under the sword of damocles 🗡 olivine & eulalie [jb]

under the sword of damocles 🗡 olivine & eulalie [jb] Sept 24, 2024 14:02:25 GMT -5

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Post by eulalie blake 1a 🍒 tris on Sept 24, 2024 14:02:25 GMT -5

What occupies a girl's mind when she's not thinking of how to win the Hunger Games?

Let the record show: Eulalie is made of more than her ambition and capacity to cause harm. But in the first hour that follows the Reaping, where she volunteered as tribute and made her claim for glory, all the adrenaline seems to have seeped out of her body. She's not sure what to do with the little energy that remains, mind half-torn between her grand expectations and the reality that she'll have to make it through a week of social pageantry before the gong even sounds.

She knows how to keep a few close friends; how to be cordial and engaging like a daughter of high society should be. But where Eulalie has put all of her effort into martial training, her twin brother has always been the face of the duo. Any bad situation they find themselves in, Olivine could easily make a quick escape with the use of his honeyed words. Now, being congratulated and fussed over by strangers on her walk to the Justice Building, she wishes she could tag him in long enough to handle this part on her behalf.

What is she meant to say to them? 'Yes, my plan is to break Cordelia's record. I wore blue today because of this random reason. My weapon of choice is an axe. Hearing you're rooting for me makes all the difference.' It all feels forced, and strange. She specializes in the doing, not the telling. Maybe that's why she feels so off. If this is the start of her lifelong dream coming true, then why is she struggling to engage?

Don't mistake her: she knows that today was the right time to make her move. And if her parents are shocked by her choice, they don't share as much when they are lead into the sun dappled room where she's waiting. Her mother just smiles flatly and stands in the corner, allowing Dad to speak and wrap Eulalie in a tight hug. She's always felt closer to her father, more understood and appreciated. A part of her recognizes that his pride is based solely on the fact that she has put herself in a position to represent their family in the Games, but another part of her is willing to accept this at face value.

It doesn't need to be more than what it is. He holds her by the shoulders, tells her to keep her head on straight and to never lose sight of her goals. She promises him that she'll perform to the fullest of her abilities. Her mother just stays quiet, taking turns looking at Dad and then back to the floor. There's a tingle in the back of Eulalie's brain that makes her think, 'maybe this is it. This is where it ends. In a week's time I could die with the knowledge that my mother and I never cared about the other.'

When the door closes behind them with a thud, she doesn't flinch, and she does not allow herself to feel any regret. She sinks back into the plush chair, staring at the ceiling and making a mental note of every groove, waiting for the one person she actually wants to talk to right now. Once she hears the knob turning, she doesn't rush to sit up straight, she just keeps looking up into space. "Honestly, I thought you'd be the first one here. I saw you waiting outside before I even arrived."

Pulling herself forward, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder, Eulalie locks her gaze on Olivine and carefully watches his features. "I haven't upset you, have I?" He's the only person she feels guilty for not telling, but what is there that she could possibly say? The deed is done, she has already begun the war campaign.

The static in the room seems to hum as it waits for his response.

under the sword of damocles 🗡 olivine & eulalie [jb] Sept 24, 2024 18:18:24 GMT -5

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Post by umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars] on Sept 24, 2024 18:18:24 GMT -5

Olivine Blake knew his sister was going to volunteer for the Hunger Games because when she came downstairs that morning, she wasn't wearing her favorite pair of earrings. They were intricate little devices, built as cuffs to wrap around the edges of the ears, but that wasn't the truly special part about them. They could also be taken off and manipulated around the base of the middle finger to create a set of lethal spikes jutting out from a closed fist. Olivine often joked that if any of the teachers in school ever took an interest in the hidden weapons she wore as jewelry that she'd likely end up flogged or tongueless, but in a place like District One they both knew that wasn't exactly true. When it came to the promotion of violence, everything was okay so long as it happened after the pop quiz, and everyone agreed not to target the face. Eulalie could've been walking around with actual daggers stuck through her earlobes and the professionals likely only would've complained if they were making jingling sounds during quiet time.

But for something like the Hunger Games? His sister was far too smart to try and pull a fast one over on the Capitol. And though she may have thought her decision to leave the earrings upstairs seemed inconsequential, Olivine had taken as confirmation of a weeks-long suspicion. He didn't say anything, though. Maybe because he was scared he would manifest it, and he wasn't sure yet really how he felt about the potential of losing his only sister if the tradeoff for her success was to live both of their dream. On one hand, he told himself that if Eulalie did it successfully, then he probably could too in the years to come. But part of him wondered if he'd even still want victorship in the same way if his sister had already claimed it before him. The truth is he didn't know how he felt, so he didn't say anything at all. He'd just quietly plucked another raisin from his bread and reminded her they were supposed to be walking to the Square with Braiken and Brielle, and then that was the end of it. She never warned him of her secret; he never admitted that he already knew.

And then, if he'd needed any further confirmation, it came from the look in her eyes as Romeo Ford finished his speech and made his way forward to begin the draw. There was no fear, or anxiety. There was no concern, or nausea, or annoyance. There was something else. Something focused and galvanized and unswayable and... and hungry. She was so locked in that he wasn't even sure she noticed the lack of his presence as he slowly began to make his way further from the stage, already headed to the Justice Building before he could hear her voice over the crowd.

Of course, they made him wait until their parents went in first, but Olivine made sure he was next in line. He stepped inside the room and sighed, eyes peering all around at the ornate decorations and undeniable luxury which walked hand-in-hand with the District known to be the Capitol's favorite child.

"Honestly, I thought you'd be the first one here. I saw you waiting outside before I even arrived."

His sister sat unmoving, her own gaze locked onto the ceiling. He sighed, looming, tucked his hands into his pockets.

"You're bad at keeping secrets," he explained casually in response. "At least, from me."

He was surprised at how unbothered his tone was. It wasn't like he was on the verge of tears or anything, but he couldn't deny there were parts of him which feared for his sister, and what was to come. But if he was successfully hiding his anxiety from even himself, maybe it was better to keep it hidden from the person the anxieties were about as well.

"I've always wondered what it looks like in here," he said, lightly scraping a nail against a gilded frame, "Think it's real gold?"

At last, his sister's distant gaze broke.

"I haven't upset you, have I?"

She sat forward, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Olivine considered this for a long moment. Upset? Was he upset?

"Only if you die. So, you know..."

He flicked his finger, holding up flakes of golden paint freshly caught beneath his nail. Fake. Of course it was. Being the favorite child of the Capitol was something like being the least interesting target to the bear you're trapped in a cage with: at the moment, technically, it was fine, but once everything else in there was mauled...

"Don't."