The Mares Continue in The Night {D3 Train Thread}

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

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Luxury glistens in the wake of our new endeavor, the greatest heist ever adapted by a Theft family member. The chance of death enriches upon such a mission as this one, though it is no new aspect encountered by us Twins - just as the wealth upon this foreign transportation isn’t. Stolen riches has framed our life in class from the earliest memories. A lavish home has always roofed us, expensive toys gifted whenever we pleased Father, delicacies fed us when he felt we deserved such. And with the perfection that has graced us for years now, a lack of means have been far from our reach. Fingers stretch upon my person in resistance to my talent, still craving to steal the beauties surrounding in craving to please the Father I’ll probably never reunite with again.

Eyes sparkling with potential transfer to my Brother in distraction from these instincts we both share. A grin twitches upon my round cheeks of youth, disbelief succumbing me in an overabundance to new information. Just hours ago we had succeeded entirely in a new task gifted by the Father. And with one new venture completed, another sets forth without expectancy to prepare us for such. But to cocoon it in supremacy, this abolishes us from any consequences for our previous misconducts. A risk may fold in the death of one of us, but even that is upon the fence, and either way the ultimate victory will surely behold one of us. A new name and meaning will certainly fall upon the Theft family.

Resentment doesn’t collapse against me from my Twin following me to this underworld we’re now approaching, though it should - I know if I were anyone else, it would be devastating. Fingertips grace upon the expensive antiques decorating the room, hungry for a mere taste of what I could snatch, though I resist the urge for now. A fluffy pastry of sweetness does grace my full grasp, followed by the clench of my teeth in cave to relish in every enjoyment provided. “Father would have a field day in here. So many nice things left unguarded.” Words are left vague incase of prying eavesdroppers. To anyone naive to the Theft family, they’d assume Father’s simply overprotective over his precious belongings - when in truth it’s so much more.

The all-knowing encounters the transportation shortly after. To the entirety of the District his face and name are well known, Atticus Manor - Victor of the 72nd Hunger Games. A plethora had died before and after him, but somehow he managed to succeed. Dillion and Prism from the 69th were frozen in their youth. The tiny redhead Deja was laid to rest in the prime of her innocence. But Atticus survived through the wetlands of hell, lingering as the sole remainder from District Three to survive through the Capitol’s annual nightmare. Will he be forced to grow grey with no one around who endured a similar experience of trauma? Not if I can help it.

“Alrighty then,” Words seep through my grin of a stuffed mouth. “Let’s break out of this joint then? All we gotta do is come up with a diversion to distract the Keepers and stop the train in between Districts…” Confidently coils from my core with a spice of excitement. A crystal glass of liquor balances within my grasp with thorough investigation upon it by my sight. “Maybe an explosion should do the trick? You in Atty? I’m sure the life of a Victor must be getting dull for you now?” My stare shifts to Larceny next with a spark of amusement bulging from my pupils.

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Beautiful Table by Arrows <3

[Arrows]

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It's quiet, the beginning. Behind doors lined with lost lives we walk newly shrouded by the summons of the Reaper. Over our heads hangs the dreaded decree of "abandon hope all ye who enter here". For basking beneath a fountain of blood lies the River Styx, running towards the depths of true damnation. We are just the newest set of strangers entering a land never meant for the trespassing of mere mortal souls. However, it is this epicenter of constructed casualties that the stage is set for the apex of all wrong-doing. The Holy Grail of Thievery, forged as the crown known as Victor. 

Alas, such contemplation for the most perilous of prizes is set aside the moment I find myself within the silver shell of divine luxury. From unwavering chandeliers to lavished lamps, gems of all assortments gleam in the light of the sinking sun. Every impulse for theft ignites inside my interior as though a key has just been authorized to energize my internal engine's ignition. Such dangerous desires clearly do not contain themselves solely to the circuitry of my own biological make up. For as my own eyes divulge into flames of temptation, Auto's imitate the same sense for crime. True children of our Father's forging. 

Her words finally shatter the silence which has sat as a reminder of my most recent set of words. Up until now, alone in my thoughts I've been left considering the course of my actions in raising my voice against the plan of Fate. Instead of trust in Auto's own individual potential I chose to honor our oath, keep the truth of our vow. Because of such, there is not even a shard of guilt within the windows to my thoughts. Neither of us are children, for such privilege was purged from our lives long ago. We are survivors, successful in our methods when combined. Without doubt, she surely accepts these facts over the idea that at least one of our lives is ending because of my voice, my decision. 

A laugh, short and quiet leaves my lips.

"Don't be fooled, everything here is guarded by the Games."

My fingers walk slowly over the tops of emerald engraved plates. "If you die, you can't get away with any of this. But, " I pause lifting a small clear-cut glass holding a vibrant hue of pink liquid within its basin, "If you beat the Games, then all of this is yours. The perfect heist."

Another dry laugh lifts from my lips as I send the bottle shattering across the floor by our entering Mentor's feet. A smirk stained with the sinister enjoyment of the destruction taints my upward angling cheeks. The next words which leave my mouth almost too easily aim towards Atticus with the truest coldness of my nature. 

"Still wonder how you managed it, but then again. Flukes do happen."

A sudden surge from Auto brings a devilish rush to the forefront of my mind. Building on her ideas of escape in order to unnerve the man before us is all too tempting to refute, even more so than stealing several pieces of actual silver silverware. For a second I consider the directions I can curve the conversation before ending up on one more than appropriate for the current scenario. 

"An explosive would be the best route, but even better than having Atty join us." I say stepping slightly towards the Victor with a twisted grin, "We frame it on him, make snow believe it was all part of some anti-games plan he came up with."

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[mat]

[googlefont="Calligraffitti:400"]

[presto][/presto]

Atticus Manor siblings. Memories locked in, notably for Bruce and Ave Clayton and now Bolts and Florence Spark. Ave and Bruce died within two years of each other, while Bolts and Florence had a longer difference of about six or seven years. Still, seeing the eyes of two people of the same blood enter the games, no matter how many years apart, raises deja vu in his head. But now, Atticus Manor is just seeing double. His kids for this year, his second Quell, were siblings. Twins, in fact, and their names spoke volumes. Auto Grand Theft and her brother, Larceny, would enter the train in a few moments, and for the first time, he wished Klaus would show up for once so he could hide in one of the back rooms and avoid them entirely. These two have been together since the womb, and now he was assigned the task of teaching them both how to outlive one another. His bottle of Sangria, which he requested after his.. interesting time at one of Three’s pubs, dancing around the table which he sat at, half empty already. He found the best advice to escape his lips when a bit of alcohol had met them first, and it also left more people satisfied than not. He peered out the window of the train, beginning to see crowds gather, likely to wish the Thefts well on their journey. Atticus stopped spinning his bottle and leaned it up against the wall beside him, so people wouldn’t see it. The last thing he wanted was to let people know that he was drinking at the same time that the District left two young, likely crafty, souls in his hands. It made him nervous to think about that, the look of shame and disapproval cast upon them toward him. Atticus still worried that they’ve failed to forgive him for killing Danny nearly a decade ago. Each time he thought of her, the victor considered looking into meeting with her family and friends again, wherever they may be, to apologize. Apologies aren’t always accepted, though, and it’s pretty damn unlikely that Auto or Larceny would be forgiven by their families if they dueled with one another. The both of them walked in as if the train was a shopping mall, and they weren’t just window shopping. Atticus didn’t think anything of it. Not until they began to speak to him indirectly, at least. The girl, Auto, began to talk about finding a way to escape the train as soon as it started moving. “Maybe an explosion should do the trick? You in Atty? I’m sure the life of a Victor must be getting dull for you now?” Atticus let a little chuckle out before slowly shaking his head. An explosion wouldn’t do much good for them, especially because the odds of escaping with their lives and limbs all attached was slim. But he still thought it was sarcasm until the boy, Larceny, started to speak. "If you beat the Games, then all of this is yours. The perfect heist. Still wonder how you managed it, but then again. Flukes do happen." It was a fluke, he wasn’t afraid to admit it. Sol Shim, Astrid Shaw, and Nell Locke were the reasons he lived, not any factor of his own strength. "An explosive would be the best route, but even better than having Atty join us? We frame it on him, make snow believe it was all part of some anti-games plan he came up with." He hadn’t even said one word, and he already felt overwhelmed. The train was already moving, far away from District Three. Lifting his Sangria back to the top of his table, he took a deep breath in before chugging another two mouthfuls. These two would be a handful for the next week. He knew that for sure. “Babysitting crazy twins, trying to prevent them from blowing up a train and escaping into the unknown. Never thought I’d have to say that one,” he stood up, approaching the two. “Hey. Don’t blow anything up, okay? I don’t get paid enough to diffuse explosives.” ~atticus manor made by ghosty

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

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Correction spews from Larceny the moment my words conclude on the ease this train possess for us Thefts to purge it of it’s precious belongings without a threat. Observation, consideration, and cation had always been skills he’s never lacked where I do. But bronze and brains does not separate us in black and white. Rash decisions may fault me, while intelligence still layers us both simply in different mannerisms. That swift judgement of mine has saved us in the past where a second was not provided to tally all possible outcomes, and Larceny’s thorough surveillance had prevented us from grave danger far more often then not. Reexamination glistens in my traveling stare as if the future offered the potential of this heist, as if we weren’t being shipped off the ultimate one already.

Further words of his breach through the momentary silence like he had known of my thoughts once again. If one of us were to overcome this upcoming Game with our breath still intact, then all of this would be ours without even a need to thieve it. And if somehow we managed not merely the ultimate heist, but a legendary one - outdoing the Capitol in the force for us both to live, as Vandal’s convinced that we can accomplish, we’d be the owners of the entire Panem… and we’d steal from it anyways. A sly smirk curls the corners of my lips for this unspoken goal, unwilling to speak of it aloud with conviction that Capitol ears even linger within every wall.

Attention travels to Atticus with the subject altering entirely, aside from the snarky remark to coil from my Twin’s tongue and the shattering bottle he chucked at our Mentor’s proximity. A flinch doesn’t embracing me but rather a chuckle sighs past my own at such brutality, amused by the hardship we can potentially ignite upon a new Victim who’s already gone through the ringer with the Capitol. Does his past nightmare halt me from crafting another for him? Certainly not. And sure enough, Larceny plays along as well.

An option to my offer deceives to life from his thoughts, the possibility of blaming my plan on Atticus as well. It’s pure toying that’s brewing from our lips, though it’s a play often deciphered to be truth to those unaware of our games. But to Atty? Annoyance seems to shine from his features, his comments as well - though both alike don’t bother with the severity of our words like others would. He breaks from his seat, leaving behind his mind altering beverage, and closes some distance between us as if we were no threat at all. Brows furrow above my eyes in distaste to this contentment of his.

A request spikes from his vocals, like he pertains the power to do so, to not blow anything up. Apparently his salary of luxury isn’t enough to prevent mayhem. He had killed to gain his current placement, endured hell to be where he is, but diffusing bombs is where he draws the line. Fear doesn’t cocoon me, it never has, to any superior. All 4’10 of me completes the elimination of the distance between us, like my stance actually reached six feet before him.

“And I don’t get paid enough to be sentenced to my possible death, but you don’t see me complaining.” My words bite back to his own, testing the waters of our new company. Not a muscle budges from my seek to be intimidating inches ahead of him, though my vision does turn back to Larceny in this faux planning over our imaginary mission of humor. “But if we framed it on Atty that’d mean we didn’t succeed in escaping. Maybe the best decoy would be a murder, that’d surely distract everyone for just the second we need to get out.” And to pinpoint exactly who I’m pretending we might try to kill, my stare returns to Atticus.

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Beautiful Table by Arrows <3