What you Don't See // The Bachelorette Episode.2

[charade]

KATELYN PERSIMMON

Katelyn had to physically restrain herself from attacking Tinselton when he told her what the next two dates were supposed to be. A group date with five of the contestants in the Capitol’s tribute statue garden. They were supposed to take the tour and Charles insinuated that it’s make for good television if she stole away to some of the darker areas of the park with a contestant for some alone time. Katelyn rolled her eyes. That wasn’t love. That was lust.

And she hardly knew any of these people.

The other date was going to be a one on one. Horseback riding. Through the sixty-ninth arena. Katelyn was aghast. She hadn’t planned on going back there until they made her for her ten year anniversary, and that was still some years away. And to have to bring someone along? No. It was private. Sacred. She couldn’t bring just any of the six remaining contestants there. Couldn't share that with just anyone.

She glanced down at the outfit they had her wearing for the second episode. It didn’t seem warm enough to be visiting a frozen arena in, but then again, it was a tourist spot now, the weather wouldn’t be deadly even if it was cold to preserve the authenticity. Whatever, she had survived worse. “Who is going to be lucky enough for the first one on one date of the competition?” Charles beamed.

Katelyn bit her lip. She knew who she had to take. Though not for the reasons that most might think.

“Harbinger. Harbinger Rhodes.”
(1 on 1 thread to be posted shortly)

----------
The statue garden was eerie. Beautiful in its own way, but ethereal. Sad. Here and there she saw facsimiles of tributes she recognized. And every now and then carts selling everything from ice cream to popcorn to cotton candy to pretzels wheeled by. It was more than a little jarring to be reminded that what she’d consider a graveyard was considered a monument by many. There were a few families out and about, some children playing at being tributes and whacking each other with rubber weapons. Katelyn grimaced. If she was overhearing them correctly, they were reenacting scenes from the sixty-fourth. She wondered what Opal would have thought about that.

But there were five other people to worry about. Katelyn turned back to them and flashed a dazzling smile. “Tours are boring, aren’t they?” she chuckled. “Tell you what, why don’t we play a game? I’m sure you all played hide and seek at least once when you were younger.” If they hadn’t then they must have been deprived and she felt sorry for them. “But let’s have a twist on the rules. If I find you, you’ll have to tell me a bit of trivia about the tribute statue closest to your hiding spot.” Simple enough. “If you don’t recognize them, then you have to buy something from one of the concession stands and give it to one of those children playing over there.“ she said, pointing at the little reenactors.

“Last one I find gets to share a treat with me.” She finished, fluttering her eyelashes innocently at the camera.



OOC: This thread right here will be a blitz thread, so don't worry about length. ^^ You first round of posting is for hiding, after which I will be rolling dice to determine the order in which Katelyn discovers and interacts with the players. Happy hiding!

"It breaks my heart, all these stories,
brings me to tears all this grief;
And I feel so fucking helpless
when I can't be your relief."

table coding (c) ghosty

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

B E N

Another day and another episode into the Bachelorette show. Ben was quite surprised that he had gotten into the next episode, looking at the other contestants; he thought he had his ages against him. Obviously the District Eleven victor has seen past that and he must’ve done something right when they had met. Hopefully the pie was just as good as he hoped it had been and Katelyn wants more. Unfortunately he was unable to pull together a small treat for Katelyn this time although after finding out where they were going for the next episode, he hopes the vendors will make up for it.

Ben has never ventured to the tribute garden before, it’s not that he doesn’t want too; it’s just hard for him to find time in his busy schedule. The only games related tourist attractions he has visited are the seventieth and sixty-seventh arenas, only because the themes of both attracted him. Nice hot landscapes, not too hot like the volcanic wasteland of the fifty-seventh.

Placing himself in the centre of the contestants as they follow Katelyn through the garden, he admires many of the statues, some of them he is able to name inside of his head.

As Katelyn turns towards Ben and the others, competition mode kicks in as she announces the little game. Retreating away from the group, his childish side begins to immerge as he seeks out the perfect hiding spot. Tactically, he decides to hide near a statue that he knows so that he doesn’t have to face the forfeit.

Finding a handful of statues that he believes to be from the seventieth, he creeps behind one of them, begging that he gets to share the treat with Katelyn.

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

[googlefont="Great Vibes:400;"]

a note from the desk of

gamemaker

Glamour Kinkade

i can hear the echo ringing in my head

Glamour fiddled with the rose pinned to his lapel. Despite the best efforts of himself and his styling team - oh yes, he still had enough connections around the Capitol to form an entourage - the rose would not remain perfectly upright. He kept catching the blood red petals out of the bottom of his vision as they dipped towards the ground. Everything else about his outfit, from his darkly dyed hair to his polished heeled boots, was perfect. Why couldn't the one damn thing Katelyn had given him just cooperate?

When Katelyn chose Harbinger for the one on one date, Glamour stifled a yawn. Predictable. When the group date's location was announced he stopped his fidgeting. What in the name of the Capitol had Katelyn Persimmon ever done to piss off their President?

He'd been to the Garden a number of times before, always for photo ops and press conferences. He'd certainly never wandered through. He couldn't see the point. His memory was as sharp as a steel blade; if he wanted to reminisce about Aria Wolfe or Cowboy Dan or Someith Krearns, he could simply remember. Not that he wanted to. They belonged to past and some of them - Someith in particular - defined his failures. So he never really saw the point of the Garden, although he didn't avoid it the way some Gamemakers did. He never once thought to be afraid of the dead, but perhaps he should have been afraid of the Garden itself.

When Katelyn released them to play cat and mouse, Glamour tipped his head to Ben and Poria and then disappeared in the foliage and stone. He didn't want to wander too far, and he made the strike of his heel as obvious as possible. If Katelyn wanted to find him, she could. And if she didn't, well, he would just have to figure out how to track her.

Glamour rounded Circe Lyon's statue, humming to himself, to come face to face with the very Peacekeeper who had doomed him. The notes in his throat instantly died.

"I don't think you're taking her game very seriously," Benedict Tucker said, his stance relaxed, his hands clasped in front of his hips.

Those hands, which had held him at the window and promised death. Glamour swallowed. "Au contraire, Keeper. I treat all Games with the utmost respect."

Tucker stepped in to Glamour, forcing him back against Circe and the statue behind her, Orion Hammerfell. "If that were true, you wouldn't be in this charade of a competition in the first place. You'd best win, Glamour Kinkade, but I'd love watching you fall again."

Glamour ran. He turned down an aisle and ran blindly, away from the memories of torture, away from the threat of a lonely future. He didn't run far, his thoughts tangling his legs. He stumbled away from the spectre of Keeper Tucker, nearly collapsing onto the dirt path. By some miracle he reached up and grabbed a sturdy branch, saving himself the embarrassment of faceplanting on live television. Glamour took a moment to slow his breathing. No one followed him - not Tucker, not Katelyn. In fact it was eerily quiet in this part of the Garden.

It was only when he lifted his chin that he realized there were no trees, no sturdy branches in the Statue Garden. What he'd grabbed to steady himself was the crook of her arm, raised in a salute, Siren Baitwell's smile unnaturally bright.

Glamour screamed.

template by anzie

[D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza]]

BAY

The first date was seemingly normal. Eyes bright and a sweet smile; Katelyn had offered me with a simple rose at the end of the night. And I felt on top of the world, as if I could be hit with a thousand bullets and I'd be untouched and unhurt.

It was a new feeling. Heavens above know that I've managed to get myself into dangerous situations and come out with scars to prove my worth. Perhaps writing from behind a screen makes me numb to brutal words because I know what it's to say them—causing emotional pain, never physical.

I'm not like Katelyn.

She perks up, turning around and explaining the rules of a game we are set the play. Hide and seek is easy enough, but I look around the setting and get lost in the tributes' expressions and actions. Each one defines their time in the games, some portraying moments I'd written about.

Some are enemies, some are lovers—perhaps turning to stone is just another part of being in love.

I shudder; an awful thought.

The sun beats overhead and in a moment, the small crowd of us in the competition split and our shadows part. People turn on their heels and dart off in several directions, whilst I walk between the rows of statues, watching the statues carefully.

They don't move and they won't move, but still, I swore I once saw a stone Cerise Mephistopheles narrow her eyes at me. 

Behind me, I hear the sound of footsteps against the cobbled path and I slip in between a pair of statues on my right. One glance up and I notice I'm lodged between Leon Krigel and Siren Baitwell. I sit behind the 67th Victor, knees tucked into my chest as I wait: lost, but out of a desire to be lost.

Children playing in the distance echoes from afar and the sound of carts being wheeled seems to be coming ever closer. It's oddly peaceful, peaceful in a haunted and ghostly way because these statues represent the people that once drove fear into the hearts of the breaking.

But this peace is shattered by a scream.

It's quite high-pitched and I tilt my head around the side of the statue to take a peek.

It's Glamour Kinkade.

Should I have expected any different? I decide against saying anything to him; Katelyn could be just around the corner and I'd be found within an instant and would miss out on whatever 'treat' she has in mind.

A hand raises to my ear and it hurts like a bitch. Shit, that scream was so loud, my grandma could've heard it—and she's deaf.

[sbeeg]

Attempting to forget her previous night's mistakes, Poria put on her biggest smile and walked out in front of the cameras. Everyone looked charming in their little day outfits, although Ms Rain might have gone a little overboard with her ensemble. After all, she never left the house without a big wig, glittering earrings, and dangerously thin heels. That combo paired with a burlap sack would be glamorous. Of course she wasn't wearing a burlap sack, she had on shorts and a flowing blouse. Of course the shorts were bedazzled and the blouse nearly lost behind a statement necklace, but still it was a different look for Poria.

She watched Katelyn walk into the garden and admired how she held herself. She had the kind of strength a victor should have. As she announced her pick for the one on one date Poria held her breath- but soon let it out in a deflated sigh. The other victor. Sure they were cute together but a relationship between them took two victors off the market. Poria shimmering lips twisted into a little frown, she had to get Katelyn alone eventually and not fuck it up like last time.

The victor announced the activity for the day and Poria's spirits were instantly lifted- hide and seek? Tribute trivia? She had this in the bag. Without even throwing a snarky comment to any of her peers, Poria dashed into the statues leaving little clacking noises behind her. As she passed Kirito's statue, Poria leaned on him to slip off her heels. She was winning this competition even if she did have to sacrifice her fashion aesthetic.

Sure Glamour had been a gamemaker, but Poria had merchandise dating back the 54th. It was her job to know everything about every tribute that ever existed, no one would beat her at that. Now, she just had to find a place to hide. Her eyes looked over the statues near by and decided to go deeper in the garden. She found a corner where the statues weren't surrounded by people and she began to realize why. Older games. Forgotten tributes that only the likes of Poria would remember.

She started settle behind a statue only to realize it was a stone version of Arbor Halt, albeit a lot younger than the one she had encountered. Frowning, she searched for a new statue. Instead she slips behind the stone figure of Semper Campone from the 55th. It was as she took her spot that she heard a scream echo through the entire garden. Though she was far away, Poria almost immediately thought of Glamour.

The woman can see the other contestants huddled in their hiding spots and she holds her breath. Now she could only hope for the best.

[gamemaker kelsier]

Someone up there either adored her or hated her because last night she had found herself pinching a beautiful, perfectly red rose between her thumb and forefinger. Despite her embarrassing mess up, Katelyn had deemed her worthy of a second chance. Despite everything, she'd smiled to herself and placed it in a glass of water on her nightstand. In the morning when she woke up the rose had bloomed the littlest bit, petals pushing out, expanding, pressing on it's boundaries. She reached her hand up to the ceiling, stretching out her arm and mimicking the little red rose. She wanted to bloom too one day. She wasn't certain what to wear for the second date. Her mother would suggest a dress and heels to bring her anywhere near Katelyn's height but the black boots she'd brought in her bag were too tempting. Leggings and her long jacket were an obvious pairing and if she was wearing a jacket then no one would know about the long t-shirt she wore underneath. It had a faded image of a trio of bats from her favourite cartoon from when she was little and was hardly grown up, but today's date was scheduled to be outside. Evening dropped a cookie from that morning's continental breakfast into the pocket of her jacket on her way out the door. Her mother refused to let her eat on camera but she could at least sneak herself a little bit of something while it was on someone else. It was likely to be on anyone but her anyway. She knew that she was boring unless she was dancing but that was how she preferred it. That morning as thy walked in the arena she shut her eyes and turned her face towards the cold, artificial winter sun. It warmed her cheeks and gave her a strange sense of optimism. Today was a different day. She could bloom. Katelyn stood in front of them, blonde locks bouncing on her shoulders. Eve bit her lower lip, chest suddenly feeling strange, as if she were dancing. She watched her lips move, transfixed. She didn't stutter or make any mistakes. Her words were formed perfectly by perfect lips. Everyone dispersed and Eve found herself heading straight, deep into the garden of the dead. Her skin crawled as she passed by some, their eyes on her making her head light. The statues only seemed to magnify how young they all were. Two years ago, in another life she could have been one of them. She was learning to appreciate life more ever since her transgression. Some days were harder than others. A strange guilt took her over and she blinked furiously, trying to quell the flow of tears that threatened to fall. These children had fought brutally for their lives and she had been so ready to give her privileged one away. She didn't deserves hers. "I'm sorry," she said blindly to any statue that would listen, "I'm sorry I didn't think." She wanted to make up excuses, to explain that it had been too hard at the time to remember a reason to live but a cameraman followed her and the scandal that would ensue would be hell to pay. Evening stopped for a moment and shut her eyes, taking in a long, deep breath. "I can make it," she said softly to herself, "I can do anything. If life is unbearable I can still make it." She opened her eyes, pinched the back of her hand and continued walking. She walked far back through the games until she found the statue of a girl, arm raised to fight, body poised to through a long, pointed weapon. Her hair was cropped close to her head and Eve stared up at her. She had eye like a tigress. Eve climbed up behind her and raised her arm to mimic her. She wasn't as tall but the bulk of the statue hid her slight figure well. She parted her legs carefully, trying to copy the dead girl as well as she could. She wanted to feel as powerful as her. A scream broke the quiet of the garden and Eve clenched her hand tightly in surprise.

[charade]

KATELYN PERSIMMON

The scream split the air before she had finished counting.

It sounded like Glamour Kincade, but then, few things did. She knew it was him. And she could tell what direction it’d come in. That was fine with her. Glamour was on the list. She flitted through the shadows, through the shades and headed through the sixty-seventh tributes. Trust Glamour to hide among the tributes from an arena he had half designed with that blonde gamemaker.

What was her name? Carissa? Cade? Oh, whatever, the one that had seemed so no-nonsense next to Glamour’s eccentricities. She was slightly put out to spot Bay first, nestled between a pair of statues like an egg; Katelyn briefly thought back to the golden egg she’d found in the arena and smirked at the image. Glamour was right by her, holding onto Siren Baitwell’s statue like he’d just seen a ghost.

Maybe he had.

“Well, I’ve found the two of you."she said with a wry smile. Katelyn stared at the district four sentinels and replayed their finale in her head. Watched Leon cut down Ingrid Elwyn and Potato Earnest. Remembered the disappointment back home, a few people muttering about how eleven must be ripred’s least loved district. She wondered what it was like for victors like Opal and Harbinger, to see the person that killed a loved one still walking around alive, sharing the burden of winning with you. She imagined it was quite horrible.


“So, tell me something about Leon Krigel, Bay. And Glamour, something about Siren Baitwell.”

"It breaks my heart, all these stories,
brings me to tears all this grief;
And I feel so fucking helpless
when I can't be your relief."

table coding (c) ghosty

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

[googlefont="Great Vibes:400;"]

a note from the desk of

gamemaker

Glamour Kinkade

i can hear the echo ringing in my head

The former Gamemaker jumped when Katelyn rounded the statue and addressed him. It took him a moment to realize she wasn't speaking only to him; apparently he'd had company. He managed to scowl for half a heartbeat at Bay before fully recovering himself from the dual scares.

In some ways, it was a blessing that he hadn't stepped two feet further. He knew too many of Leon's secrets too much and too little of intimacy and his desire to keep his lover to himself would have conflicted with his desire to win. So all in all, it was best that he had to share something about Siren Baitwell instead.

"Well she never would have looked like that," Glamour began, sucking up air while he sorted through his memories. Siren, stone faced at the Reaping. Siren, looking distinctly uncomfortable in every outfit during her training week. Siren, singing eerily before she dove to dismember a dummy. Siren, barely able to stay on her podium as the seconds ticked by. Siren, switching from knives to an axe and finding a friend in neither. Siren, carved to bits by a boy, who would become the man Glamour loved.

But she'd already been loved. Glamour felt fairly sure Katelyn would know that; wasn't the Victor's View always go on and on about how close the victor squad was? Surely Colgate would have mentioned something. More, he felt an odd tugging in his stomach when he thought about declaring - on camera - that Siren had an affair with a victor. It felt... wrong.

He hadn't said anything in a few moments. He was used to stringing out a silence, to captivating an audience, but he could tell Bay and Katelyn's attention was waning. He had to say something, to play her silly little game so that he could keep playing his own. Glamour forced his gaze up to Siren again and tried not to see stone, but the girl instead.

In the end, he couldn't tell Katelyn a secret of Siren's, but he could tell her one of his own.

"Every fact I know about Siren Baitwell was broadcast to the nation, as you know. I could tell you that she loved the ocean - but you already know that. I could tell you that she wanted to win for her family - but you already know that. I can't tell you a single thing that hasn't been said before, except that I think she would have made a fine victor. And I think you two would have been friends."

The words tasted of salt and betrayal. No matter how the producers spun his words, he knew they would wound Leon, and he couldn't say the obvious caveat: not that I would change anything. But it was true - Siren had been every bit worthy of the crown and at the time, Glamour could not have chosen between them. His traitorous heart beat a little more quickly even as he bowed to Bay, giving her the floor.

template by anzie

[D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza]]

BAY

Unsurprisingly, Katelyn emerges from the fading mist and uncovers the two of us. 

And I watch as Katelyn's treat slips away and fades into the competition. Not mine, not that it ever was, but I want to know her; I want to feel her and compliment her like a thorn to a rose.

It would work, we could work. 

I look to Glamour and Katelyn, arching a brow as he begins to speak about the statue he stands by. 

"Well she never would have looked like that," he says, his eyes swelling as his minds becomes a home to the unleashed. He's vacant, for a short moment and it's a new side to Mr. Kinkade that isn't shown to the public, that's perhaps a little bit more human than we assume gamesmakers are—except, he's not a gamesmaker any more.

He's a lover, and I can't tell if that's better or worse.

My eyes creep to his and this silence; this silence is okay. It's understandable. We stand between the damned as the hopeless, the romantics who long for something to touch and to feel. Glamour has it in Leon Krigel, and I have it in my mind.

"Every fact I know about Siren Baitwell was broadcast to the nation, as you know. I could tell you that she loved the ocean - but you already know that. I could tell you that she wanted to win for her family - but you already know that. I can't tell you a single thing that hasn't been said before, except that I think she would have made a fine victor. And I think you two would have been friends."

There's a silence, again. He speaks his words that open closed wounds and add salt. Elevating the pain—a necessary evil. I watch as he bows to me, a gesture to signify the start of my own spiel. 

Except, I don't have a spiel. I don't want to tell a story, not a truth or a speech or talk. I'm stupid, really, to pick Leon Krigel and have to speak about him in the presence of Glamour; if I say anything wrong, I might as well be asking for a slap.

I bite my lip. Eyes down but again, they rise to look at Glamour.

I can't do it; I can't be the bitch that I am behind a pen name and computer screen. It's not fair, and even though I could say a hundred things about the 67th victor—I can't be that girl.

No, I'm not that girl.

"Leon Krigel? I don't know anything about him."

I remain blank, maybe half a brow is arched, but nothing more, nothing less.

And so I succumb to the softer side, pacing over to the nearest concession stand and asking the cashier for a President Snow Cone before digging into my pockets and pulling out some spare change. He counts up the money, sliding it into the cash register before handing me a red and yellow snow cone.

It's cold in my hand as I carry it to the children reenacting a scene from the games, and as I approach, put on a smile. The President Snow Cone is half full, half empty and my smile is half real, half fake—and I don't know why.

"Keep fighting, trooper. You'll need this." I offer the snow cone with a bright smile, an admirable smile, and the child's eyes light up as he snatches it from my hand in an instant.

He runs off with the snow cone; he doesn't even stay to say 'thank you'.

I look to Katelyn and Glamour a few metres away, tilting my head with a short shrug. The camera turns to face me and I look around to the rows of statues. Circe Lyon winks, Pixie Ruined finishes her sentence—my eye twitches as I look into the lens.

My ear still rings.

[charade]

KATELYN PERSIMMON

Glamour answered first. He pontificated about Siren’s virtues, proclaiming that she would have done well as a victor, and saying that he thought she’d have been good friends with Katelyn. To that, Katelyn raised an eyebrow; thinking back to those games; Siren had seemed unflinching. She supposed that made her the immovable object and Leon Krigel the unstoppable force. She brought her hand up to her mouth and lightly bit the knuckle of her index finger in thought. If this was Glamour’s way of playing the game, he was doing a damn good job of it. But she still didn’t know exactly what he wanted from her.

Then, to her surprise, Bay had nothing to say about the victor. An unreadable look crossed her face, and she walked away to one of the concession carts and got a snow cone for one of the kids. Katelyn was slightly confused, she would have thought that anyone could spout a random fact about one of the victors. Especially someone who worked for a magazine. But it was pleasing to see someone take the time to interact with the kids, if only for a moment. Katelyn gave her an approving nod, but she didn’t think Bay saw it, as she had turned to look at some of the other statues around them. Katelyn thanked them both for playing and then decided to leave them to their own devices, she had three other contestants to find and not a lot of time to do it in.

She moved on through the hallowed fields, slipping by Laila Sycamore, taking a right when she reached Jim Mccoy, wandering among the ghosts of games past and feeling a heaviness on her shoulders. It was a veritable army around here, twenty-four times seventy-two. She could recognize tributes as far back as Arbor Halt’s games, perhaps. But if not for the nameplates she wouldn’t know who anyone older than that was. The silence was deafening. She looked down at her clothes in dismay and wished she had pockets to stick her hands in.

She recognized Surge Alder of all people and knew she was in the sixtieth field; tributes dead for more than a decade, given to the bloody sands of the hourglass arena. She didn’t remember much about them as she had been eight when Julian Bryze took the crown. She remembered the boy from three being purple. A stegosaurus. Towers and the name Raiden. How quickly Panem forgot the entertainment of yesteryear. Katelyn searched the stony faces for any sign of movement, anything out of place and she saw something flutter. A hand , maybe. She rounded the statue and found Evening matching, or trying her best to match the statues pose. Katelyn afforded her a wry smile.


“Hmm. Well, she’s pretty. What can you tell be about the person you’re shadowing here?” she asked thoughtfully.

"It breaks my heart, all these stories,
brings me to tears all this grief;
And I feel so fucking helpless
when I can't be your relief."

table coding (c) ghosty

[gamemaker kelsier]

Evening stared at the back of the marble statue she stood behind. Whomever had made them had put a lot of care and detail into them. Individual freckles stood out like pinpricks of light on a black sky. Her heart was still beating strangely fast and she shut her eyes, trying her best to calm it. a hand had clenched itself tightly around her heart and her breaths came shallow, quick and fleeting. It couldn't be fear for a game as simple as this. It was quiet this far back in the games. The young children played up front around their favourite tributes that they themselves knew. This arena was quiet and when Evening took a breath out she could see it cloud in front of her. Some children had had to be in this chill for much longer than the time it took to play a game of hide and seek. Their game had been much more deadly. Tears formed in her eyes again. She was so selfish, so small and ignorant. Even a simple friendship with Katelyn would be impossible. How could the victor of a games even want anything to do with a Capitolite? For the umpteenth time that day Evening wondered what the hell she was doing on the show, what any of them were doing. This was nothing but a farce, a further game to trivialize death and calm the masses. It was a wonder that Katelyn didn't hate her. She knew what she looked like, what she was. A young Capitolite who had had the world handed to her on a silver platter, born with a gold spoon in her mouth. She knew well that it wasn't really who or what she was, that it was bad to say that what she'd been through hadn't been horrible. She knew that it was bad to compare tragedies and sob stories but she couldn't help feeling silly anyway. She wondered if she should just step out of hiding, raise her hands up and surrender. She imagined saying it, "Send me home Katelyn." Her mother would be angry with her but not for the first time in her life, Evening once again felt estranged. She'd found it nearly impossible to make connections with others ever since the abuse. She couldn't help feeling that sometimes she was watching life from behind a two-way mirror, the spot meant for those who had tried to opt out. "Hmm. Well, she’s pretty. What can you tell be about the person you’re shadowing here?” Evening lowered her arms, eyes catching Katelyn's. She wore a soft smile across her face, draped like a a square of satin on a dancer's hip. Eve couldn't tell if the smile was real or not, if it was meant for her. She knew she needed to say it, that it was the only thing that made sense, but somehow that smile made Eve feel as if she couldn't ask for home. It was as if Katelyn was standing in front of that two-way mirror, seeing her somehow. No one had really looked at Eve like that in a very long time. She stepped off the statue's podium and walked around her to look at the tribute's face. Her mouth was open in some sort of shout and her eyes were wide, brow furrowed in anger. Her arms were lean but held muscle, her stance suggesting that she had been more than just flesh and blood but perhaps a force of nature. Avon Lightwood. A little plaque was under the lip of the marble, Evening had not noticed it before. She reached out and placed her hand on the name, wondering about this girl, who or what she had fought for, if there was anything else but life that was worth it. Evening wondered if she had ever contemplated suicide, even up to her end. Her hands gripped her weapon too tightly, her stance seemed to say it all somehow and for a moment, Evening could swear that the statue's eyes were trained on her, staring at her accusingly. "She didn't want to die," Evening said, voice soft, hesitant. "She fought tooth and nail to get home, harder than she ever had in her life and it still wasn't good enough." She felt her throat tighten then and a strange wave of hopeless grief took hold of her. Loving someone, feeling anything, it didn't matter in the end. Evening looked to her left. A seemingly endless row of statues spanned out across the fields. To her right was the same. So much death where there should have been life. Evening turned to look at Katelyn, holding her gaze for longer than she had for the entirety of the filming. "I bet you hate us." She bit her lip then, knowing that her publicist would be calling her later about that statement. Saying anything bad about the Capitol was punishable. Evening turned on one heel, breaking eye contact quickly. She walked down the path, heading towards the vendors to purchase a something for one of the children running about. She hadn't been able to give a proper fact.

[charade]

KATELYN PERSIMMON

“She didn’t want to die.” That surprised Katelyn. No more than the next statement. “She fought tooth and nail to get home, harder than she ever had in her life and it still wasn’t good enough. “ Katelyn started to say something and then stopped herself. It was a generic answer. But one with heart. It could have applied to any and all of the tributes. Even some of the victors never really came home. Avon Lightwood, District one; fourth place, sixtieth hunger games read the nameplate of the statue. She tried to recollect something about the girl and came up near-empty. She’d seen the fight between Avon and Reyes Moreno on a replay or two. Career on career violence was usually a big hit.

“I bet you hate us.”

Katelyn was at at a loss for words. She was less than happy with the show, but she hadn’t expected any of the contestants to voice her thoughts. The past two days had been tough on her, and with the exception of Harbinger it was difficult to send any of them home. There wasn’t any time yet to know their hopes and dreams. What they wanted. What they expected. She took solace in the fact that eliminating someone was not the same as eliminating an opponent in the games. Nobody on the show had to die.

She held Evening’s gaze but her mind wandered to the other people that had spoken their minds. If Magus had been honest with her, he hadn’t been careful enough. The producers would never have allowed her to give him a rose after what he had said so bluntly about the Capitol and the games. She just preempted them before they could do anything else. Bae had known what she meant as well that first day, but the brunette had been a little more tactful, probably a survival skill picked up from working at a paper with an editor. She thought about The president. The gamemakers. The harsh faced peacekeepers that were hanging around the set.

Then she thought about Finter and Magus and her stylist and the other people that were just doing their jobs. The people lucky enough to be born in the Capitol, away from the districts misery. Evening started to walk away, towards a concession cart, clearly wrestling with some inner turmoil. “Some less than others.” She called after Evening, but she didn’t know if the girl had heard her or not. Then it was back to the grind of wandering through the chiseled purgatory that was the park. It was getting more difficult to recognize tributes now; she’d been so young during the games in the fifties.

Here and there one or two stood out. The career from two that Lethe Turner had killed in her finale. Nash Harvey. Anani Petros. And then, then she spotted some red hair. As statues certainly did not have hair, she knew she’d found one more contestant. Poria Rain. “Hello again, Poria.” She said smoothly. “We certainly have run into each other a few times. Who’s your friend here?” she asked brightly, thinking of her two brothers families. Play the role, save a soul, Katelyn, she reminded herself. Just don’t lose yours in the process. 

"It breaks my heart, all these stories,
brings me to tears all this grief;
And I feel so fucking helpless
when I can't be your relief."

table coding (c) ghosty

[sbeeg]

Peeking out from behind her statue, Poria watched as blonde hair moved through the garden. She found a few more contestants and Poria began to wonder if she was actually going to win this little game. However, her pride was her downfall. She stretched her back for only a second and soon heard the smooth voice of Miss Persimmon. Stepping out from behind the statue, the woman leaned against the statue.

"We sure do," Poria said, trying to be casual but failing. No one can be casual when they're dressed like Poria Rain. The woman glanced over at her statue buddy, her thick fake eyelashes flickering up and down as she took him in. "Semper Capone, District Five male, 55th Games. He resorted to eating his own hand to survive."

She said the words proudly, but realized as they left her mouth that maybe cannibalism wasn't the best way to romance someone. Panic set in, and Poria tried to cover up her flub.

"However, seeing as it's kind of my job to know about all the tributes, I'll still buy the kids a treat," she said motioning her head to the area where the youngsters were playing with intimation swords. She gave Katelyn a small smile. "Enjoy your time with the winner."

With that, Poria slipped through the statues to the where the other contestants were gathered around the vendors. She already saw a child holding a snowcone, happily licking at the free treat.

She was so close to having alone time with her, and the time she did spend was wasted. If only she knew as much about romance as she did the Hunger Games.

[charade]

KATELYN PERSIMMON

As expected, Poria spouted the a fact about the trib from yesteryear in a single breath. Semper Capone had eaten his own hand in order to stay alive another day. He hadn’t made it home though. The tributes from four had apparently engaged in that activity the previous night on each other’s severed limbs. Not that there was much of them left in any case. It made Katelyn’s stomach roil. It was an affront to the culinary arts. And physically disgusting as well. Things had never gotten that desperate for her and her allies, but then again, they had gotten the wealth.

She pitied any tribute that had to resort to that. A couple seconds later, Poria appeared to have had second thoughts about her choice and acknowledged the fact that facts were her life. So maybe she had an unfair advantage. She decided to buy the playing kids snacks too. Katelyn smiled. That was a good mark in her book. But, with her found that left…

Ben.

Katelyn smiled in spite of herself. After looking around the tributes in the fifties section for a while longer, she headed back towards the sixty-seventh. She must have missed him. Maybe he was hiding among newer tributes. It took another fifteen minutes, but she found him among those who had perished in the mechanical quell. “Congratulations Mr. Duarte,” she said with a warm smile. “You’re the last one standing. You win today’s challenge.”

Which meant he got a share a treat with her.

“I…“ Katelyn glanced over at Tinselton. He was giving her a knowing nod. He had discussed this with her before the date had started. She’d just tried to forget about it until it was unavoidable.

“Uh, well. I had ice cream in mind…but…well..."

Katelyn bit her lip and fidgeted with her hands, feeling her face flush.

“I’m supposed to give the winner of this game a kiss. But like I said before...I haven't...” She said hurriedly, stopping and starting like a sputtering hovercraft engine.

Katelyn looked at him expectantly.

“If you don’t want to, I mean, I understand.” She finished lamely, feeling very flustered.

And at the same time, she was glad she had taken Harbinger on the one on one date in order to avoid this potential situation. It was awkward enough, and that would have been unbearable. Katelyn kneaded her hands together and straightened her back, gazing at Ben and wondered if she should lean towards him.

She waited to see what Ben would do.

"It breaks my heart, all these stories,
brings me to tears all this grief;
And I feel so fucking helpless
when I can't be your relief."

table coding (c) ghosty

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

B E N

Leaning against two statues, Ben observed the rather quiet area of the seventieth games. Every being in a bliss peaceful mode, it seems not many people venture to the most recent games. Likely due to the memory being fully there so there is no need to replenish the moments that transpired in the individual arenas.

Turning to admire the statues that he rests himself on, the moments of the tributes came to his mind. Circe Lyon with her fingers in the shape of a love heart, while leaning on her district partner Orion Hammerfell, Ben really took a liking to those games. An interesting quell, an interesting arena and one very interesting victor. Just one representative from Eleven, returning home in all his glory. Many in the Capitol disliked the result but Ben always loves a dark horse, an underdog to prove everyone wrong. And that boy was mentored by Katelyn, the woman who is on the search for Ben right now. To Ben, Katelyn must have some sort of power, if she was capable of bringing home two of her own, from such an unfortunate District. There is obviously something special inside of her.

Growing slightly restless, Ben pulls out his pocket watch, looking at the time. Has she forgotten about me? A few children catch his eye, thinking it was Katelyn, he’d step out from the statue only to be disappointed. He must have hid well.

More minutes past and it took Ben a lot of will power to not fall asleep while leaning against the statue.

Finally the sight he had been hoping for finally met his eyes. He had won the little game. His prize was to be a treat with the victor and even though the vendor’s goods weren’t as grand as his own, he’d settle for the little reward.

”Ice cream! That sounds brilliant, especially under this heat. Maybe a sundae to share, or a cone each?” His somewhat childish enthusiasm would be knocked by Katelyn’s stuttering…what’s the matter?

Told that he would be granted a kiss, the thought sent emotions through his body, even the small peck on her hand that he gave her the other day made him tingle. But obviously the moment was just for the cameras and the awkwardness that fills the air sends alarm bells towards Ben. She is being forced to do it. She shouldn’t be forced to do it.

”Oh I do want too…but I think we can both just settle for something else.” For the camera’s sake, he’d lean in towards Katelyn, given her a soft lasting peck on the cheek. Feeling his own cheeks burn, he’d wait a moment before pulling away. Hopefully the audience will be pleased enough with that…for Katelyn’s sake. He begs that he hasn’t read her wrongly and hasn’t mistaken a single thing for he could have just put everything in ruins.

Keeping his lips near her ears, he’d whisper, hoping the audio wouldn’t be picked up by the microphones. ”I can do one better…when you’re ready.”

Looking towards the cameras, he’d flash a smile to the lens, taking Katelyn by the hand as he does. ”Come on; let’s go for that ice cream.”