#mj.start

[vanishing-acts]

open starter - president snow's gardens

guinevere did not know how she had made her way to the gardens. she had some vague recollection of caeser flickerman's announcement, of cheers and congratulations and embraces as she stumbled through the ballroom, desperate to escape into fresh air, to wake up from this awful dream. she came to crouched in a rose bush, the thorns pricking at her skin through the thin fabric of her dress, drawing blood.

how much more of her blood would be drawn before she could finally have peace? she did not have it in her to endure another arena, not when the last had so throughly destroyed her, but she was not fool enough to believe there would be some volunteer to save her. even in district one, with all its zeal for victory, you would not find a soul qho desired a second attempt at the games.

"not again," she whispered into the night, as though the stars above may take mercy on her, "please, not again."

[metaltourniquet]

who: gloss dupont & closed ( @burntgcds & @likeallfires & @silknshadows & @vanishing-acts & @rebelience *(5/5 slots taken) ) where: the training center, the gauntlet

Gloss stood at the edge of the gauntlet like he’d been personally insulted by it. The Capitol’s idea of training ( all flashing lights, swinging weapons, collapsing floors ) looked less like preparation and more like a glorified game show. As usual, spectacle over substance. The platforms were polished like runway props, the balance beams so narrow they might as well have been metaphors. He’d seen Capitol parties more dangerous than this.

A platform dropped with a mechanical clang, spikes sliding into place with theatrical menace.

“Subtle,” he murmured, eyeing the rotating blades with something closer to disdain than fear. “All that money and still not a single original thought.”

He stepped forward slightly, just enough to feel the floor shift under his boot - a pressure plate, maybe. Predictable.

The gauntlet hissed, adjusted, waited.

So did he.

Then came the sound of footsteps behind him. Deliberate, steady, confident. Someone who wanted to be seen. He didn’t bother turning around immediately.

“They say it adapts to your worst instinct,” Gloss said, his voice light but laced with something venomous. “So, unless it develops abandonment issues or starts insulting everyone’s intelligence, I think I’ll be fine.”

He finally turned, glancing over his shoulder with a smile that was all edge with a little bit of warmth.

“If it starts malfunctioning, it’s probably just reacting to the ego in the room. Mine or yours - we’ll let it decide.”

And with that, he returned his gaze to the course, expression calm, hands relaxed, like he might walk straight into the chaos just to shut it up. "Come on, then."

[silknshadows]

Finnick adjusted the cuff of his blazer, leaning against a marble pillar he knew most have cost a ridiculous amount of money. He was on his forth - or was it fifth - glass of champagne, something he often needed to indulge in to make it through these capitol parties. He surveyed the room with a practiced smirk, the Capitol elite buzzing around him like insects. A group of socialites giggled nearby, and he offered them a wink before turning away, looking for anybody else to speak to.

"Enjoying the party? It really is quite the spectacle isn't it?"

[haereticus]

𝐖𝐇𝐎: PRUDENCE WARREN & OPEN 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: THE CAPITOL, MISCELLANEOUS PARK 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍: EARLY MORNING

For FIVE YEARS, Prudence Warren had played the part of a perfect Capitolite. Since arriving from DISTRICT THIRTEEN, she had worn a meticulously constructed mask, kept her head down and blended in with the droves. For five years, Prue's life had not been her own – no, it had belonged to the rebellion. She had been playing a part, acting, since the moment she stepped out of the darkness of District 13 and first tasted fresh air. The outside world had been everything she'd ever dreamed of – more colour and life than she had thought possible, but it wasn't hers to enjoy. Not yet.

Last night had been a step in the right direction. The first true glimpse of freedom that Prue had had since going undercover. And, despite sticking to the shadows and working under the cover of night, it been first time Prue hadn't felt as though she were hiding in almost as long as she could remember. And, when their transmission had played for all those in power to hear – it started to feel like the last five years had been worth it. Like Prue's sacrifice had actually meant something. Like her parents' sacrifice had meant something, too.

Of course, nothing could ever be that simple. Not only had they lost one of their own last night and discovered a traitor in their midst, but the President had announced plans for the upcoming games – and suddenly the rebels' little stunt didn't seem quite so impactful. Prue had been in a daze since the previous evening – she'd barely slept and now wandered the streets of the Capitol like some sort of spectre, her thoughts clouded with fear and grief rather than the hope and defiance she'd expected to feel this morning.

She'd soon found herself in one of the gardens near the city centre. It had become a favourite place of hers over the last few years – a speck of greenery among the vast cityscape. At the early hour, her usual bench is pleasantly unoccupied – and it remains that way for quite some time before footsteps behind her alert Prue to the fact that she is no longer alone. Her head turns to the newcomer, and she offers them a wan smile. "There's plenty of room," She says, "I won't be here much longer."

[aureums]

pandora snow had wandered away from the medical room she'd been brought to upon her arrival, she'd had to sell the woe is me act and had put her plan into action weeks earlier. it had given her time to drop some weight, stop taking as good care of her hair and skin and nails, find some less than pristine clothing. she had even managed to bribe some district filth to put her in a cell in the tribute tower. and now she was in district thirteen, a prisoner yes, but it was all part of the plan. she found an empty hallway and lit up a cigarette she'd lifted from one of the guards, lighting it up and taking a long drag in the blissful quiet. a sound to her left made her tear her gaze away from the opposite wall, turning her head slowly to see who had found her. "i wasn't trying to escape, you know. not that i could." she let out a dry laugh and embellished it a little by following with a cough.

[victoriams]

ᴡʜᴏ: CYBELE KASTEL & OPEN ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ: TRIBUTE TOWER, LOBBY ᴡʜᴇɴ: SIXTH DAY OF THE GAMES – POST-FIRES, PRE-BOMBING

Cybele didn't have much time for the so-called rebels. In fact, they considered them, for the most part, to be akin to temperamental toddlers – ungrateful little brats that stomped their feet and cried whenever they didn't get their way. There was a reason they'd never had children, after all – and they didn't want to be reminded of those reasons by a group of grown adults. The victors that played along had even less of Cybele's respect – they'd been given everything they had, all their riches and rewards, by the very institution they were now threatening to dismantle. Cybele, for one, had no intention of giving up the luxuries afforded to them by winning the games, just to appease a bunch of greedy children in the outer districts.

So, when they watch the live coverage of the rebels ( quite literally ) setting fire to the city centre, they cannot help but roll their eyes. One, it seemed like a temper tantrum that had gone a step too far. And, two, it was entirely uninspired. Burn down the Capitol by literally burning down the Capitol? Cybele could've done better than that. Bloodier than that. Less painfully on-the-nose than that. Of course, they had to remember that not everybody had the same penchant for destruction that they did – not everybody was as boundlessly creative. Some people were just... well, really boring. And pathetic. These rebels just happened to be both, which made it all the easier to despise them.

"Fucking idiots." They mutter to nobody in particular, blowing out a cloud of smoke from between their teeth. They watch the screen with a face void of any emotion – as helicopters whir overhead to put out fires, people scream and cry and look desperately for their loved ones. When they realise they've caught someone's attention, they elaborate. "They want to prove they're smarter than the Capitol, but they keep running in half-cocked. If you're going to stage an ill-advised coup, at least plan it."

[reblrths]

OPEN STARTER | capping at four. ( 4 / 4 )

if there was one place in all the capitol that aloysius should not be, it is in a crowded room full of near strangers. it might be a big part of his job, but the point still stands. he'd been nervous about the interviews for weeks, knowing it was going to be broadcasted and knowing he would have some sort of involvement with it going smoothly -- and it did not go smoothly.

his hands are shaking, though that seems to be inevitable for the man, nerves fried from the show that the victors put on and whatever came up on that screen. so he decides to take it easy -- act calm, be still, all that. but when he approaches the bar, he realizes he doesn't do this nearly enough and has no clue what to order. so he stands there for a good minute, arms crossed and a finger pressed to his lip as if thinking on what to get (no one thinks this hard about what drink to order--), and now he feels as though he's wasted the bartender's time when he orders a simple water. a water! alo slumps into the stool and accepts the water glass that is set in front of him a little too harshly but doesn't mutter anything but an apology. when someone approaches to join him, he almost has the mind to say the seat is taken, but he's not talked to anyone since arriving here, so that would just look bad. and yet, he says it anyway. "no, sorry, that -- i'm, um. waiting for my friend, they just went to the, ah -- the bathroom. that way. you know," alo points behind him to the imaginary friend that would not be returning from the bathroom, but relents when they sit near him anyway. and begins mumbling to himself as he turns back to his water. "oh, that's fine. just. sit there then."

[riiseandfall]

status: open to all location: tribute center bar tw: drinking

it was late--probably later than dante should have been up considering that he had to be up bright and early to help train this year's tributes. something that still left a bitter taste in his mouth, all things considered. in truth, he'd love nothing more than to tell the capitol to fuck off with that particular job assignment--but after the little display in the stables the other day?

it was better to keep his mouth shut.

things had calmed down since then, or at least calmed down as much as it could for this time of year. but despite that, those images still played in dante's head on a loop. he was self-aware enough to assume it was part of the reason he was still awake at this hour--aware enough to know it is why there was a strong drink in his hand. the center was quiet and he had assumed that most everyone had gone to sleep by now. but evidently not.

"no rest for the wicked?"

[wvrricrs]

haymitch did not envy those who still had to do interviews. it was the one part of the games haymitch hated most ( possibly the one that had saved his own life, of course, but he didn't like to think about it. ) a little excitement disrupting the practice, though, that he truly loved. even better if it was a bit of uprising excitement.

he wasn’t happy, not by any means, he was never going to be able to be happy in this place. however, it was almost laughable to think of behind-the-scenes people tinkering with elevators & lights, whispering about the mockingjay while he sat back and waited for them to fix the elevators. he had to make a big act of not knowing what was going on. luckily, he had always been a pretty good actor.

“no need to look so scared,” from his spot on a couch, he spoke pointedly at one person, who ( for one reason or another ) looked particularly concerned right now. “what’s your bet for how long it’s going to take to get those elevators back up?” a sip of a drink, just a sip, “probably not long, right? wouldn’t want us to stew for too long.”

[ofpancm]

estelle. / open starter.

it didn't matter how fresh or not it was in her mind. a very public show of who's in charge couldn't help but shake estelle. what had caused all this? she had no idea. honestly, she doesn't think she cares to find out if it put's her in a similar positon. as long as she could provide for herself and her family, that's all that mattered. "would you like a drink? you look like you could use one." or maybe that was a round about way of saying she needed one. or an excuse for another.

maybe this whole thing bothered her more than she once thought. her mannerisms and speech operating faster than usual a dead giveaway she was stressed. all she can hope is her companion doesn't know her well enough to notice. holding her glass up, she leans forward onto her elbows. "cheers."

[all-nmore]

Kane had accepted his fate, he was going to die so that his daughter could live. He knew it would be hard on Aura and Zephyr but the two would get to have each other. So, with that acceptance, Kane figured he’d have a last ‘hoorah’ before he needed to cut out the alcohol and cigarettes. 

Kane was already a couple hours deep into drinking at the Tower bar. Kane flagged down the bartender. ���Another one of these.” He pointed at his glass, glowing cigarette between his fingers “And whatever they want.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the next person over at the bar.

[metaltourniquet]

location: exhibition of the hunger games, the third quarter quell who: open

An odd taste lingered on Hani’s tongue. Fingers curled tight around the neck of a champagne bottle in one hand, the stem of a champagne flute held delicately in the other.

And her gaze? That was fixed on the projection that’d stopped her in her tracks on her way to a quiet spot in the exhibition center. It was her. Younger and evidently back in the Arena, sneaking through the underbrush of a startlingly green jungle landscape while a gaggle of giggling Capitolites were pretending to be her prey. She had to admit, it was less strange to see her own menacing silhouette outlined in the shadows than it was to see someone enjoy being hunted. The taste that coated her tongue soured further. Leave it up to the Capitol to turn any and all cruelty and sacrifice into vapid entertainment.

Hani felt someone come to a halt near her. “How fucking delightful,” she muttered, not yet glancing at the newly arrived company. No fading into the background for darling Honey on this evening. “Want some?” Nonchalantly, she raised the bottle of champagne. “Get us somewhere quiet and I’ll split it. Generously.”

[silknshadows]

Valeria Snow swirled the clear liquid in her glass, watching it shine pink from the light of the bar overhead. She looked into the glass like it might hold the answers to everything she was questioning. Of course, it did. Nothing in her life seemed to make much sense anymore, everything had been so much simpler when she was a child and believed everything her grandfather told her. The Capitol was a buzz with the excitement of getting to see all of their favourites back on tv once again but she didn’t feel like celebrating. Not really. On the outside, she smiled. She gave the occasional quip about how these games would be spectacular viewing but she didn’t mean any of it.

She felt a presence sit on the stool next to her. “Come on,” she said without turning her head, her voice bubbly and upbeat. “If you’re going to sit there at least have a drink with me. We’re celebrating, a games never to be forgotten.”

[aureums]

"i swear, if one more person who has been hiding down here for years tries to tell me to be grateful ... " her jaw flexes and despite her injuries she still feels the addictive pull of her centuries old rage in her bones.

[primpindrop]

Open

Melody was not an optimist. Most people who had won the Hunger Games were not. Yet, they all played their own sort of roles in the end. She was sarcastic and charming when necessary, but gloom hung on her like a shadow most of the time. The kiss of the sun was missing in leui of florescent lights. The ocean had been the way to escape her demons. Now, the demons of memories could get their claws into her skin as they fought for their freedom. Freedom of all the districts. And a martyr was just as powerful as a leader for a cause. Not that she was eager to die. It was just realistic. She could tease and be unserious to anyone else. Yet, Melody was cunning and smart. She knew how plan a battle. After all this was Panem, this was more than an unexpected turn. It was an unchecked slide into hell. The truths of the world wish to be known, but they won’t force themselves upon you the way lies will. They’ll court you, whisper to you, play behind your eyelids, slip inside and warm your blood, dance along your spine and caress your neck until your flesh rises in bumps. Snow played god. But even gods had weakness, gods could certainly fall. She sighed. An over dramatic sigh on her lips. "Well, this isn't district four. But I suppose it beats whatever hell I am going too." she muses. Aware of the shadow around her. Words were weapons and seeds. Where you plant them and how they grow was tedious business. She may let her anxiety bite others even in a flirtatious way over hiding away her heart like usual. Things hidden behind walls were harder to find. Her blue orbs took in the figure with a catlike tilt of her heart shaped chin. Calculating or intrigued was a knives edge. But she needed someone. especially if Finnick and Annie or the other victors from her district were nowhere in sight. "Aren't you pretty, angel fish. Too bad we will rot away here until we can bury him under hell." A hand held out.

[invictus-smile]

Invictus had been watching the Tribute Parade from his box seats when the power had cut out and the message had flashed across the screen. In the dark, the corner of Invictus’ mouth had curled up. They were making themselves known. 

Now sat at the Tower bar, Invictus sipped at his lavender colored drink. “Got any early favorites?” He asked of the person beside him, eyes on the screen above the bar which played highlights of the Parade.