bloodyelias

[bloodyelias]

— REMINGTON‌:

||Open||

time/location||party the day after score reveal @tbpstarters

Sponsors were the goal. As much as Rem’s mind wanted to distract him with other extraneous issues he needed to be focusing now. Linden and Andromeda were depending on him to pull through for them so they wouldn’t be alone in there-even though they hadn’t pulled through for him. 

So even though he was tempted to go after Dior and find out what in the hell he’d been prattling on about with birds; he stayed himself. Dior would be deep in the thick of socializing already anyway. Besides, he’d told Rem to find him later. He would be finding him. For the moment Rem settled for his drink and perusing the crowd for faces he knew -faces he thought he might be able to talk into a deal of some sort.

elias happily buzzed around the room, the gleaming smile and impressive glare—the excitement of his job, still on the tip of his tongue, the taste of victory and accomplishment. the private training scores were just revealed yesterday, and elias celebrated by popping open a bottle of champagne in the district one suite. his team did amazing—the tributes scored the highest—the talent in their slender fingertips, chiseled jaws and delicate eyes. how was it that jasper, the mysterious, self-deprecating artist gained the highest score, just inching in front of the district two boy. 

the man strutted through, passing by capitolites with a beaming grin; his eyes only focused on one person though, the thought of sponsorships not at the forefront because he knew the high scores would garner them both support from the capitol. it was his intriguing friendship with the victor from district seven that caught his attention once he saw the other man with a drink in hand. elias walked up, posture strong, his chin slightly tilted upwards as his eyes narrowed down on the other. “if it isn’t remy from district seven. such a shame your tributes under-preformed this year.” 

[bloodyelias]

— IZARA‌:

rolling her eyes, izara took another sip from her glass and savored its trail of heat down her throat. “i’ve heard of your obsessive parties, yes, though i wouldn’t hold them to such a standard as dionysiac debaucheries.” in truth, izara’s interest was piqued as to what went on but elias was well known enough that she had some idea. after all, it sounded like exactly what she enjoyed at capitol events - if they knew how to throw a good party. “please, if there was a way for me to leave two when its not to come here for the games the first place i’d go would not be to one.” in all honesty, izara wasn’t fond of district one. the gaudy, overdramatic wealth so many of them displayed. in her mind, they were clawing to create academies as well-versed in training victors as two. izara filled her glass again, the amber liquid never low enough to see the bottom of the glass. it was a strange habit, and she wasn’t sure where she had learned it from, but izara would never hold a nearly empty glass. “i don’t know that, actually, and you know what they say about assumptions.” they get you killed. “don’t flatter yourself, elias, i have other things that occupy my time. missing you, or anyone, is far from one of them. though your dogged determination to be worth my time does provide quite the entertainment,” izara said with a smirk, swirling the liquor around in her glass.

“oh you don’t have to be so coy about it,” elias teased, “if only you knew what transpires on those eventful evenings.” elias took a sip from his glass, the rich taste so bitter on his tongue, yet it was all the same. he finished the glass before he pulled the bottle off the shelf again, topping himself off before his eyes pulled back to the person in front of him. what was it about izara that elias was so intrigued? he knew it was her power, her allure that pulled others in regardless of how much of a devil she was. she was the quick flip, blood red lips, small daggers and stiletto heels; she was the victory, the taste of strawberries and pomegranates ( elias would imagine ). “where would you go? if not the capitol.” elias raised a brow, he knew how much he hated it here, how much he thrived in district one surrounded by people that worshipped the ground he stood on; how trembling lips wished to touch the ring on his finger—it made him feel alive. there was no where else he would want to go, but where would she like to go, and in the off chance that it was worth it, would elias follow? yes. stupidly yes. “you know how much i aim to please. you’re just focused on all the wrong things.” his voice was soft, deep and sultry, the kind that made others swoon, and yet he knew it wouldn’t work on her.

[bloodyelias]

— IZARA‌:

izara’s fingertips floated across the labels of the various bottles on display before landing on the exact one she was looking for - a crystal bottle of amber liquid. and then she laughed darkly at elias’ comment, “i’ve seen better, even from you.” her eyes never once left the bottle and her glass as she poured, confident that if she did look up she’d catch elias’ eyes lingering on her and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. izara held the bottle by the neck and took a swig from her glass, enjoying the familiar burn as she leaned against the bar and finally turned to face the other victor. “they’ve been as easy as they always are,” she responded nonchalantly, filling her glass again before setting the bottle of liquor on the top of the bar. “falling for the same old tricks each year, i’m almost getting bored.” izara knew elias had similar strategies for gaining sponsors that she had herself - it was the easiest way to the pockets of the wealthiest capitolites. and the most fun. “are they tired of seeing your pretty little face around here yet?”

elias swirled his glass and watched the red whirlpool in his left palm, before his eyes slowly traveled past the glass and onto izara’s body before he met her eyes again. she wasn’t looking at him. “so you heard of my, dionysiac debaucheries in district one?” of course she has, he thought to himself, who hasn’t heard of the selective parties elias was known for by word of mouth? “you know, you’re always invited to the next—presumably after these games. you know as much as i do how draining it is to watch—the anticipation is,” he smiled. “unbearable.” elias rubbed his chin, thick facial hair scratching against his delicate fingertips; his eyes narrowed on the bottle izara selected—it was an interesting choice, something quick; elias was never one for something quick, the finery of wine was the delicacy of patience, how timing was everything. “how easy it is for them to fall for the same old tricks,” he feigned a sigh, before taking another sip from his glass before speaking again. “no one is tired of seeing my face, you know that well enough izara. the true question is: have you missed me?”

[bloodyelias]

— IZARA:

izara was in desparate need of a drink and fresh air. she’d spent more than her share of time with a particularly revolting sponsor with wandering hands and a high pain tolerance that left him relatively unfazed by the press of her dagger into his side. as much as she was entertained by some of the capitolites’ enjoyment of pain, izara didn’t appreciate a thinly veiled threat going unnoticed. when she drew close to drawing a bit of blood, however, he covered his fear with a smile and turned to the other man at the bar. unfortunately, when the elevator doors opened to the rooftop, izara had a moment of peace with the cool air and view of the bar before someone else spoke up. and it was none other than elias, the brooding party boy from one. “you should know i don’t require an invitation,” izara mused as she made her way over to the bar and plucked a glass from the shelf for herself.

his body tensed while his eyes focused on the other mentor slowly making her way towards the bar. when it came to the mentors, there was only one that held his interest, something about izara that excited him, her bloodthirsty attitude during the games she won was enough to win him over, and being able to work along side her, both careers, was enough of a treat—though it was her he wasn’t able to crack with his lothario façade—which only make him try harder to impress. elias held up his glass of wine the moment she walked into the bar, watching as she grabbed a glass from the shelf with a smirk. “welcome to the best party in the capitol,” he greeted, a subtle laugh lingering. “tell me izara, how have the sponsors treated you this year?” it was no secret how touchy the capitolites were, and when it came to elias, his sex appeal was the easiest factor to win over sponsorships for his tributes. although it wasn’t much work because the capitolites always fawn over the district one tributes, how they loved the bloodthirsty ones the most—the ones with potential.

[bloodyelias]

TIME: NIGHT LOCATION: THE ROOF   STATUS: CLOSED, @iilluminxte

elias walked out of the elevator and was slapped with the unexpected nighttime heat. the first day of training was over, and as all the tributes reported back to their suites, various mentors still roamed around the tower—hoping to snag a sponsorship for their darling babes; how sad that even the most luxurious sponsorship would not save them from the inevitable. gold cufflinks and silk shirts, elias walked slowly over to the open bar with his hands shoved into his pockets. his breathing caught on the stale wind, nothing but noise from the city below, and yet the roof was empty of persons. elias poured himself a glass of wine, carefully selected from the top shelf, greedy fingers flicking the cork into oblivion—he would finish this bottle tonight. the ding of the elevator rang, the soft glow of the lights from inside flooding out onto the concrete and the warm cushioned furniture. “the bar is closed.” elias called out, not wanting the company, but when his eyes focused on the person near the elevator, he perked up. “well, unless it’s for you of course.” 

[bloodyelias]

— FELICIUS:

Of course Felicius knew him - Elias was a hard guy to forget. “Felicius. Nice to meet you.” As he shook his hand, he couldn’t help but remember bits and pieces of the other man’s games. They hadn’t been that long ago, really, and some of the worst parts were fresh in Felicius’s mind. He tried not to shudder, thinking about how that was going to be his own reality very soon. “Yeah, that might just end up being me after tonight. Certainly not for the right reasons,” he scoffed, gesturing to the flames dangling down from his arms. “Any attention is good attention, right?” 

elias swayed his hand that held loosely onto the glass of wine. his eyes wavering on the tribute from twelve in front of him and his surroundings as other mentors, tributes, stylists alike swarmed around like bees. “yes,” he spoke, trailing off the ‘s’ as he finally locked his eyes onto felicius. “all publicity is good publicity—just a matter of how you spin it. while this outfit is” he studied the outfit, “horrendous... it’s not nearly as bad as the others.” 

[bloodyelias]

— REMINGTON‌:

Rem was surprised to find Elias to be amicable enough company. In interviews and on screen in general the young victor came off so pompous he sucked the air out of the room he was in. Perhaps, that was actually who he was but a bit inflated for show. They were all peacocks in their own way. Rem’s schtick was the rebel after all.

Sipping the wine at a measure pace, Rem’s gaze followed Elias’s to the other occupants of the room. Sizing them up as the moved about which was what most everyone was doing just then. He pursed his lips. Elias had spotted his tributes. It almost made him sigh. They were no great source of pride for him this year -at least the boy wasn’t that was for certain. He was a timid fifteen year old with hardly any muscle who’d tried to glue himself to Rem’s side the moment he set foot on the train. It was horribly embarrassing really. On the other hand the girl was an eighteen year old who had three younger siblings and worked her ass off to put enough food on the table for them. She had potential. Rem was not about to share that piece of information with Elias though.

And he knew what was about to happen when Elias turned his gaze on him sipping his glass of wine candidly posing the question. As if it was of no great consequence, but his eyes were narrow and focused.

“I think,” began Rem delicately. “the outer districts are more difficult to get a read on. At least until they’ve had a chance to get into the training center. Wouldn’t you? One who hasn’t had the privilege of being groomed nigh since birth for this may only need the chance.”

Rem chose to leave off the look at me after all. But the subtext spoke clearly enough he thought.

“i only trained for two years,” elias corrected. “i was a late bloomer of sorts.” elias took a sip from his glass, lips pressed together into a smile, the happiness that wine brought him, was unmatched. “training is always the most interesting, to see how these outlying tributes deal well with the pressure of a weapon pressed firmly into their palms. some rise to the top and well—” elias glanced over, towards the direction of the tributes from district five, “some are destined to die as soon as the gong wails. it’s a shame growing such an attachment to tributes that prove they are nothing more than the stepping stone to someone else’s destined victory.” elias troubled himself on not getting attached to the tributes from his district—mentoring for him was more than just offering insight as a victor—it was a means of reputation, to prove that he was still a worthy opponent, even if it’s behind the curtains.

[bloodyelias]

— REMINGTON:

Glorious was a word for it Rem supposed. If that was how Elias wanted to describe it he couldn’t be bothered to argue. There wasn’t a snow storm’s chance in hell he’d manage to change the younger man’s opinion on the subject anyway. So he only gave a slight shrug that could be interpreted in agreement if one so chose to do so.

“Ah well,” That wasn’t what he’d meant, but the wording he’d used. It was an easy shot to take. Elias was a flirt then. Rem couldn’t help a slight amused smile. “I s’pose. My apologies for being so presumptuous as to think you discriminated.” Well they were headed down this road anyway. Have some fun then, Rem told himself. “I certainly don’t. Though those sort of games are inappropriate to engage in with the tributes. A more worthy opponent would be preferable.”

Rem took the glass of wine that was offered to him. He wanted to down it, but stilled his hand and sipped it instead. A glass of whisky or rum would be a nice top off later. The cliche of wine would do for now.

“You would huh? Keep it in mind then,” Rem joked and then raised his glass. “Yes, to training.”

Training which Rem had a feeling may not go entirely well for his tributes, but he’d reserve his judgement. They could still surprise him after all.

“a worthy opponent in deed,” elias laughed. it had not been often that elias was able to joke around as openly as he did with someone else, and usually it was his appearance and reputation that kept him cold. maybe it was the wine warming him up, like a playful devil ready to dance around the misery of tributes losing sponsorships for ripping off parade outfits or dressing like trees. a horrible year for the parade, but elias knew that district one had come out victorious and it was only a matter of time that elias would have to sift through the plenty of sponsors knocking on their door. 

the wine was enough for elias. he wasn’t looking to get completely shit-faced at the parade—even when the sight of these outfits called for such occasion—because training started tomorrow and he had to ensure his presence was known. elias glanced around him as tributes began to mingle with other mentors and size each other up, he tried to quickly spot his own tributes—jasper and tommy—however instead, he spotted the district seven unlucky ones. “do you think your tributes have what it take to win?” elias asked, narrowing his eyes onto remington as he took another sip from his glass. “or do you think they’re easy bloodbath material?”

[bloodyelias]

— MONDAY‌:

“You know what?” Monday decided, her full normal self taking over for the moment. All she wanted was to be a kid. But some conversations had to be had adult to adult.

“You’re rude. I’m sure you knew that. But I’m gonna tell you again. Because you are. You think I’m gonna die, well maybe I am. But can’t you let a girl die in peace? I just rocked that parade. You’re ruining it. Maybe I’ll live just to spite you! You don’t know.” Her eyes narrowed, her face reddening. She was mad.

and she pulled out something she’d only heard in stories. Apparently Tuesday had said it once to a man who had tried to take her money. It was Twilight legend, a story nobody was allowed to tell among the little kids. But Monday knew it. Monday knew it by heart: she was an orphan, after all. When she wanted, she could have quite a mouth on her. She didn’t because it would upset September. Well, sorry Tem. Here comes the mother load.

“you can suck my MOTHER FUCKING COCK, Bitch, if you think you’re getting away with that shit.” Monday held up the finger on the hand not currently occupied by her crutch, and brushed past him to go back to the 11th floor. Yes. Fuck him. Fuck him very much.

the fact was that her crutch whacked his ankle as she walked past. It will never be proven that this sweet little girl intended that, though. She was only mean to people who were mean to her.

elias could only laugh as he witnessed the unthinkable—the smallest tribute from district eleven giving him the finger. he understood how the games always brought out the darker side of people as they come face to face with the question of life or death, and given the circumstances, elias wasn’t too surprised by monday’s outburst before she stormed off. 

pain jolted elias into a shock, as he brought up his ankle to rub as he glanced menacingly towards monday. there was nothing else he could say, and frankly, there wasn’t much energy in him to even continue a conversation with someone that vastly sweet (or sweet-ish given now). elias straightened up, clenching his jaw as he fixed his tie and headed towards the open bar. 

[bloodyelias]

— MONDAY‌:

she’d been trying to have a nice evening. she really had. just one nice evening after she’d faced all those crowds. she was trying to be a normal kid for a few days before dying! why was that so hard! and why did everyone keep bringing her death up?

“wow. you’re being rude.” she decided, narrowing her eyes. “I’m trying to have a nice day. will a cookie make you nicer? cuz you can have one. long as you’re not gonna be a total fucking dick to me anymore.”

yeah. she knew how to swear. kid lived in a brothel. shut up! she just also knew that in her quest to be a kid for a bit, it went against it. but maybe it would help.

elias couldn’t imagine the situation he was placed in. how has he managed to come face to face with the youngest tribute in this years pool of victim’s to president snow’s wicked game; and yet, here he was, bottle in one hand, eyes glaring down at the crippled being that was soon to die in the bloodbath—elias assumed merely two minutes after the countdown. “feisty one, huh? that is no way to speak to someone that has some level of power.” elias glared at her stash of cookies; perhaps the capitol was heaven to her with the vast amounts of food she was able to consume that she could not allow herself the luxury in district eleven. “save those for yourself, you’ll never be able to taste another delicious capitol delight once the games begin.” 

[bloodyelias]

— REMINGTON‌:

Elias’s self preening was so obvious. District one, Rem could have shaken his head, but it was to be expected. And Elias was famous for thinking an awful lot of himself. That was fine, Rem supposed. They were victors and could think whatever they wanted of themselves. It must be different too coming from a District where winning the Hunger Games is an honor and a praise worthy thing. At home it felt like a burden for him

He couldn’t help goading the man just a tad bit. It was in good fun anyway. “Lucky hm? I think our final well -what won us the game- was in the same manner. What was your weapon again? Did you take the broad sword or the short sword? I prefer the broad sword myself requires some muscle and skill to handle.”

Rem’s eyebrow shot up when Elias took his cut tie between his fingers and toyed with the fabric. “Well perhaps you’d like to dress me next time then?” Rem joked off handedly and added. “I would absolutely love a drink.” 

“ah yes,” elias recalled the handsome man in front of him having the same victorious ending. while it was true elias held himself to a superior standard to the rest, chin tilted upwards as she gracefully swirled his glass to smell the wine in his cup, rich fragrances wafting to his nostrils—the smell of heaven, or perhaps, the smell of dionysiac debauchery—there was no denying that he admired how remington handled his final kill, and to him, as a thirteen year old boy that was a sight to witness. “—it was such a glorious moment. i fondly remember the skies above shining light down on me, like angels parting the heavens and singing sweet lullabies.” 

elias perked up, sultry eyes staring at his friend, “oh— rem, are you asking if i love them big or small? don’t you know it’s not the size of the sword, but how the tribute uses it?” the mentor from district one handed his glass to rem, fully expecting the other to finish it off while he waved over an avox to instruct them to bring another glass. elias stepped closer to remington and slapped him on the shoulder, “i’ll gladly dress you anytime. now, drink up, we need to kick off our own celebrations as we look forward to training!” 

[bloodyelias]

— MONDAY‌:

the thing about glitter was it had a pesky habit of sticking around. monday was covered head to toe with golden glitter. yeah, there was no way elias was getting the face-shaped imprint of glitter out of that jacket. not by just patting it, anyway.

“sixteen is the perfect amount, thank you.” she corrected. “they’re ready for me to come back home.” not that she thought she could, but it was nice to pretend for a little bit. especially just after a parade like that.

“I was climbing a tree? and there was this pretty peach. but it was just a LITTLE too far. so i went up on tippy toes, which is basically the first thing you’re not supposed to do in a tree, but I really wanted that peach and anyways I fell. twisted all the ways around. never really fixed itself, you know?” not having a doctor might have been a secondary cause as to why it hadn’t healed. might.

there was something about monday’s character that elias couldn’t shake; surely it was her undying enthusiasm that was going to leave her lifeless during the bloodbath, and he hoped it would be one his own tributes to put monday out of her misery in a quick sweep. “there is no way someone like you, with that injury, is going to go home,” he sighed. “i would advise you to not go climbing structures in the training center. wouldn’t want to acquire another injury before you’re sent to your inevitable death.” elias winked—how he loved tormenting the other tributes.

[bloodyelias]

— FELICIUS‌:

His dumb little jumpsuit (or would you call it a onesie?) is starting to ride up now, especially as he jumps down from the chariot. Felicius is grateful the parade is finally over - he can escape and be rid of this thing for good. He’s just starting to stomp away from his district partner and their chariot when he hears the laugh. Is someone making fun of him? He couldn’t blame them, really. He looked like a fool. 

“Yeah, that’s one word for it.” He grumbled, taking a glance at the man. With a forced smile, he stopped his stomping and turn to him fully. “Please tell me you looked better than this for your parade.”

elias studied the person that caught his attention: another terrible rendition of what district twelve stood for. he stifled another laugh, before extending his hand for formal introductions, “i’m sure you know who i am, but what is your name?” elias made sure to stare into each of the tributes in the eyes, it was a matter of confidence and dominance that went hand in hand. “well of course! the best that year has ever seen. my partner and i were the talk of the capitol for the next couple days before the real games begun.” elias remembered all too well how he felt on his chariot, standing next to the girl that was pathetically in love with him. they managed to dazzle the audience, and it was the beginning of what elias loved to call his fan club of loyal followers. 

[bloodyelias]

— REMINGTON‌:

Rem’s eyes flicked over the District One Victor for a brief moment. He felt no shame in doing so as it was clear his companion was doing the same to him. The Victor, Elias that was it, was a handsome looking fellow and Rem could appreciate such a thing whenever he chanced upon it. Taking the extended hand, Rem gave him a firm shake and a half smile.

“The pleasure is mine I believe. Elias -District One- if I’m not mistaken,” Rem said politely, his tone much more subdued in comparison to his current company. “Dreadful was the word I was thinking, but correct you are just the same. Now I know why the tie they laid out for me was bark patterned.” Rem’s expression pinched in displeasure as he gestured to the half ruined tie he was currently sporting courtesy of Snow. “Shite, I’d even settle for a public sacking and being shamed out of the capital honestly.”

elias smirked (a devilish grin) as remington remembered him; well how couldn’t he when elias was simply the best victor anyone has seen in the past four decades. “you must be a fan,” elias teased, “the one and only elias nejem in your presence—how lucky you are.” 

elias reached forward, while his slender fingers felt rem’s tie, rubbing it between his index and thumb. “this fabric is way too cheap, and that is the exact reason why i dress myself for such occasions—after all, dressing up is my speciality. well in that case, you might need a drink.” elias extended his other hand, the one holding the glass of wine, freshly poured by an avox. “i don’t mind sharing.” 

[bloodyelias]

— MONDAY‌:

Monday Twilight was never one for reading social cues. living in a basement will do that to a girl. so instead of shaking his hand or kissing his knuckles or any varient of that, really, she ducked under his arm and side hugged him. her ribs pressed against his waist through her dress, even, and it was clear how small and starved she was. she didn’t care, though. “it’s a pleasure to meet you too, Mr Victor of Parties.” she didn’t know his name.

“in eleven? I’ve got sixteen siblings. I’m smack dab middle of the girls, too. so… loud.” that seemed like a perfect way to describe eleven, to her. her basement was dimly lit, but it was so loud. filled to the brim with family and love.

elias gasped when monday flung herself onto him, and it took him a moment to pry her off by pushing his hands against her head, “please—” elias clenched his jaw, darting a look of disgust at her “don’t ever hug me.” he swiped his hand against his suit jacket, intending to get any makeup monday might’ve left behind before he took another large gulp of his wine—finishing it. elias handed the empty glass to a nearby avox, instructing them to bring him the bottle instead. “sixteen is awfully too much. i’m assuming they were all devastated with your reaping, too bad. and what,” elias pointed to her leg, “what happened there?”

[bloodyelias]

— REMINGTON‌:

Rem was wishing he had thought to bring himself a glass down from the bar when he’d escorted Misty down from the bar to the parade. Too late for that now; though, he was eyeing the younger District One Victor’s glass of wine with some envy. Wine was not his drink of choice, but he’d have taken a glass at the moment just to cut some of the edge. 

He recognised the man’s face immediately when he’d spoken, but the name it just felt like it was on the tip of his tongue. Poor form on his part. Most of the Victors all made a point of knowing who was who especially the careers. It started with an E Rem was sure of that much.

“Oh interesting is one way to put it.”

elias was pleased to seeing remington’s face when he turned his body to face the person he spoke to. it was such a delight to always have eye candy too look at as he filled the position as district one’s mentor. the man adjusted his suit tie before extending his hand to shake rem’s—while they had been from opposite ends of panem, a winner of these games was a worthy friend of his—and oh, how people wished to be his friend. “rem—the pleasure!” elias spoke loudly, daringly brash for his appearance, “you’re correct, the true way to put it would be awful. i mean, trees? the lack originality some of these stylists have, well they should be getting beheaded as we speak!” 

[bloodyelias]

—‌ MONDAY:

“parties are AWESOME.” she said it decisively. it was a fact, after all. there were parties every holiday season in eleven. lots of dancing and smiling and joy. not much food. but they didn’t need that, it was mostly a way to keep warm together in the coldest months of the year. “you throw them? that’s pretty wicked. and yeah. eleven. I’m monday.”

elias took a large gulp from his glass of wine, he knew he was going to need it to talk to these tributes. however, this moment proved to be fruitful as it was his opportunity to size up the competition for his own tributes; while jasper and tommy were too busy flirting, it was up to elias to ensure they had the proper read on everyone. “the pleasure to meet you monday,” what an odd name. elias extended his hand, half-expecting the young girl to kiss his knuckles and call him king—but a handshake would do fine. “tell me, monday, what’s it like in eleven?”