enamel teeth and ivory tusks /council members

[gamemaker kelsier]

a z a z e l .

"Now no one can tell
The winter was nice
But the summer is hell
The summer is hell."

The car arrives at three thirty in the morning and Azazel Fenwick watches its approach, cold blue headlights cutting through the haze of early morning fog laying heavy on the asphalt. There's a coffee in one hand and his briefcase white-knuckled in the other. He's wearing yesterday's fare, a dress shirt that was perfect for the function he was attending but not so much for this.

It's another sleepless night.

He shivers slightly from the cold as the car pulls up, wondering, not for the first time, why in the world he ever signed himself up for this. The concept of having a choice, the dream of it even, is far away. When he was younger, Zel lived apart from the Fenwick name but as soon as he grew old enough to gain glory, his family recognized him once again.

And now he's sat in the back of a government car at three fourty-five in the morning, phone glued to the side of his face as he tries to work out what the fuck is going on now.

"I don't care why, I want to know who," he says calmly, tone icy, "Which maniac decided to close the borders without notifying the council? Have them in a car to headquarters in ten minutes or we'll just consider firing all of you." He hangs up, knowing that he doesn't really hold the power to say any of that at all but not really giving a shit. If there's anything that Zel has learned from his family, it's all about confidence.

That's one of his biggest issues with being a council member. Nothing like this has ever been done before, no one remembers a time before Snow because that's what Snow wanted. Whether they were better days or not, Panem will never know because Snow marketed them as worse, always. He promised that Panem would fail without him.

In moments like these, when everything is on the council's shoulders, Zel starts to believe that it will. With a military that mobilizes without confirmation and an entire district acting in secret, doing god knows what, doom seems inevitable to Zel. Then again, it usually does.

During the car ride, he opens his laptop and gets to work. Messages scroll across the top of his screen, new information and texts from other council members. Azazel works silently focused on what he can fix without needing the rest of the council's input. It isn't a lot. He understands why many voices are better than one, of course he does, but every meeting Zel understands more and more why Snow chose to rule alone.

But one person cannot know what's best for an entire country of people, Azazel knows this better than anyone.

The government building comes into sight and Zel barely waits for the car to stop before he's out the door and walking quickly up the steps. His phone buzzes with calls from manufacturers, officials and Shiv Irvine, his appointed district's mayor. He's certain they all want answers but Azazel has none to give, not yet.

He lets them all go to voicemail.

Azazel arrives in the council meeting room first and he wastes no time in getting set up. He rings back the military agent he was speaking to and then puts them on hold. Then, he brings up video feed of Six's borders as well as the video feed of the cameras focused on Thirteen.

There's much to discuss and Azazel finds himself growing impatient as the other council members begin to arrive, too slowly for his taste. He's built a list of what they need to accomplish first, of course, prioritized based on urgency. Knowing this council though, everyone will have their own opinions. Getting them to decide on anything is akin to pulling teeth.

As always, when Apollo arrives, Zel's gaze slides elsewhere.

"As I'm sure you're all already aware of what's going on, I won't bore you with a recap," he begins as the door closes behind the last council member, "We need to begin damage control immediately. As the first order of business, I move we reopen the borders immediately for inter-district travel before the economy tanks." Since the introduction of inter-district travel, Panem has been doing better than ever. There has been less unrest within the districts and Capitolites have been enjoying more luxuries as a result.

As he speaks, graphs and spreadsheets appear on the left wall, displaying this data.

"If anything happens to supply, this council will be blamed, we can't have that," Zel continues. They're too new and there's been too much change with the disappearance of Snow. They need to secure their position as Panem's new leaders before anyone gets any stupid ideas.

"We need to move more citizens to Six to pad the production of medical supplies. With the excess made at this year's festivities, we can offer a wage increase as an incentive."

The video line with the military agent beeps and Zel gestures at the screen behind him, "There is also of course, the issue of the military and their lack of respect."

[grant]

- Soundtrack -

They had followed one man before. Now, a dozen representatives of Districts that few of them loved. Power and the acclimatisation to that power was the word of the seasons that have come and gone, yet as the morning dew settles and the air sits thick with a metallic haze to it, Marilla smiles from her window before taking a final glance in the mirror, leaving the door.

Today was huge. Communications had been bouncing in each direction about opinions, statistics, challenges to power and even the idea that dissent is imminent. These thrilled the liaison to District Twelve, because where there is fuel there is power, and she has a lot of coal to burn today.

She makes her way into the street, which is quiet at this time of the morning. Her car is ornate, and her driver knows where to go already. The ever-organised Capitolite has avoided what she would consider to be a scandal for a long time, which can't be said for many others in her cohort. The quiet one, for a time. That is how she is playing her cards.

With so many issues on the table, there can only be one answer. An emergency meeting of the High Council, its members reluctant to work together at the best of times. Not out of spite, she would hope, but due to differing thoughts and brainwaves in a nation constructed to follow only one route, one man, one power. Now, there are twelve. Now, there is chaos. To settle that chaos is Marilla's primarily objective. Common ground is safer ground. There must be level heads at the top of the overgrown hydra, should one head falter the mandate must remain true.

The government building is in sight. Marilla never fails to be enamoured by the privilege she has earned. To be seated among the top seats, if even if her seat is the lowest, is an honour. She doesn't settle for simple honour, however. She is an achiever, and achievers seek success. Azazel is the first to arrive by the looks of things, and she would expect nothing less. Being prompt is something she is good at, there are many times that the pair have been the first to occasions. That doesn't mean they know each other. In fact, Marilla knows few of the High Council members thus far, and that is a testament to her being too busy to interact with them as much. The distance between her District and theirs is always a factor, but it is in fact a machine of her own making. To interact less is to retain the information that District Twelve will always have over the them all - it's proximity to Thirteen. The ability to step beyond a single boundary and have the entirety of their territory at your disposal. An attribute that is either the root of envy or the source of disgust.

She waits as the other members arrive. Quiet, passing a smile forth a few times in greeting. Responding to any salutations in the most genuine manner. This is, of course, a Capitol event.

"As I'm sure you're all already aware of what's going on, I won't bore you with a recap," Zel speaks, and begins relaying the information as an introduction.

"As the first order of business, I move we reopen the borders immediately for inter-district travel before the economy tanks." He speaks as figures begin to reinforce his viewpoint from the screen behind. Marilla always liked how prepared someone could be for a meeting so important. To get straight to the point in such a brutish manner was entirely her mindset, too. It is a shame that she could disagree so much with what he is saying.

"If anything happens to supply, this council will be blamed, we can't have that," he goes on to say, speaking further in regards to military and their lack of respect. Something that Marilla instead, entirely agrees upon.

She remains seated, but her voices raises into the room politely. There is a quietness to her that should she speak, people know it is her. They know to listen, at least initially. "Now if I may just stop you there, Azazel" she begins, smiling briefly as she starts. "If I am to understand the situation, Panem survived for decades without this necessity of unrestricted travel." She reads the room for a moment. Her interjection is warranted, at least as far as she believes. Though, likely not welcome. "I personally would counter your move of indefinite opening of borders; Instead, I suggest we create a system wherein only a District's workforce may move between these boundaries, for reasons only relating to that workforce."

"Let Seven travel to Six and cut their wood. Allow Twelve to host workshops in Two to improve mining technique. But let us not permit the mingling of criminals, deviants and traitors between our Districts."

"Control of the situation is paramount. We cannot control whom we have no hands upon. We retain that control by knowing who is moving where, and why. We do not wish to further encourage the mixing of Districts. Surely this alone will invigorate further opportunity to travel to the Districts that we do not necessarily desire further populace. For example, Thirteen."

"But, of course. The military must remain in check. Should people believe this to be a military dictatorship once again, then we verge on the risks posed in the last administration."

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

[googlefont="Roboto Slab: 400;"]

if we don’t fuck this whole thing up

Glamour is winding down when he locks eyes with the younger man. The music has mellowed considerably from its staccato booms that marked the midnight peak. In the hours since, the bass has continued to reverberate throughout the club, but each beat comes a little more slowly. The melodies have changed too, from stories of power and change, to something more wistful. Glamour likes this time of night, almost as much as the rush of first entering the club. Here he can just be.

He stretches long, reaching with painted fingernails and boot-clad toes. He can feel the length of the sinew he cannot change, the tugging of muscles that are irrevocably middle-aged. They ache despite the painkillers he sneaks between flutes of champagne. So, he's glad for the distraction. So glad in fact that for a moment he mistakes the man's intentions. A giggle fills his throat as he drapes one arm across broad shoulders. "But I'm married!" He squeals and then finally, finally recognizes the steel woven into the brown eyes.

"Bummer," Glamour deflates. He waves the plainsclothed Peacekeeper forward, shuffling in his wake. Like that, the magic of the evening is gone, and there isn't even time to return to his Penthouse to freshen up.

He chugs water in the black car, ponders splashing some over his face, and then decides everyone else deserves to suffer the sour alcohol on his breath and the salty musk of his sweat.

He's not the last to join the committee, but he's far from the first. He rolls his eyes at Cadence (can you believe they expect so much of us?) and sinks into his seat. For a moment - or a very long time, he can't quite be sure which it is - he stares at Azazel's coffee longingly.

And then he really hears what the other Councilor is saying. "We need to begin damage control immediately. As the first order of business, I move we reopen the borders immediately for inter-district travel before the economy tanks."

"Travel is closed!?" Glamour squeaks, but it's mostly drowned out by others. He scoots his chair a little closer to Fenwick's. Those same fingers which only recently swayed and reached for the pulsing night sky now slink across the table towards the cup of coffee.

Someone else is speaking, distracting Fenwick. Good, good. He was almost there, pointer finger just grazing the base of the cup, when Marcellus said, "instead, I suggest we create a system wherein only a District's workforce may move between these boundaries, for reasons only relating to that workforce."

Glamour whipped his head around, bright gaze focused on the Councilor. He waited until she finished - at least he was pretty sure she was done speaking. "We can't do that!" He declared. He picked up the coffee, drew it to his chest, and stood. "Travel is essential. We'll have to find another way to control... whatever it is we need to control. People like the travel, it makes them happy, it makes them think we're doing a better job than Snow. And we are, we totally are, this late night hiccup notwithstanding. Also, did you say something about Thirteen...?"

Glamour lifted the coffee to his rouged lips and took a long, sweet sip of a small victory.

guaranteed, i can blow your mind-dua lipa-

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

HADES LOCHLAN Hades Lochlan found himself in a precarious position. On one hand, he held more of the power he had always so desperately sought out than ever before. On the other hand, it was not enough. He'd begun to worry that, perhaps, nothing ever would be enough and he was frightened of his own ambition. There was a time when he'd convinced himself that establishing his own business would be enough. Lochlan Creations was a titan within the muttation industry, a staple of any Games these days, and that was not enough. He'd told himself making it behind the table of the gamemakers- even something as lowly as a consultant- would be satisfactory enough. He'd been a junior four times now, and though he was not permitted to talk about it just yet, he was slated for a fifth in the months to come. But that had only made him realize he could run the Games himself, a much more adequate driver than some of these people. The point was that he'd only succeeded up to this point and even still he felt a profound sense of melancholy and aggravation every time he dwelled on it for too long, because it was not good enough. He was not good enough. Not yet. Even there, among the most powerful of the Capitol with a seat at the table, he craved more. And in that particular moment, he could have probably thought of a thousand things he could be doing that were more beneficial to the cause than listening to the endless drawl of an argument between two people who were too polite to call it an argument, and too refined to be any good at it. He finished off his coffee, disappointed that there wasn't more in it, before snapping his fingers. An avox stepped forward to help but Hades waved him off in favor of a glowing orb that found its way out of his briefcase. Seelies were among the better of his creations, he liked to think. Though he'd saved the best of their functions for his own personal use. Cinder was aptly named, a glowing red center surrounded by the smoldering grays and black of ash. It hummed, floating very near his head as he handed over the empty cup to it and it went on its way to make his coffee. If you thought that was impressive, Cinder also functioned as a key finder, an alarm clock, and on the rare occasion that Hades was wine drunk and feeling dangerously close to calling Astrid over, a good pet to distract him. He moved his hand in a puppet-motion, swirling a finger in the air as Marcellus found yet another mouth's worth of things to say. He wasn't interested enough to interject, but he might have soon enough if Kinkade- Sweet, hopelessly misguided Kinkade- hadn't beaten him to the punch. "Ripred's sake," he said at last, only ceasing his glare of contempt to smile at Cinder or a brief moment as it arrived with a fresh cup of coffee. "Numbers don't lie. The Districts thought they won something with the granting of travel permits. Taking it away is needless, and it'll only piss them off. I personally don't care which wasteland they choose to spend their time in, so long as they aren't knocking on my door. The point is that we maintain the illusion of freedom without actually giving them any. In my opinion, we reopen the boarders now." Glamour's slurred speech caught him off guard. "Also, did you say something about Thirteen...?" It was preposterous to remember a time when Hades had worked beneath Glamour. Even still he maintained his composure as best he could with the scent of vodka and too much cologne invading his every inhale. At the very least, the man had raised a good point. In regards to Thirteen, his personal solution was quite simple: finish what was started almost a century ago, and do it right this time. But he wouldn't reveal his cards quite yet. No need in tacking this on as his idea, even if everyone else in the room was thinking the same thing.

[kap]

k a n e.

"one step closer
to the throne
king of nothing"

As soon as Kane caught wind of what was going on, he got himself ready. He was a little preoccupied when he got the message, as he'd spent the last several hours indulging in one of his guilty pleasures- watching reruns of the Hunger Games. He'd trained a few of the tributes himself, so watching what they did in the Games, even if it was just a rerun, was entertaining nonetheless.

This time's reruns had been of the seventy-fifth. He had been watching as tributes were trampled by stampedes and devoured by swarms when the call came in. Immediately, he turned off the television and dressed himself in more appropriate attire. It may have been a bit excessive in the eyes of some for a High Council meeting that wasn't being seen by the public, but he always dressed his best.

There was always the risk of someone seeing him on the way and snapping a photo, even in the middle of the night (those damn paparazzi were slick) so he had to have a pristine appearance at all times.

What he wore was an off-white button-up shirt, a sleek black tie, black suspenders and slack to match. His blazer was a gray tweed. Some would say he was a little misled with his fashion sense, but then again, he'd say that about half the Capitol in their ridiculous attire. Putting on his shoes, he was out the door and into the vehicle that'd bring him to his destination. He was scolded in the car for taking his time.

When Kane arrived, he was one of the last Council members to file into the place. He got a few dirty looks, having taken a bit longer than he should have been allowed to. He was too concerned about his appearance when he truly didn't need to be, and it ate up the time he should have taken to have gotten there when he was supposed to.

Azazel started the meeting. He explained what was going on, and to be entirely honest, Kane's mind wandered as it was all happening.

Some of the Council members started to complain about travel being closed, when something clicked in Kane's mind.

Oh, shit. I should be listening.

Usually he was much more attentive than this. Perhaps it was the time of day this meeting was called at that had thrown him off. He was a bit tired, come to think of it.

He turned his focus to what Glamour and Hades had to say, as he hadn't really listened too much to the others who had been speaking.

"Stopping travel doesn't seem like the wisest decision to me, either. It could certainly cause some disturbances. We don't want angry citizens."

He looked at Azazel.

"Who's bright idea was this? Closing the borders?"

He drummed his fingers on the table.

elegant

lyrics: "King of Nothing" by Saint Asonia

[✨ zozo.]

x e n a .

"car chase
got the devil on me
can't sleep, got nothing but a twenty on me
nothing ever comes for free"

"Well don't look at me."

Xena's disdain for the district citizens certainly wasn't a secret, especially given her tragedy of a history - but even she was bemused at the idea of shutting travel off all together. It was the second piece of information that had caused her to stop in her tracks for a moment as she walked down the halls to the conference room.

"Lochlan's right," she added with a frown. "Squabble about the transportation all night if you will. Hell, we'll vote on it - I'm surprised this wasn't called to a usual vote prior-to enforcement. But maintaining illusions is what has kept this country running and Thirteen quiet for so long."

Most of the people sitting at this table she had half a mind not to trust, let alone agree with their ideas, but Hades - along with Azazel and Marilla - were usually the most sensible among the bunch. She was glad to hear that tonight was no exception.

"Which brings me to my most pressing matter," Xena continued, leaning forward in her seat as she pressed her palms together in front of her. "There's been a communications breach. A minor one, but a breach nonetheless."

Truthfully the issue had been gnawing at her since the moment she had found out whilst collecting herself a mug of coffee, but Xena's face stayed stoic and her voice was unwavering. Anxieties were for the dead of night. Tonight was alive and well, creeping toward dawn with each passing comment and opinion. And as the communications expert with years of broadcasting work behind her, this was the moment where her opinions mattered most to the rest of the High Council.

Idiots some of them were, but they were still Xena's colleagues and she still had a job to do.

"I've already got the best technicians on standby ready to decipher where the breach is coming from and what it plans to target, and shut it down immediately."

The broadcast security team weren't going to enjoy a stern wake-up call, but endure it they must. Should they succeed, Xena had decided she'd award them with some sort of Panem Medal of Protection - and if it didn't exist, she could curate one for their trouble.

She could. She would. The concept of them failing was something Xena simply couldn't risk.

"Best case, the breach can only access basic district-wide systems such as emergency alarms or street lights - but we can control this. Worst case, they can access anything from the screens in One's District Square to the radios in Twelve."

She let the information sit for a moment, knowing the minds in the room might not be as sharp at four in the morning as they were in their usual working hours. Even Xena, with many sleepless nights experience batting off grief and a toddler's tantrums, couldn't fight the bleariness with just coffee alone. The Council Member grasped at her mug and sipped the last of the bitter liquid for good measure.

"Now you know the situation, I propose we vote on what to do in that department. Unlike someone here," she added, scanning the room with a suspicious glare and leaning back into her seat, "I actually value the concept of voting on a decision before we act."


She hoped they'd vote, and quickly. Time was something they simply didn't have to spare for this matter.

table by elegant !

[D6f Carmen Cantelou [aza]]

Being a political figure isn't all I thought it would be. I mean, yeah, I'm followed pretty much everywhere I go but come on — being asked about all these things going on in the Districts like I have any idea is a little too much. My speech after making it to this position ended up in the papers saying that Four is going to crumble under my control, and yeah, those journalists are probably right. But at least it'll be a pretty crumble, rhinestoned, sparkling and gorgeous. That's the kind of decline I'd want.

And whenever I'm asked all these questions with jargon I don't understand, I usually just smile and nod. But I'm thankful for all the people who used to bully me online because it's taught me that one of the best ways to answer a question is with a question. It's kind of a method of confusion, a distraction as well — it can buy me some time to sound out the questions and try to get my head around the logistics before giving a more competent answer.

Do I think the borders for inter-district travel should be reopened?

Do you think opening the borders could be a good thing? I love Sunny C. sunglasses. They're a really interesting design.

Honestly, inter-district travel seems kind of fun, it's a bummer it is temporarily closed. I'm not entirely sure what it all means for the people in the districts but, meh, I'm sure it's doing no harm. I mean, they've probably felt like little animals in a zoo enclosure for so goddamn long, it must be nice for them to branch out a bit. They've been so sad and poor their whole lives which is just, ugh, so bad! And if opening the borders can make them a little less sad, then so be it, I'll stand for that for sure. It's all about making their lives a little less povo, right?

Right. I'm so glad I get to be in the position to make such important decisions like this. I think when they were choosing people for this council, they wanted someone who was good at pretty much everything, I mean, it's going to be on the news and TV all the time and stuff... They probably wanted someone decent looking. And I'm so happy that I get to fulfil all aspects of this role, bringing both the brains and beauty — ugh, this council is so lucky to have me.

I'm truly surrounded by some of the best people in the Capitol here. There's so many high profile, business fish, white women throwing around these long words and asking people to organise themselves and their thoughts and honestly? It's kind of overwhelming, but in a good way, because I can feel my body working overtime and that means my carbs from lunch will be handled in a flash.

This inter-district travel talk is actually getting kind of boring, I mean, it feels like this chat has been going on for hours. It's fun, yeah, sometimes, but it's dragging. I probably have other places to be, like, I'm an important person, I'm a busy gal and if we don't come to a conclusion soon, I'm definitely going to be suing this council for crimes against humanity. Starving me of a shopping spree when I've been advised by my counsellor that retail therapy is the cure to my depression?

They're all going down.

I guess I should probably contribute at least. I'm here to speak for an entire district and that's a big responsibility, but Four is in such safe, moisturised and manicured hands with me. With a sip of my skinny smoothie from my favourite little hatch on Style Street, I check my posture, place my hands on the table and am ready. Okay congress, I'm so excited, let's get this discussion started!

"I love peace. Are you guys into peace?"

God, I'm such a political powerhouse.

[bailee]

melody music maker, reading all the papers

"Who the fuck decided to close the borders?" 

Suitcases sprawled across my penthouse floor, train tickets scattered across the granite countertops. I slammed my laptop shut, the sound startling the Avox who cowered in the corner. Her anxiety carried in her posture as she crossed her fingers in front of me anxiously, awaiting my next move.

"It is 2-fucking-am, I am supposed to be catching a train to District Seven right now, but I get an email saying it's cancelled due to border closures?" I turn to the Avox in disbelief. "Can you believe this? How am I supposed to get to my meeting?" The avox shrugged her shoulders as the coffee machine beeped. She quickly rushed to gather my coffee, the aroma of freshly ground brew filling the air. I take it in, and my senses calmed at the relaxing scent. "Absolute ridiculousness."

So there I sat, tumbler in hand, contemplating why I even running to be a fucking council member in the first place. You just couldn't have gotten enough, could you, Vegas? You just had to run as a council member, and now instead of listening to the whirr of the train engines as it travelled over the countryside, you had to sit in a  board room as fresh meat at four am amongst some of the most pompous and powerful assholes in the Capitol.

Listening to each council member stating their position without actually coming to a decision was exhausting. I suddenly saw why the whispers about the new council were always negative: they seemed to never actually get anything accomplished. Snow's regime at least did one thing right: they took action. 

I supposed that was what happened when they allowed one man to take control. He could create change, he could make decisions without running it by the likes of twelve other people, all with entirely conflicting opinions. 

I also highly doubted President Snow had to deal with the likes of Bay, whose cluelessness made me realize why I was underestimated so severely during my rise to the top.

"We can take it to a vote, but does anyone have an actual plan?" I asked, thumping my perfectly polished acrylic blues against the tumblr. The other members were right - Panem was all about creating illusions. Illusions that life may be good in the Districts after all, that it could be worse. Citizens of Panem were like my pulp mill employees - you didn't have to necessarily treat them right, you just had to make them think they could be worse off. Throw them a bone here and there, distract them from the shittiness of their reality.

"I wholeheartedly agree that we have been better off as a country since lifting travel restrictions," I looked to Marilla Marcellus, seated across from me, "but Ms. Marcellus has a point. Our economy only needs a limited amount of interdistrict travel to thrive."

"We restrict non-essential travel until we take care of the security breach and settle the unrest in the Districts. Allowing citizens to move freely amongst the Districts during such a perilous time could lead to the Districts getting some ideas, and we certainly don't want that. Contact the propaganda minister, have them come up with some bullshit that'll keep the Districts happy until we can fix this."

"But don't keep the ban on for too long. Having that freedom taken away permanently will result in suspicion.  I vote for a eased reopen - first, only essential economic travel. Then, as our engineers fix the system, allow for government officials and other important figures to travel, within reason. Finally, once we get out of this mess, we open the borders back up."

I look at my fellow council members, and set my tumblr down on the table in front of me. If no one else was going to take action, I would surely be the one to do it.

they say i'm up and coming like i'm fucking in an elevator

VEGAS.