#threads › augustus 002 .

[victoriams]

ᴡʜᴏ: LIVINIA CRANE & MAXIM CRANE (@reblrths) & AUGUSTUS CRANE (@cfcannons) ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ: TRIBUTE TOWER, LIVINIA'S ROOM ᴡʜᴇɴ: MORNING AFTER THE TRIBUTE BALL

tw: torture mention, parental death

Livinia had woken up in her room at the tribute tower. For a moment, she thinks it might have all just been a bad dream. That she'd been so tired from the night before that she'd gone back to the tower than her own apartment, fallen asleep on the couch in her dress and neglected to remove her makeup. Her head is pounding more than it usually would from a typical hangover, every single one of her nerves seem to be fried, her muscles stiff and sore.

She raises a hand to her face and her fingertips come away black with smudged mascara – she stares at it for a long moment before noticing four thin, moon-shaped indentations across her palm, caked with dried blood. "Oh, god..." She whispers, looking at her other palm and finding matching marks, formed from her own nails pressing too hard against tender flesh. The night comes back to her after that – the questioning, the torture, Maxim's screams, and...

She scrambles to pick up her phone, finding it on the table next to her. Dozens of messages light up the screen – sorry about your mom, my condolences, my thoughts are with your family – and there's news articles at the top – FOUR KILLED BY REBELS. TRIBUTES FLOW FOR CRANE MATRIARCH. REMEMBERING RHEA CRANE. She's going to be sick. Her hands begin to shake so violently that her phone clatters to the ground, the screen shattering on impact. "Shit," She mutters, gently bending down to pick up the shattered glass. She needs to contact her siblings.

Before she can dial the phone, there is a knock at her door. There is nothing she wants less than to answer it – to be seen like this, makeup smeared across her face, burn marks on her collarbone. But there's an undercurrent of fear – that it's a peacekeeper on the other side, that if she doesn't answer, she will be punished again for non-compliance. She swipes at her eyes and flattens her dress, hoping to look somewhat presentable, and goes to the door. She cracks it open, just enough to see whoever is on the other side, but all pretence of hesitancy is dropped when she catches sight of MAXIM.

He looks worse than she does – battered and bruised and with dark circles under his eyes. She only takes in his appearance for a second before she is lunging forward, wrapping her arms around him and burying her head into his chest. It's an act so vulnerable that it reminds her of when they were kids, before the world hardened them into monsters. "Thank fuck you're alive." 

[mcmarlenea]

WHO: Marlene and @ofthedcrkness​

WHAT: deja vu??

WHEN: present day!!

WHERE: Florean Fortescue’s ice cream shoppe

Marlene told Benjy she would pick up a few supplies if she got off early, and ended up strolling through a few shops in Diagon Alley. She was all set to head home when she passed by Florean Fortescue’s. Except, she didn’t really pass because as soon as she stepped foot in front of the shoppe, she turned and walked in. Ice cream was the most important food group after all. She started to walk towards the counter when she saw an unmistakable head full of hair in front of her. She couldn’t resist bugging him, so she stepped up behind Augustus and pressed a finger into his shoulder. “Tag. You’re it.” She glanced around the parlour before letting her eyes fall on him again. “Still got a sweet tooth, I see. Some things never change.”

[ourpyrrhicvictory]

Shut Him up | Augustus & Lily II.

@xweofmanyfaces​ cont. from HERE.

SHE IS STUNNING. He says this often , but it is always the truth. He's never been so nervous around anyone in his life , and it takes his toll , but he cannot fathom ever regretting it. His time spent with her has been the most enjoyable part of his days , everything else a little too tense and prepared to collapse for his tastes. But as the days go on , they see each other more and more to the point that he struggles to go to sleep at night after they have to part. What he does know is that the future hasn't looked this bright in ages , and he would take what he can get.

The thing about it all was that Augustus realized early on that the encounter in the ministry had changed everything. His every waking moment is painted in thoughts of her , and it only escalates. He knows what it means of course. He knows he has feelings , and while they do not scare them as much as he figures they should , they do make him wary. How could he ever hold up to Lily ? He was a monster under the skin.

But she doesn't seem to see him that way , and he can find no fault in it. Or at least , he cannot find a reason to correct her. Especially if every one of his babbling spells ends like this , with her warm lips pressing against his own.

It takes him a long moment to open his eyes once she's pulled away and a second longer than that to realize she is speaking. He finds his eyes on her lips before they reach her own gaze , and he licks his lips as though to see if they taste like her. And what they taste like. The breath that leaves him once that taste is on his tongue is shuddered , and he attempts to suppress the chill that races down his spine. He doubts he's successful.

" Well , alright , but - you know , the only sure way to keep me quiet is to give my mouth something else to do. Like you just did , right now. That should - do the job. " A crooked smile blooms across his face , the content in his eyes bright and vivid. Then he ducks his head and captures her lips again , placing his hands on her waist. He really would rather kiss her than talk anyway.

[peacvcksss]

he has thrown better events than this one, he knows that. still, as his eyes shift through the room, a glass of champagne in his hand, he feels SATISFIED ----- sure, this isn’t his best work, but it’s still his, which automatically makes it good. besides, holding a fundraiser to help rebuild st mungo’s, when he’d been part of its destruction? a classic move, if he did say so himself. that, along with draco’s birth, means that his name would only be mentioned in the right context in the press, and keeping up a good image is key. especially with him now being a father -- a title that he still feels a bit nervous about, deep down -- he’s working HARD to maintain it. a smile curls his lips as he approaches one of the attendees, “thank you so much for coming. it’s really good to know that people are so determined to help st mungo’s get back to its former glory.” // @alectxs @crouchtessa @kierafawley @bitchtricks @rookchased @sturgismore

[victoriams]

"I'm sure your brat pack were super concerned about your wellbeing, Augustus." She bites back, ignoring the pain in her head and the voice that tells her just to let it go. To hug it out, to be the bigger person, to cling onto her siblings and never let go. But she can't do that – she wasn't raised to roll over, not even for family. She'd never been competitive with Max like she was with Auggie; they existed as her own wretched mirror. Maybe it's because they were older, because she always felt like she was having to prove herself against them – to her parents, to the whole world. Or maybe it's because they were too similar for both of their goods. "It's not like us going weeks at a time without speaking is anything out of the ordinary. How am I supposed to notice something that you didn't want us to see? It's always more noble to suffer in silence, isn't it? I'm sure daddy would be proud of his little fucking martyr."

She only shuts up when Maxim stands up – reaching one of her arms out for support when he looks like he will topple over at any moment. That warrants a peace treaty – and, fuck, he's right. She's not fighting with Auggie because she's angry with them – she'd fighting because they bit, so she bit back. Around and around it had gone for decades, each of them hoping to land the final, crucial blow. Livinia often forgot what they were arguing – all she knew was the desire to win – to be able to hold something over her siblings' heads, when she felt that they had been given everything she was denied. "Truce, then." She says it quietly. Her free hand now traces around the burn marks on her collarbone, and her gaze has fallen to the floor.

After a moment, she leans forward to pick up the rag, twisting it in her hand as she had before. She holds it out to Auggie – an odd sort of olive branch. "I'm sorry, too." The phrase is unfamiliar, at least in its authenticity. She really is sorry. "I didn't mean what I said. I just..." I have to beat you, and I don't even know why. "I was shocked, and my mind isn't working properly right now. And I really am sorry about Ambrose... I just wish you felt like you could've told us what really happened." There's a weight to this – we used to live under the same roof, what happened? When did we become this?

She shrugs at the question of their darling mother, ignores the little glimmer of hope that Max holds onto. It'll be snuffed out soon enough, she doesn't need to be the one to do it. "I don't know. Maybe she was just in the wrong place, wrong time. They just said rebel plot, right? They didn't say mom was a rebel." She actually chuckles, albeit lightly, at Auggie's comment, "I would've gone with devoured by her own dog. That yappy little thing has always had it out for her." She's startled when Max finally lets go of her hand – starts to demand a phone. Her own is sitting under her thigh, she reaches for it. "I've got mine." She says, "But... are you, okay? To call?"

@cfcannons / @reblrths

they begin to argue with each other and maxim hates it. so much has happened in the last -- he doesn't know how long, just that it's felt like days rather than hours and their bickering is the last thing that is helping anything right now. on any normal day, maxim would have not been the middle man -- he would have been the pestering little brother, egging them both on and getting a kick out of who could throw the lowest blow. but right now, their argument is too heavy. instead of the pestering little brother, he is the little brother that tugs at both of their hands and begs them to stop.

he sits up, slowly and painstakingly difficult, and leans over practically in half. he lets the rag fall off of his forehead, head hanging and ignoring the searing pain in his chest. he still doesn't let go of their hands, but his eyes squeeze shut when he feels the threatening of tears begin to burn and even when breathing becomes harder, he doesn't move. "please stop arguing," his voice feels hoarse, the lump in his throat making it difficult. why was he about to cry? god. not in front of them. even if he doesn't want to deal with their arguing, he wanted to cry in front of them even less. max swallows, and he can't tell if his voice is even comprehensible. "we thought we were going to fucking die a few hours ago. i feel like, for just this once, that warrants a peace treaty. just for now. please. can we go back to ripping each other's throats out later?"

he tries to pinpoint why he feels overwhelmed, other than the blatantly obvious. he looks up after a moment, down at auggie on the floor. "i threw him in your face last night," he says, as though just remembering the specifics of their fight. "i told you everyone you care about has a target on their back," the regret is clear across his features. he swallows again for fear of his voice breaking. so much has happened, knowing just what his siblings have been through makes it worse. "i'm sorry, auggie." he apologizes, perhaps for the first time since they were children. the words feel heavy on his tongue. hearing livinia correct him about their mother, he looks over to her and promptly ignores the tear that escapes and furrows his brows. "we haven't seen her yet," he rebuts quietly, still hanging onto that hope. hope for what, he didn't even know -- a chance to apologize, at least. max knows the truth, otherwise he'd be ushering them out the door to go see her. he sniffles, feels like a fucking child. even if the circumstances are off, this feeling feels all too familiar. "then what would have been the point? maybe it was -- fearmongering. they could be alive. selenia ripley was also -- oh, fuck. auggie -- you have a -- a-- a phone, right?" he asks, finally, ripping his hands from theirs to grip the edge of the couch as though ready to stand. "i have to call him. kaleb. selenia was one of the names."

@cfcannons @victoriams

[victoriams]

ᴡʜᴏ: LIVINIA CRANE & AUGUSTUS CRANE ( @cfcannons ) ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ: PRESIDENT SNOW'S MANSION ᴡʜᴇɴ: THE TRIBUTE BALL

While some people might be uncomfortable with lavish parties or large crowds, this was, unfortunately, where Livinia shone. It was both a blessing and a curse of her upbringing – that she knew exactly what to say and not to say, how to stand and smile, how to be perfectly presentable. Of course, within the first fifteen minutes of her arrival, her darling mother had made a point of criticising her outfit and belittling her work – though this was hardly a surprise. And, as if that wasn't bad enough – she catches sight of her sibling's handiwork on Dante's face not long after the training scores are presented, which causes an anxious knot to form in her gut.

She's no idiot – unlike some of the ignorant partygoers, Livinia understood exactly what Augustus was trying to achieve with the plum hues, and she was sure that she couldn't be the only one. She manages to find them quickly, grabbing them by the arm and pulling them to the side to hiss in their ear. "I noticed Dante's makeup," She says, "I was just wondering if you were always this stupid, or if tonight was more of a one-off occasion. So I can be prepared."

[victoriams]

Were she talking to anybody else, perhaps Livinia would have the strength to walk away. Perhaps she would have the presence of mind to take the high road – to now allow herself to be dragged further into the mud than she already was. Auggie was a weak spot, though. Her desire to be their equal – no, be honest, she'd always wanted to be better – wouldn't allow her to let go. Even in an argument so pointless and petty, walking away would be admitting defeat, and admitting defeat would be admitting weakness, and admitting weakness would be admitting inferiority. Were it anybody else, Livinia could justify walking away with grace and dignity. With Augustus, no such dignity exists. She would spend hours cleaning blood out from under her claws, if it meant coming out on top.

The competition does not exist with anybody else, not like this. Where Max is water, capable of extinguishing her flames, Auggie is kindling. They were too similar to one another for their own good – they'd both inherited their mother's eyes and her vicious streak, their father's nose and his need to crush his opponents. Although they'd been raised differently, they'd both been sharpened into weapons – trained at one another, designed to ensure that neither exceeded the role to which they were assigned. Maybe, were they not raised in the same burning house, they might have made powerful allies. But, as it stood, they bore matching burns and twin scars – they knew one another too intimately to ever be friends. They saw one another's weaknesses better than anybody else – knew how to twist the knife and make it hurt.

Auggie's words cut deep, injecting venom into the wounds and making them sting. They're right – everything Livinia had ever done was in a vain attempt to prove herself, and it had still not been enough. It would never be enough. She wasn't delicate enough for her mother, and she wasn't brutal enough for her father. She would always be second born, second best, second thought. She had never been able to keep up with Auggie, not really – though she tried, her words never carried quite the same weight, even when they fought. They would always be better at this than her – at pulling her apart like their parents had done her whole life.

"You're right." She says, her tone sharp. Dangerous. "I can't change that. I'll never be good enough for them, because I wasn't born first. But you know what? You were – and they still don't love you. Dad thinks you're weak, mom thinks you're a joke. You can flash your teeth at me all you like, but you and I both know you're not the killer they want you to be, not when it counts. And you never will be." Her eyes flash with something vicious at the mention of Aurora. "Right, and you're the one to lecture me. Remind me who you're here with again? That's right, nobody." She laughs – a brittle, heartless sound. With this, she turns to leave.

@cfcannons

Augustus had always, always felt closer to Livinia than Max. That wasn't to say they liked her more. These days they weren't sure if any of them actually liked each other, or if they'd gotten so used to the perfect, obedient Capitol family routine that that was all it was by now. Even as kids, though, it was clear the two of them understood each other. If it wasn't friendship, it was understanding at the least. It was a similar rage that lived just beneath their skin, the sort that burns so hot it felt like you'd burn everything around you, take it all down with you in your desperation. Livinia's rage came from things they'd never fully understand, their mother's cruelty and the expectations placed upon her as the only daughter. Likewise, she'd never fully comprehend their own anger at their situation, the whiplash of being the heir but never being seen as enough, of never having the words for--

Anyway. As much as the two of them did or didn't understand each other, it made little difference in moments like this. It was so easy to be angry, easier than it was to be afraid or doubtful or anything else they'd long since learned wasn't allowed for them. Cruelty was their mother's native tongue, and she'd taught it to them the same way her mother had taught her. So this? This was child's play. A dance they could do with their eyes closed. The rules were simple. Go for the throat. Get the last word. Don't let them see you crack.

"Oh, no, we both know that's not what your problem is. What, you think playing house with your bug eyed freak of a husband is enough for her? I know you don't think somehow you'll prove yourself to Dad by being the perfect little Gamemaker, so. You can claim you're not jealous, but the fact is all I had to do was be born first, and that's the one factor you can never change. Sucks, doesn't it? Doesn't matter how bad you want it, what you were born into will never. Let. You. Have it. You can't act like that shit doesn't keep you up at night." It keeps them up. Or. Not that. Not the same reasons. But they're the same, Liv and them. They know. They lower their voice now, looking up at her the way you might look at a child screaming in a department store."I would also wish you a pleasant evening, but. If you spent all night fawning after Aurora it'd make you look pretty stupid, huh? Can't have that."

[victoriams]

Livinia's eyes remain fixed on Augustus as their speak – gradually narrowing in an awful mix of anger and concern. They'd been gone a whole week, and never thought so say anything? They'd known that eyes were already on them, they'd known what the Capitol was capable of, and they'd still pulled that stunt last night? Still insisted on rebelling at every chance they got? She's angry – no, furious, but she's also horrified. Being alone in that terrifying, empty white room, being tortured for information she didn't have – for even one night, that had been bad enough. Being trapped in there for a week would be nothing short of hellish. And the fact that their father had known, and no doubt their mother, too... it made her feel sick. If Livinia had known... she's not sure what she would have done. But she sure as hell wouldn't let Augustus try anything similarly reckless again.

"Why didn't you tell us?" She asks, voice still quiet, but sharper than before. She takes care not to dig her nails into Maxim's skin. "So you could keep playing roulette with your life and hope we wouldn't notice? See how many stunts it'd take before Snow finally kills you?" Fear isn't an emotion Livinia has ever effectively known how to express. Concern over others bordered too close to weakness for her liking – and so her worry had always manifested as anger. Vicious and cold, a fragile disguise hiding something far more turbulent underneath. Something far more vulnerable. But she remembers what Augustus said to her last night – if they kill me, you'll get what you always wanted, and emotion bubbles up within her. They were playing a game of chicken with the most powerful man in the world, and they didn't think anybody would care when they lost. "Because it's bullshit, you know. What you said to me last night. I was the most scared I'd ever been in my life these past few hours, and it's because I thought they'd fucking killed you. And now... you're saying you know what they're capable of and you provoked them anyway? It's not fair. You don't get to gamble your life like that. And you certainly don't get to hide something that affects all of us, for years."

She sighs, the fight suddenly leaving her as a sharp pain shoots into her head. She raises her free hand to press her palm into her forehead, attempting to quell it. "I'm sorry," She murmurs, "I... it's been a long couple of days." She listens to Max, shaking her head softly. They all knew why – but none of them would give voice to it. It had been abundantly clear that Seneca had cursed their family from the moment he disappeared – their parents had attempted to scrub his name from the history books, but the damage had already been done. "Had," She corrects quietly. Had any idea. Though she still hadn't had visual confirmation, Livinia had never been an optimist. "She can't have," She says, "Mom was... a lot of things. But she wasn't altruistic. I don't think she'd be willing to give up her penthouse apartment to help a few district folk."

@cfcannons / @reblrths

maxim just -- stares at them. tries to follow along with what they say, tries to picture it but picturing it is worse. he glances up at the door -- there's a deadlock on it. he looks away again, suddenly feeling fucking sick. the more they speak, the more max's grip on both of their hands tightens, white-knuckled grip but he hardly even realizes he's doing it. he remembers ambrose being a part of their fight -- he was a rebel? that's why he'd been avoxed? max can feel his brows raise ever so slightly in surprise. he hadn't thought a snow would ever rebel. they were the most in control -- though he supposes, if anyone knew about power grabs within a family dynamic, it was the crane's.

max suddenly fixates on one point in their story: the state of my back and my head. oh. maxim's mind struggles to wrap around anything at this point, let alone the fact that the two crane brothers, who have fought and grappled and tried to get ahead of each other for three-fourths of their lives -- they are the same, down to the pain that's been inflicted on them. scars on their back, injuries to their heads. battling for praise, wanting to be seen. he doesn't know how to verbalize that he understands, to an extent. even in his state now, he knows what happened to him hadn't been an hours-long interrogative, torturous process like the last however many hours had been -- one, two, three lashes to his back and he was sent on his way, warned not to act out again. they'd taken care not to harm his face that time because of his television appearances -- this time, though, he supposes snow has grown tired of discrepancies.

he's just been staring. he doesn't -- what can he say? he can hardly find the will to open his mouth, let alone get himself to speak. they're looking down, avoiding their gazes, brushing this off. maxim wants to scream. he looks over at liv, struggling to gauge her reaction to it too, as if he might be given a clue on how to react to this. aside from his grip on both of their hands, he doesn't know how else to respond to it. he's growing more and more frustrated. "did they mess up your back, too?" he asks her seriously. clearly this was a pattern. he feels, not for the first time today, no bigger than a child when he mutters, "why do they keep doing this to us?" he knows why. it's because of seneca -- snow has had an iron grip on all of them from the moment their cousin let katniss and peeta both live. he thinks of lysander -- hadn't they disappeared after seneca did? maxim can't think of this right now. he may actually start crying out of frustration. it still makes no sense to him -- they haven't done anything. why are they being punished? "you don't think mom has any idea about the rebels, do you?"

@cfcannons @victoriams

[victoriams]

Sometimes, she imagined it must be difficult for outsiders to understand the bond shared by the members of the Crane family. To look at the way they bicker and fight and attempt to undermine the others, and see anything other than disdain. Whilst she might become frustrated with her siblings, whilst there are times she wishes she could change them both for the better, beneath it all... there is love. Not the same kind of love she had for her parents – the kind that was all sharp edges and poisoned words and entirely conditional. No, the bond she shared with her siblings was one forged in fire – all of them shared an upbringing devoid of the usual parental affection, all of them shared the weight of something they couldn't quite comprehend on their shoulders. All of them strived for greatness, sometimes at the cost of one another – but all of them understood the others, more than anybody else could.

She hasn't had the chance yet to process her mother's alleged demise. She doubts any of them have. She hasn't yet been able to reconcile the woman she'd hated, the one who had picked apart all of her insecurities, all of her flaws, and tried to mould Livinia in a grotesque appropriation of her own image. She couldn't reconcile that woman with the one she'd been so desperate to impress growing up. The one who was, above all else, her mother. The one who was supposed to care for her, even if the woman never did. There is an odd sensation in her chest – the feeling that a weight has been lifted, but that something even heavier has taken its place. She thinks, were she a little closer to a normal person, it would make her want to cry. There's no time for this now, though. She would have plenty of opportunities to navigate grief when it came to planning the funeral.

"It's okay," She says to Max, nodding gently. "You don't have to remember everything. I can... I can barely make sense of it all." And they didn't even concuss me. Her attention turns back to Augustus, expression scrutinising. She may not be her usual self – her eyes might still be glassy and her head might still throb, but she is still just sharp enough to sense something odd in her sibling's tone. She doubts they intended for her to catch it. "Why?" She asks – Augustus' insistence on knowing exactly what had been said about them was raising red flags. The peacekeepers hadn't said anything about Auggie to her, but they clearly had to Max. She would have assumed it was simply a sadistic tactic. "Why would they have said that?"

@cfcannons / @reblrths

maxim shakes his head at the mention of their mother -- liv had thought they'd been taking her to see her. maxim had been too fucked up to even ask. in fact, if he thinks a little harder, that hope of seeing her again sticks out to him. he couldn't recall just what he'd been thinking, but he can remember the feeling. he can feel it now -- not hope necessarily, but that rhea crane being dead doesn't feel real. in reality, it feels like nothing at all has changed in that regard. if he doesn't look at the news or the announcement, she's still here.

when auggie takes his hand, he squeezes it on instinct. this feels right. the thought happens but it's unwelcome -- he knows this is fleeting, this feeling of togetherness. he's just grateful he's able to feel it at all, that even if he picks fights or doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut, they are here for now. he's got the uneasy feeling it won't happen again. "it was me," he says frustratedly. don't they see? don't they see how it's always him? always drawing attention, always seeking it in the wrong places in the absolute wrong ways. they do see it, because they've called him out on it numerous times before. this time is no different. just because he got his head bashed in doesn't make the truth any different. "i can't -- i can't even remember the real reason why i started it. i can't even remember what i said. it's all muddled and -- fuck," he can't tell if he's talking about the questioning itself or the fight with auggie. he thinks it's both. he wants this stupid fucking rag off of his head but he won't let go of their hands to do it. so he just looks up at the ceiling. he feels like that door is going to be blown through at any second and augustus would be taken away because he couldn't keep his mouth shut. typical.

he takes a second to recognize the way liv's voice shakes, mind catching up a little too late. "i couldn't -- i couldn't tell. who was screaming. it was all--" he lifts the hand locked with liv's to gesture to his head, "i don't know. i can't remember," he mumbles, laying their hands back down. "just that i thought you were dead, too. that's why i came here. if i didn't find you both, i would have lost it," his own voice shakes now, and he looks down at auggie as they speak. max shrugs, huffing a breath. "does it matter? i saw liv. but with you, they told me -- they.... alluded to it. i don't remember what they said. just that -- i thought you were there too."

@cfcannons @victoriams

[victoriams]

Livinia isn't sure why she's so surprised by Augustus'... competence. Then again, she couldn't remember a time as adults that she'd allowed herself to be cared for, even the slightest bit. She'd insisted on self-sufficiency from a young age, claiming that she could do everything herself, because the alternative was weakness. But, there was a time, once, there had to have been, where Augustus was her protector. Her advocate, her hero. Her older sibling, the first real role model she ever had ( because god knows her parents weren't shining beacons of morality ). She doesn't remember at what point she'd decided she no longer needed them. At what point she decided that relying on her siblings was a curse rather than a blessing. Even in the years after Seneca's death, when she had been at her absolute lowest, she'd insisted on suffering in silence. In her quest for independence and respect, she'd pushed away the two people who ever had a real chance at understanding her.

Part of her wants to argue about the water, but she picks it up anyway, taking a long sip and relishing in the feeling of something other than the awful metallic taste that has lingered in her mouth since last night. "I didn't know what to believe." She says. "I thought they were taking me to see mom, at first. Otherwise I might've kicked up more of a fuss." She lets out a light chuckle – though there's no humour behind it. Part of her knows that no amount of arguing on her part would have made a difference. That she'd been marked, that what happened last night was always going to happen, from the very moment that peacekeeper had wrapped his hand around her wrist. She glances down at her arm – sure enough, a blotchy, bluish bruise has formed where he grabbed her.

It was the fight. Maxim says, and Livinia is shaking her head before he's finished speaking. "It's not your fault." She says quietly, rubbing her thumb across the back of his hand in small circles. In this moment, it all seems rather trivial – whatever bad blood existed among them. And yet, there is part of her that suspects the truce is temporary. They were raised in a den of wolves, after all. Fighting is in their nature. But, at the end of the day, she'd always imagined that no matter what venom they spat at one another, no matter how they fought or bickered or stabbed one another in the back, her siblings would still be there. Because that's just what they did. She turns her attention back to Augustus. "I thought you were dead." She whispers, casting her eyes down. "If this is what they do... over nothing..." She shakes her head. Tries to ignore the way her voice wobbles, a little too close to tears. Her eyes flicker to Max, then back to the floor. "And I could hear you screaming, and I thought they'd kill you both. And I..." She trails off again, shaking her head, trying to regain her composure. How embarrassing. "I didn't want to plan three funerals, okay? I'm busy enough as it is."

@cfcannons / @reblrths

he doesn't want to sit. this is the only thing going on in his head, but he doesn't protest as liv crosses the room because she wants to sit. he won't make her stand and he won't let go of her hand. so the couch it is. he leans back, closes his eyes, and actually sighs as the cloth is pressed to his head. he's glad he doesn't resist this -- just a moment. just a moment of respite. he's spent so long worried about the two people next to him, so many hours spent thinking they'd been on their own, beaten, hurting -- the thought made him feel sick. but it was only liv -- auggie had been here, presumably. it still didn't make him feel better.

he looks over at her, still holding onto her hand. he can feel the downturn to his lips as he studies her -- it's difficult at first. he sees the distance in her eyes but if he hadn't looked very close, she'd simply look neutral. he squeezes her hand, and mutters a broad thank you to them both for the cloth. maxim doesn't say anything as auggie sits and then moves again, keeps talking. they're rambling, and max can tell why, knows they're worried, but the sound goes right through him right now. when all he wants is for them to stay put where he can see them -- god, is he ever going to be able to walk around without fearing for his siblings again? even now, there's an unease within him. he barely hears auggie, but max nods anyway, stares at the bottle on the table for a moment as if it would be ingrained into his mind enough so that he wouldn't forget it. any instruction auggie had given is forgotten almost instantly. he feels so spent.

and now -- now he's looking at auggie. livinia on his right, auggie on the floor between them. he's overwhelmed. relief, sadness, regret -- it's all there. the crane's aren't known for their communication, nor are they known for being close at all. but the two of them, whether maxim would ever admit it, were all he ever wanted at his side. he'd always make it more difficult than he needed to, it was simply his nature, but -- he thought he'd lost them. even now, he was terrified. he hasn't thought of their mother, even listening to them speak about her. maxim hadn't fully realized when he stuck his other arm out, stretched toward auggie with his hand facing up for them to take. it's a silent question, one they could easily reject -- this was closer than they'd been in decades. maxim bites his lip, staring at his own hand and waiting. he doesn't know why he thinks holding them both will help. but he does. "it was the fight," he mumbles, wincing at the memory. "they kept asking about that fucking fight. i thought they saw right through me," he scoffs, voice coming out as a whisper. "if i just kept my mouth shut."

@cfcannons @victoriams

[victoriams]

Livinia was used to being the one who took control in situations like this. Well, not exactly like this – but her point still stood. She'd trained herself to be the rational one, the level-headed one, the one who could set aside her problems and her feelings and focus on solutions. It was a more arduous task than it might seem, but she had grown used to her role as the logical sibling, the one who would diligently clean up Max and Auggie's messes, the one who would hold up their family's reputations in spite of everything else. Part of the reason was because she was good at it, another part was because it was expected of her. The third, most treacherous part, was that she'd never really trusted her siblings to take care of themselves. To make tough decisions and navigate difficult circumstances, when push came to shove.

Right now, though, this pretence is dropped. Right now, she can barely get her mind to focus on anything besides that stupid white room and that awful electric prod and her baby brother's anguished screams and the fear that she'd lost her whole family in one fell swoop. She holds onto Max's hand, unwilling to be the first to let go, and watches Augustus flitter around the room frantically, gathering supplies and shoving them into her arms. Part of her wants to question why on earth they have all this stuff – but she's not quite sure she wants to know the answer to that right now. Instead, she watches Max gulp down his water, notices the way it seems to vaguely pain him, and finally snaps into action to follow Augustus' instructions. They are the oldest, after all, maybe they did know how to take care of themselves, and, by extension, Max. There's a pang of guilt there – she'd spent a long time underestimating them.

"I want to sit down." She says, suspecting it will invite greater cooperation from Max than blatantly ordering him around. She tugs on his hand and leads him back over to the couch, wringing the cloth in her free hand. "I'm going to put this on your head, okay? It'll get rid of the headache." She says, carefully pressing it to Max's forehead, urging him to lean back against the couch as she does so. If her head is sore, she can be almost certain Max's is worse. Vulnerability isn't a natural state for the Crane children, and she can almost feel her cheeks flush red at the thought of showing her siblings that she cares, beyond snide remarks and sharp jabs. It's unnatural, but familiar, all at once.

"We thought they'd taken you for questioning, too." She clarifies after Max's rambling, "They, um..." A pause, "They were looking for rebels, I think. After the attack last night. I assume they were looking at us because of..." The end of her sentence drifts, eyes vacant. Livinia blinks a few times, refocusing herself. "Because of mom, and..." Because of your stunt. The words hang in the air, but she doesn't give voice to them. She doesn't do that to her sibling. "Because apparently there's a leak within the gamemaker's room. To the rebels." She says instead.

@cfcannons / @reblrths

maxim can hear his father's voice in the back of his head as he holds liv's hand with a vice grip, can even hear livinia's normal tone chastising him for the action. he's always been a tactile person, little innocuous touches and right now, when he cannot gather enough energy to speak, it's all he can do to not slip completely. he tells himself to let go a few times, but when she squeezes back, it eases his mind.

when auggie ushers them both inside, when they start speaking, maxim takes a moment to catch up. why are they only talking to liv? telling her to have max sit down? no, no, max can't sit. if he sits he won't get back up and if he doesn't get back up then he can't go see kaleb, and he has to go home soon to check on atlas. he doesn't let go of liv's hand as they walk inside, just stands by the door and watches blankly as auggie runs around and grabs things he can't quite see and talks to -- not them now, no. who are they talking to now? concussion notes. notes? why do they have notes on this?

max blinks for a moment and then realizes he was asked a question. he doesn't shake his head, because that would make him feel nauseous, but he is growing frustrated. why are they asking liv these questions? giving her this rag? he's fine. "earlier, but not now," he says, brows furrowing. seeing auggie grab the water bottles, he realizes just how dry his mouth is -- so he takes a few steps forward and grabs one, ignoring the searing pain that spreads like wildfire in his ribs, and takes a few big drinks. the coldness of it makes his head hurt even more for a moment. he takes a breath, looking at auggie, then liv. they're alive. they're both here. something had to have happened -- why else would they be freaking out like this? "after the party," he says simply. "you -- you weren't there?" he asks. "you -- i heard you. they said you were there?" didn't they? maxim's head hurts more, trying to remember the moment he'd figured it out, but that bright room is blurry and all he can hear are liv's sobs in the room next to his and screaming. "they only released me a few hours ago. i came here as soon as i could."

@victoriams @cfcannons

[victoriams]

When they were kids, Livinia had often seen her brother as a nuisance. A loud, boisterous creature that seemed to thrive off attention the same way she coveted respect. As a child, his loud mouth had been nothing more than bothersome – an oftentimes irritating buzz in her ear. As they'd grown older, Maxim's tongue had grown more problematic. Craving attention was fine, but attracting it from the wrong parties could be a death sentence, or so she was told. It's what had happened to Seneca. And it was what she had always worried would happen to Max. She'd always figured that, maybe, if she did what she was told and played along with the rules, she could balance out whatever trouble he got himself into. Whenever he needed to be bailed out, she would answer the call.

Because the alternative was unthinkable.

As it turned out, playing along with the rules had done neither of them any good. Livinia had always had a touch of blind faith that, for the most part, the Capitol got it right. That real rebels were punished, and innocents left alone. After tonight, she's not so sure. Those peacekeepers must have known she didn't have what they were looking for within the first few minutes of talking to her – and yet, they'd kept going. Like sadistic, vicious dogs, ripping apart a carcass long after the meat was gone from its bones. Neither she nor Maxim had done anything to warrant the treatment they received last night, and yet both of them had awoken this morning with memories they would never quite shake.

She clings to Maxim for several long moments, allowing herself the simple comfort of listening to him breathe – in and out, shallow but steady. She’s never thought of herself as someone to relish in the presence of others, but right now she doesn’t want to let go – relief that at least one member of her family is safe and alive. Then Max mentions Auggie, and Livinia feels a fresh wave of terror come over her – there’s still a sibling unaccounted for. She shakes her head against Max’s chest, her breathing starting to shudder. “No,” She says, holding on for one more moment before finally pulling away, gazing up at her younger brother. “They… they should be on the second floor. If…” She leaves the rest unsaid – if they’re alive. She shakes the thought from her head. “They’ll be there. Let’s go.”

@cfcannons

maxim's mind has not been laid to rest since he was released. he'd been dropped at his apartment, found atlas, and left all the same -- there was no way he wasn't going to go find them. he had an objective, he had to see them. he had to be sure they were alive. he can barely recall changing out of the event clothes (immediately thrown in the trash) and finding his way to the tribute center, though it had taken a while to remember how to get there. he felt like a ghost, like he was simply floating around and wandering aimlessly though he'd been down this route so many times before. there was only one thing on his mind.

he powers through each step taken, through the doors of the tribute center and to the elevator. his breathing still hurts, his brain hurts, his everything hurts. he doesn't allow himself to think about anything else too deeply until livinia's door opens and he sees her breathing. "livi."

he just stares at her for a moment, still shaking and terrified as if at any moment they'd decide it wasn't enough and come drag the both of them to the gallows themselves. when she lunges forward to hug him, maxim winces and his breath catches -- he also wastes no time in hugging her back tightly, lungs be damned. tears fill his eyes and he can hardly comprehend the fact that it was all real. livinia has never done anything other than try to prove herself -- it was maxim that had caused the most trouble. how many times has he called her to bail him out? and the one time she needed him, he couldn't do it for her.

it takes a long moment for maxim to gather the words to speak. he's shaking in her arms, his chin buried in her hair, breathing rough. "where's augustus?" he gasps against the side of her head, still unable to break away from her. "we -- we have to find auggie. have you seen them?"

@cfcannons @victoriams

[victoriams]

Livinia doesn’t say anything when Maxim reaches for her hand – lets him take it silently and wraps her bony, trembling fingers around his own. There’s a voice that sounds suspiciously like her mother’s, telling her that such a show of affection could be misconstrued as weakness. There’s an instinct to shake Max’s hand off, to berate him for the display of vulnerability – but she shoves this thought down, instead focusing on the way the feeling of another hand in her own grounds her. Places her thumb against Max’s wrist and lets the steady thrum of his pulse soothe her frayed nerves. 

When they were children, it had sometimes felt like she and Max and Auggie against the world. Right now, she can almost imagine they're kids again.

Livinia’s heart thunders in her chest as they make their way to the second floor, her pace quickening with every step in her desperation to find her sibling. To make sure they were okay. Auggie was supposed to be the oldest, the protector, and yet Livinia’s mind can only supply images of them left for dead somewhere, punished for yesterday’s stunt. A warning to anybody else who might think to do something similar. The thought of her sibling’s lifeless body – of having to plan two funerals, instead of one – sends waves of nausea rolling through her, a cold sweat breaks out on her forehead, limbs shaking violently. 

She doesn’t hesitate when they reach Augustus’ door – her knocks quick and frantic as she waits with bated breath. If they’re not here, she’ll need a list of places to check next. She’ll ask Max, he knows Auggie’s friends better than she does. Before they even have a chance to open the door, Livinia is coming up with plan b, and c, and d. Then, the door swings open, and Livinia’s breath hitches at the sight of Augustus – looking tired and groggy but alive. She doesn’t have long to relish in the sight before the door is slammed in her face. She feels Max startle beside her, and she absently rubs soothing circles over his pulse point while they wait for Augustus to return.

Ordinarily, she would have had a few things to say about her sibling’s rather rude display at their front door, but, today, she lets it go. She’s still far too wrecked to worry about Augustus’ idiosyncrasies. She’s far too relieved to see them breathing to scold them about bad behaviour. Part of her wants to wrap them in a hug like she had Max, but she hesitates – instead squeezing her younger brother’s hand for reassurance. 

“I won’t.” She says, her voice sounding odd to her own ears. Soft and vacant, where it is usually sharp and assured. “But we can put down a towel, if it makes you feel better.”

@cfcannons / @reblrths

he’s silent the entire walk there. silent, but holding onto livinia’s hand as though it might ground him. it does, he thinks, because he still feels like he’s not here, like he’s simply following his feet wherever they want to go — aimless. truthfully, maxim was nervous. he felt like he might be sick. less than twenty four hours ago, maxim had been pinned against a wall and been told no one gives a shit about him. he hadn’t had the time to wonder if that had been true, if anyone had even noticed he'd gone missing — well. atlas had — sat outside his door for god knows how long. that was odd. he decides not to think about that too much now, because they -- no, liv finds their door and knocks.

and on the flip side — he’d told auggie everyone they love has a target on their back. maxim doesn’t know about love, but they are family nonetheless. the fact that it had turned out to be true… that didn’t feel real, either. like some fucked up joke played by the gods because how could some stupid argument turn out to hurt more hours after the fact? truthfully — did it matter? whether it was true or not. they’ve been targeted. they’ve always been targeted, their entire family. this was simply bound to happen.

his feet shuffle as they wait outside the door, hand still holding liv’s as if he were a child who might get lost if they strayed too far. he’s never felt more the little brother than he does right now, eyes cast downward until the door opens and it snaps up and closes before he even gets a chance to see them. it only makes him even more scared — he flinches once the door slams. he winces, really, free hand coming up to press to the side of his head that doesn't feel tender. he catches sight of the red marks on his wrists as he raises his arm and shuts his eyes so he doesn't have to look at it. he briefly thinks he needs some type of medicine — then decides he’s never touching another drug again in his life.

when auggie opens the door again, max opens his eyes and looks them over frantically. any sign of anything, any fresh mark, any look of terror, and — nothing. there’s nothing there. not even in their tone, but maxim could never be sure when it comes to that. they are the same in many ways, ways maxim himself cannot even comprehend, sometimes he thinks that’s why they argue so much — the crane's don’t show when they hurt, when they’re upset. but right now, maxim doesn’t have the energy to hide the emotion on his face let alone his tone of voice, of which he cannot find.

he simply stares for a moment. tries to speak, but his mouth just stays open for a little too long. his head is still pounding. steady over the past however fucking long, everything makes it worse. he wants it to stop. he can feel the burn in his eyes, as if he might start crying but he swallows it down. they’re alive. maxim cannot move, cannot find the words, feet firmly rooted, and his grip on liv’s hand tightens.

@victoriams @cfcannons

[victoriams]

When she was little, there was nobody Livinia admired more than Augustus. There was only a year between them, but it felt like a lifetime. It felt like they were infinitely older, wiser, stronger than she ever would be. They were closer to a role model than either of their parents. For the first few years of her life, she'd followed them around like a lost puppy – hung off their every word. Begged them to read her bedtime stories, and sleep on the floor of her room when she was afraid of monsters. They had been the first person she would talk to about her day, the first one to hear her trivial kindergarten stories, the one who would put bandaids on her scraped knees, and the first person she'd trusted, wholly and blindly.

She's not sure when she's stopped following them. When her admiration had been overshadowed be jealousy. Jealousy that their father respected Augustus more than her. That they were the default successor. That their mother didn't pick Augustus apart like she did to Livinia. That they seemed to be able to do whatever they wanted without ever thinking about the consequences, whilst Livinia always had to be five steps ahead just to stay afloat. Resentment that she would never be good enough – that she looked in the mirror and compared herself to Augustus, to her mother, to everybody around her. Resentment that she could never be their equal, not really.

This is the thing about siblings: they know you more intimately than anybody else. You have shared a life together, grown up in a house on fire. They can bring you comfort and understanding like nobody else. But they can also tear you apart like nobody else. They know your weaknesses, your flaws, and they know how to exploit them. That and the jealousy, Augustus says, and Livinia reels. It feels like a punch to the gut – the kind of cruelty only family is capable of.

"Of fucking course," She bites back, "I must have forgotten that the entire world revolves around Augustus Crane. The firstborn, the golden child, the apple of our darling parents' eye. That the only reason someone might criticise you is out of jealousy for all you've accomplished. How could I possibly forget?" She scoffs, shaking her head. "You know what? This is the exact reason I don't get involved in your bullshit. Fuck you, Augustus. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

@cfcannons

They didn't take everything. And god if Augustus had ever, in their life, felt like they could be honest with either of their siblings, this would have either been the moment that assumption shriveled up and died, or this would have been the moment to do it. This would have been the moment to break if they knew anyone would catch them. Here, in the middle of a stupid party they didn't want to be at to ignore the fact half the attendees would be dead later, would have been the place to finally do it. To give in the anger and the pain they'd been left with, to get in her face and scream. There are worse things to lose than your fucking boyfriend, or your tongue, or your life! They took my life from me without even killing me! I can't ever be who I was before! They broke me, and none of you even noticed! I was gone for days, and everyone but you two questioned it! I know I have people who care, and I know it's not either of you.

They don't say this to her, though. They're starting to realize that's the smarter approach. A Crane is a Crane is a Crane. Augustus would take a bullet for Liv or Max without a second thought, even though neither of them would do the same. It's their burden to bear, perhaps. They're the oldest. That's what they're supposed to do. God, this drink is really starting to taste like I don't know what else I should have expected from any of you.

"I don't think anything through. Isn't that half your fucking problem with me?" Another sip of their drink. A shrug of the shoulder, their expression melting into something blasé. "I mean, that and the jealousy, but that's something you and Max have always shared. And, hey, if they kill me for this, you'll get what you always wanted, anyway." It's cruel. It's scathing. It's a low fucking blow, but. But. A Crane is a Crane is a Crane.

[victoriams]

I've been angry for five years, Augustus says – and there it is again, that traitorous, treacherous twinge of resentment. I know you've been angry, she wants to scream at him, we all know, you have the luxury of wearing it around like a fucking badge of honour. Her mother had taught Livinia that emotions were a weakness, but only for her. She'd been prone to tantrums as a child – every one of which had ended with a stern reprimand from her mother once the nannies informed her of it. Nobody will ever take you seriously if you carry on like that, she'd been told – always toeing that line between real and unreal. When Augustus or Maxim deigned to stoop to her level and let their emotions be heard, they were commended. When Livinia did it, her mother called her selfish. Hysterical. Sensitive. Overly-emotional.

Whatever they'd done here, tonight, however stupid, was bred from emotions Livinia was no longer sure she was capable of feeling. Such burning passion she'd extinguished long ago for fear of being licked by the flames. In her effort to be seen as an equal, she'd lost the only thing that could connect her to Augustus in this moment.

"They didn't take everything." She says, always so dramatic. "You've got people here who care enough to pull you up when you do stupid shit like this – last I checked, that's not nothing." She pinches the bridge of her nose – a quirk she's had since childhood, a telltale sign of frustration. There's no point arguing any further – she knows a lost cause when she sees one, and Augustus is right, it's too late to do anything now. Even if they were to run over to Dante and scrub the makeup off, the damage was already done. They would all have to live with whatever came next.

"But if that's not enough for you, fine. Throw it all away. I just hope you've thought this through."

Auggie scoffs now, just...looking at her. It's such a Liv approach. Think twenty steps ahead. Here's all the pros and cons. Here's why you're making the stupid choice. "Liv. We both know there's no helping him. There's no...there's no saving him." And they're not sure whether they just mean Ambrose. "I've been angry for five years. They took everything from me. And I just have to...keep going like this. For the rest of our lives. You know I'm starting to forget what he sounded like when he laughed?" That last part is almost a whisper, like it's more stream of consciousness than something they actually meant to tell her.

They're well aware of the drama and tension that is their sister's marriage to the more pathetic, ridiculous looking Plinth, so. In a way they get it. They've heard enough about it from Aurora, a few glasses of wine deep and inconsolable about the nuptials. Not that they'll ever breathe a word of it. That's the unspoken agreement between them. Just another thing for Auggie to keep from Liv. Probably the least upsetting tidbit, honestly. "Livi. I know what I'm putting on the line here." Another sip, more pondering. Another chance for them to be honest with her that they don't take. If they told her now it would just scare her more anyway. They can hear it now. If that's what they did when they didn't even think you did anything, it'll just be worse when they know you did. As if they didn't consider that. "It's a little too late to question my choices now."

[victoriams]

Livinia knows her sibling well enough that they won't retreat like a wounded animal when confronted. She knows Augustus well enough to expect them to stand by their decision – to shirk regret even after considering the consequences. She knows them well enough that she wasn't even surprised by the stunt they pulled – and she knows them well enough to know that they likely don't care what happens to them because of it.

The worst part is, despite the way her nose scrunches and her cheeks flush – she isn't angry with them. She's worried, but she's never known how to express vulnerability without first expressing strength. She's never known how to show concern without hiding behind anger. Despite the distance that exists between them, she feels responsible for what happens to Augustus, in her own twisted way.

She pinches the bridge of her nose before she speaks again, "Don't bullshit me, it's not just purple." She says quietly, "Dante is probably going to die either way, you don't have to." A pause, "I'm sorry... that was... I know that you're friends." She pauses again, letting out a frustrated sigh. "I... why? Why here? Why now?"

Auggie's pulled away from the brunt of the festivities almost immediately, and something tells her this will be a pattern of the night. Not that Max will notice --or care, more like-- but Lysander will. She only hopes their parents will be too busy --or equally disinterested-- to take notice, or she's sure to really hear about it, then. As it is, Liv's pissed off enough for all of them. Which is to be expected. She's a gamemaker. Still, they're firm in their choice. "It's not stupid. It's...just purple. I spoke to Dante about it, and he was all for it. I'm not-- I know what I'm doing here, Liv."

It's mostly the truth. They know the risks of this kind of move, depending on how Snow sees fit to strike back. It would be so easy. No one noticed when they were gone a week, who would notice if more scars were added to the tally, if they lost their tongue? Liv might. Aurora, maybe, by the third time she called to drunkenly cry about something and they didn't answer. Jesus, did they have anyone else? And if they don't, what's the harm?