Eat, Drink and Be Deadly // [Julian/Cricket + 70th Tribs]

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Eat, Drink and Be Deadly // [Julian/Cricket + 70th Tribs] Jun 2, 2015 20:10:51 GMT -5

Post by admin kay on Jun 2, 2015 20:10:51 GMT -5

CIRCE LYON

Stretched across the couch of the main dining car, Circe slit open envelope after envelope. The jewel encrusted dagger slid through the paper like butter, easing her wrists, but it was still incredibly time consuming. After he'd marched to his death, the letters had come like a waterfall. She had drowned in the sympathy, the praise, the rage - feelings other people espoused for the stolen half of her soul. She'd done her duty, responding to the most prestigious. It wasn't until the Olympics that she had received letters for her own accomplishments.

She missed the first set of correspondence like she missed him.

Each letter got a five second glance, and if it didn't grab her attention, it went into the recycling bucket. She pinched the corner of a sooty note, charcoal or ash sprinkling her white jeans. "People are so inconsiderate," she said, and waved the letter at Elya. Circe's legs rested over the other girl's lap, protecting her from the onslaught of grey. From her perch, Circe could see the overflowing table, but not the entrance to the car.

"If you'd rather I keep watch, just nudge me."

She slipped the dagger in the crease, pulled, as the car door opened. Circe's gaze snapped to Elya's, her legs twisting to the ground, leisure forgotten. The envelope made a very poor scabbard; if she grabbed it, she would cut more than just paper. Circe dropped it by her side and reached for a goblet of something that might have been wine. "Isn't this the part where we're supposed to eat, drink, and be merry?"

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Last Edit: Jun 2, 2015 23:40:16 GMT -5 by admin kay

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gm bourgeois decadence [aya]
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"GUNNERRRRR~"

Eat, Drink and Be Deadly // [Julian/Cricket + 70th Tribs] Jun 2, 2015 21:35:44 GMT -5

Post by gm bourgeois decadence [aya] on Jun 2, 2015 21:35:44 GMT -5

Elya Johnwayne

well you were a magazine, i was a plain jane
just walking the sidewalks
all covered in rain

By the train ride, Elya had settled into her comfort zone. She leaned back into the overstuffed couch, elbows effortlessly resting on its mahogany frame. It was at least twice as comfortable as her mattress had ever been, and, as such, she was having a difficult time keeping herself from drifting off while Circe sliced through her mail. Eye closed, she grabbed for a handful of grapes that sat on the end table to her left. Even the train ride to the Capitol — a mere subset of the life to be expected there — was luxuriant. Clever though she was, the Johnwayne couldn't imagine what was in store for them in the Capitol. It was out of her socioeconomic bracket to even fathom such things.

"People are so inconsiderate," came a complaint from her right. Elya opened her eye a crack just in time to see Circe trying to rein in some runaway soot from one of her letters. She responded with a lofty shrug. "They do suck." Her eyelid fell closed once more. At least someone gave half a shit about the Lyoness — Dan had cared about Elya, and Elya about Dan, but that had been the extent of it. But her brother was three years dead, and the only one left to care about Elya was Elya.

It was fine by her; she'd never needed anyone else, not really. And besides, there was always lust to fill the gaps.

She adjusted her legs to keep her knobby knees from digging into the backs of Circe's. She was grateful, she supposed, to have someone familiar along. She could give fewer fucks about having twice as many District Twos in the pool as usual — what's-his-face and who's-her-name didn't particularly interest her, even if they had enough confidence to volunteer after seeing the one-eye in the pool of tributes.

Elya wasn't afraid of them. Circe, however, was exercising caution: "If you'd rather I keep watch, just nudge me."

"I've got an eye on it," she dismissed, a smirk crossing her lips.

The compartment door slid open, startling Circe off her legs and forcing Elya's one grey eye open. She sighed and leaned forward, planting her elbows on his knees. So much for relaxation. Dealing with other people was taxing.

"Isn't this the part where we're supposed to eat, drink, and be merry?"

Elya stood and stretched. "The first two, anyhow," she said, unable to fully chase the grumble from her voice. People are so inconsiderate.

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Malachor Erso D2 (Cato)
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Eat, Drink and Be Deadly // [Julian/Cricket + 70th Tribs] Jun 2, 2015 22:10:37 GMT -5

Post by Malachor Erso D2 (Cato) on Jun 2, 2015 22:10:37 GMT -5

Orion Hammerfell

It all moved so quickly. Leaving from the justice building heading towards the train. Slamming the door in the peacekeepers face after they took Odysseus away. Slowly making my way toward the train. I don't want to deal with the things my brother went through. He wanted all of this. The glory and the bloodshed. Me? I volunteered to meet him after death. I don't want the honor that comes with victory. I'd have to kill. To hurt people. It goes against everything I stand for. Here I am though on my way to board the train. Soon enough I will be in the Capitol training to kill. I must have more of my brother in me. Even though the thought of a lifeless body at my feet is terrifying, I still find myself wondering if I can do it. Make it home and all. If only my brother were alive. I could have asked him what to do. Who to talk to. I miss him so much.

I know I've arrived at the train when I hear some voices. From the looks of it the voices belong to my fellow tributes in two. I open the door to see Circe's legs across Elya's lap and I stop in my track. Frozen. I don't know what to do. My head immediately shoots towards the floor, and I'm sure my cheeks turned bright red. I slowly raise a hand to scratch my hair. Obviously this is a bad time. Obviously they think this is the time to be intimate. Sighing to myself, I raise my gaze towards them again. This is such an awkward moment, and I can feel the tension rising through my body. Someway this needs to break. Maybe I'll leave them alone right now because that's the best thing to do. They know each other. They won't want to bother with me. The fake career. They'll ally with others and hunt me down. Best to try and forget them now while I can.

Without trying too hard to look at them, I walk over to a window and sit down. Forgetting Circe and Elya will be no easy task. They're both from home. Both look like they could kill me with their pinky. It'll be more bearable once I get to the Capitol. The only thing I have to worry about there is the wrath of Katelyn. I'm very much afraid of what she'll say to me about volunteering. With a sigh, I look out the window contemplating everything that's about to happen. The beautiful scenery the train passes by only furthers my longing for home.

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They'll either want to kill you, kiss you, or be you.

Eat, Drink and Be Deadly // [Julian/Cricket + 70th Tribs] Jun 3, 2015 9:26:22 GMT -5

Post by * on Jun 3, 2015 9:26:22 GMT -5

When life throws you a lemon, the task is simple. You throw it back with just as much force and don't flinch. I mustn't show anyone fear and they will show me the same respect back, I'm sure of it. Even though I know not a single person that I am now destined to be district partners with, they are not above me, and I not above them. We have all left the justice building with the same goal. Our stories are different. Our motives are our own. Yet, the outcome will remain the same. The games are going to be brutal. It is our final casting call and the only way to come back home is to do something so inhumanely as possible. For now, the train awaits and the three others inside are about to meet the final member of the district two quad squad.

"I wonder how much the capitol is enjoying this outcome. Four district twos. Four careers in one district. Thanks quell."

My words have surprisingly grown stronger since leaving the tiny room from the justice building. The final handshake from the peacekeeper that had such high hopes for me to enlist the moment I was of age to join. I wanted to be part of the ranks of their perfectly policed rituals. I was going to join them had I not had this opportunity to leave. Max Stahl will forever hate me for my decision even if he doesn't show it so openly. One way or another, I was going to serve the capitol. I just couldn't wait and this is for me and me alone.

The three final steps into the train seem like I am going forward yet the door keeps getting pushed back until I touch the cold, polished brass handle of the door to a dining cart. Only when I push the door open, I survey the boy in front of me and notice how he's going his own direction and over to his own side of the dining car. Immediately, my internal dislike for the guy is prominent. He must think he's too good to interact with the two girls on the other side of the car and henceforth, has allowed me the chance to move forward and greet then with a nod.

"Ladies." I glance over the both of them and take the first seat nearest the window across from the two girls, drawing my legs into the chair. The essence in the air around these other tributes is becoming a bit hazy.

Last Edit: Jun 3, 2015 9:35:53 GMT -5 by *

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Eat, Drink and Be Deadly // [Julian/Cricket + 70th Tribs] Jun 8, 2015 13:25:34 GMT -5

Post by admin kay on Jun 8, 2015 13:25:34 GMT -5

[googlefont="Arya:400"]

	CIRCE LYON
	Circe swirled the ruby red liquid, peering over the edge of the glass at Elya. There was something to easy about her, not grace, but confidence. In another life, she would have been jealous, would have spurned her. But this half-life she dedicated in service of Elya Johnwayne. That was the thing about her devotion to the merry murderess: it hadn't happened at once, but slowly, one sarcastic comment at a time. She hadn't even recognized the symptoms, so long had it been since Circe's heart had been touched. And she still couldn't qualify her feelings, her dedication, the same way she could say with conviction that she had loved Jaime. But every time Elya smirked, every time she effortlessly became the alpha of the room, Circe felt a little more deeply. She tipped the glass, washing her lips with the wine. She didn't look directly at Orion, but neither did she ignore him. He was simply too big, in body and name, to be ignored. But as he had nothing to offer in the way of conversation, he wasn't as pressing as the other girl. She was a mere wisp of a thing. Circe had wondered if she would blow away in the breeze across the stage after volunteering. She was too young, too small, to be a real threat. There were only two reasons why she could have volunteered: an unchecked eagerness, or she had a mission. Circe could deal with the former, but had no energy to manage a crusader. "Miss Revenue," Circe murmured, feral green eyes drinking her in. Circe waved a hand lazily in the air. "Is this everything you dreamed it would be?"
	district 2 female of the 70th Hunger Games