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ryan
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over the moon, where all the wild things are

fall behind [alexxx] Jun 3, 2020 3:14:27 GMT -5

Post by ryan on Jun 3, 2020 3:14:27 GMT -5

The 85th had already been kicking.

Annie hated that, but then again, she didn’t have to worry about it too much. As much as she hated to admit it, having Beck to help her through the games now did make it a little easier. She hated using that word if she was being honest, but now, in this moment, it was the right word to use. Her job did become easier, because she did not have to juggle two tributes by herself. She was never resentful of Leon, after all, he did his best to bring her home, and the moment she was returned to him, it was probably a relief. She could take up the mantle, seeing as it had been years since four had another victor.

Now there had been two recent victors of four, and even before then, there were other hopefuls. Annie was always told that she was doing something right, but much to her detriment. She did not think anything was right about these games, but the Hailshams had proved to be a tour de force that she couldn’t even predict. She would never tell Beck, while sober anyway, that she preferred him and Noel over Cole and Bell any day of the week. They had been kind, and the latter had always been a bit more bloodthirsty. Had Bell come back over Ridley, Annie might have had a different experience all together.

She hated to admit how thankful she was for the outcome.

Even now as she was able to escape the current hellscape of what was going on in the capitol. She was able to find quiet places, even when it was the loudest. Of course, there would always be buzz of what was currently going on in the political world, but that wasn’t Annie’s business. After all, Annie was mostly here for games things and maybe the occasional party or two when she was requested. She hated having to be here more than she wanted too, but that was the point. She was sure that someone knew that, but they didn’t care.

Maybe they just like watching her squirm.

She wondered what Wander was doing right now, or Angel, or Axel, or anyone else that had not been able to join her while she was here. It was enough that two tributes had to join them of course, but with the current political climate, the last thing that she needed was to put them in harms way. It was enough that she almost lost Wander to the games again, she got lucky when Bell had stepped up to the plate in ver stead. It still haunts her, but she found a way to file it away in her brain. The last thing she wanted was to be on stage giving an interview and then having a mental breakdown because she thought about someone she considered family being tossed in to die. She knew that she would have been told to be hopeful, but she didn’t trust the capitol. She never would.

Even if they gave her a chance to “erase” everything that happened to her before.

Because it still did happen to her, and she would never forget murdering her best friend in the arena, or slaughtering Denali, or even maiming Bette. Annie had always been called strong by the capitol, but she never considered herself so. She had always been a weak girl that knew how to throw a couple knives. She kept her head low, and by the time her enemy had realized that she had been a threat, someone else had already taken care of them. Before Parson dying, they had spent almost three whole days surviving together, and Annie was convinced that they were all willing to protect each other. She had a found family in the arena, but it crumbled in her hands. It still haunted her to this day, and she was sure that if they were asked how they felt about Annie now, they would all say different things.

She wouldn’t have been surprised if they said anything bad about her, because she did deserve it. What she did was a selfish thing. But that was just the life of a victor, one selfish thing after another. And it all begins with wanting to survive.

Even in the museum there had been a little amount of people. Good.

She needed some time to think to herself. She wondered what Shelby was up to right now, but seeing as she was the only victor in her district of recent years, Annie knew she was probably busy. Annie now had the privilege to step away when she needed too, just like Leon did the years prior to Beck winning. Of course, she would still be there for all the tough questions, but Annie did prefer the silence. She would only spend an hour or two in isolation, because she knew she would have peacekeepers on her ass if she spent too long away from the training center.

Annie was still expected to hold her commitments, even if she didn’t want too.

She pulled out a water bottle that she had received as a present from a capitol for just existing and she took a long swig of the water inside. For once, it was not vodka, a welcome change for Annie, who still had been working hard to cut her drinking down to a minimal. Addiction and being a Victor were pretty much hand and hand, but Annie was trying to be better. Of course, that probably wouldn’t last forever, as Annie knew she had an addictive personality. Another realization she hated about herself, but that was just her life.

She placed the bottle of water back into her bag and walked up to one of the many machines that had been scattered around the floor. After finding one that seemed a little out of the way, she started to scroll through a couple of the tributes from the 78th games, mostly looking for Dymas. She knew where he had placed, and the memory of watching Angel cry when he perished would always be burned into her mind. He had been so close, but he chose to go out the way he did. Annie wanted to call him an idiot, but that was not her business. Angel might as well have been her actual brother instead of her cousin, but they hadn’t been so lucky.

She had stopped on the boy from nine for a moment before hearing a noise behind her. She turned around, her hand in her bag, the bottle firm if she needed to pull it out for any other reason other than taking a swig from it. ”Oh, sorry.” Annie said, seeing that someone had been approaching her. ”Thought I was alone I guess.” Annies hand released on the bottle and she turned around fully.

She wasn’t sure what was about to happen, and maybe it was because nothing had been predictable in a place like the capitol.

And honestly, she didn’t want to figure that out.

PAT: 1186

alex 🐺
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a la folie

fall behind [alexxx] Jun 4, 2020 14:21:06 GMT -5

Post by alex 🐺 on Jun 4, 2020 14:21:06 GMT -5

Stella ducks into the museum, head down low, blonde highlights fresh from the stylists glowing in the afternoon light. Her right hand clutches the triangle necklace that she had been wearing since she was thirteen years old - a gift from her father, who had swallowed back tears when he told her that it had belonged to her mother. Stella had never asked questions about her mom.

She knew her name was Ellie Phillips. She knew she had been so full of life with a smile that could light up any room. She knew that her father had loved her mother with every ounce of himself until she had died. She knew a part of him died with her. A part of him that he tried to find down, resurrect, unbury in that mine or at the bottom of a bottle. That was all she knew.

And even with the means at her disposal, even with the archives in the Capitol, and the untold wealth that she hid under the floorboards in her victor’s mansion, she had never asked any questions about her mom, about her family.

It had always been her and dad against the world and then it had been her against the world. His death, while she was in the Games, had been called a simple “accident.” She was too broken then to have asked more questions, nursing her wounds with whiskey and darkness. Her legs, hands, face, and her skin, sparkled like new courtesy of the best plastic surgeons the Capitol could buy, but still not strong enough in those first few months to carry her to his grave. To her mother’s grave. And now seven years had passed and Stella was still too broken to ask more questions. Some ghosts deserved to stay hidden. Some bodies are still buried.

She spins her engagement ring on her left hand, feeling the stone between her thumb as it spun round and round.

The museum was divided up by Games and Stella expertly navigated the crowds, head down. The ring was getting to be too big, something that Ex had noticed when she had met Stella at the train station and swept her up into her arms. Stella was far too thin and there were dark circles under her eyes that Bellezze and Jenas took one look at and just sighed.

Ex had let her melt into her embrace, whispering sweet and decidedly not so sweet words in her ears that Stella drank in like a tonic. After everything that had happened with the bombings, the communications being cut off, she was ragged, sharp edges and diamonds falling to pieces, brittle and shattering and she needed her girlfriend, no, her fiancee to just hold her and tell her it was going to be okay, even if it wasn't.

She knew she needed to look the part and act the part, especially for the Quell, but she needed to do something first. Call it penance, call it guilt. Call it flagellation at the altar of the undying. She would lay flowers here if she could stomach it, an unworthy prayer to a boy that she wasn't worthy of calling a friend, an ally.

Turning towards the hallway, Stella again ducks her eyes, as she had the first time she had been here. She couldn’t look at them. Couldn’t look at those who had died to guarantee she could return home. She wore their lives and her guilt like a second skin and she ached to shed it like a snake, reborn anew.

But the thing about skin that was made by the Capitol, the thing they don’t tell you, is that manufactured skin never breaks. It never sheds. You are theirs in everlasting glory, in everlasting guilt.

Her feet skid to stop as she nearly runs into a blonde girl their eyes meeting. Annie.

“Oh, sorry.” the girl says, when Stella should be apologizing to her. "Thought I was alone I guess.” Stella sucks in her lip, biting it with her bottom row of teeth. Belleze had finally convinced her of the wonders of all-day lip color because Stella had a nervous habit of biting it off and the stylists were so tired of her antics after years that they had taken matters into her own hand. The makeup, the lipstick, it was armor. Gorgeously painted armor to mask the broken mosaic of the woman she was.

Her fingers itched for a cigarette and she remembered to send a pack to that infuriating boy from District Seven who had been writing her since her Games. He was a Salazar and Stella had very nearly fought his sister, but Aeson had gotten their first.

“No apologies needed. I snuck up on you, so it should be me apologizing,” Stella replies, her heart hammering in her chest as she joined Annie, glancing once over at her to take her in before turning back to Finley.

Her voice catches in her throat and she feels her heart clench. She swears she will shatter gold like glass, break silver whole like hollow bones the longer she looks at him so she averts his gaze. She remembers his family in District Nine and her poor attempts at consoling them. Unworthy, unworthy, unworthy rings in her ears.

Taking a deep breath, Stella turns back to Annie, quickly, eyes swimming with tears as she tears her gaze away from the other victor and meets Finley’s smiling face.

“He was the best friend I had. Which is so fucking dumb because we were only with each other for a few days, but the Arena...it breaks you and makes you whole and throws you with people that you never thought you would meet and he was everything to me.”

the smell of night, inhaling stars.

ryan
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over the moon, where all the wild things are

fall behind [alexxx] Jun 6, 2020 2:52:58 GMT -5

Post by ryan on Jun 6, 2020 2:52:58 GMT -5

Sober.

Sober.

Sober.

Annie hated that word sometimes, because she had been trying her hardest to achieve such a thing. However, that did not stop her from keeping a flask one her person at all times. She always had to fight the urge to pull from it, and sometimes she succeeded, and sometimes she failed. It was like her token nowadays. She discarded that necklace she used to wear to her mothers grave, because that was the only thing at this point that could pay homage to her. She could remember her words to her like it was yesterday after all. ”Be strong. Be courageous. Be everything I thought you could be…”

The thought could bring tears to Annies eyes, but she had found ways to compartmentalize that pain in public. Maybe she did hide it with drinking, or maybe she hid it with stoicism. Whatever it may be, Annie had a clear line drawn against herself. She could do so much more if there weren’t people around. But there were, and that meant that Annie had to be on her best behavior, unless she wanted to have unwanted attention brought to her. The capitolites did not understand pain the way a victor did, even like Annie. She had privilege growing up, and she knew that, but the capitolites did not. They wanted to treat her like she was one of them, and Annie would reject them every time. She would not ascend to some sort of higher power as long as she remembered what she had to do in order to even get here in the first place.

Though some other victors thought that she did. Nico Thorne had made it very clear on his stance about her, and that was just how it was. Annie accepted it, and she always told herself that she would never be friends with someone who could not understand that their pain was the same, but their situation was different. Then again, she did not expect him to realize this. She knew that some victors had different lasting impressions of their games. Some of them don’t it define them, some of them never get over it, and some of them are just lost and confused after. Annie could relate to all of those if she was being honest, and even after five years, she still never understood what it all meant. All she knew was that there were other people, some that she had killed, still walking around like it was no big deal.

It still haunted her to this day. Except, they were nightmares, or night terrors, or apparitions of the ghostly kind. They were in real flesh and bones and they still had thoughts and feelings, just like Annie did. The thought still spooked her, enough for her to continue the habit she had been trying to kick for well over a year now. Even seeing them still brought a bit of pain to her, one that she refused to talk about as long as she could. But even here, in this museum, she knew that there were people that were probably overlooking her games. She knew that it had always been a popular topic, especially when it came to Annie’s finale. People always tried to replay that fight, and find ways to have their favorite win, and most of the time, Annie still prevailed. At least, that is what she was told by most of the people that witnessed such a thing. She wasn’t sure if that was a compliment, or a curse that would follow her, but something was certain to her.

She still hated what happened to her, even if she “got the best deal out of it.”

And even now, as she was staring at the winner of the 78th Hunger Games, Annie still couldn’t find the right words to say if she was being honest. The 85th had been weird so far, as now she had been meeting all the victors that she had been scared to meet beforehand. It would be a lie if she said that she didn’t think about them, or even watch their games. Annie as made to do so after all. In preparation for what was to come. She had to study them or she would face dire consequences as her father called them. Annie wished she was as brave as she was now. She could have stood up to her father years ago. She knew that much, but the fact that he kept her mother hostage from her? That was a what kept her in line. Of course, it wasn’t forever, and she did get to say her goodbye to her, but Annie still resented her father for his choices. She wished she could have gutted him the day she came back from the arena, but of course, she didn’t want that on her conscious. She already had so much going on to begin with.

Her pain would be endless wouldn’t it.

But Stella’s pain was different. Annie could visably see that as she crossed her arms for a moment before remembering the words of her mother. ”crossing your arms means you are closed off to a conversation…” Annie quickly undid them before looking around to make sure that they were the only ones around. Annie had a way of making everyone in the room uncomfortable anyway, so if she had to guess, they would be alone for at least a little while. ”Lets just agree on both ends.” Annie said with a small smile, realizing that she did not get to finish flipping through the tributes of the 78th. It still had been stuck on Finely Combs, and right when she had the thought to go back to the dial, Stella had started down a road that Annie wasn’t sure if she wanted to go down.

She unloaded everything, right then and there onto Annies arms, the weight of it was massive if she was being honest, but she had been there. She had known what it was like to lose her best friend in the arena. The difference was, she had to kill him herself. That part still haunted her to this day, no matter how real it was that he was not actually dead anymore. However, it was clear that their guilts were different, and Annie of course, had always been told that her story was different because everyone got a second chance. Annie didn’t think that way, and she hated when people tried to mute her experience through the games. She still lost people, for days on end. People that she got close to, that she loved. They all died at some point, right in front of her. She looked at their lifeless bodies and tried her hardest to claim that she would not cry, that she would not feel. However, she did when no one was around. She always tried to act tough, but she knew. She knew too well that she was just a girl that acted tough for everyone else. She had feelings just like the rest of panem, and she only let them out when she thought she was alone.

Maybe that is why she justified her actions in the games to other people. She did share those experiences, she just didn’t get a choice in the actual outcome. She would tell everyone that she was ready to rip Glamour Kinkades face off the moment he told her the twist. If the drugs didn’t get to her first, it might have been a different story. But it wasn’t.

It never would be.

”I know the feeling.” she started, realizing that this might not have been the right time to bring up the fact that he was the person that murdered his cousin’s boyfriend. ”Day seven they pitted me against my best friend in the arena. Angel De Costa. That boy was magical. A fierce ally and friend, and what did I do? I stabbed him in the eye to prove something that I am not.” Annie couldn’t help but mull over the words, realizing that Stella had been crying, in which, Annie could feel the tears coming herself. ”Is it weird that I still feel like it happened yesterday?” Annie shook her head before looking at the portrait of Finley plastered in front of them. ”Im sure if he was here now, he would be happy you made it out? Right?” Annie wished sometimes that it would be the same between herself and Angel, but she knew where he stood. His silence spoke volumes after all.

She knew she shouldn’t speak for the dead anyway.

She’d kick herself for that one.