#ahw135

[moxiepitlock]

"Happy birthday, angel!" Moxie sang out, enveloping Cress into a tight hug. She meant it with every fiber of her being, because well, she adored Cress. Slate had won and was now freed from the arena, everything was looking up? Wasn't it? "I got you this," Moxie said as she pulled away, "Cat told me this would match your interests a little bit better than, well, baby clothes." She handed her the shimmery turquoise bag over to Cress and insisted, "Open it, open it!"

@cress-meadowforge

[lee-hatchett]

@inkyorbs

The train station in the capital of Seven wasn't much to be admired. Small, run-down, and barebones as it was, Lee still couldn't help the smile of relief he felt anytime the train pulled into it. There were only a few platforms, one of which had an elaborate stage out front - the Reaping stage. Now it lay empty and barren, though it would be dusted off in only a few months time. And this time, he'd be both on the stage and in the bowl again. A shiver went down his spine just thinking about it.

But more than anything, Lee looked forward to the tiny cafe that adjoined the station. Spruce, who had owned the place since Lee was a kid, knew the Victor by name and order: a small tea of "whatever was in season" and a stack of waffles.

Lee had dumped his duffel bag on the ground and was about to dig in when he caught sight of an oddly familiar face. "Fulvia?" he called, waving out to her. "What are you doing here?"

[catmillers]

Getting to Six was nice – a little vacation in the off-period between the Games. It was even nicer now that she had Holland at her side. It had been a simple request "jus' wanna check on my old place" – and she wanted Holland to see it, where she'd lived with Eugene. How she'd grown up – and if anything to let her in more. Cat was trying that whole vulnerability thing and, well, it hadn't been as scary as she thought it'd be, clearly that hadn't scared Holland off – hell she seemed to embrace her demons which was somehow...better?

She hadn't seen it for over a year, all thanks to running around in Eleven, so the fact the locks were still on the door was a massive relief for Cat.

Or a detriment.

"Fuckin' door's stuck," She complained as she rammed her shoulder into the offending object and braced up against it. Cat struggled for a second and then twisted the key – she lifted up the door, adjusting where it sat in the frame and twisted the key again. The door opened with a pop and she sighed in relief, "There we go." It was as it had always been – too many old books lining the shelves, mismatched furniture held together with all kinds of patchwork. "Uh, might be a lil' dusty but –" Cat cut herself off from apologizing for absolutely no reason, a bad habit she had with Holland, and instead pivoted and said, "Thanks for comin' with, I know it's hard t' get 'em t' let you outta the Capitol, babe."

@holland-westbrook

[mxhlon]

Mahlon had been halfway through his honey-do list when he caught himself on a rusted nail that tore at his arm. He'd insisted that the damn thing would heal on its own, or that he'd sew it up himself, but Greer had refused, citing some tribute from last Games who'd died of something preventable. Ain't losin' you t' tetanus, she'd huffed, shooing him out the door and to the doctor, which, to Mahlon's dismay, had also delivered one of their calves last Spring.

So there he was in the clinic, sat up on a makeshift examination table, applying pressure through a dishrag onto the wound. But when the door to the room opened, he balked.

"What the hell are you doin' here?" It was that girl who'd been lurking around the Tower -- the stoic one he could have sworn was from Two. "What is this? Doctors Without Districts?"

@inkyorbs

[cress-meadowforge]

Upon first glance, it appeared innocuous enough: two victors from One, sitting in the gardens for tea, cooing adoringly over Kya. It was summer now, and Cress had tucked herself carefully into the shade. The sun was high and full, warming the earth, but her thoughts strayed, caught in the notion that this soil would not bear fruit. The other districts lacked the knowledge and the infrastructure. Eleven had been freed, and theirs was the only dirt from which anything substantial bloomed.

And so, another truth lingered between them: the altered doctrine of the Games, Snow's adjustment to once so sacred rules.

Still, Cress put on a brave face, smiling sweetly as poured more iced tea. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" Her eyes fallen onto her daughter, who wriggled across the blanket, inching toward the fabric that was warmed by the sun.

@sheenlux

[sheenlux]

Maybe Sheen had enjoyed getting the tattoo with Cain too much....because now whenever he happened to look at his arms, or a leg the only thought that popped into his head was....what can I put there? His mother's words rang through his head as he thought about it, a real victor's body doesn't have marks or blemishes, it always been about his mole. Once he won, she had planned on having them lasered off.....he had chosen to keep it. Now, though, he wanted to cover his body up in marks.

So when he saw Alder was back in the Capitol for the Victory Ball, he couldn't help but ask him to come with, he'd need someone to sit with Shimmer while he got the tattoo and the great thing about the place he had found and been using since his ear piercing, it was right across from a small park. So, walking over together he left the two of them together at the park, and then once he was done getting the new tattoo on his arm, a glaive mixed with a tattoo, he jogged out to where Alder and Shimmer were together.

"Hey! How was he? He didn't give you too many problems right? Did Mr. Quakers keep him entertained?" Mr. Quakers being the stuffed duck that Sheen had brought with them and had told Alder that Shimmer loved. "Did you two have a good time together though, really?"

@alder-reid

[moxiepitlock]

"How's everyone settling in?" Moxie asked, signing the best she could to Hestia after she captured her attention. The bombing on Twelve was Earth shattering, enough to make her quake in her boots and the news of Ansel was worse. She couldn't imagine if anything even close to that happened to Pandora – it was a big enough drama when the toddler scraped her knees let alone –

No, Moxie didn't want to think about it, didn't want to show all that emotion in front of Hestia. Not when it was her family. Instead she distracted herself by speaking, trying to sign at the same time, "Pandora seems to like all the company, I think she gets lonely sometimes."

@hestiaember

[mxhlon]

The days grew longer, light lingering at the edges with a stubbornness, the sun refusing to be dragged down beneath the horizon's line. Mahlon preferred it this way. Sky bright when he rose, early enough that Greer stayed sleeping, and that dusk ran until after supper, so there was room after the day's chores to lounge on the porch swing. But he also loved the rich tradition of Ten, the superstition of the outer districts that bonded them in ways Capitolites -- and even Careers -- couldn't comprehend.

Here, at summer's peak, it was the solstice, and though the harvest's bounty had yet to be counted, the celebration of the final yield still month's out, it was a joyous occasion. The livestock had survived harsh winter and given birth in the safety of Spring. The grain reached up, praising the sky. And the citizen of Ten gathered as late darkness bloomed to celebrate the year's longest day.

But they were not alone.

As Eleven declared independence, cleaving itself free, peacekeeper presence escalated in surrounding districts, including Ten. Still, the bonfire was lit, and the moonshine flowed freely, and some of the officers were loosened up enough with hooch to let them celebrate. Mahlon wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, throat searing, and thought of Nettle, of the moonshine she used to make.

"The Morgans ever make it out to this?" Mahlon asked, offering up the bottle. The air was stained with woodsmoke, and even against a blazing backdrop, the threat of violence, and the rising tensions of war, Greer looked beautiful. "Can't imagine they do."

@greer-morgan

[sheenlux]

Sheen had given Cain some time to grieve for Mack, Sheen could slightly understand what he was going through. While he never exactly had any type of formal relationship with Rodeo, there had still been feelings for him on Sheen's end. He had made it clear though, that should Cain need anything he was there for him. Now that it had been some time, Sheen figured it had been a better time as any to offer of a distraction......

A conclusion to the bet that they had made during the 134 Victor Ball.....whoever had gotten the least amount of sponsors would be getting the other's name tattooed on their backside. Sheen wasn't actually confident in his number, he had gotten as many sponsors as usual. So when he met with Cain, and they compared numbers.....it revealed they had gotten exactly the same amount of sponsors, thirteen.

So after a brief negotiation, the two came to the conclusion that they had both technically lost since neither had gotten a higher number of sponsors. So, they would be both be getting the first and last initial of the other tattooed onto them.

Meeting up outside of Cain's place the following day, Sheen had taken ether, he was going to need it in order to follow through. He had been nervous, but now he was excited...confident about it. When Cain came out he wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in.

"You ready for this? Because you can still turn tail and get the hell outta here if you want, buddy. But then I'd have no choice but to brand you as a chicken forever."

@cain-gunn

[sheenlux]

Sheen blinked at Monty's reaction, trying to figure it out. What was his angle? What did he want? Was it genuine remorse? Sheen had played this game as a child all too often with his parents. Was he walking into a worse situation? Would Monty leave him crying into his pillow again? And yet despite all the thoughts of negativity flowing through his mind, he felt his hand opening the door more for the other. He wanted to believe him, Sheen really did.

"Here I thought you'd be used to the cold from that shoulder of yours." Pushing the door all the way open, Sheen turned to walk into the great room, heading towards the wet bar. "Want a drink before trying to apologize? Can't imagine that comes easy to you."

"I wasn't harass--" Monty bit his tongue and pressed his forehead against the the cool glass of the windowed door. He repeated a mantra in his head that he had been taught by some sap who was "more of a people person than he": do you want to repair, or do you want to be right? Monty had wanted to punch said sap, but the twerp had darted off before Monty could swing. It was why Monty didn't like making "friends" with "Sponsors."

He was here, he told himself, to repair. He pulled a breath through his gritted teeth, forcing an air of relaxation and - dare he call it this - repentance into his voice. "I'm here to apologize, Sheen. Will you let me in? It's cold out here."

[montgomery-cannon]

@abel--evans

Monty roared with laughter, pushing his way out of the throng of dancers and into the cool midnight air. The slight breeze bit against the shimmer of sweat on his body, instantly cooling him from the overwhelming mass of bodies inside the club. It was a great night, to be sure, but even the great Montgomery Cannon needed a moment every now and then to catch his breath.

The alley was mostly deserted - some faceless couple was making out just out of sight in the haze of the darkness. Monty ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the building before catching sight of another figure, this one more recognizable. "Abel Evans?" he called out, a chuckle in his voice. "I wouldn't expect you in the Capitol between Games."

[montgomery-cannon]

@denverneumann

There was a certain serenity to the Hunger Games Museum. It was a place of knowledge, of history, of gravitas. And, most importantly, it was a great spot to get stood up by Sponsors. Why Monty even bothered trying to broker deals on behalf of his home District began to elude him. Half of the time, people only wanted to meet a Victor in the flesh - the other half of the time they would ghost.

But it wasn't a wasted day. Monty found his way to the (too) small corner that represented his Games. Sometimes his display was larger, sometimes smaller - it just depended on what space the museum had dedicated each season. Right now it was a bit lackluster; a few pictures of him and the Career pack, a preserved poisonous beetle, and the bow he himself had used for most of the Games. A small screen played highlights, and he smiled at the memories. He watched in silence for some time as his glory was on display for all to see.

[montgomery-cannon]

@cain-gunn

The lights were flashing, the music was overwhelming, and Monty had just taken a tab of something off of a stranger's tongue. He couldn't see her in the dim light, but his hands in her hair were enough motivation to keep him pinned against the wall and his body pressed against hers. He reveled in the sensation of her nails clawing at his body, and he returned the favor by drawing her closer, his hands pulling her hair just the slightest bit taut.

He pulled back to catch a quick breath, and she buried her face in his chest, desperately maintaining contact of her mouth on his body. He chuckled, leaning back against the wall. And then the lights flickered just right, and he saw an unexpected face in the crowd: Cain Gunn.

Monty moved fluidly, putting a hand on the mystery woman's forehead to push her aside. "Cain!" he called out, starting to shimmy his way through the crowd. "Cain Gunn - what are you doing here?" His face broke into a wide smile as he approached, holding his arms out for a greeting hug.

[catmillers]

Cat tried to mask the cringe on her face at the other woman's surprise but found herself unable to. Was it that astonishing that she was putting the rebellion on the back burner, especially after the Inquisition on the tower? Cat didn't think so, but regardless it still stung – enough for her to wince.

"Heard," Cat laughed, thinking about how good life could've been for her if she simply had the ability to stay in Six, "Gets me all fucked sometimes like, y'know havin' t' be in the Capitol – bein' in the Capitol at all – everythin' good at home 'n' shit – chickens or whatever – Mahlon was tellin' me 'bout 'em a while back."

“Oh,” Greer answered, unable to mask the surprise in her voice. Cat had been so passionate about Eleven once that it was hard to picture her so removed from the fight now. But then, Cat was dating a gamemaker now after all. And, really, Greer didn't have a right to know what Cat was doing with her life these days... maybe she'd never actually known. "I get it," she added. "Holdin' on to your peace, I mean." It was taken from them every few months anyway. "I don't do shit outside'a Ten, if I can help it." Even if Mahlon was still trekking back and forth from Eleven when he could, Greer's roots were firmly planted.

[montgomery-cannon]

@cress-meadowforge

Monty stood outside Cress' door with the basket he and Enna had put together, with the pièce de résistance in a small jeweled box in the center. He paused for a moment, awkwardly holding the gift in his arms, and finally managed to knock, gently, by pivoting his full body against the door.

"Cress?" he called gently, not knowing if Kya was awake or asleep. "I told someone on my team to tell someone on your team I was coming over, but I realize I could have just texted you directly. I'm just always worried it'll make your phone ding and upset Kya somehow."

[sheenlux]

Sheen had been in bed, but then he heard Abel talking to his door. Raising an eyebrow he rolled out of bed, pulling on his robe. Shimmer already running ahead to sit at the door. Pulling the door open he saw the state his friend was in and sighed a little. "Abel, another night out?" Helping him inside he pulled off his coat, before bringing him to the couch wrapping him in a blanket he had on there. "Take off your shoes, get comfortable. You can stay here tonight, with me and Shimmer, yeah? Can I get you coffee or tea?"

"Sheen?" Abel asked through the door before using his head to knock, his hands stuffed into his pockets, and he was too drunk to figure out how to take them out and tap on the door.

"I lost my keys" he continued through the wood, and that's why his hands were in his pockets, he remembered, but all that was in there was an half empty packet of cigarettes and a condom, so he had most definitely lost his keys. "Can I come up? It's cold"

@sheenlux