thecapitol | I heard the voice of Jesus say...

WHO| Wyatt and OTA
WHAT| Jailbird's finally been released.
WHERE| Training Center
WHEN| After the start of the Arena.
Notes/Warnings| Likely talk of torture, imprisonment, pet death, etc.

Wyatt hadn't expected them to to let them go. He hadn't expected them to ever see daylight again. He hadn't, being completely honest, really expected them to live, but there they were. Dumped back the Tower after the fact as if nothing had happened.

Like they hadn't been beaten like dogs, branded like cattle. Like they hadn't come back to find Ferox gone, and a tiger-skin rug in the beast's place.

(That dumb mutt, who's only crime had been being given to Max.)

For the first time, he almost wished he'd been sent back into the arena. Even that likely would have easier than this.

He couldn't even help anyone anymore.

All he could do was stick close to Max (though he knew that wouldn't change anything, if they decided to come again), and wait.

Leaving Max to his swords, he returned to the knife throwing station. They'd dislocated his gun arm, likely knowing what would it would mean to him, but despite the lingering pain, he was determined to test it. To build it back up.

To be ready.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Eva made her way out of the prison a solid week before the other suspects, and despite the brand, with relatively few injuries. Her black eye is healing. Even her brand, having been treated with ointment and bandages and rigorous cleaning, is looking better than those of the others, who garnished all sorts of infections from the dirty jail floor and want of medical care.

She felt negligible guilt over handing the interrogators information. Now, she feels none. When she sees the ruins that some of the other Mentors are in, she realizes her chances of having been able to survive that sort of abuse had been low enough that she's cheated death. She didn't participate in Penny's murder nor know anything useful, but she's been in enough Capitol bedrooms to know plenty of scandals. Just because she couldn't suss out rebels didn't mean she couldn't hand over rival Peacekeepers for everything from tax fraud to murder.

"I'm glad you made it out," she says as she passes by Wyatt towards a punching bag, a towel slung over her shoulders and a shirt cut low down the back, baring scars she acquired when she was sixteen and a Tribute. "And I'm glad they didn't get your favorite teenagers."

She was able to negotiate for Eponine and Topher's freedom. She doesn't know how she would have dealt with the helplessness of being able to do nothing for them.

Eva was still something of an unknown to Wyatt. In the handful of occasions he'd had with her, she'd spent just as many trying to kill him as she had anything else. He thought of her like a cat, with sharp eyes and claws, equal parts clever and wary as it plotted new ways to torment the hound.

But, by her own admission, they were after the same thing, and outside the arena, she'd been nothing but nice to him.

(He didn't much understand the book she'd given him, but he knew enough to find its words pretty in their way.)

"Still took my friends," he replied lowly, fingers flexing experimentally on the throwing knife as he turned to keep her in sight. "My partner."

His eyes slipped past her, glancing over to find Max - assuring himself that the man was still there as much as to soothe the man in turn - before returning.

"Didn't know they had you. ...My condolences."

"Worrying about a single person is often easier than worrying about a group. Or a small handful of people, at least."

She throws a punch at the sandbag, showing a surprising amount of force for a woman of her age and demeanor. The skin on her knuckles tears on the fabric, leaving a reddish burn slowly filling with bloody color.

"I appreciate the sympathy, but I made out alright. I got to see what was happening up close, which never hurts when understanding the lay of the land." And in Panem is all changes so quickly. "Not that I had anything to do with slaying that particular dragon."

He frowned, thinking it wouldn't have called what he went through, what Venus and Max went through, easier just because there happened to be less of them.

(He knew what the darkest of his nightmares would be populated by. What they would sound, and smell like.)

"Neither did we," he said after a moment. "But I still ain't sure why they let us go."

She nods, then throws another punch.

"They might have just found the real killer, but I suspect it's something less straightforward. I doubt they suspected any of us to start with, and used the dragnet as an excuse to try and get unrelated secrets out of us." She raises an eyebrow and reaches up, gently touching the brand. "In some cases, it worked, I'm sure."

She punches again, throwing a kick into it this time. "Doesn't matter. The sea change is coming regardless."

"Not soon enough."

The reply was low, but unhesitating, his fingers tightening on the blade.

"I'd like to see justice finally catch up with 'em."

And who knew how much longer they had, the way the Capitol was going.

"Everything in its time." It's a platitude Eva only somewhat subscribes to. She's biding her time, yes, but she's also trying to usher in a new age. It's one she doubts she'll be around to see, but she hopes it's chaotic.

"Tell me, how often do you visit the Speakeasy? I could use a drinking partner for now."

"Often enough," he replied, though he shifted slightly, a bit uncertain. "Though I'll admit I ain't tried to go back since--"

He gestured to his scarred face.

(He was also bidding his time, not wanting to get anybody in trouble when he went to pick up the belongings he'd stashed there. He didn't doubt an extra close eye was being kept on them all.)

"We ain't exactly popular company anymore."

"If they kick us out, they kick us out," Eva says with the sort of blase attitude of someone who's been banned from bars before. The Speakeasy is a new establishment to her, one she didn't know the benefits of until recently. She hasn't had time to build all her plans around it and will recover quickly if it's taken from her.

She leaves the punching bag and gets in close - just a little too close - to Wyatt.

"It's only a drink. What are you afraid of?"

His back teeth touched, jaw tightening, but he didn't step back.

"It ain't me I worry about," he told her, blue eyes unblinking on her face.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Max shift, pausing to watch their exchange carefully.

"Without him, even bringin' 'em down won't mean much to me."

"I'd chastise you for being self-centered, but." She doesn't finish the sentiment. She's sure that it doesn't need explaining. Very few people are in this for the greater good; most of them care more about their loved ones than their ideals.

It's how the Games have continued for nearly seventy-seven years.

It's why she's stayed quiet as long as she has.

"Let's go, then."

"Now?" A dark eyebrow went up in clear surprise, the throwing knife still clenched in one hand. "Ya don't mind company, do ya?"

Even if he could have talked Max out of coming along - a silent, weary guard - he couldn't say he'd have wanted to.

It was a hell of a lot easier to mind the man while he was being minded in turn.

"If this were warfare, I'd say that that would put me at a disadvantage, but it's not so I won't." She throws a long glance at Maximus. "He trusts me even less than you do, but I don't mind."

Or, rather, she does mind but she'll allow it.

"Well I'd say that's fair, seein' as somehow I doubt ya trust us much either."

He watched her for a moment, watching Max, then turned back to the throwing range, laying the knife back with its brothers.

"Let me talk to him, then we'll be along."

She nods. "Don't make me wait too long. I'm growing old enough without impatience fossilizing my bones more."

"You an' us, both," Wyatt muttered.

Pushing a breath though his nose, he stepped away, moving back toward Max.

No, he didn't really trust her, but she had made it clear what she wanted and right now, he couldn't say really anything else really mattered.

I heard the voice of Jesus say...

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