detonate [quinn/kaius/derecho]

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kap
Retired Staff

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trans rights are human rights <3

detonate [quinn/kaius/derecho] Jun 23, 2022 7:42:58 GMT -5

Post by kap on Jun 23, 2022 7:42:58 GMT -5

The cure for the sorrow
Is to live like there's no tomorrow

Quinn still didn't feel ready for the Games. The tributes were nearing the day where they'd all have to into the arena, fight and kill each other, and she didn't feel like she'd get very far with where she was at with her skills in that moment. She needed a break, but she still hadn't done enough.

Flynn had advised she find some allies, but she was still at a loss for that. Maybe if she found some tributes in a more peaceful part of the training center, she could get on their good side. That's why she'd chosen the dining hall: a place for a break that was also a bit peaceful, and potentially a good location to find other tributes who weren't in that sort-of "fight zone". They might be more willing to talk that way.

Still, once Quinn got her food, she was disappointed. She'd realized that there were no open tables except for one that was completely empty. Reluctantly, she took her seat there with her food and hoped that perhaps fate would lead some other tributes to sit with her.

Did fate even exist? Perhaps she'd find out one of these days.

Sitting in her seat the empty table, munching on her food, she spotted two other tributes who seemed to be looking for somewhere to sit, and waved her arm at them to flag them down.

"You can sit over here, if you'd like," she had piped up. Surely being friendly was the best option, right?

It was better than conflict right now. Either way, though, something was about to detonate. Either this would blow up into something good, or a massive problem.

lyrics: "No Tomorrow" by Three Days Grace
table by pogue

mat
Retired Staff

2,404 POSTS

Pronouns: he/him
last seen Nov 18, 2024 14:54:08 GMT -5

detonate [quinn/kaius/derecho] Jun 23, 2022 11:26:41 GMT -5

Post by mat on Jun 23, 2022 11:26:41 GMT -5

k a i u s

With one hand holding his tray of food and the other running through his hair, Kaius finds himself in the middle of the cafeteria once more. As a fear tactic, his stylist told him to act more brooding and mysterious. Maybe if they are scared of you, they'll think twice before killing you later. It's a hopeful wish but one that won't bear much in reality. They just want to show that their extreme makeover skills are capable of getting more business than even the Games could. Makeup, money, and marketing. He slides on the tiled floor, hearing the occasional lazed scuff at his feet as he barely raises them from the ground. Even though it's ridiculous, an act of kindness can go a long way, right? Maybe his stylist has a wad of cash ready to send his way in the arena for the advertisements Kaius has allowed them to paint on him.

"You can sit over here if you'd like." Kaius's head remains down as his eyes look up. There's a girl waving him on. She's got a Six badged onto her shoulder. The Garner, perhaps? He heard on the train ride here that a cousin of a victor in Six had gotten reaped. Maybe it could be wise to get on her good side.

He sits in the chair across from her at the table, setting down his tray. Instinctively, as if he was back home, Kaius kept a napkin on his lap and his elbows off the table. Habits endure even with the handsome aesthetic he and the stylists were going for. "Good morning. Or afternoon. Well, I'm not too sure. They don't have windows or clocks in this place."