close encounters | Cassie/Ronnie

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

The nightmare had stopped, on the two occasions that he has rested his eyes since volunteering; the dark fog has not obscured his mind while he slept. I am telling you Ronnie, the enemy has followed you, Reggie is safe. Only can the voice comfort him, assure him that following his cousin’s demise will help complete the process of protecting his twin brother. Well, he is a career and despite being surrounded by a great number of tributes, he might as well do what he does best…

Getting himself noticed, accidentally, for the most bizarre reasons; he has no trousers on. Although, to save the younglings from a view of his package, only the thin material of his grey underwear is keeping it all tucked in.

He hasn’t really bothered to revise the names of the tributes although a few surnames come to mind, Eckhart, Fray, Shaw, all relatives to those who met their end alongside Henrietta, one even taken by her. But he isn’t interested, they’re just names and the people who hold them are just like anyone else in this training centre. You are more of a threat Ronnie, I am telling you. Such words of wisdom from the voice.

Ronnie gets himself familiar with the new training centre set up, opting for his favourite trap making station; he’ll need a trap if he is to catch the dark enemy in the Capitol. Rope, that is what he will need, maybe he can catch it by its legs and hang it in the air.

Standing by the table in just his underwear and a shirt provided by the Capitol, he handles a fine length of rope, sussing out a perfect knot to use on it…

[ali]

I will ask you for mercy
I will come to you blind
What you’ll see is the worst me
I'm not the last of my kind

Two nights had passed since they'd arrived in the sickenlingly bright and colourful capitol and for those two nights, Cassiopeia had barely slept. A creature of strict rigourous habit, she felt like a wild animal plucked from its very home in the heart of the wilds to be put into a cage for people to view and judge. When she had volunteered, she did not think it would be like this but the past few days had seen her cooped up in the Training Center, unable to move her feet and run until she could run no more but she was adapting.

In the heart of it all, she found her comfort in the training room. To hide her discomfort of being unable to run, train how she was used to train and to hide her blind and wild fear she would be scolded by her father from beyond the grave, she wore a mask. Stiched into her skin, she still smiled, laughed and flirted with those when she was in a good mood but mainly the darkness leaked through her mask. The smoke would billow from her eyes, ears and mouth as she snapped, yelled, becoming red in the face when she could not do something or when someone pissed her off; people however just assumed this was her and it did not feel like she was wearing a mask.

 Despite this, the career was starting to relax a little but all the while she was practising this and that and learning new things, Cassiopia kept a watchful eye on everyone. She had noted some familiar faces- well as familiar as they could get- from the volunteer pool. Fray, Luminere, Eckhart- twins, who would have thought- and some not so familiar faces too. Stranger or not so stranger, she still kept a keen eye on each and everyone of them. Watching for strengths, weaknesses and everything that held them together; her father had taught her how to do this. How to stalk your prey before you pounced, except instead of using the mirror, she was doing it for real.

Quickly her gaze fell on a familiar name to face boy- a Cheyne, one of District 4's boys- over by the trap station. There was reason this morning her attention was so qucikly drawn to the Cheyne who was observing a rope to its very fibres; he seemed to have forgotten all but his underwear on his lower half. As Cassiopeia walked over she had to suck in her lower lip which was beginning to quiver with the anticipation of laughter. She stopped, a few meters behind him, her eyebrow raising quizzically as she prepared herself for this conversation.

Boy this is gonna be a fun one.

"Is that how you pick up girls?" Cassiopeia asked cooly as she moved round to stand at the table. Picking up a string of rope, she admired it carefully "Or did you just forget to put pants on?? Sorry I'm not too good at boys."

Cassiopeia Shaw

District 2 Tribute

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

Since stepping off the train, Ronnie hasn’t stopped even when he has tried too, someone has ushered him away to do one thing or another. An eccentric stylist, working every ounce of his magic on Ronnie for hours on end; just to turn him into one of them. Florescent clothes, unpractical in many ways, it is all something that Ronnie has enjoyed back home but he doesn’t enjoy it here. Just because it’s theirs, he has no say in what immaculate products they splash across his face, he’d rather be given the choice of what prude costume they are going to parade him in each day. Like, why on this occasion, he has ‘forgotten his trousers.’

But unlike the many inexperienced that surround him, he is growing somewhat bored of the persistent participation in the training centre, if only Reggie was here, it would somewhat become a little more entertaining. His interactions with the forty something tributes has been very much dismal, even if he has invited but a few around to his quarters for a bit of rumpy pumpy. But there is just something missing for him. Many yearn to live a life in the Capitol, but even in is short time here, it has been a drag; roll on the arena!

He has pursued conversations with many but many have brushed him off, even the avoxes, he really does not understand why they none of them seem to talk. A handsome young one always seems to stand about in the District Four quarters and yet, despite Ronnie’s best attempt to woo him over, the avox is very much reluctant. Well his loss.

Grasping onto the length of rope, Ronnie studies it as he determines exactly what knot to perform with the piece. Maybe a noose Ronnie, use it on that avox to liven him up a bit. Such a splendid suggestion by the voice, maybe a little trick with the mute will grab his attention.

He places the rope flat onto the table surface in a C shape, beginning the simple operation of tying the knot. A few loops and tight tugs later, the expected product unravels in front of him.

"Is that how you pick up girls?" The admiring of his work is cut short by a disruption, the voice of a female. A quick glance identifies her as a Shaw, he is unsure of her first name but knows the family from the games his cousin was in. Ronnie looks back to the rope, certain she is referring to that. "Or did you just forget to put pants on?? Sorry I'm not too good at boys."

Of course, his trousers. His legs are on show, smooth shiny legs, the hairs ripped from them by the stylist with wax. ”No, they are just not comfortable and sorry; I am not too good at girls.” His eyes follow the girl around the table, his body relaxed with a smirk painted across his face. ”What are you here for really? I can tell you are not into me.