something something gay vibin [fleur/thread]

[pearl mcclain d4 [ryan]]

A stretch and a crack of his joints and reminded Thread that all of this was still very real. He hadnt tried to keep himself in the loop if he was being honest with himself. Actually, he was quite surprised what this place was like. It wasnt like he had any sort of memory, or even recollection. Seeing as the only person that he actually knew that went through all of this was dead.

Sometimes he wondered what exactly became of everything that once was brought here. Was there a room somewhere that had all the trinkets and doodads that were in the hands of tributes. He had received looks multiple times from various people in the training center, and it was probably because they had thought they had seen a ghost.

Too bad even he knew he would be nothing like his brother.

Thread sighed as he pushed through the cafeteria doors with a bottle of water and made his way to the improv station, holding true to his own nature. After all, he had been told that he had been just as crafty as Stitch once was, he just didnt have the same eye.

No one did.

He took a deep breath as he soaked in the items available and thought about everything he could try to make out of what looked like nothing. A trainer had come up every now and then to see if he needed help, but once they got a good look at Thread's face, they backed off quickly. Thread looked up to see the girl from nine skulking around the station. "I guess my reputation precedes me?" Thread looks forward to see something that he didnt think would exist in the training center, a replica of Stitches scarf, unsullied and pristine.

It was like it there to taunt him.

[fireflyz]

Fleur didn’t even know where to begin. The logical thing to do would be practice her targets - she wasn’t so naive to think she could enter a gunfight without at least trying to wield more than the knife of her muscle memory - but something told her showboating for the other tributes wouldn’t be the best idea, and what were the odds of them handing out guns two years in a row, anyway? She had days to work on that. In the meantime, she could get some survival skills.

She crept near the walls of the training center, trying to gauge where she was least likely to be interrupted. Socializing was for the dining hall. She needed to be ready so she didn’t succumb within the first hour of the games. If Fleur was going to be a martyr, at least she wouldn’t be the first.

From a slight distance, she spotted a relatively empty table with miscellaneous supplies stacked atop it, the sign above it reading “Improv”. The Adroxis family had craftiness in its genes - you didn’t make it as far as they did without it - but Fleur wasn’t as talented in that area. Best to iron out her wrinkles now.

She started toward the station just as a taller boy approached from another direction, and her motions slowed, cautious. She really wasn’t looking to chat right now. This was a vulnerable moment - or one she could wield against him later, if it came down to it. Just thinking of using her usual tactics against people made Fleur feel ill; it wasn’t anything she hadn’t done before, but being a tribute was. (There was also the fact that she didn’t particularly revel in doing what she did.)

Just as she was about to turn tail and walk away, a low voice made her flinch. ”I guess my reputation precedes me?”

Fleur furrowed her brows, racking her brain for anything she’d seen of the boy. She hadn’t given most of the tributes more than a cursory glance so far, and nothing struck her as particularly off about him, except that he seemed to be just as averse to human contact as she was at the moment.

”If your reputation is people not knowing who you are, then yes.” She tried to speak as evenly as possible, but the words still sounded bitchy. Maybe that’d be the end of the conversation.

Fleur crept forward, reaching forward to examine the supplies on the table. She was really out of her element.