preserve the moment | pierre/abandon/preston [blitz]

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

[googlefont=Baloo Thambi:400]

PIERRE

There is never enough time in the day.

How simple it used to be, the shop closed at six and he would greet his four children and wife around the table as soon as we came home. It all so different now, three chairs remain empty forever and his own is rarely occupied. His evenings are now spent creeping up the stairs, after unearthly hours in the office and slipping under the covers, the most delicate manoeuvre to not wake his wife.

His life has been captured by secrecy and hiding, he did it for his family and now the hours spent with them are slowly becoming non-existent. His only son is a stranger to him. What is he even like? What is he thinking?

The soil on his final daughters grave had barely been placed and he was already on his campaign trail, was it too premature? Weeks spent enslaved in a dream and now it is all catching up to him. Stress latches onto his back; a toxic habit of tobacco has become the short-term remedy for it. He only practices it outside the office door, away from the sight of his wife. Decanters filled with alcohol in the house were only used for special occasions and now there is a cupboard dedicated to the poison.

Today is a day he salvages, free from the office once the clock strikes to one in the afternoon, he has until the sun wakes up again before he must return. Something that should be a norm for a family is the big treat for the day as he sets out the table, helping his wife decorate it with the various serving dishes of delights. ”I have been thinking about this dinner all morning.” He says as he pulls the lid off the dish of green vegetables. ”All I could think about in the meeting was the chicken cooking in the oven.”

A smile masks the secret emotions circulating inside of him; it all needs to remain hidden as he preserves the moment to come.

[thompson harvard - d2b - arc]

preston hope

Who would've thought that the father of three deceased children and one criminal would become the Mayor of a home that brought his children to their fate?

Not I, that’s for sure.

Today was going to be odd. It was something about the idea of us actually eating as a family. Not just Ma and I, not just Ma. Not just me. Ma, Father and me. I’ve grown used to calling him father by now. He has this high up role where he controls the district, and he must be seen with elegance, which includes the names in which we call him by. Gone are the days where I could call him my old man, because that would be considered ’rude’ as I’ve been told. Ma would always be Ma to me. She never left me; never betrayed me. Why would I pull away from her if she’s always pulled me right back?

My Father was the only person who wasn’t the same. He’d never be; he works for the government that killed his daughters. My sisters. It was never right in the first place that we had lost those three, but now that we had him working for them, it was almost as if he wanted me to be next. Guess he lost ‘Hope’ for his kids, huh?

I was running a bit late today because I had taken one of my vent-walks. I normally just walk to get everything out. Stare at the clouds or watch a bird (or the few that still roam). Witness a leaf fall off of its tree. Things that were normal but didn’t harm anyone or anything. It’s nice for me to be reminded that peace existed. By the time the cold breeze brushing on my cheeks had faded away I knew it was time to head home. Entering the room to my father’s voice, I let out a small and weak smile as I took a seat.

This was going to be fun.

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

ABANDON HOPE

The more evening Pierre spends away from the home, the more Abandon tries to regain her youth. After the fall of her second child, she stopped drinking. After the fall of her third, she stopped smoking, too, even though it had always been a casual addiction. With her pocket money she buys creams - for her lips, for her eyes, even for the backs of her hands. she is careful to pin her hair, to apply makeup so that it doesn't look like she's wearing any at all. She is so careful not to try too hard, less Pierre feel more pressure to stay home with her.

She merely wants to seduce him once again.

Today is no exception. Her flower frock is pressed, blonde hair piled messily - but purposefully - atop her skull. At the last moment she tucks away her apron; usually she'd ask Preston to check on the cooking, but he's gone off on one of his walks, which is for the best. She doesn't want there to be any fighting tonight. She never does.

"All I could think about in the meeting was the chicken cooking in the oven.”

Chicken. He's thinking about chicken. She smiles indulgently, setting down the salad bowl and then finally taking her seat. "You are a man of simple but excellent tastes, my love. Here," and so begins the careful ritual of passing bowls and dishes, of portioning out just enough food.

She catches Preston's eyes, looks significantly at his napkin (which very clearly belongs on his lap). "Tell us about your day, dear. Did you see anything exciting? Oh! Pierre, I forgot to tell you, Machiavelli stopped by earlier today. He wanted to ask you about cutting down some pines for the Ratmas celebration. I thought maybe we could help him, since he hardly ever asks anything of us?"

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

[googlefont=Baloo Thambi:400]

PIERRE

Life’s trials, he barely had to confront them before. Such a simple life, nothing needed to change. A job, a wife and four beautiful children; what more could a man like Pierre possibly ask for? One trial came knocking on the front door of his house, with three repercussions as it closed the door behind. To the Hope family, the Capitol could be the only sworn enemy. Rebellion or revolt, that is history’s remedy to the enemy but a simple man like Pierre; he ends up being their puppet.

Head held high with ignorance entwined into his smile as he pranced up to the stage for his acceptance speech. It only took hours before realisation finally hit. Strong strings sewn to his newly acquired tuxedos, handpicked by those he has never met. He could say it was a mistake. To flee or to continue? There have been occasions where has been granted his own free will, the only opportunities that are keeping him in office. Those moments where he consoles with tribute families and cuts the ribbons to the newly refurbished medical centres, it is what keeps the real smile on his face; he hasn’t had to use a fake one yet.

The company of two, certainly one thing that is helping him battle through these trials. He assists his wife with the distribution of foods and sits before welcoming his son into the room. ” Well hello Preston, where have you been?” So many years mourning the loss of his daughters and the one person that he needs to console, forgotten. He wishes he could go back and salvage all those moments, spent away from his son.

Before he can take the first bite of the steaming chicken on his plate, his wife drops him with questions and requests. It is hard to hold back the sigh that would rather reply to everything that she says. He answers everything in order of it being asked. ”My days have very much been filled with everything games related. A lot of tension in regards to the Rasoio girl attacking Zagreus Moon, most of the citizens are not happy with that. But enough about that!” One curse of his family, he always looks to Preston whenever the source of his daughter’s deaths are mentioned, he just can’t imagine his name being spoken on the day of reaping.

”I-I yes, I would be happy to help Machiavella.” He guides his hand to the decanter of whiskey that he so slyly sneaked onto the table, pouring himself a small glass. ”I will have to see if I am free before Ratmas though, I have a lot to do in the run up to it.”

[thompson harvard - d2b - arc]

preston hope

I didn't take my eyes off of my napkin. I didn't want to, but 'Ma started speaking so I knew I had to give up the act. "Tell us about your day, dear. Did you see anything exciting?" I had to think for a moment. Was there anything? Father then spoke up himself, asking where I had been for the day. I was stumped. There has to be something I tell them about. They'll feel left out of my life. Not that I already left my father out of it already, it's just that 'Ma normally was there. I feel obliged to tell her at least something. "I was on a walk, though there isn't much to see. The weather's gotten to the point that people aren't outside a whole lot." I jumbled quickly, not really sure what to say. Placing the napkin onto my lap ('Ma normally made a fuss if I didn't do so).

I placed some food onto my plate and picked at it mindlessly, taking a bite here and there while keeping my ears open to their conversation. Father mentioned something about tensions due to the girl from our district attacking the boy. I shook my head for a moment. "Don't understand why. One of them has to die anyways." I mumbled, giving a small chuckle at the same time. It felt crude laughing at such a thing, but, I've found it a joke when people get mad at the Games. They had no reason to be mad. They didn't know them.

I knew Lily, Paige and Eva.

They don't know how it is to lose your sisters.

The thought made me stab the plate a bit too hard.

The chicken was dead already; what harm would it do?