appearifier | (no subject)

warning for adult content and possible triggers:
violence, death, nonconsent and all around questionable situations.

THE HUNGER GAMES MEME

Congratulations, Tribute. You have been selected to participate in the Hunger Games. The rules are simple: there can only be one victor. You have to kill everyone else or die. The last one standing wins. May the odds be ever in your favour.

⚔

.Relationship.
1. ENEMIES: in for the kill
The truth is you've been plotting each other's death for a long time. The only thing different about this situation is that everyone else actually wants you to off each other. Who cares if both of you are probably going to die anyway: no one is taking this bastard down except you.

2. ROMANCE: lovers in a dangerous time
What do lovers do when they know they're about to die? Last kiss, last words, last fuck? Maybe you're desperately trying to protect each other from the rest. Maybe you're the last two left alive. What sacrifices are you willing to make? How far will you allow each other to go?

3. ALLIES: set your arms down
It's in both of your best interests to stick together. Two together is more deadly than one, and you can pool supplies and weapons. Of course, this arrangement is most definitely temporary. Maybe it'll fall apart tonight, or tomorrow, or next week. Maybe your alliance has already run its course, and it's about to fall apart...right now.

4. TORTURE: death's not the worst
Sure, the point is to kill them. But why leave it at that? Maybe you've always secretly gotten off on this sort of thing, or maybe you've just cracked under the stress. When everyone is going to die, there's no point in sticking to all those rules society laid down for you any more. You've already incapacitated them; there's no way they can fight back. Might as well have some fun, right?

5. VICTORY: the finish line
You've done it. Last one standing. You've chosen to live, and no one but you knows how much that choice cost you, because they're all dead. At this point there's nothing that will stop you from stepping up to claim victory. You killed every other tribute. Or did you?

.Scenerio.
1. Train ride.
You've just been chosen to participate in the annual Hunger Games. Maybe you knew your number was coming up, maybe you thought that it would never be you. None the less the Reaping is over and your fate is sealed.

2. Interviews.
You've got to earn those sponsors, net that attention, win the crowds over so you've got a better chance of getting out of there alive. Maybe you need to practice, maybe you need to have a word with a fellow tribute over something they've said.

3. Training.
The Games have not yet begun. You're forbidden from fighting, but maybe that won't stop you. Maybe you just want to show off and give them a taste of what they're in for. Maybe you're planning an alliance and you need to know your teammate's strengths... and weaknesses.

4. Banquet.
You've just been lifted up into the arena and the cornucopia is in sight. Do you run for it or away? Better hope your alliance mates get out alright.

5. Hunting.
Friend, foe, stranger? Who cares. You're trying to meet up with them. Maybe to forge an alliance, maybe to kill them yourselves.

6. Dying.
Should have zigged when you zagged. Looks like the odds were never in your favor.

7. Winner.
You've won. Now you're on your way back home. Your friends are waiting, your enemies, and forbidden or not you, might just find you're done done yet.

8. Revolutionary.
No more. You won't allow this to happen again.

Let the Games begin.

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[He doesn't jump, exactly, but his shoulders jerk a little and his eyes are wide. He hopes she can't feel his heart still racing like he can.]

Jade?

[ If she does, she doesn't seem to show it. ]

You might be Mr Famous Guy now and all, but I don't think anyone's too busy for a hug.

[He opens his mouth to say something, fails, and then lowers his head slightly. The hand that isn't holding the sword comes up, hovers, and then touches her arm just above her elbow.

He doesn't know how to tell her that the thought of discovery scares him less than the noise itself--how it's too much like a cannon, how every time whatever it is misfires he finds himself counting backwards from twenty-four, calculating the hour he'll wake up to steel in his back. He doesn't know how to tell her sometimes he never goes to sleep at all, just listens to District Five tick and waits for that not-cannon to sound his not-death.

One time, in the cold grey hours of the morning that belong to him and Rose, he almost worked up the strength to ask her how much Jade had seen. Instead, they sat there drinking sour coffee in silence.

He has to clear his throat before he can speak.]

Maybe I'll try to work it into my schedule.

[ If he ever asks her, she'll admit to having watched as much as she possibly could without neglecting everything else. Too much in any case, and thankfully her teachers never asked when she'd failed to turn something in or fell asleep quietly in the back of the class, if he'd been given a particular amount of screentime the night before. No one liked losing one of their own to the Games, least of all one so young. There were long and sleepless nights even when he wasn't, checks every day on the surviving headcount. It wasn't that she in any way enjoyed watching of course, nor even that she felt a need to watch obsessively to know or anything, just that it felt wrong to look away for too long. Like she owed him her presence in this one way he couldn't even be aware of, except it's not even a matter of owing. How could she possibly turn off a screen when it's his reality?

Or was, until he escaped the arena, and - maybe there isn't a need to talk about those days between the firing of that cannon and finding out about his deception and being reunited, except to say that her knuckles still sting to remember how hard she pummeled the wall when she was finally alone. ]

I thought you said all I have to do is say the word!

[That hand's actually resting on her arm, now, instead of just barely brushing her sleeve. He lets out a breath.]

Yeah, well, this is an entirely different kind of engagement. We've got to lay down some ground rules, set up an agenda and take minutes. Wait, shit, that was just like Dirk. Never mind, forget anything I just said that sounded suspiciously like I was talking out of my ass.

[ She laughs, burying her face in his shoulder for a second to try to muffle it. ]

Okay, I have forgotten everything you just said.

Fffh. Awesome.

[He rolls his eyes and taps his thumb against her arm, but the tightness in his chest and shoulders melts away a little. He taps his fingers again, considers, and then drops the arm to snake it around her back. His hand ends up on her shoulder, and he pulls her in a little, just briefly, a gentle squeeze.]

Tell me when you're done with your little bout of amnesia, 'kay.

[ She leans into him a little, as much as he'll let her. ]

It might take a while.

Damn. Maybe I should take advantage of this to say all kinds of things you won't remember in the morning.

[It's not that he doesn't want to let her, maybe, but he's awkward and bony and his shoulders get everywhere. Still, he takes a moment, and then tries to rest his head on top of hers. But only for a moment before lifting it again.]

I can totally hear your brains in there.

Shoosh, no you can't!

Yup. It's like a butter factory in there, all churning and milkmaids singing pastoral hymns and shit.

[The warmth of her body finally feels comfortable in the crook of his arm, and he relaxes just that tiniest bit that brings to light how tense he was.]

Even if you could hear brains, I don't think they'd sound like milkmaids singing pastoral hymns.

[ Her head ends up on his shoulder. ]

What do pastoral hymns even sound like?

Hell if I know. Probably like lullabies.

[She's too thin, is the thing, and when he turns towards her this time he just sort of rests his nose against her hair. This whole world is shit and someone this perfectly good deserves something better. Something actually livable.]

If I go to the meeting next time, can I pass you notes under the desk or do you think they'll put me in time out?