Stone Oakland, 43 year old Victor of the 48th Annual Hunger Games. The Executioner
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"I know." It was a short, simple reply, but it had so much meaning behind it. Even if they have come across each other in the worst of circumstances - for Stone at least - her never-ending support meant so much to him. As her hand went down to his, lingering there, his fingers twitched, almost in an attempt to squeeze her hand. But the moment was over in a matter of moments, and Stone crossed his arms once Cressia's hand was gone. "Either way, it's fine. We're all doing whatever is necessary for the greater good." His ways were bringing out the nightmares and restless nights, but it was better than lives being lost.
despite her insistence, Stone wanted to believe that he knew her well enough to know that she was lying through her teeth. "Maybe, but you can't keep your mind busy if it's too exhausted." He pointed out, the look on his face softening. After everything she's done for him prior to this, the least he could do was look after her. "How about just a quick, power nap? I'll walk you to your room." He offered.
"Because it would be a lie." Cressida murmured honestly, a little sad smile on her lips. She did have to film him. Not today. But his name had routinely appeared on her filming schedule. It wasn't hard filming him though. She already knew his story, quite intimately, and so she felt that she knew how to probe further to get him to talk. "But Stone...." Her hand reached out, resting on his forearm. "You know it's not the only reason that I want to see you." Her hand slid down, her fingers briefly slipping between his, before she let go. "It will never be the only reason. I value our friendship." Their more than friendship. Whatever it was between them, was important. At least to her anyway.
After she had let go of his hand, Cressida ran her fingers through her hair, sighing. She was tired. She could probably have laid down on the floor beneath her feet and fall asleep. But she couldn't. She had too much work to do. And sure she could delegate it to someone else. But the editing was important to her. "Don't I always?" She murmured, trying to make a joke of it, but her exhaustion was clear in her voice. "I like working. It keeps my mind busy."
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[Propo] What made you join the side of The Rebels?
"The easier question would be why wouldn't I join the sie of The Rebels?" Stone managed a smile smile, even if it wasn't the usual charming one. He was used to the cameras, that was nothing new after nearly three decades of being in front of them, but that didn't mean that he wasn't nervous. Normally, he didn't talk about something genuinely meaningful, he didn't talk about his past. "I had a best friend when I was a kid. We pretty much grew up together, and we were complete nuisances to everyone around us. We questioned everything." He didn't talk about Cedar, not to his friends - if he had any - not to anyone. Not that the friendship was something hidden. "We were so vocal, and... a year before my Games, his name was picked out of the reaping bowl. He was murdered by another tortured, poor child." And that was just the beginning. He knew he was paying for his own rebellious nature, and Cedar paid for his attempts at rebellion.
Looking down at his hands, Stone picked at his nails. His stylists would have an eppy if they saw how unkempt he was. Were they even alive, still? Probably not. So many people were dead, wiped from this world, and Stone could only but hope that all of this would be worth it. "Months after my Victory tour finished, I came home to my mother, my father and... and my little sister, burnt to ashes. I didn't even have anything left to bury. They said it was an accident, but it was too on the nose, you know? After I acted childish and refused certain requests." He couldn't talk about that, not tonight. He couldn't tarnish his family's memories in the same breath. "They were innocent. My sister... she wasn't even old enough to be Reaped. I'm older than my parents will ever be, and their only crime was raising a son like me." His voice was going hoarse, and Stone had no idea how to stop it. Clenching his hands into fists wasn't working, and whilst his body was tense, he knew he had to somehow get this anger and hurt out. His first thoughts went to his trustworthy axe, and he couldn't help but flinch at that. Even in his most vulnerable form, he was following the steps of the Executioner, the man the Capitol wanted him to be.
"But they're not the only ones. How many mothers, fathers, sisters, and best friends have died to keep the Capitol happy? How many more will die unless they're stopped?" He paused, his jaw clenched. He needed to get out before he broke again. "I joined the Rebellion because all of us, every single person in Panem deserves better than barely surviving."
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TYLER RAKE in Extraction 2 (2023) dir. Sam Hargrave
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"You're not denying it." Stone was quick to quip back, even as she insisted otherwise, their banter almost effortless after the many times they'd run into each other. Whilst lately, every encounter between the two of them meant that he craved to drown himself in alcohol, he knew it wasn't exactly her fault; she was doing her job, doing her part for the Rebellion. He, among the few remaining Victors, was just part of the fighting tools that the rebels had, and he couldn't blame her for utilizing it.
Nevertheless, he could tell the way it appeared to be taking a toll on her. Many of them were subjected to restless, sleepless nights, and it was slowly becoming a key part of this district. "You, me, and everyone else in this place." Whilst he knew it was true, it was a small price to pay for a chance at a better future. "Have you been working this whole time?"
Cressida was tired. Even before the quell breakout she had been awful at taking breaks. It had been the reason why her apartment had been so close to where they filmed the games. It had meant she could easily go home to take a break. Not that she had happened all that often. But even here in 13 she was taking less and less breaks. Some of the things she had seen had been awful, along with some of the stories she'd filmed for the propos. Hearing those stories had made her want to work even harder on the films, wanting the trauma that talking about their stories, to be worth something. And so, she'd been sleeping even else.
On one of the rare times she was out of the studio, she hadn't intentionally gone out of her way to find Stone. But she wasn't unhappy with the coincidence of finding him. "You make it sound like all I want you for is to film you." And whilst she had been filming him recently, it was not the only reason she liked to spend time with him. "Which for the record. Is not the case." She added not, a little smile on her face, though it dropped a little as she took a proper look at him. "You look tired."
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In a way, older Victors terrified Stone. He was coming close to reaching thirty years after getting out of his Arena, and it was two-thirds of his life that were spent in restless nightmares. Does the Victor next to him even remember her life before the Games? What it was like to be at least remotely free, to live a life without the horrors or the control everyone else had over her? He hoped he would never have to reach that, even if he had immeasurable respect for the woman. After all, that was what this Rebellion was about, to him at least; a life where nightmares were about the past, and not the future.
She stayed silent as he offered her a cup, but it wasn't pushed away, and it was a victory of its own. Reveling in silence, Stone sat next to her, taking cautious- and not that willing - sips of his drink. "You know," He began eventually. "I really wish they allowed everyone to express themselves. Lately, everyone feels like they're robots, you know? I wonder if they even know what it's like to break something to get the emotions out."
She was pulled from her gloomy thoughts at the thud of a coffee cup placed in front of her on the metal table. Blinking once, twice, before her gaze moved up to the mountain that had taken a seat beside her. Stone Oakland. Mags knew the faces and names of every victor that came after her - even if she wasn't well acquainted with them. Once, it had been for rebel purposes; to know who to talk to about which subjects. Talk? No, communicate. Mags couldn't remember what it was truly like to talk to someone.
Mags wasn't wearing her device and she didn't want to appear unpleasant after an act coming from a place of kindness. So instead she wrapped her wrinkled fingers around the cup, hoping to find some comfort in its soothing warmth. She didn't, of course. Way too occupied with all the grief she was feeling today.
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"Those don't work the same if you've got more greys on your head." Stone muse. It would have been the smart, responsible thing to coax Finnick into walking back into his room, but Stone wasn't always the responsible one. He was tired of being that, and it was beginning to show. Instead, with a sigh, he settled down on the floor next to his friend, hoping that whatever Finnick was up to was working. All it did was leave him uncomfortably sprawled on the ground, his build a little too big for the corridor.
"It's a tempting bracelet, I'm not going to lie. Although, I do like my time outside." And yet, he was so damn proud of his friend for managing. He couldn't imagine the horrors he was going through; all of them were damaged, but to go through what Finnick was going through was a terrifying thought. "Do they allow you time out of the room, or should we come up with a better way of hiding you?"
Privacy was always hard to come by in Thirteen; the only hope that Finnick had for a moment of peace was squirreling himself away in one of the many forgotten alcoves scattered throughout the compound. He did his best not to groan as the sound of footsteps grew nearer down the otherwise abandoned hallway. The anguish, however, was short lived. The newcomer was not a member of the command team, as he had feared, but rather a familiar face from before his life had gone to hell in a handbasket.
Stone had won his Games nearly two decades before his own, but they’d gotten on well enough over the years. Finnick would consider him a friend sooner than he would anything else.
“You could try having a mental break,” he offered in response, sarcasm heavy in his tone. “Then you’ll get the good stuff the keep in the clinic.” The younger man didn’t bother to pick himself up as the newcomer came to a stop before him, choosing to just look up at him from his spot on the floor of the dusty corner. He lifted his arm to show off the hospital band that taken up permanent residence on his wrist. “They even give you a fun little bracelet.”
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"Can't wait to explore them." And yet, Stone's words dripped with sarcasm as he looked over at the younger Victor, a little worse for wear. He could only but assume that this was how all of them looked at this point, and whilst it would be easy to mock Haymitch, it's not like him. With the lack of sun, lack of being outside, or being valuable in whatever way needed, it'd be too easy to cause havoc just over a sentence. Instead, Stone watched the other finish up his juice, not willing to even look at his own glass. To this day, he's bewildered as to how people have managed to survive this long in Thirteen. "Although, with how welcoming the Capitol's been, we'd be more likely to get the treatment as all the other Victors. Think they'd just parade our mutilated corpses in the street instead, as some kind of celebration?"
higher ups expect him to sleep during the night and be awake during the day in thirteen. the self proclaimed coon of a man was never one who enjoyed swapping his nocturnal routine for something more normal. sleep continues to evade him, as he's split between control rooms and the hospital wing since the boy and others made their appearance in the underground district. abernathy looks older since the quell: eyes sunken and skin paleing. those very eyes roll as he brings glass to lips and finds what he thought was grape juice turned out to be made of beets. ( he can imagine the girl calling him an idiot for thinking grapes were somehow available in the fucking dirt. ) " apparently the cappies have open suites for ya and anyb'dy who misses'it, " he brushes off, bitter like the drink haymitch has. the dirty hypocrite certainly has his own things he missed from the victor village in twelve.
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"You know, you are getting older. The pain comes with age, too." Stone pointed out, a hint of joking present in his tone of voice. He felt like he had aged dramatically ever since coming to Thirteen; although, if it wasn't for Capitol's additions, he'd be grey and achy already. Maybe it was his genes, or maybe it was the terrors that followed him every single day and night; he had no way of telling, not when his parents had never reached his current age. "don't stop the movement, okay? Not completely, at least. don't let the joints relax even for a bit."
"Or maybe we were just forever stuck in the past." He agreed with his friend. One of the odd benefits in a place like this was that Stone could still have one or two familiar faces around, and he was genuinely thrilled to have Juniper around. Not only was she part of home, part of Seven, but she was one of the few with a decent head on her shoulders.
Besides, it was nice to have someone around who understood him the way only people from the same district could.
"I mean, months ago, we all believed this place was nothing but ruins, and look at us. Cutting down trees full of radiation and toxicity." Stone couldn't help but finish his sentence in a tone, reserved for mocking the Capitol and its propaganda.
where: outside of District 13 bunker with: @monumented
The few times that Stone got to get out of the confinements of District 13 bunker, he made sure that he was enjoying it. Growing up in nature meant that he was simply missing everything, the fresh air, the hard work, and the cool chill that crept up his now-older bones. It kept his mind as stable as it could possibly be, and Stone desperately needed it. More often than not he was out there, doing his tasks with someone that he barely knew, but today, he was grateful to be outside with none other but Juniper. They were all part of Thirteen at this point, but Stone still held the citizens of Seven close to his heart, treating them like family. Or, at least, as much of a family as someone like him could.
"I need a break." He huffed out, placing his axe onto the ground and sitting down on the freshly cut-down tree stump. His shoulder was starting to ache, and maybe it was an old injury, or maybe he was finally starting to feel his age. Surely, years of all sorts of abuse put a strain on the body, even if he was barely willing to admit it. "We might as well enjoy it, you know? I can't remember the last time I was out here with you."
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where: corridor towards Stone's living quarters with: @vengefvlx
Eyelids heavy and beard unshaven, Stone made his way back to his living quarters, absolutely exhausted. Not that he had plenty to work on; his list, looking like one of the many tattoos on his arms, contained plenty of tasks for the Victor to complete, but it was never enough. He was restless, he was tired, and whilst he had nearly thirty years to get used to the nightmares, he never could. And he knew he was naive to even be trying to somehow avoid the restless nights.
It would have been smarter to find something else for Stone to do, but when was he ever acting smart? His track record of mistakes was there to prove that he was wrong so many times, and he was more than willing to commit even more of them. Even as a familiar face greeted him just around the corner, Stone did nothing to behave or act smart, his tiredness and lack of fresh air getting the best of him. "Please tell me you're not here to ask to film more propos." Granted, Stone was willing to do whatever was needed for the greater good. That's what he was here for, after all. "I'm not sure I have any more heart-grabbing stories to tell."
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where: district 13, cafeteria with: @fatefought
"I wish I could get some deer or salmon here." Stone sighed, maybe a little too dramatically as he pushed away his plate of barely-touched food. It was all the same, day after day, and he was getting restless. Maybe he could help the hunters, maybe he could find another excuse to go outside. Or maybe he already had too much on his list, but nothing was really enough to get his mind to stay quiet. Nothing could keep the nightmares or restless nights away. "These.. sacrifices better be worth it in the end." He added jokingly. Anything was worth the sacrifice if it meant a better, Games-free future, even if he was complaining right now. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm starting to miss the Capitol's overdone food."
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where: outside of District 13 bunker with: @monumented
The few times that Stone got to get out of the confinements of District 13 bunker, he made sure that he was enjoying it. Growing up in nature meant that he was simply missing everything, the fresh air, the hard work, and the cool chill that crept up his now-older bones. It kept his mind as stable as it could possibly be, and Stone desperately needed it. More often than not he was out there, doing his tasks with someone that he barely knew, but today, he was grateful to be outside with none other but Juniper. They were all part of Thirteen at this point, but Stone still held the citizens of Seven close to his heart, treating them like family. Or, at least, as much of a family as someone like him could.
"I need a break." He huffed out, placing his axe onto the ground and sitting down on the freshly cut-down tree stump. His shoulder was starting to ache, and maybe it was an old injury, or maybe he was finally starting to feel his age. Surely, years of all sorts of abuse put a strain on the body, even if he was barely willing to admit it. "We might as well enjoy it, you know? I can't remember the last time I was out here with you."
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where: District 13, one of the many halls with: @seasaltsurvivor
"I miss smoking." Stone mused out loud as he approached a familiar face. It was a silly conversation starter, to say the least, but there wasn't much up for discussion nowadays. Unless, of course, one was willing to discuss the dim realities of the recent events, which, to be honest, Stone was more than fed up with. He wanted some form of simplicity back in his life- the kind he hadn't had in decades- and it was silly of him to start it off with simple quips. "And drinking. It keeps things fun, you know?" Even if more often than not, he used it as a distraction from the awful realities. "Although, I'm all ears if you have any ideas on how to keep this place a little lighter."
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Location: District 13, Hospital Wing With: @perfectaches
The jumpsuits that everyone in Thirteen wore weren't particularly comfortable; they restricted his movements more than just his regular wear that he enjoyed in his home district. But it was nothing compared to what he was getting to do here, what he was allowed to achieve, and for once, he was feeling he like was doing something good. Like he wasn't just some puppet in the hands of someone so cruel. Whilst he had plenty of tasks to work on, Stone still wanted to spare some time to visit the so-called newcomers. He could only but imagine what it must be like to enter a place that didn't exist to the Panem just months ago, especially under such circumstances. Not to mention, he still considered a lot of them as his friends, or, at the very least, acquaintances. The person he was approaching could really fall under either of those categories, but Stone did not care. Walking up to the bed, he offered Thea a smile, regardless of how contained it was. "The one thing I genuinely miss here is the daylight. But it still beats whatever the Capitol had to offer."
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For once in his life, Stone wasn't someone who was supposed to be intimidating, or who was fawned upon, and he absolutely loved it. He was part of the group, a soldier, and he was finally doing something to make the world just a little better. Maybe all of it would come crashing down - it was always a possibility - but right now, he was happy. He was equal to everyone else, with no special treatment, and Stone was thrilled.
With his tasks for the day nearly all done, the man opted to get himself a warm drink. He'd lie if he said he didn't miss decent coffee; if anything, the Capitol was always full of it. Still, it was nothing compared to the never-ending nightmares, and he was more than happy to accommodate accordingly. For now, at least.
Walking in, he was greeted by a familiar figure, although he'd lie if he said he really knew the woman. Being a Victor- and a Mentor - for nearly three decades meant that Stone was familiar with many stuck in the same predicament as he was, even if he made no attempt to genuinely get to know so many of them. Not that many of them were still alive at this point.
Getting himself two drinks, one for the older woman as well, Stone settled on the bench next to her, placing the cup in front of her. "It doesn't test the best, but still does the trick." @unspcken
open starter
A lot was going on, but overall Mags couldn’t be anything but glad on how it had played out. She had waited for this a long time - too long if you asked her. Especially Annie. Annie had been there for too long. And no matter how much she insisted - urged - Coin would not budge. But all of that didn’t matter anymore. She was back.
Mags had rushed her way over to the hospital wing the moment they arrived. But was immediately stopped by the 13-natives in their white coats. It didn't matter what Beetee's little magic machine voiced in her stead, they wouldn't let her pass. They claimed they knew what was best for Annie. Which was rest and just the presence of family. Mags knew what Annie needed and it was not the bureaucracy of District 13’s protocols. But her bones were old and her spirit already broken by the implication of not being family. It was perhaps the greatest insult.
Ego, pride - all of it was harmed by the foolery of some woman who made her turn heel on her Annie. And she had sat in her quarters for what seemed like days. Angry at her uselessness. Angry that they turned her away again when she went to the kitchens and demanded to make soup for those she loved. The elder had turned Beetee's machine off and put it in a drawer. What use was a voice when no one listened to it when it truly mattered.
The reality of it all dawning on her. Realizing she needed them more than they probably needed her. She was just an old woman, after all.
The idea had spooked the soft cheerfulness and the urge to interact with others away. She had not followed the schedule on her arm and didn't really care about the consequences; she could always pretend she didn't understand what was written down. Old age gave you that excuse - even when most were aware that Mags was bright enough to still tag along with the youngsters.
Unfortunately they wouldn't let you do much outside of what was expected of you and scheduled. So she found herself seated in an empty cafeteria, listening to the distant thuds of boots.
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BASICS
Name: Stone Oakland Age: 43 Gender: cis man Home: District 7 Role: Mentor & Victor of the 48th Hunger Games Personality: charming, loyal, arrogant, stubborn, benevolent#
forced prostitution, death, murder tw
Dark and gloomy forests of District 7 only meant one thing to the oldest child of the Oakland family; that he was bound to follow the steps of his father, his grandfather, his great-grandfather, and the many family members before them. Being a lumberjack was ingrained in the boy's blood, so as Stone mastered an axe at the age of nine, no one was surprised. It was common, in a place like this, but he was a natural, and his parents were proud. What they weren't proud about, however, was the little boy's rebellious nature. Curious from birth, Stone questioned everything, starting with why the sky was blue and ending with why the Capitol controlled everything. He loathed it, and being the immature child that he was, he often voiced his opinion, despite the long conversations his parents had with him.
A lot of it changed when his little sister was born, quickly becoming Stone's whole world. To say that he was protective over Evelyn was an understatement; no one could look at her with malicious thoughts without getting an enemy in the form of the oldest Oakland sibling. Over the years, while Stone never got rid of his rebellious streak; instead, he became a bit smarter, knowing better than to badmouth the Capitol in front of the Peacekeepers, fearing that his little sister would pay the price. However, when his name was picked from the bowl at the age of fifteen, essentially sending him to his death, no one was surprised. No matter how much Stone tried - or didn't - he stood out like a sore thumb.
Only, the Capitolites seemed to like that. Taller than your average teenager - and built like a proper young lumberjack - Stone quickly rose to the ranks of the favourite contenders to win the 48th Hunger Games. However, Stone's stubbornness played against him. Despite the many pushes to join the Careers, and become one of them, the young man refused, not wanting to lose his morals even if he was about to go into a complete life-and-death event. Obtaining an axe during the Bloodbath, he used it to his advantage, becoming one of the most threatening Tributes in the arena. Whilst blood was already on his hands, Stone refused to participate in the purposeful murders some of the Tributes seemed to enjoy. He wanted to make himself disappear, he wanted to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. However, his heroic plan fell apart easily when, soon enough, he was left to go against a couple of remaining Careers all by himself. Cleverly using the axe, he was the one to get out of the brutal, last bloodbath when he fought against two boys from Districts 1 and 3, barely making it out alive, yet managing to decapitate the duo, and earning himself the nickname of the Executioner.
Coming out of the Arena did not mean that Stone was mentally out of it. Nightmares plagued his nights and days, the blood of six other Tributes permanently soaked under his skin, reappearing any time he had an episode. Life at Seven just wasn't the same. While deep down he knew it wasn't the truth, he could see the looks on people's faces. He could see the look on his little sister's face. He was the Executioner, he was the murderer, he was someone people feared, and someone the Capitolites loved. When that love got to another level just a little after his Victory tour, Stone protested, rebelled, coming close to killing the first of his clients. Whilst he expected a punishment- anything to make his life just a little more miserable- he didn't expect to come home to his family's smoldering house. Officially, the cause of death of the Oaklands was fireplace getting out of hand, but unofficially, everyone knew; the Executioner had claimed three more lives, even if it was done indirectly.
It would have been easy to throw himself into drinking, into drugs, but the man knew it would make no difference. And every single year, as he had to relive losing his Tributes over and over again, Stone broke just a little, again and again. Every single year he was reminded of his own Games, of being the Executioner. Every year, he had to watch the sickening smiles on the hundreds of spectators' faces as innocent lives were lost, all the while more and more blood appeared on his hands. Every year, his reputation preceded him, with many of the affluent Capitolites paying additional attention to him, making him desirable. His small acts of rebellion only brought out more punishments, and with years, and decades, the acts of rebellion and punishment grew. And yet, nothing broke Stone Oakland, not yet.
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