millerbrick

[millerbrick]

@cress-meadowforge

After a while, it became clear that Cress wasn't going to return to her floor anytime soon. After a while, he had to leave Cyrene to deal with her grief on her own. Miller knew firsthand just how important a moment of privacy was in the aftermath of a world-shattering cannon. It had been crucial for him, if only because it had given him the space to rearrange, to compartmentalise as best as he'd been able to. Perhaps Cress was off doing the same.

He first returned to his own room, to replay Callisto's death and dog-ear the details. Like Smith, Callisto had succumbed not in the hands of other tributes but to the machinations of the arena. Like Smith, she hadn't been alone. Perhaps there was consolation in that, but Miller also knew firsthand how little that consolation meant in the end. Smith had died because Miller had let him down. It wouldn't surprise him if Cress and Cyrene felt the same about Callisto, even though they hadn't.

A while later, Miller followed his whim to the training centre. Again. He wasn't entirely sure if he'd gone because he was still trying to find Cress, but he wasn't surprised to find her there. "Hey." His voice was gentle, but loud enough to announce his presence, so she hopefully wouldn't be startled. He approached her carefully, the same way he had on the first day of the cycle in that same room.

[millerbrick]

There wasn't much for him to do at this point, not that there was plenty to begin with. Ezra was dead--and Miller preferred not to look too closely into how that had happened, preferred not to get caught in the crosshairs between Slate and Cress and his own district. He had forwarded all the contacts he had to Monty, who was still enraged the last time he'd checked. Now Callisto was dead, too, and he couldn't help Cress or Cyrene, not in any way that mattered, though that regrettably did not come as a shock. Nobody had been able to truly help him when Smith's cannon had been fired.

There wasn't much for Miller to do, but at least he could sit with his brother; the one whose cannon was never fired. At least Mason wasn't angry--or wasn't as angry--with him anymore. "You think they'd help Mars? Or would they turn on her?" Admittedly, Miller hadn't been paying close attention on these three tributes. He probably should have. Mars was still out there fighting for District 2 after all.

Mason hadn't moved from his spot on the couch in the common area of Two's floor. Ever since the storm had started in the arena, he couldn't find it in him to walk away. The storms on the screen were really starting to get to him. It brought him back to his arena just six months ago.. But even if he was feeling anxious and getting flashbacks, he had to watch the tributes, keep an eye on them and make sure the storm didn't harm them.

At this point, Calli was dead and now they were showing Helios and Flora. The two were traveling somewhere, just casually walking through the rain. "I just wish Helios and Flora would meet up with Mars. I'm so worried about her." After losing Ezra and Calli, two other careers, things were starting to feel bad. But they weren't showing much of the tribute from Two and he figured it was probably a good thing.. If she was dead surely they'd be broadcasting that. Anxiously, he chewed at his finger nails as he kept his eyes on the screen. "What if she's alone and runs into the outer district alliance?"

@millerbrick

[millerbrick]

Failing to maintain a straight face, his lips quirked into a smile at her dry remark. That did not last long, though, as his expression morphed again into one of surprise when she removed the skirt of her dress, quickly followed by admiration, as always. He recovered eventually, gaze slowly travelling up from her legs to her eyes again. "Come on, princess. You know better than to underestimate me." Medea had merely pointed out a fact, which he was aware of even in his state, but he wasn't deterred. Besides, what else was he supposed to do? Back out? Blow off the one chance he had today to be near her?

Maybe it didn't matter what Medea had really come for. Ultimately, Miller would still take whatever time she was willing to spare him.

The numbness from everything he'd ingested helped him not to overthink the situation at hand. Miller shifted his weight and readied himself to parry the first attack.

A clatter, a thud. And suddenly, Miller was in front of her entirely shirtless. For a split second, her eyes widened. He was drunk, that much was clear. It felt wrong, to look at him like that. Vulnerable, even if he hadn't intended to be. Medea had seen this before, up close and personal, had been able to reach out and skim her hand over warm skin, toned muscles. It ached, that she wasn't allowed to be close to him like that any longer.

She followed him to the mats, wordless as she kicked off her heels. "Nothing I haven't seen before," she dryly muttered. "You sure you want to do this? You're not the steadiest on your feet right now." Even as she questioned his judgement, she began to undo the skirt of her dress, soon enough only left in the tight shorts she'd worn underneath it.

[millerbrick]

Miller stopped dead in his tracks. "Is she here?" Though he was carrying a bag full of jars of supplements for Cress, he'd been hoping to drop them off without having to look her in the eye. Their last real conversation had him believe that she was unhappy with him--because of his reticence, because he'd been unhappy with her first, maybe, but the end result was the same. After one good look around the room, he finally continued towards the counter to set down the bag. "You mind making sure she gets this? It's--" Did Cyrene know? The supplements were generic enough, vitamins C and D and calcium mostly, but he couldn't take any chances. "It's whatever. Just stuff to keep her going."

He turned then, glancing at Cyrene then the elevator. "You alright? Wanna get some air?" He hadn't wanted to leave his room much last cycle, so he understood the weight that might be chaining her in place, but he also knew how suffocating it had felt.

A storm had started up in the Arena. Wild rain, gusts of wind, jagged lightning zapping across the sky. It looked violent. Cyrene was sitting on the sofa in One's common room, eyes fixed on the TV. There was a tablet on the table in front of her, occasionally pinging, sometimes flashing. Vitals and sponsor contacts, predictions and odds. So far, Calli was doing reasonably well, all things considered. One ear less but alive and well, braving the rain. The little dots on the map, the tribute trackers, showed that Helios was getting closer to her location.

Cyrene was focused, attentive. Gnawing on the nail of her thumb to keep nerves at bay, she finally glanced away when someone stepped onto One's floor. Perking up a little, she called out, "Cress?"

@millerbrick

[millerbrick]

If I was dying on my knees You would be the one to rescue me And if you were drowned at sea I'd give you my lungs so you could breathe

I've got you brother-er-er-er I've got you brother-er-er-er

And if we hit on troubled water I'll be the one to keep you warm and safe And we'll be carrying each other Until we say goodbye on our dying day

@millerbrick @smithbrick

[millerbrick]

All the while still fighting the clasp of the necklace, he waited for Medea to deliver the punchline, the butt of the joke, but it never came. Instead of unclasping properly, the chain ended up breaking between his fingers. He let the beads of the necklace clutter to the floor. "Well, I was planning to do this naked, so." He wasn't, not really, he was still trying to call her bluff, but he had got rid of his top and now his necklace, she might very well believe him. Maybe.

Nevertheless, in this quest to call her bluff, Miller continued to prod. He abandoned the simulation chamber and ambled towards the mats instead. "But if that's what you're here for, you know I make a better opponent than the holograms." He definitely didn't in his current state--he couldn't even walk straight for crying out loud--but that was beside the point. "I'll even let you decide if I keep the pants on or not."

He slurred his words. Miller wasn't as stable in his steps, not when he turned around, not when he blinked at her as though he was questioning whether she was real or not. He did that, sometimes. More often than not, it broke her heart. At his question, she wasn't quite sure how to respond. With honesty? Say she had been stupidly, longingly looking at him throughout the night, and had followed him down here? Or was she supposed to make up a lie?

Medea shrugged, just a little bit hesitant, tentative. "Maybe I wanted to spar too."

[millerbrick]

Mason hadn't been excited before, hadn't responded remotely positively. But given some time to process and digest, this reaction made sense, Miller supposed, even if he hadn't seen it coming. "He reacted appropriately," Miller remarked simply. He might not have thought so at first, had been defensive in the face of his brother's ire, but he, too, had been given time to process and digest. Mason was right to be angry, to be disappointed. Miller wasn't going to deny his brother that.

Cress' following question stirred a wave of discomfort. Miller cleared his throat, as if the source of that discomfort was something physical. He didn't want to talk about this with Cress, he didn't want to talk about this with anyone even if he could. But though he knew he could lie or refuse to answer altogether, he realised he didn't have to--if only because he didn't have an answer. "I don't know." Medea had fought him in the beginning, then she had told him to do the ask. She had kissed him and then she had left, and they had hardly spoken since. Miller didn't know where they stood anymore, though his own voice in his head kept telling him that she was slipping away if she hadn't completely left already. Still, the honest truth remained; "I honestly don't know."

A woman from the styling team emerged from behind a clothing rack. Her heels clicked against the floor, her lips split in a smile as she strode towards Miller and Cress. "Doesn't matter. It'll be fine," Miller muttered, giving Cress' and a gentle squeeze, before the woman could reach them. He drew in a breath, then his features relaxed, and he returned the stylist's smile.

"Admittedly, it was rather charming," Cress smiled at the recollection of the visit. "He tried to offer himself as my servant, which I assured him was not necessary. He's...excited. Came with a gift and everything. It was sweet." Mason seemed to be the most enthusiastic out of them all for the birth of this baby. Cress knew that it was meant to be a joyous coming, but there were so many hardships sparked by it... It was hard not to feel like it was an omen on the horizon. "And he said that he felt he'd been too harsh with you. I think he'd like to make amends." Her eyes drifted, glancing side-long at Miller, curious for his reaction, especially as she posed the next question: "How did it go with Medea?"

[millerbrick]

Given the way Monty went for the phone, Miller knew he was right to be careful here. Monty was allowed his frustration, allowed to vent his anger onto the screen if need be, because even the staunchest District 2 supporters couldn't deny that this cycle was going terribly for them. One dead at the hands of the rebel, the other missing an eye partly at the hands of the rebel's district partner. When was the last time District 2 had been so devastatingly pummelled by District 12?

Miller sighed as he caught his phone--surprisingly still in one piece--and levelled Monty with a look. "You know the schmoozing isn't part of my job description." But because he didn't want to bear the brunt of Monty's ire, he added, "Look, I haven't pushed anything to anyone, but I did have a nice little chat with Livia Welford. Also danced with Dion Metis and, uh, Valentine what's-her-face. They love Two. Or just me. But we could follow up there, if we need to." Or they could just try to shove Everett towards all three.

Monty lunged forward, snatching Miller’s phone from his hand. No, no, no! There was so much wrong with this picture. The lack of fight. The location. Slate. He couldn’t hear the audio over the din of the party, but he had seen enough. He watched until he felt the phone vibrate slightly at the loud cannon, but even that final sound couldn’t beat out the party. With a disgusted sigh, he slouched back in his chair, angrily flicking the phone across the table back at Miller.

He scooped an ice cube out of his drink and pressed it against the throbbing vein in his neck as the heat of his common anger started to pulsate through his body. Ezra was meant to be his Victor. Not that he would have told anyone that; a good Sponsor would hold his bets close to the chest. But it still stung. And without a fight. But there wasn’t time to mourn yet, he supposed. As Miller so aptly pointed out, they were down one. Mars was still out there, mostly together. He made a mental note to send her something for her eye, took a deep breath, and brought his gaze back to Miller.

“Everett is gonna be pissed when I tell him he talked to Dann Elysium for nothing,” he said, thinking of all the people he had wooed tonight on Ezra’s behalf. Only some of them would easily switch their support to Mars. Others would take more convincing. “So. Mars it is, then. I’ll send her something for the eye. Who have you been talking to around here?”

[millerbrick]

"Oh." Miller didn't try to hide his surprise. Even so, the exclamation was neutral, neither approving nor disapproving. He simply hadn't expected Link to say Slate, though he also knew that he didn't have the whole story. Miller picked up a bowl of pudding-like dessert--pink, which suggested strawberry, but who knew these days--and offered it to Link. "Must be a weird spot for you to be in."

"well, if I have one thing in spades..." Link smiled, accepting the noncommittal support (respect?) in grace. she knew she was one of the more sentimental mentors, but it only drove her to work hard, didn't it? it was a good thing, to try. why else had she won? she had a duty to three. "I've known slate for years. I know it's controversial, but I do think he could pull it. what about you?"

[millerbrick]

The reassurance was appreciated. Miller relaxed further into his seat, throwing the nearly empty bottle up in the air and catching it again. At least this part would be over soon. The reporter had said that they had completed the bulk of the interview, that the photographer only needed a few more shots after the wardrobe change, and then they would be released. Miller would have time for more than just a cigarette before he had to get dressed for the ball.

He would have had no issue with spending their break in silence, that had seemed to become their default lately anyway, but his curiosity was immediately piqued by the mention of his brother. "What did he have to say?" Miller asked, admittedly a bit nervous now. Though it made sense for Mason to want to talk to Cress at some point, Miller didn't quite know what would come of it.

It was a confirmation, not that one was needed, but she appreciated the honesty. A year ago, they'd have gotten high together beforehand. Five years ago, Cress would have been given something stronger to keep her docile, with an upper to match, to keep her awake. Now, she just wanted a cigarette. A cup of coffee. Anything to even slightly alter her state. There was no anger with Miller. Only envy.

"I know," Cress squeezed his hand. "You've been perfect. It's going well." How odd, to feel so separate from it, like a spectator of her own performance. She thought of apologizing -- again, again -- but Miller clearly didn't want to hear it. She replaced the sentiment with gratitude instead. The pad of her thumb traced along his knuckles. "Thank you."

An assistant scurried by, carrying a mound of clothing in their precarious grasp, back arched and arms struggling to encompass the mass. She watched them disappear around the corner unsteadily. "Mason stopped by last night."

[millerbrick]

So he had been right. Cat was genuine--and seemingly a bit of a moralist when it came to helping recent victors, quick to point out that she wasn't in it to trade favours. Miller didn't usually trust that from someone he didn't know well, but he tried to this time, for Mason's sake. "Coffee it is, then," he accepted with a grateful nod. An avox walked by with a tray of colourful cocktails and Miller quickly snatched up two glasses. "Not coffee, but something to start." He offered one to Cat.

Cat shrugged, not fully understanding, but assuming her closest approximation to a sibling, Nano, would serve well enough. She wanted to fucking strangle him half the time but the other half she was wildly endeared and downright defensive. "I don't need a favor," Cat waved the idea off immediately, "Not all about keepin' tabs on who owes me shit, ain't right, we'll just like grab coffee or somethin' call it square or whatever, dude – Mason's a good guy and I don't mind lookin' out for him." She rubbed at the back of her neck and then said, "I did for Nano after he got outta his arena, feels only right to keep eyes on Mason too."

[millerbrick]

His brow quirked up at that, but it was with a hint of amusement. "It's going to be very different from having a dog, you know that, right?" Miller chuckled. Not that either of them knew from experience. They had never had pets growing up. That aside, Mason's excitement was perhaps something that needed addressing, given what had been agreed between Miller, Cress, and Slate. "I just-- I need you to understand that, yeah, it's mine, but it's mostly Cress'," Miller laid out, choosing his words as carefully as his inebriated mind could. "She's the one carrying the child. She gets to make the decisions; the where, the how, the everything about parenting, really." Whether or not Slate survived, there likely wasn't going to be a family, at least not in the traditional sense. That had been made clear.

Mason couldn't help but look up at his brother with a small smile on his face. He would never get used to hearing his brother say he was proud of him. Impressing their father was a near impossible task and it was something Mason had gave up on a long time ago. Though having his oldest brother be proud of him was a whole other story. "It actually means a lot.." Mason started, nodding his head. "Thank you, Millie. Though I have to say I still feel a little bad about using the advice you gave me against you." A small laugh escaped his lips as he thought about it. "But at least you know I was listening and that I really am trying."

For the first time in a few days Mason finally felt like he could relax. Things were good with Miller again and it could only get better from here. And even if things were difficult, they could get through it together. "Am I allowed to admit now that I am getting really excited about having a niece or nephew? I swear I will try to be the best uncle ever. I was going to ask if we could get a dog during our off time.. but this is even better"

[millerbrick]

Miller shrugged. Mason hadn't wanted him to talk to Cain about it, so he wouldn't. Still, he parsed through that answer in his head, eyes examining Cain for a bit. "Good," Miller finally settled. He clasped Cain on the shoulder. "He trusts you, respects you even, as I'm sure you know. And we can all agree that he's a valuable addition to the mentoring team, so we know better than to discount his perspective, right?" The way Mason had told it, that had seemed to be the problem; Cain thinking that he understood something he didn't, Cain thinking that he understood Mason, or the circumstances surrounding Mason and Smith volunteering, when he in fact didn't. Miller lifted both hands then, as if in a manner of surrender. "Not that it's any of my business."

"I haven't actually seen Mase in a minute," Cain admitted. They'd come to the ball together, but Cain had been losing track of him all night. "I should go find him," he said, more to himself than to Miller, but he didn't move from the conversation just yet. "I mean, you know how he is. He's probably beating himself up and taking it personally." It wasn't a criticism of Mason. It being his first tributes, and after everything he'd said about the tributes being people outside of the Games, Cain knew he had to be taking it hard. "Yeah, yeah, we're good, though," he assured Miller. "I'm assuming he mentioned we kind of got into it the other day, but we're fine now. All good."

[millerbrick]

"Oh, shit." Miller thought he'd said it in his own head, but then he felt his own mouth move, loosened by the various things he'd ingested. Not that it mattered. "You didn't know. Hang on." He fished his phone out of his pocket and proceeded to type in a few key words. His search easily led to about a hundred videos, all covering the standoff between Slate and Ezra, even though the latter's cannon couldn't have been fired more than half an hour ago. Miller picked one without commentary and held his phone to the side for Monty to see. "It just happened, but yeah, we're down one. Wasn't, uh, pretty." He didn't think he needed to be delicate with Monty, but he took no pleasure in delivering this news, given the circumstances surrounding it.

Monty rolled his head back, dragging the glass against his neck. It had been an excellent night so far, full of dancing, attention, and at least three people trying to slip various drugs, money, and drinks into his hands. Money was exchanging hands, Cress had been attended to, and now he could relax.

He nodded solemnly as Miller spoke. "Good families, yes, yes." He chuckled at the idea of yet another Meadowforge in the Tower. What brilliant chaos that would be. "Yes, especially since --"

Monty's eyes bulged open, and he shot straight up in his chair. Then he slowly, ever so slowly, turned his head to look at Miller. "Since we've already what?" Venomous ice dripped from his tongue. He knew exactly where his phone was: in a small bag under a chair across the room. He had just checked it. There was no way - no way he would have missed this event. But then again - things happened fast in the Hunger Games.

[millerbrick]

"We'll see," Miller winked, "but I love the confidence." For whatever sense of loyalty he might have for his district, he didn't get attached to the tributes--save for last cycle's, obviously. This time around, he'd felt like he'd owed Ezra something, but clearly that hadn't helped anyone in the end. If Link wanted to claim next cycle's victor, so be it. "You got anyone else you're rooting for, for now?"

Link opened, and then immediately closed her mouth. Miller knew about his brother. it was one of those things that they talked about, their siblings. She couldn't help tossing a glance in Mason's direction, watching the back of his head when she found it and turning back to miller. "Oh, It'll definitely be me coming to two, I can promise that much." Link knew it was early. far too early to be confident in tributes she didn't even know yet, but she was always going to believe in her pair. "they'll love to hear you said hi."

[millerbrick]

Was that an accusation or an admonition? He didn't know, so he decided to treat it as neither. "Just wanted something to tide me over." As long as Cress was the only one who noticed, this shouldn't be cause for concern. Miller chugged down a bottle of water, as if that would help somehow, though help what exactly he couldn't even say. The truth was he was itching to head out for at least a cigarette, but he feared even that might not be good for optics.

Thoughts ricocheted in his head, until one finally honed in back on Cress. Perhaps it had not been an accusation or admonition, but she might very well think that there was cause for concern. "I'm not--" he reached for her hand as his eyes swept over the room "--tanked or anything. I'm here. Completely." He was perfectly lucid, perfectly capable of saying all the right things and smiling all the right ways. If anything, this was made easier with him feeling lighter, without the constant headache that had plagued him for days.

Cress took his chin, fingers pressing into cheeks as she appraised, the whole act dramatized. "And what a handsome jawline it is." She glimmered with flattered amusement at his own comment, swallowing the part of the story where she'd done it for attention. Chopped her hair off because it was the one part of her that her mother touched, the one aspect that she ever acknowledged. Meadowforge locks, she'd coo, running her fingers through it, and Cress would look at Cy -- her twin -- and think how can that be true? Without it, am I worth nothing to you? It was one of the few, rare moments of defiance. And she'd been punished handsomely in turn. Even now, years later as an adult on her own, she carried that fear, and so it had grown long.

They broke for a rest, and Cress sat down on the other end of the couch. She checked Calli and Slate's vitals, grateful to find them at baseline. The one bit of genuine good news today: no one was dead. "Mhm," she replied, sinking lower. Her head lolled back. Languidly, she observed him, taking her time now that they were alone. "You're high."

[millerbrick]

It was probably a bad idea to visit the training room, given the various things circulating through his veins. Even with holograms for opponents, there was a good chance he would end up injuring himself somehow, maybe by spraining a wrist or just by slipping on the floor like an idiot. But the ball got dull after a while, pointless, and only one place in the whole building felt remotely tolerable at the time. Mason was right, everything was so goddamn weird, but at least the training centre offered familiarity.

Miller never claimed to be a well of good ideas anyway.

He had shrugged off his robe and was trying to unclasp his necklace on his way to the simulation control panel when the voice reached his ears. Once again, just like with his brother before, he figured he might have started hallucinating.

Not turning around was not an option, though. No matter if it was real, regardless of the tone or what was spoken, Miller would always turn towards this particular voice. That did not stop him from frowning, blinking, questioning the reason that Medea was there. "Why--What're you doing here?" If the words weren't coherent enough to convey his confusion, surely his expression was.

She'd been watching him sometimes, throughout the night. Miller had a limited amount of main destinations. One was, of course, the bar. Another, the dance floor. Not as frequent as the bar, as she'd noticed, but still what she'd assumed a nice break from ordering one drink after the other.

Later in the night, however, she suddenly noticed him leaving through one of the high doors, out into a hallway. Impulsively, very much not thinking about it at all, Medea followed after him. Down one hallway, into another. An elevator ride later until -

"You seriously feel up for a spar? Right now?"

@millerbrick