she added. “My name’s Cricket Lowry, I’m from Ten.” She tucked the rest of the sandwich into her mouth and offered her hand to shake, like Field had told her in the Justice Building. Mind your manners. 

-

Hemingway nodded in approval. “Don’t worry there will be plenty more up on your floor and if not all you have to do is hit a button and it appears.” It was the one good thing about being the Capitol although there wasn’t much good about it. Still Hemingway had to try and be positive or else the negativity would swallow him. Watching Tobias and Blossom die last year had been the worse it had been in a while.

“Lowry...” He paused at the name. He knew that name. “Don’t suppose there are many Lowry families in District Ten?” Hemingway inquired hoping more casually than he felt. One of his contacts from years back had been a Lowry but they had fallen out of touch. Perhaps they had changed their minds about being involved in something that could be so dangerous. Not that he would blame them because he vaguely recalled him saying he had children.

“How’s the weather in District Three?” He asked his fellow blonde Victor as he popped a bite of food into his mouth. Hemingway had heard she was someone that could be trusted but he had to be sure. Anyone looking on would have found his question trivial and meaningless, but he wasn’t simply asking about the weather. The weather of people’s tolerance of the Capitol was fluctuating all over Panem from what he heard.

@soleilsx​​

Well, damn. It was happening. 

She’d been preparing for months for this, but it didn’t entirely feel real. As she stood in the lobby of the Tower, it was the first time she’d really felt small. She touched Fern’s hair ribbon, tied to the strap of her cutoff overalls, and then the pocket where she’d stashed an apple turnover from the train, just in case they didn’t have them in the tribute building. 

But as it turned out, they had those and so much more. A table in the lobby had soft, cheesy dinner rolls, dispensers full of drinks in a bunch of bright, sparkling colours, perfectly plump and shining fruits of every colour and type. Laid out for everyone to enjoy as they made their way to their suites and to their prep sessions for the parade.

Cricket made a beeline for it as soon as she could, admiring the food as she walked by. A bright, crisp apple that she could nearly see her reflection in went into her pocket for later, but she sampled a couple of sweet strawberries. It was as Cricket was shoving an extra couple cheese-covered rolls into her pockets with that she looked up to make eye contact with someone on the other side of the buffet table and her eyes widened, staring them down as she finished tucking the roll away. “Uh, hello,” she said, the twang to her voice standing out as much as her general dishevelled appearance in this beautiful building. // OPEN @thqstarter​

-

“Hello,” Hemingway replied slowly as he took in the girl before him. Clearly she was from one of the outer Districts. She had that look about her one he knew well. The same look that broke his heart when he thought of all the young ones back in District Eight. It pained him and inspired him more to want to do the right thing. The parade would provide a great distraction to reach out to his contacts and get things done.

Hemingway surveyed the table a moment. “Try those,” he suggested as he pointed to the little bite size sandwiches on the platter between them. “They don’t seem like much but they’re delicious.” It was one of his favorite things from the Capitol though he had a suspicion they were made with fresh meat brought in from District Ten and the warm sweet bread of District Nine.

“What’s your name?”

‘ 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐎𝐍, 𝐈 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐖 𝐀 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍 ! ’    abbas looked up attentively before letting out a sarcastic sigh,    ‘ oh wait ── nope,   just effie trinkett. ’   he corrected himself,   never having understood the capitol citizens desire to look like colourful pom-poms.  leaning back in his chair,   abbas scratched his chin as he looked around the ballroom at all the fancy clothes  &  fake smiles .    ‘ yeah,   without the gold & pretty things. ’   leaving just a big pile of crap.

at hemingway’s comment,   abbas chuckled,   finding the statement ironic,   ‘ oh come on hem,  after all that we’ve done to survive,   we’re all going to hell sooner or later. ’   given the state of his miserable life,  abbas kind of wished it would happen sooner. 

-

Hemingway had to laugh at Abba’s outburst. “Close enough,” he muttered. Effie Trinket surely had some of the worse outfits he had ever seen. “I am almost embarrassed to say these fine fabrics they make hidious come from my District.” It almost was sickening the way they exploited their work in the Districts for what? Fine clothes and fancy feasts. Couldn’t some that have so much do with a little less? It would make all the difference.

𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐈𝐓 𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄 ?   linny would treasure it.   one of the things she loved about living in district eight had been all the different textures  &  fabrics.  her mother had once made her a dress out of fabric scraps that had the most beautiful silk sleeves.   the handkerchief was a rare reminder of her past life.  linny took great care as she folded it into a small square slipped  &  it into the lining of her trousers for safekeeping before signed back to hemingway with tears in her eyes,  thank you so much.

as they walked down the hall,  linny held her arms behind her back to look as if she was doing her job.   at the mention of tesserae,   linny nodded.   her mother had worked so hard that linny had never needed to use tesserae  &  linny hadn’t had much time to use it after her death,   she had been too busy plotting her revenge.  however,  she knew that people depended on that tesserae to live.   i hope so too,   she signed to him before curiosity caught her,    how are things in eight.

-

Hemingway was quiet as they walked his thoughts preoccupied on the tesserae and what it would mean in District Eight without it. So many people there relied on it. Surely not like those in the very outer Districts, but enough that it was going to be a problem. Did Snow think he could starve people into compliance with his wishes? Would he stop fighting the Rebel cause if he knew it meant starving or his children, if he had them, would starve? The thought alone gave him pause. Eight was very urban and people did not have the space or knowlege to grow things... Not like in outer Districts where they could perhaps do some good.

He sighed at her question. “They’re okay for now.” The would be a lot worse when word spread of Snow’s order. “People are still angry over last year, but they’re getting over it.” Time healed all wounds unless you were hungry and then you needed to eat so you compromised with your morals. “I am worried this will work. People will forget why things need to change,” he added softly. “I am afraid this will work. Does that make sense?”

ariadne felt sick, like she could fall over any minute. at least she had someone next to her who understood, six and eight really weren’t that different — especially in the capitol’s eyes. she would have to listen to her fellow victors’ advice and keep her cool, get those kids food.

”you and me both,” she laughed a little, which felt wrong, and she almost felt guilty for doing it. “how about just going and seeing where we end up?” as long as they didn’t go into any restricted areas, she didn’t see why it would be an issue.

she downed the rest of her drink, which she immediately regretted — she had never been a drinker, “where are we going, boss?”

“Oooh, an adventure!” Hemingway said with a laugh. It didn’t matter where they ended up to him to be honest. “I mean any place is better than here?” Any way you looked at it Eight or Six didn’t win this year so there was no need for them to be around. Though Monroe got a lot closer than either of his tributes. Runner-up was a hard pill to swollow even though he had little experience in that department.

He thought about it a moment. “The garden is likely to be overcrowded. How do you feel about the roof?”

 ‘ 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐘 ? ’   abbas challenged him, an eyebrow raised as his eyes flicked between hemingway &  the security cameras in the corner of the room.  he was very aware that not everyone had his same blasé attitude about the capitol.  one day abbas supposed he would pick a side on the matter but until then he was happy living in blissful ambivalence.  that was how he found it so easy to prod his friend, a smirk on his lips,   ‘ come on hem,  live  dangerously. ’

unfortunately, raising an invisible glass didn’t come with the same reward as a real one as all he got after it was the unnatural sanitary  taste of the capitol’s air.  a real shame,  he thought to himself as he leant on folded arms.  he wanted to make a comment about how it didn’t matter because they were all doomed in the end but instead,  his brain went to that same sarcastic place,  ‘ i didn’t know you were into tributes, you sly old dog. ’  as if any victor could ever be in a truly healthy relationship with anyone.

at hemingway’s comment, abbas stared down at the floor as if he were hoping it would open up and suck him down,  ‘ i think hell would be a fucking treat after this shit! ’

“Oh what a damn ray of sunshine of happiness and beauty this place is,” he said sarcastically knowing his fellow Victor would catch his drift. It didn’t matter where they were in the Capitol, Hemingway knew people were watching. The right people wouldn’t bother them but you could never tell who was nice and who wasn’t. Everyone had a price and the Capitol had bottomless pockets in which to shell out gold. “What say this place is a golden cage full of crap and pretty thing?”

𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐘'𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒.    since their brief interaction in the viewing room,   linny had hoped she would see hemingway again.  it was nice to speak to someone from her district to keep that connection alive.  as he passed her the handkerchief she touched it to her cheeks gently,  taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of the smooth silk on her skin. tears wiped away,  she slid her fingers along the material with a sigh before handing it back to hemingway.

the mention of cufflinks confused linny as the victor held up his arm to reveal the shimmering metal cufflinks, which were notably still present.  as she realised what he was inferring,   her smile widened.   if it meant not going back to the ballroom,   linny would do anything.  without hesitation,   she nodded,   not caring if she got in anymore trouble.

“Nah, you keep it.” Hemingway told her as he let her keep it. “If anyone asks I’ll say I gave it to you for cleaning. I mean If I leave tomorrow... Well, keep it safe till next year.” He would be back as he always was and he liked to think his little friend would still be here. Part of him hoped that the Capitol would at least keep her fed unlike the Districts they clearly wanted to starve.

He swollowed hard as they walked. “It’s going to be a hard year for all of us,” he mused out loud. “Surely you recall how the tesserae helps...” Hemingway hated thinking of all those back in their home District. “Eight is going to be hard up as everyone else. I hope it’ll be okay, you know?”

starter;  open  location;  hallway @thqstarter​

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄.   she had screwed up big time, right in front of everyone.  linny didn’t know what had happened,   whether it had been the shock or the weight of the expensive bottle of champagne she had been carrying to a sponsors table but as the president dropped his bombshell,   she had dropped the champagne she was holding with a loud crash, drawing a thousand eyes to her.

she had been taken  no … dragged out of the ballroom by one of the capitol staff  &  yelled at profusely.   she was  clumsy,   stupid,   nothing more than a piece of dirt in the bottom of a shoe,   but worse than that,   she was to be punished.   she didn’t know when,   or how,   but the thought of it was enough to bring tears to her eyes.  she returned to the ballroom for just a second before the emotion overcame her  & she found herself slipping into the empty hallway.   muffled sobs escaped her lips as her footsteps echoed in the empty hall until she reached another person stood by the end of the hallway.

for once,   linny did not try to make excuses or plead with the other not to tell on her.  what she had coming for ruining the presidents speech would be far worse than anything else that could be done to her.   instead she stopped dead in front of them,   her eyes red raw,  linny was too defeated to do anything but cry  & hope they would show her sympathy.

Hemingway frowned at the sight of an obviously upset child in front of him. One he had a rather enjoyable conversation with not long before. “Seems you need this more than I do,” he said as he pulled a monogramed hankerchief from his pocket and passed it to Linny. His stylist insisted he carried it but he had little use for it until now and he was glad he could offer her something to help ease her pain.

“I seemed to have lost my cufflinks,” he said as he pointed to his sleeve where he clearly still had his cufflinks. “Would you care to help me go search for it? I definitely think it is not in the ballroom right now.” Surely she couldn’t get in more trouble if she was helping him remedy a problem and requested she do so.

          “   extremely.   ”     the  male  muttered,  though  it  was  more  of  a  grumble  to  himself  as  his  brows  furrowed  at  the  events  unfolding  on  the  screen.   he’d  take  sharks  over  dolphins  any  day.   they,  at  least,  left  him  alone  in  the  arena.     “   i  don’t  know  about  that.   mine  tried  to  poison  me,  but  i  think  it  was  just  dumb.   or  colorblind.   ”

          at  ease  with  his  current  company,  dawson  just  let  out  a  short  laugh.     “   tusks  make  it  easier  to  climb  up,  you  just  gotta  avoid  falling  off  or  gettin’  stabbed.   ”     a  shrug  lifted  his  shoulders,  only  a  pang  of  guilt  surfacing  from  the  jokes.   people  were  dead,  but  coping  was…  important  ?

“You say that like it couldn’t be worse,” he joked with a laugh. Hemingway didn’t take comfort in joking about their arenas but what else could they do? “I mean at least you didn’t have psychotic clowns chasing you about for days.” He said with a frown recalling his own nightmareish arena. At least Hemingway didn’t have to come across clowns all that often thankfully unlike the other Victors that had more commonplace horrors.

@thqstarter​

          “   so  they  get  dinosaurs  and  i  get  dolphins  ?   ”     he  would  have  much  preferred  the  prehistoric  vibes  rather  than  having  to  befriend  a  dolphin  who  brought  him  poisonous  coral  on  several  occasions.   he  looked  like  a  goddamn  fool  trying  to  tell  it  to  bring  him  the  red,  not  the  yellow.     “   if  i  was  gonna  go  down,  i’d  wanna  be  riding  a  mammoth  instead.   ”

“Kind of unfair isn’t it?” He asked with a shake of his head even though Hemingway was perfectly happy to let them have the creatures. In his own arena he had gotten up close and personal with elephants and once in a lifetime was enough. “Least a dolphin isn’t going to try to eat your or stomp you to death.” Didn’t people once think it was the epitome of fun swimming with dolphins?

‘ YOU WISH THEY WOULD WHAT? ’    abbas prodded,  expecting that whatever hemingway had been about to say would   probably   constitute treason.   he had never cared much about the whole  keeping your lips sealed   thing.   he had likely said more than enough incriminating things when drunk  and now he had no family connections thanks to cara’s disowning of him, he had nothing to lose,  ‘  all die in a fiery blaze?   same here. ’

abbas nodded as hemingway spoke,   trying to act as if he’d been following the games since his own tributes had died,  ‘ i’ll take your word for it.  i haven’t really paid much attention if i’m honest. ’  when did he ever?   as much as he willed himself to care something he just couldn’t watch,    ‘ but hey, if she prevents another winner from one, she has my full support. ’ and he lifted his hand in the ear as if raising a glass to the girl.

peaches and rays of sunshine?  he scoffed,  ‘ not unless this is some kind of fantasy world. ’ he peered over his shoulder,  ‘ oh no, still shitty old panem. ’

He chuckled softly. “That is one way to phrase what I had in mind.” He had never liked the Capitol even before he had found himself in the arena. Hemingway had been smart enough to know though he would never change anything without the power and influence Victors had. It had been the true motives for his volunteering at seventeen. Food had been another motive but it had been a long time since he had thought about what it was like to be hungry.

Hemingway raised his glass a bit. “Hear hear.” He didn’t hate those from District One,   Two or even Four, but he was tired of them winning. It wasn’t a fair fight when you have been training since childhood to be a killer. Hemingway had learned some of their skills over the year, but it was a different story. “I don’t know the tribute from One has been the front runner since the beginning... I’d take the girl from Twelve or Six any day though. They have merits.” Not that he should hold anything against District One tributes because they didn’t pick where they were born any more than he did.