rooftop views / day 3 (open)

[thompson harvard - d2b - arc]

”Oh, fuck off!” He shouts mid bite, throwing the rest of his handful of popcorn to the television. It’s day three of the games and Theo’s getting his name tossed out. By a bitch named Sacrifice. Doesn’t her name indicate dying? She’s got no last name. She’s just a Sacrifice. Imagine being named to die. He shakes his head, but watches intently as both of his tributes are engaged in a fight. Mac had never left a good impression on him. Sure, it’d be nice to bring someone home (especially a damn Hope for once). But Mac was a fucking dick. Tavi was more of his speed, and he watched that fight with a more careful eye.

The past two days have been kind of wild. The victors don’t live in the training center now because the tributes now live there. It’s been shifted into an arena, which is wild to Theo. Must suck to win these Games man, because unless the Capitol builds a new one, the training center is their home for the next few years. The replacement for their stay is some hotel owned by the Gamemakers dad or some shit. Theo just likes that they get free reign of Capitolites to torture. He’s a people watcher, and Capitolites are prime people to make fun of. They’ve never worried about a damn thing in their life.

There’s a general lounge that the Games get screened from. It’s mostly victors, but some other hot shots that Theo doesn’t care about reside up top too. He stands up to grab another refill of his popcorn bowl; some of its contents now on the ground in front of him. He’s messy, so what?

”You know anything else that’s good here? I don’t trust the food here.” He asks the body next to him as he scanned the table. He should be more invested in the tributes, but it’s in their hands now. What else can he do besides let fate run its course?

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

FLYNN GARNER

Nobody is letting him grieve, especially the peacekeeper that may as well be handcuffed to him. So, he has his other aunt and uncle to send his apologies too and he may well have to say the same words to his parents. That is the whole family Flynn will have let down. Wow black sheep for sure. Does he even want to go home after this? Do they even want him to come home?

After the screens flick back and forth between the other fights and Flynn is sure that Nessa is safe, he moves around the rooftop, dipping in and out of conversations with the sponsors.

He finds himself looking over the edge of the infinity pool that is filled with Capitolites floating in the water with cocktails in their hands. ”Are you coming in Flynn?” He shakes his head as he hovers his leather shoe over the shallow end. It is not the fact that he is wearing clothes unsuitable for swimming (there are people in there with full dresses) but it is the fact that Flynn Garner cannot swim. What use is swimming in a District like Six? He is lucky the waters in his arena were contaminated anyway. It is a skill that his parents overlooked. Another life lesson that has slipped by him.

Now where is Andal? Nobody will tell him. Literally. Not a word. Just blank faces. He can’t stray off to go and find him or that ugly looking P-K will pull out his baton.

He takes a swig of the sparkling wine that keeps being replaced in his hand. It can’t be real alcohol; his head would already be spinning by now but there is something in there that keeps him drinking. Even the punnet of grapes that seem exclusive to him have an addictive taste to them. Supposedly they’re gifts from a sponsor. His image is being used to advertise them and yet nobody else is eating and drinking them. Clearly, he is not a very good face to sell.

Flynn walks away from the pool, seeking out something else or someone else that will help speed up the time that he must remain in public. He can’t wait to get back to his room, sink himself into his bed and nearly suffocate into the pillow.

There is one good distraction in front of him. A risky distraction. The peacekeeper will get giddy seeing him near Theo after the last encounters he has had with the younger victor.

”You know anything else that’s good here? I don’t trust the food here.”

Flynn places his quarter filled glass of the sparkly grape juice on the table, he is sure someone will top it up when he turns his back. ”Yes there is, I have seen some cream pies on the table over there.” He ushers over his shoulder, not even sure there is a table behind him. ”I know you looooooooove them.” Ha. Damn. He is not the type to laugh at his own words, but a croaky laugh slips right out of his mouth. Slurred words and wobbly legs. Maybe there is alcohol in that sparkly juice as he tries to hold himself up against the edge of the table.

ELEGANT