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mat
Retired Staff

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last seen Nov 24, 2024 13:37:42 GMT -5

blood threads | azzaro-novara lore Mar 20, 2024 23:35:45 GMT -5

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Post by mat on Mar 20, 2024 23:35:45 GMT -5

hii! i am simply using the space to fill in retro lore for my Retro GM, Jovis, and his family/offspring!! don't mind me, or do idk.

time: the day after the ninth hunger games

after the travesty and perception of the 9th game's "failures," co-head gamemaker jovis azzaro was ordered to leave the capitol on the next train out to district two.

J O V I S.

How gracious of the Capitol grunts to give Jovis the first train out of the city. They hurried him along the outskirts of his home and drove him by truck to the station where a train waited to depart to District Two after unloading one of the district's shipments. Hell, there weren't even steps to climb onto the train. Just so courteous of them, really, after his actions, and Tegan's, created the most thrilling Hunger Games yet.

"If there's not so much as a bolted-down chair in this damn thing, I swear–" one of the Peacekeepers that escorted him to the train station pushed him through and turned on the light to the train. It was clear that the three of them that brought him to this point were running on fumes and had no time for his antics. Jovis complied, he knew not to poke a bear when it was sleeping, or at all.

The car was better than he expected it to be. It was run down and untidy, like the trains the tributes arrived in days ago, but it was stable. He half expected to be treated like cattle from the way the Capitol's executives shoved him out. Jovis grabbed his bags and set them in the corner of the car and sat in the booth at the back. He set his glasses on the table as the train began to move, the sudden jolt in force waking him up. He wiped the exhaustion from underneath his eyes as the city he knew as home faded and a world of the unknown took its place. Wilderness. Perhaps, if he knew how to survive out there, he might have jumped out, but some civilization was better than none. Jovis thrived off of order, and the woods were chaos.

Jovis missed his wife and kids. The executives promised that they would not be punished, but how could he believe them after they threw him away in what could be the same set of train cars as District Two's coffins? The thought of his son growing up without a father sickened him, one bloodied thorn passed down to another. He was just a boy when his father went to fight against the Rebellion. Every milestone? Missed. Every time he needed a father's words and guidance? Jovis slid into his chair, unable to think of the last time he heard his father's voice. What would he say now?

Family is everything, he thought, eyes closed to try and imagine the firm words coming from his father's mouth. You are doing this to protect them. In the Azzaro household, the family was an immovable pillar and foundation for everything Jovis knew. He found truth in those words. Even if his stomach turned at the thought of his wife raising their son on her own, his sacrifice made having a son to raise possible.

For the first time in years, Jovis prayed. His family was devoted to their religion, but he pretended for the most part. His thoughts raced constantly with ideas, and it was hard to pray in earnest without a certain level of stillness around him. The prison, the games, the pursuit of revenge… it made that impossible. But he had his revenge. Jovis had his Games and walked out satisfied, even if others believed he had failed. He prayed to god that he might protect him in District Two, and that he might have some peace. Happiness, if he's lucky. Closure.

Hours later, the train stopped and the conductor dragged the door open from the outside. "This is your stop, friend." He was kind. Thank God, someone was! Jovis grabbed his bags and squeezed through the door. "I appreciate it. The ride. Any idea where the nearest hotel is in this place?"

The conductor laughed, patting him on the back as if he heard the most innocent words. "Well, friend, I don't think Two has "hotels." Motels, maybe, or inns connected to the bars if you're lucky." The man leaned in to whisper. "Some advice? Keep to yourself. I get nasty looks just unloading here. I don't know if they'll take kindly to someone of your… reputation… entering their district."

"Thanks, but I think I'll make it out okay." On principle, his people skills were strong. He had confidence in himself.

"You got it. The tavern down on Seventh is pretty friendly to the Capitol cause, though. Just keep that in mind."

"Right. Thank you."

Jovis arrived at the tavern on Seventh with broken glasses, a bruising eye, bloodied nose, and only one of his three bags. The conductor was right. District Two was not pleased to have a Gamemaker in town. "A room, please?"

Last Edit: Mar 21, 2024 12:08:12 GMT -5 by mat

mat
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blood threads | azzaro-novara lore Mar 21, 2024 14:04:01 GMT -5

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Post by mat on Mar 21, 2024 14:04:01 GMT -5

laheira ~~azzaro~~ novara

the weeks after the 9th Hunger Games

laheira, jovis azzaro's wife, resorted to using her maiden name due to scrutiny against her husband's involvement in the games. she still lives with jovis's family in the 'azzaro complex,' and is the only person outside of capitol executives who knows her husband is alive.

Everyone believed her husband was dead. Stories about what happens in the Capitol travel like wildfire, a bad game of telephone that twists and contorts itself into some horrific story. According to the rumors that made it back to Laheira, the sanitation department pulled a body out from the water that encompasses Capitol city. An old friend showed up at her door to ask her about it. It pained her how this man, who she had known since she was a little girl, came to check in on her with his wife after weeks of trying to get in touch. Mail with no response. Phone calls that were sent immediately to voicemail. But when it came time to be nosy and gossip, they were at her doorstep.

He's not dead. Laheira wanted to tell them immediately. The couple thought it was funny that he hadn't made a public appearance since the photographs of him sliding into the back seat of an armored vehicle. She shrugged, unsure of what to tell them. Anguish stamped across her face. Sharing that he was ushered out of this Capitol as a punishment was impossible to tell his mother, let alone friends who thought of his disappearance as a mystery.

"To raise little Jevid on your own must be so devastating and challenging," her friend's wife offered her help if she needed anything, but Jovis's mother interjected– they didn't need it. Jovis's mother and grandmother didn't need to work, they had a generational wealth that was so well-built, even with the loss of the Head of House, they were able to manage. Laheira worked weekends in the Capitol's business district, consulting for budding businesses and Capitol families looking to restore themselves to glory. It was a good compromise for Jovis when he was still there and invited his guests to spend the weekends in their apartment. It was a healthy compromise, his romantic independence for her financial one.

A few hours later, Laheira escorted her friend and his partner out the front gates. She watched them walk down the path, both of them whispering and nodding as if sharing their own theories about what really happened. Was Jovis drowned, or did he drown himself? The only acceptable theory, of course, would be to suggest he killed himself. The Capitol would never accept another theory.

Jovis's grandmother tended to Jevid, JJ as his mother cleaned the silver glasses from tea. "Georgeta, please. Let me." Laheira offered her hands out toward the decadent tray in Georgeta's hands. She finished the job, carrying the dishes into the kitchen. Jovis's mother and grandmother were getting too old for labor even as simple as that. Georgeta's hands shook too much, a mix of arthritis and anxiety that only worsened when Laheira told her that Jovis never came home after the Games. On the other side of the archway, Laheira heard her weeping, and it continued until every dish in the sink was clean and put away. She returned to the den, wrapping her arms around her mother-in-law.

"He's still with us, with you." She whispered, straightening her dress on the sofa."In spirit, in soul, he's here."

"How can you know that's true? He was my final baby boy." Laheira sympathized. Georgeta lost all but one of her children now: four to the war, Jovis missing or dead. Her only child left was her daughter, Madalina, who only came back to the house for Sunday dinners with her husband and kids.

Was she right? Was he alive, or did he just promise her that so she wouldn't worry? It was a private agony that killed everything inside her except the chance at hope.

"There are parts of him still here. In JJ… in here." Laheira placed Georgeta's hand across her stomach.

From the night he left her, Jovis left her with one more piece of him.

In Adelaide Novara, the daughter he'd never know he had.

mat
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last seen Nov 24, 2024 13:37:42 GMT -5

blood threads | azzaro-novara lore Mar 22, 2024 0:46:50 GMT -5

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Post by mat on Mar 22, 2024 0:46:50 GMT -5

in the months following the 9th hunger games

J O V I S.

Jovis was not built for blue-collar work, but it was the only work he could find. The networks of Capitol sympathizers were complex in District Two: the barkeep on Seventh was kind while the stonemason across the street threatened to axe his head off, a fate far worse than Augustus Farr. He paid for his keep at the inn with the remaining jewelry and gemstones. It was safe there, and much better than wandering the streets at night homeless. Jovis lived in tight quarters with nowhere near the decoration and personality he had in the Capitol.

A dollar for a meal, a quarter to have one of the housekeepers wash his clothes. The man who owned the tavern and inn, Andes Craw, told Jovis stories about the war in District Two. He recognized early that the only people punished by fighting in the war were district citizens. "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em." Jovis drank to that. Most people in District Two were over the Dark Days, but the Hunger Games still irked them. The destruction of the Colosseum's arena and the death of Two's tributes were, as Andes put it, horrific to watch. Jovis apologized in advance for the grin that flashed across his face in that moment, but according to Andes, there was no need. He 'understood the mindset' of a Capitol man who wanted vengeance.

The tavern became a safe place for Jovis, under the protection of a well-respected business owner. However, he couldn't stop himself from turning back wearily every time the double doors swung open. Was someone there to beat him up? Punch him? Torture him? It was a toss-up whenever Jovis left the tavern if he was going to run into trouble or not. Jovis changed his appearance over time. He grew his hair longer, developed a mustache but trimmed his beard, and opted to avoid wearing the glasses he was caught on the television screen wearing as he laughed about those kids' deaths.

Every day, at least one patron would ask Jovis if he regretted it. He held the glass close to his lips, shaking his head. Not a bit. Blood for blood. It was the only appropriate option.

He hoped the people of District Two would forget him soon enough. Maybe the entirety of Panem. Who knew if this move would be a permanent one or not? It's been months. Jovis wanted to see his wife. He mapped out every inch of her in his sleep, hoping they might happen upon each other soon. Somehow.

The culture of District Two was different from home as well. Not even different from the Capitol at large, but rather the Azzaro family specifically. Children, even the boys, left the household once they came of age. In his home, it was expected that Azzaros stay at home unless a woman married or a man married into a family of higher status– in which there were few. It hurt to wake up in the morning and see lines of kids moving about the cobblestone streets to go to school. With every little boy, Jovis thought of JJ. In only a few months, he wondered how much the boy had grown. Jovis dreaded the thought of another Azzaro boy growing up without a father.

As the money from his gems and jewels grew thinner, his finances forced Jovis to take up a job. Two jobs. In the evenings, he tended to the tavern restaurant: seating guests, taking orders, and washing the dishes. That paid for his stay in the inn. As for the days, Jovis worked at Andes Craw's uncle's stonework shop. They put him to work without much guidance. For the first time in thirty-two years, Jovis's hands were calloused and his back ached from dragging carts filled with stone, coal, and ore by day and bins of heavy ceramic plates and silverware by night.

He was determined to not only survive but thrive. Like he had when he was a boy, Jovis kept a list of objectives and goals posted on his desk.

District Two would feel his wrath and his vision. Jovis could not settle for anything less in his new beginnings.

Last Edit: Mar 22, 2024 0:50:59 GMT -5 by mat

mat
Retired Staff

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blood threads | azzaro-novara lore Apr 7, 2024 0:39:59 GMT -5

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Post by mat on Apr 7, 2024 0:39:59 GMT -5

georgeta azzaro

the years following jovis's disappearance

in the years following the ninth games, the 'azzaro' name remained tarnished, but georgeta, jovis's mother and now-matriarch of the household, insisted on clinging to it, even if some sects of the family began to use maiden names or married names to remove the stigma.

Georgeta preferred a lime attire on her trip to the cemetery. It felt fresh and lively amongst the browning grass and cement-grey headstones. Her husband. Her parents-in-law. Her sons. Her daughter. Their husbands and their wives. She convinced herself the day Jovis disappeared that she was cursed. Whether it be her wedding band or souring heart, something of her was undeserving of a good life. Perhaps it wasn't meant for Georgeta, that heaven on earth that her husband talked about the night of their wedding.

None of this made any sense. She was promised resolve from this war, she war promised heaven. Why were the steps through the cemetery, flower after flower laid above her blood resting, as hot as coals? Why did this proclaimed heaven rot and burn like hell?

Pine needles cracked beneath her feet as she sat in the wooden folding chair beside Jevid's resting place. It would be hers soon as well. She requested the headstone to fit both their names, joined together forever. His body was only six feet beneath her, but as but the dirt her eyes gazed down at felt galaxies away. Her children, five galaxies away, one row further back.

Her eyes wandered to the site furthest to the right: Jovis Azzaro. Wherever he was. She wasn't convinced the body they brought back from the fountain, beaten and drowned and decayed as it was, could be him. They lied to her, she knew it, but Georgeta felt obligated to agree it was him. She owed them nothing after that moment. Georgeta kept JJ and Adelaide away from the cemetery for that very reason. Could she teach her grandchildren to mourn when even she wasn't sure of the truth?

They were growing up quickly. Adelaide, or Lady for short, started proper school a year early. Smart and crafty, just like her father was when he was little. And JJ got taller by the day. He'd outgrow Jovis by sixteen. Jevid and Adelaide Novara. It agitated her how the society around them punished the Azzaro name beyond return.

Georgeta hoped Laheira knew what she was doing, rebuilding their reputation in this way, but her parenting methods always ended up dubious. Why did she teach her children never to apologize unless they believed what they did was wrong? What happened to acting cordially?

She warned Laheira not to cross the bounds of betraying her family. She obliged, ensuring JJ and Lady remained close, nearly attached to the hip. But their attachment was cold and slippery, unlike the warmth Georgeta was used to.

Laheira insisted to her that Jovis wanted greatness for his son. And his daughter, too, had he known of her existence (this part, Georgeta doubted… Jovis never held women in such regard.)

"Jovis always wanted his blood to do immaculate things. More than his fifteen minutes in the spotlight."

Those words from Laheira, at the very least, were true. Georgeta looked through the scrambles of Jovis's journals after his disappearance. Glory, honor, power… all used in his plans to the point of obsession.

"However you choose to raise my grandbabies," Georgeta warned, "do not teach them to abandon this family." Georgeta tasked Fredi, her eldest grandson and the only one who still clung to the Azzaro name, with keeping an eye on JJ and Lady to make sure they never fell through. They looked up to him, even if he was just a teenager. He acted as her eyes as they grew.

A murder of crows banded in the fencing of the cemetery.

In her heart, Georgeta was convinced.

This was the death of her family as she knew it.

But she wore green, a color of liveliness and health.

In rebirth, Georgeta prayed her family tree could begin healing after twenty years of endless withering.