{ đźđȘđ§đ đđȘđđĄđđź. đđđšđ©đ§đđđ© đ©đđ§đđ } grief is not a feeling, but a neighbourhood. this is where i come from. everyone i love still lives there.
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olive-blackwellâ:
âThey throw up a big number like that, and theyâll just paint a big target on their back. Careers are protective of those high numbers.â She didnât consider her opinion pessimistic so much as realistic. Clinical even. She reserved her anger and her passion for the punching bag. âIn any case, thereâs been plenty of victors who scored abysmally. I was a one for fuckâs sake.â She didnât add that sheâd purposefully bombed the event.
âi think i wouldâve gotten a one, too. if, yâknow, i was in the games and that..â yuri said, completely unaware that oliveâs score had been intentional. sure, he could throw a punch, was skilled enough, he was a trainer, for godâs sake, he clearly knew what he was doing. yuri was, however, utterly convinced that, if he were called in for a skills presentation, heâd simply cry. and it wouldnât be an impressive enough breakdown to score a two.
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ashchaneâ:
She had not been to the coffee shop yet. In fact, she had not been to one in a while now, most often than not opting for whatever was served in the lounges or on District 7âČs floor when in the tower. Perhaps she had been avoiding them subconsciously since Addy could no longer run them. Or perhaps she was reading too much into it. âSure, if they have food as well,â Ash said, starting towards the elevator. âSo, trainer of the year, how have you been? The tributes treating you well?â
âsurely theyâll do food !! maybe, if itâs not full-on meals, theyâll at least have cakes and cookies,â yuri said, some of the enthusiasm in his voice needing less effort put into it at his own mention of cakes. he couldâve almost heard his momâs voice in his mind then, something about coffee shops probably being the worst place for him to be, caffeine and sugar wasnât a combination that had ever done him any good. still, if he was an adult now with a proper job, a job that took up a lot of his energy, anyway, he was damn well allowed an extra shot of espresso. âtheyâre not too bad this time round !!â yuri said, mostly in comparison to last games, because compared to that, almost any games had to be a positive. and he had to cling to those, the positives. âdonât think iâve taught one of your tributes anything yet, though.â
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ashchaneâ:
âYouâre practically trainer of the year,â Ash replied in a serious tone, though amusement tugged at the corners of her lips. It was good to see Yuri truly fresh and wide-eyed. As entertaining as the kid was drunk, she worried about what he got up to at times, especially considering his propensity for aerial performance. âI could eat,â she then said with a shrug. It seemed as good enough a time as any to get lunch. She was not particularly hungry, but she hardly ever was when the Games were happening anyway, and it might be a good idea to try to find out where to get food outside of District 7âČs floor in the new tower. âAny idea where we should do that? I havenât really figured out this place yet, itâs so different from before.â
âmaybe i am trainer of the year. i donât think we hand out awards for it or anything, so we can always pretend itâs me !!â his enthusiasm didnât come to him as naturally nowadays, it felt feigned and left a bitter taste in his mouth, but it didnât sound all that different from usual. no, even his smile seemed rather on brand, the way it grew when ash agreed to lunch. he nodded, momentarily lost himself in thought as he tried to mindmap the new tower and came up empty. heâd never been any good at finding his way around these places, at least that was an evident flaw. âum, i think thereâs.. the coffee shop ?? like, all the way downstairs and everything, but -- but iâve heard itâs good !!â had only heard, because yuri huxley shouldnât be anywhere near caffeine.
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olive-blackwellâ:
âFrom the careers? Sure.â She grunted as she dead lifted one of the weights back into place. While she preferred the center in the morning time when the equipment was still fresh and the tower quiet, she didnât hate it right then. With the tributes, capitol citizens, and gamemakers gone the space breathed more. âIâm not holding out for any outliers though.â
he wanted to hold out for outliers, heâd always done. now, he found himself siding with olive far too easily. for a moment, yuri wondered if that was just experience taking ahold of him, that everyone involved with the games felt like this eventually. that seemed, ironically enough, a little too pessimistic for him. he quirked a brow at the realisation, pulled another knife from a target, then threw it into a different one, uselessly hitting bullseye. at least heâd gotten better at this, at least he was improving at something. âi mean, i donât know. maybe thereâs a tribute from the outer districts whoâs really good at something, and we just havenât found them yet. or they havenât found the thing theyâre good at,â he reluctantly insisted.
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wren-it-rainsâ:
She picked up the weapon labeled âmorningstarâ off of the table labeled âmaces.â She couldnât believe there was a whole fucking table of these things. It was heavier than she expected and she found herself pulled along by the weight of it, twirling around and almost fucking hitting someone with it.
âShit, sorry,â she said, on instinct. But it was their fault, really, for coming up behind her. Still, the coddamn manners. âDidnât see you.â
âhey, you might want to be careful with --â heâd basically sealed his own fate, hadnât he ?? hadnât spoken loud enough as he approached from behind, sole intent to warn the girl, and nearly ended up getting his in the face with a mace. he ducked right on time, could hear the air swishing right next to him for one dreadful moment. as he straightened his back again, he sucked in a sharp breath, because heâd forgotten to breathe for just a moment. âthat,â yuri finally finished his sentence. he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, tried to recover from another near-death experience, but found there was still an awkward breath stuck in his throat that left his voice a bit squeaky. âweâre not killing anyone yet, okay ??â he chuckled.
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aehtlamaâ:
For some reason, Amalthea couldnât think of a single thing that could go wrong. Instead, she lit up as she was handed a handful of confidence, picking up her bow and trailing her fingers across a couple of arrow points until she selected the one she felt most positive about. âI will not shoot you. I have a good aim.â It was true that her aim was entirely self-taught, and that it was likely no one believed it as much as existed â but she knew it, and she knew it by heart. âYou should place an apple over your head.â That was the custom, wasnât it? She never tried it, let alone on another person, but how hard could it be.
he clapped his hands together, a response to the excitement that ran up his spine then, left his limbs all jittery as he spun around, immediately in search of said apple. see, this girl knew what he was on about, she knew what she was doing, she said she did, and she even knew they needed an apple for the aesthetic value of it. maybe they were lucky, or horribly unlucky depending on perspective, that there was a table with healthy snacks pushed to the side of one training centre wall, and yuri was indeed capable of finding an apple on there. âletâs go !!â he said, juggled the apple between his hands triumphantly. âoh, whatâs your name, by the way ?? iâm not sure if i caught it, sorry !!â
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âhey, would you shoot me if i were to go and stand in front of that target ?? iâve heard bow and arrowâs kind of your thing --â okay, so maybe heâd begun to feel a little too comfortable in the training centre. handing a weapon to a teenager was one thing, but actively asking to be shot with it mightâve been on another level entirely. no, wait, thatâs not -- âi didnât mean shoot me !!â he corrected himself, grasp tightening on the bow heâd held out for the girl when he couldnât seem to get a grasp on his own words. âi mean shoot at me -- i just mean like, you know how magicians do it ?? i just thought itâd be fun !! donât hit me, but.. shoot around me. yeah, do that.â
@aehtlamaâ
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âiâm happy to inform you that you donât need to look after me today, because i am, in fact, not hungover, nor drunk !!â and okay, maybe he shouldnât announce that as a victory, especially because the main reason for any of that was a simple lack of time, rather than a true desire to not do a round of shots the day before training started. but hey, training had started now, he was sober, and he had a smile on his face to boot. whatever he was lacking, whatever seemed wrong, could be pushed down to be dealt with on another day, again, and surely that truly was a victory. there was one thing he couldnât ignore, though -- âhey, ash, do you wanna get lunch together ?? have you eaten yet ??â
@ashchaneâ
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âdâyou reckon weâll have some high training scores these games ??â yuri wasnât normally one to speculate, had always had a habit of being far too optimistic about the prospects. now, however, he was worried of toeing the opposite line, that heâd be too down about it all. he busied himself with pulling some knives from a target, leftover cleanup after the first day of training. normally, he didnât feel as though he talked to the other trainers all that much -- it seemed too real, in a way. that teaching these tributes anything was a whole operation, that it mattered, that it had to. that it wasnât just him teaching kids back in three for a laugh. still, he looked up at olive then, almost hoped sheâd say something more positive about the tributes than he could muster up in his mind.
@olive-blackwellâ
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hollandwestbrookâ:
âI didnât know that arena chef was a job that was up for grabs,â Holland said, amused. âI think Iâd rather learn whatever youâre best at, rather than what youâre worst at. Blending into the background, thatâs what Iâm good at, too. See, we already have something in common.â
âwho knows, maybe the arena this year will just be a very big kitchen,â he mused, a brow quirked at the thought that hey, that wasnât a horrible guess, and maybe he should put money on it. âyâknow, cause thereâd be.. knives.. and stuff.. already --â oh, right, now heâd really brought things down to a more dangerous reality, impending death. it wasnât half as fun as hypothetical food poisoning, and even that wasnât very jolly. âi normally teach hand to hand and self defense. itâs not exactly blending into the background by any means, but itâs.. useful. itâs fun, too !! if itâs not, yâknow, in the games, itâs pretty fun.â
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moxiepitlockâ:
To fully verbalize distaste was riskier than she wouldâve cared to admit, so instead, she ignored the gut instinct telling her to keep her mouth shut, to ignore the primal urge to keep herself as safe as possible. If Yuri was whispering the seeds of dissent, it likely meant that he was like her, something of a rebel, and at bare minimum someone who didnât enjoy the Hunger Games. âI donât,â She spoke softly, sitting up a little straighter. Moxie continued, âJust kid of hard to get away with that with my line of work.â
he hummed against his glass as he pressed it to his lips, as though it could somehow stop words that would spill regardless. the curse of having had a few drinks, along with never shutting up anyway meant that yuri probably was one of the worst people to muse on his dislike of the games right then, right there. still, he leaned in a little, at least aware of the subject matter enough to keep his voice down, but never quiet. as he moved his glass to speak again, he raised it slightly in what was almost a toast. âyeah, i mean.. iâm a trainer, i just.. show up when the damage is already done and try to teach tributes how to fight. but youâre an escort, arenât you ?? you have to.. pick their names and everything. thatâs a lot harder.â
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abel-evansâ:
Abel snorted out a laugh, shaking his head. âI thought I was bad, Yuri, shots, at this hour?â he smirked. Heâd be all for it if Emme was back with Rhi. âYeah, well me too, in the Captiol, just not the tower, I think being here at the tower makes it all a little more real, unfortunatelyâ
âwell, i mean, is there ever a bad hour for shots ??â there probably was. there most definitely was. but yuri plastered a smile on his face and rather hoped abel wouldnât point it out, because this had become awfully awkward all of a sudden. he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. âi kind of miss district four, i think. it was a change of pace, at least, with the.. sea and everything. thereâs a really big pool down here in the training centre too now, but itâs not really the same, is it ??â
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hollandwestbrookâ:
âI figured as much,â she said, âunless random people teach tributes stuff as well these days. My nameâs Holland. District Six. I donât know who you are, though, except that youâre not on my team. Or are you, and youâre just really good at blending into the background?â
âi mean, iâm sure thereâs things around here other people can teach you anyway. random people. i donât know how to cook, youâd have to find someone else if you want to learn how to cook, for example. unless you want to give everyone in the arena food poisoning. in which case, i guess iâm your guy,â he said, managed something that almost resembled a genuine smile then. it felt a pretense of sorts, though, like he was smiling at the absurdity of circumstance rather than her introduction. he nodded, bit down on his lip. âi am really good at blending into the background. iâm yuri, district three.â
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moxiepitlockâ:
Moxie was surprised at the bluntness coming off of the man. She faltered, unsure of how to handle the whole confrontation, her meticulously put together persona crumbling slightly as she fumbled for a response. Maybe it was the fact she was two and a half drinks in that gave her away but she didnât want to fully give up; the words âRebelâ and âTraitorâ flying around in her brain reminding her that she couldnât appear that way to strangers. She had to keep pretending she was the perfect little escort. âI â what else would I be saying,â Moxie asked, chewing on her bottom lip.
âi.. i donât know,â he admitted, eyed her with some confusion then, as though sheâd somehow caused the turn in this conversation, not him. yuri hummed, held his glass to his lips, wanted to fill the air with something that wasnât awkward tension. loaded silence, a rebellion not that far behind them yet. âyou donât have to.. like it, though, you know ?? not always. itâs really hard to be involved in the games, itâs not always happy..â he wondered if that was why they were both drinking. he reckoned it mightâve been.
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abel-evansâ:
âReady for another round?â Abel asked as he slid up beside Yuri. Emme was napping, thankfully, because he was about ready to collapse with how tired he was, the break was very welcomed. âBit crazy that itâs come around again already, isnât it?â
@yurihuxleyâ
âyeah !! are we doing shots or are we --â oh wait. abel meant the games. another round of the games. did yuri have a drinking problem ?? he swallowed down his smile, and it, weirdly enough, came to him more naturally than mustering up a fake grin had ever done. âum, i donât know.. itâs a lot, isnât it ?? iâm here in between games too, sometimes it just feels neverending.â
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hollandwestbrookâ:
Holland was making bold moves today. Sheâd started off the day driving in her pickup down to the city for the Reaping, which had resulted in her name getting called, which had resulted in her getting on a train, blah blah blah, and here she was â it was too late to censor herself, to do what she was supposed to do. She was too damn tired.
So she took a seat across from a man who was sitting at a table in the lobby. She had no idea who she was, but engaging another person rather than just sitting with her thoughts seemed good. âSo, whatâs the deal? What should I know?â
@yurihuxleyâ
âwell, iâll be teaching you in a couple days, so..â he simply responded, managed a shrug that was jittery with the tension of his shoulders. the hunger games had never sat well with him, and it was a feeling that only weighed him down more and more at the start of each cycle. this time, heâd watched the reapings to vaguely recognise faces. not to try and know them, like heâd at least done a couple times before. his ignorance had polished itself into good intent, into a never-fading smile, and then it had broken. yuri huxley didnât really smile all that much anymore. âiâm a trainer here, thatâs -- um -- thatâs what i mean. youâre gonna have to remind me of your name, though,â he said, rubbed an awkward hand over the back of his neck.
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moxiepitlockâ:
The first night in the Tower was always the hardest and Moxie had excused herself down to the bar, trying to stomach the events of the past 48 hours. She was exhausted and felt like she had been worn down to her core;Â it was fine though. She could handle it, this was year four, and she had known people who had been reaped before and, maybe, honey would win. Moxie walked into the bar, body aching with need for a drink to just cut down the physical distress waning on her psyche; she ordered a G&T and began to drink. A figure out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and she chirped, her habitual Capitolite persona taking over, as she raised her glass in greeting, âHappy Hunger Games!â
heâd been in the bar, because of course he had been. maybe this shouldâve been more of an issue by now, but there were always these arbitrary limits set that would mean yuri found no cause for alarm. heâd walk off a cliff claiming it was fine, but the tinge of ignorance in his throat had never been that new. it was just that it was accompanied by a few glasses of rum and coke now, and some new-found cynicism to boot. âdonât say that,â he said, brow quirked as he glanced at the escort, already couldnât remember if heâd looked at her first or if sheâd looked at him. it hadnât stricken him as much as her attitude had done, the way she pulled herself into a different person then, someone who could chirp and raise a glass. he saw himself, though perhaps a less tipsy version of himself. maybe he shouldnât have been staring in the first place.. âyou donât believe it, so.. so donât say it, you know ??â
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