(no subject)

[etcircenses]

Who| Everyone, pretty much. Particularly Secret Santa people and those Creuntus is fucking with.
What| Holiday times!
Where| The Tribute Training center
When| The whole week, but Creuntus' gifts arrive today.
Warnings/Notes| none atm. Please add any in thread headers. Also, for secret santa, if you are the giver start a thread with your giftee's name (unless you two have worked something else out between you). You can use the District threads below, or choose a different setting of your own.

Every floor public space is dripping with holiday decorations.

The decorations are themed, ridiculously so. Every surface is covered, and a table sits proudly full of holiday treats and spirits, kept stocked constantly by the avoxes. Cheerful music plays softly throughout the whole building, though luckily for everyone the Capitol doesn't really know what Christmas carols are.

Those with secret santa's have a cheery, passive-aggressive note reminding them not to disappoint anyone and ruin their holiday.

Those that have expressed a want for some object from home will find a box on their bed sometime during the day, with a merry holiday greeting from Cruentus. Inside they will find the object of their desire, or something similar, crafted from their words.

In blown glass. Pretty, decorative, utterly useless.

Bert's guns, Punchy's goggles, Sigma's music box, Maximus' leg, Mindy's knife, Terezi's dragon cane...on and on, as many gifts as Creuntus could find out. Those that were with them when they were pulled are more perfect replicas, those that they have just described obviously have an artistic touch to them.

Comments

[gluteus]

It was the look on Wyatt's face that hit him first, that caught the words in his throat and gave the silence necessary for the man to speak. The rage wasn't quelled, nor the despair - instead, they were only fed, because he watched himself destroy the only thing he had left and could do nothing.

"Wyatt--"

The door slammed closed.

"Wyatt!" He roared after him. But there was nothing but the ring of his own roar against the walls. Ferox, who had been curled up in a corner asleep, now woke with a start, his ears flattening back against his head.

He drew in his breath incredibly hard, his fist balled tightly enough at his sides that his short cropped nails drew blood in his palm. He reached out and grabbed for the lone figure at the bed and threw it at the door, causing it to smack loudly against it and go bouncing off across the floor.

Forget anythin' happened, Wyatt had said. As if Maximus' most potent problem was the fact that he was so unable to forget.

The ghosts in his mind didn't need to be solely made of the dead.