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thegoddessprose · 8 days
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Of course she deserves better, one of the best characters ☺️
Shameless self promotion incoming:
If good things happening to Tigris is your thing, check out my fic Nitimur In Vetitum
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Reblog if you think she deserved better <3
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thegoddessprose · 1 month
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Since I neglected to post anything Chitarch related yesterday... Happy Cheap Candy Day, everyone
1. I mean... Duh, Plutarch. While they'd known each other for years, they didn't get close until I suppose the middle of catching fire, and it built up over the next few months.
2. Not anymore... She had an ex who's an OC named Theseus who was the father of her youngest, and they were the ones who were the closest to long term commitment. It didn't work out, but they're still friends and love each other... Just not romantically.
3. It's hardly her first time at the rodeo, so what stands out to her is something personal... Something that shows he's been listening to her.
4. Chiasa dislikes impersonal expensive gifts. It's a clear indicator that the giver is showing off how rich he is and cares more about his reputation than her.
5. Most? Hmm... I think post-war, when Plutarch had a particularly hard day, she spent the night pampering him; massages, a nice bath, maybe firing up an old movie for them to either enjoy or make fun of while they cuddled in bed. I have a hunch he's not used to other people taking care of him...
6. A tie between Plutarch telling the press that he's proud to be with her, and when he secretly commissioned a statue of her beloved late father to be erected after he was kept a footnote in history by Snow for so long.
7. Chiasa is well seasoned in flirting, so for the most part she's pretty successful. There will always be those who aren't interested no matter what, however.
8. She doesn't really believe in marriage... Although she wouldn't need anything big, just sincere. The grandest gesture she'd want is a speech about how much he loves her and how happy they've been together.
9. Chiasa likes little bouts of physical affection, like quick kisses or touches, but also likes leaving little notes or messages to tell Plutarch she's thinking of him.
10. We're getting into the creative side here... If Chiasa creates a custom piece of clothing for someone for free, it means she thinks highly of them.
11. Most people love how bubbly and confident she is, as well as kind.
12. I love how she wants nothing more to spread joy and warmth, especially in a world that's the opposite.
13. The affection is a little more platonic (Hugs, for example), and really just telling them, or getting them a meaningful gift.
14. I wouldn't really say she has any she sticks to...
15. Chiasa loves chocolate. Truffles are all well and good, but she likes the heart-shaped mini chocolates (Preferably dark) better.
16. It doesn't have to be a grand gesture, she'd love something low-stakes like a coffee or park date so there's less pressure and a better ability to get to know her suitor.
17. No, I think she might have been burned in the past, and doesn't have time for mind games, so she's on her guard when it comes to actual romance.
18. Eh, I don't know... She certainly prefers men who look like humans rather than some other Eldritch abominations in the Capitol. It's hard for her to resist some good old fashioned BDE, however...
19. Chiasa wasn't really looking for romance... Pre-Plutarch, she thought she just wasn't meant to settle down, that she was a free spirit. She highly values her friends and family, however, and makes sure they know she loves them.
20. Post-war, she's absolutely fine with them because there's no more danger of Snow using her as leverage. I have a feeling Plutarch might be a little reserved, though.
21. Oh, no. She's way too old and romantically savvy for that.
22. It is a bit of a guilty pleasure for her... I'll say it's not the "insta-love" that has her enjoying the trashier genre, however 😉
23. To relax, Chiasa usually gives herself a facial or warm bath and relaxes to some calming music. Incense may or may not be burning as well.
24. Most initial attraction is physical, so it's not hard to figure out there. When it comes to romantic... For her, it's how comfortable she is with him and how much she thinks about him when they're not together... Also whether or not she feels happier when she's with him.
25. For a time, she did (During her New Age phase). Afterwards, she still did to some degree, but also believed she just wasn't meant to have one... Then of course that she did, but she had to wait longer than average.
26. She doesn't really throw that around when it's not platonic.... She was the first to say it to Plutarch, however.
27. Chiasa does follow "tradition" and make chocolates for her loved ones before personally giving them out. Once she's with Plutarch, it's extended to a grander date to "make up" for when they had to be hidden before enthusiastically reliving those times when they were confined to his room.
28. Probably seeing her fashion design supplies replaced when they're getting low, and she calls herself a dork for this, but "parallel play" with little glances. She and Plutarch can be next to each other, but working on different things and just enjoy each other's company.
29. If we're talking modern-ish songs, her favorite would be For Your Eyes Only by Sheena Easton
30. Again thinking "modern," Clueless is her guilty pleasure. Also The Holiday but only Kate Winslet's arc.
Lovey Dovey OC Development Prompts
Here’s a lil’ somethin’ somethin’ for you all on this corporate holiday! You can fill this out on your own, or you can ask your followers to send you numbers! (Oh, and remember that the real holiday is tomorrow, when all the holiday candy is discounted.) Have fun!
♥ (01) Is your OC in love? If so, with whom, and for how long? ♥ (02) Does another OC love your OC? If so, whom, and does your OC know? ♥ (03) Are there any romantic gestures that your OC loves? ♥ (04) Are there any romantic gestures that your OC hates? ♥ (05) What is the most romantic thing your OC has done for someone else? ♥ (06) What is the most romantic thing that has been done for your OC? ♥ (07) How successful is your OC at flirting with others? ♥ (08) What is your OC’s dream marriage proposal? ♥ (09) What is your OC’s favorite small way to show their love? ♥ (10) What is your OC’s favorite big way to show their love? ♥ (11) What do others love most about your OC? ♥ (12) What do you love most about your OC? ♥ (13) How does your OC show their love to those that are not their partner(s)? ♥ (14) Does your OC have any romantic traditions? ♥ (15) What is your OC’s favorite type of Valentine’s Day candy? ♥ (16) What is your OC’s ideal first date? ♥ (17) Could your OC fall in love with someone they’ve never met in person? ♥ (18) Does your OC have a “type”? ♥ (19) How highly does your OC value love (platonic, romantic, or otherwise)? ♥ (20) How does your OC feel about public displays of affection? ♥ (21) Does your OC believe in love at first sight? ♥ (22) How often does your OC read romantic literature? ♥ (23) What is your OC’s favorite nice thing to do for themselves? ♥ (24) How does your OC determine that they’re attracted to someone? ♥ (25) Does your OC believe in soulmates? ♥ (26) Is your OC ever the first to say “I love you”? ♥ (27) How does your OC typically spend their Valentine’s Day? ♥ (28) What is something unconventional that your OC thinks is romantic? ♥ (29) What is your OC’s favorite love song? ♥ (30) What is your OC’s favorite romantic movie?
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thegoddessprose · 2 months
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Realized I haven't done one of these for Tak, even though I shared the picture and the fic... His family's fortune was founded in spices, so what better than herb questions?
Rosemary
1. Earliest? Good question... Knowing him, it would probably be him wreaking havoc on a train to District 11 as a toddler with his mother trying to wrangle him.
2. Tak recalls faces better than names, but he's not too terrible with the latter. He usually associates the names with something else about the person to remember them better.
3. Well, yes... He's a politician. Prompters were probably still a thing in TBOSAS times, but he prefers paper, and memorizing speeches are even better so he can be more present.
4. Sirens take him back to the siege, and still evoked a bit of PTSD from that time. On a more pleasant note, the scent of his Cajun spice mix brings back happy memories of his extended family in District 11.
5. It really depends on the person... He tried to come off as pleasant and charming, which he does for many people. However, some people think he's annoying, and other think he's hiding something, or only being nice because he wants something out of him.
Sage
1. It's important enough to keep him and his family comfortable. Tak was "spoiled sweet" as a child in a wealthy family, but as he grew up, he learned that being wealthy came with certain expectations, and even more pressure because of his heritage and "new money" status. Honestly, if he could have the money without said expectations, maybe there wouldn't be a limit.
2. Not really, but I wouldn't say he's careless with money either. He knows a thing or two about food production, so he can probably tell whether or not he's being ripped off there. Also, the war put into perspective what was necessary and what wasn't, especially when his daughters came into the picture. He's not really privy to black market dealings, his wife, Seiko takes care of that.
3. Oh, definitely... The war basically wiped out the family business and cut him off from his extended family... Plus with the siege, goods were very hard to come by. He bounced back when he got a higher paying position (Plus Seiko did some embezzlement as well as a second legit income)
4. He was raised to respect those less fortunate than him, and his kindness toward people who lost a lot during the war was what propelled him into power in the first place. Plus he was sometimes lumped in with "scum" despite his wealth because of where his father happened to be from, so he didn't have the illusion of "wealth = better."
5. Tak has a job as a Capitol Senator, which pays fairly well. Again, his wife also adds to the "pot" with her legitimate and shady dealings... In the past, he also supplemented his income by selling cuttings and appearing in propos.
Sweet Marjoram
1. Tak definitely derives his happiness from the people around him, be it the citizens of the Capitol, his friends, his family... His eventual mistress... He's a caretaker by nature and just wants the people in his life to be happy.
2. A marriage and a relationship are two different things to Tak.... A marriage has to be mutually beneficial and the spouses at least should get along decently. A relationship, however... He believes in bonding over common interests, fulfilling emotional and physical needs, but mainly emotional... Really, just being there for each other and lifting each other up. For the most part... It's pretty reasonable.
3. Tak and Seiko are in an open marriage. Being that he'd known her lover since the Academy and is also friends with her, it's not all that weird, but just kind of okay. Okay, maybe a little bit fun... On the other hand, Seiko doesn't care one way or the other, but knows a few details for safety reasons. Plus she kinda reintroduced him to Tigris, so...
4. Food is a love language for Tak, but not necessarily romantic, more familial or platonic, and it does reflect his culture on both sides. When it comes to romance, however, he tends to go for something that makes him think of her.
5. Tak, being in an open marriage, believes it's perfectly fine to admire someone else's beauty. Even when he's a bit more "committed" with Tigris, he still thinks it's fine to admire someone as long as they don't act on it.
Lemon Balm
1. It's a little hard for Tak to relax... He prefers to keep busy because he doesn't like his mind wandering... Even the things he does to decompress require concentration.
2. His sleep schedule is regular for the most part. He typically took the "night shift" with the kids, so with them in bed early, he gets to turn on at a decent time. It's usually only emergencies that disrupt his sleep.
3. Tak usually bakes or cooks, tends to his garden, drinks tea... Well, as much as he and Seiko aren't in love, he has certain... tastes involving "letting go" that she's absolutely fine with fulfilling.
4. Tak's greatest source of anxiety is letting everyone down, especially the people he loves...
5. I don't think he has a lot of recurring dreams.
Catmint
1. Tak isn't that quick to anger... But you know what they say about the anger of a gentle man. It comes in stages; saccharine "killing with kindness," passive-aggressiveness, and actual anger.
2. Some of it is the idea of "Nobody else is sticking their neck out to help people, so it might as well be me," and also a little need to rebel against expectations, especially if it doesn't just benefit himself.
3. Treatment of young people really sets him off... He once picked a fight with Strabo Plinth because he was disgusted with what he did with Sejanus and Marcus. Also, to a lesser extent, elitism, but he's more likely to make passive-aggressive remarks.
4. Tak isn't really the type to bicker unless it's something he's passionate about. He's normal pretty calm and pleasant.
5. The most? I'll have to get back to you on that... But honestly? I'm sure it'll involve Dr. Gaul somehow...
Sorrel
1. It's pretty easy to get along with Tak, like I said, for the most part, he's pleasant and outgoing. He might dislike the "dog-eat-dog" attitude, but he doesn't go around tearing it apart.
2. It really depends on the transgression... He'll more easily forgive smaller ones, but with bigger ones... He might need time.
3. If we had to come to a consensus... It's how welcome he makes them feel, like he's always happy to be with them rather than making them feel like obligations.
4. Being a Capitolite, of course Tak is polite, and being a kind man, at least it runs deeper than looking refined. Some of his colleagues take it as him being a PR or diplomacy genius, however.
5. Not always, he values harmony, especially on a larger scale, but I wouldn't say he's one hundred percent a pushover. If it's important to him... He might be a little uncompromising.
Sweet Woodruff
1. Tak doesn't really need to boast, he'd rather his actions and results speak for themselves... Some things, however, he's extremely proud of and can't help but gush about.
2. Oh, absolutely... During the siege, he'd given cuttings to his neighbors for free, and tried to help calm them during air raids. Even after he became a senator, he still liked to help others... He was very hands-on when it came to his seat on the Education committee, and at one point, he hand-delivered home made sympathy food to the Plinths without expecting anything in return.
3. I wouldn't say he revels, but he's better at taking compliments, even if he gets a bit bashful. He's still humble, dismissing a few bigger deeds as just doing his job or "Any decent person would have done it."
4. Being a politician with a decent amount of power, as well as a father, yes, but in the sense that he knows others rely on him and he can manage it.
5. Tak gives credit where it's due, even when he doesn't always know where it goes to. For example, he knows Seiko is responsible for a lot of the backroom stuff for example, and makes sure to build her up in public (Albeit for a tame reason like sticking by him).
Herbal OC Questions.
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A little list of OC questions based on the folklore of herbs in Northern Europe. Please note that this is by no means an exhaustive list and the symbolism and use of herbs changed over time and varied between different communities (for example in the Early Middle Ages, Parsley was associated with mortality and death, but by the Renaissance and later it became associated with lasting pleasure and festivity).
Rosemary - Memory, Mental Acuity and Recollection of Information.
What is your OC's earliest memory? Is it one they would sooner forget or do they recall it with fondness? Do they genuinely remember it? Or have they just been told about it so often by their family or community that they can picture it clearly?
Does your OC find it easy to remember names or faces? Do they need to write things down in order to remember them properly? Perhaps they rely upon others to remind them?
Has your OC ever memorised information for use in public - such as a prepared speech, a song they have practiced, or a story that is part of their cultural heritage?
What is something that can instantly take your OC back to a previous time in their lives, whether happy or sad? A distinctive scent? A piece of music? The taste of a specific food?
What impression does your OC leave upon others? How are they generally remembered by those who have met them? Is this how they would actually want to be remembered?
Sage - Prosperity, Prudence and the Accumulation of Wealth.
How important is money or material wealth to your OC? Do they believe it is possible to ever have "enough"? Or is there no upper limit to their desire for riches?
Is your OC a spendthrift? Or do they carefully consider each minor expenditure? Do they generally have a sensible idea of how much something should cost? Or are they easily manipulated by cunning merchants and beguiling promotions?
Has your OC ever experienced a dramatic change in their personal wealth or financial security? Were their family once very poor or very wealthy compared to others in their society? If they were once wealthy and are now impoverished, then who do they blame for their reduced circumstances? If they were once poor and now find themselves wealthy, to what do they credit this change in fortune?
How sympathetic is your OC to those who are poorer or in more desperate circumstances than themselves? Do they see them as blameless victims of circumstance? Perhaps they might even work to try to alleviate the material hardships of others? Or do they sneer at the poor? Perhaps seeing them as a resource to exploit or simply as an expendable nuisance?
How does your OC obtain money? Do they have a regular income? Or do they live off inherited wealth? Do they earn money from different jobs or quests? Or are they reliant on the kindness and charity of others?
Sweet Marjoram - Love, Happiness and Fidelity in Marriage.
To what degree is your OC dependent upon other people for their happiness? Are they relatively self-sufficient? Perhaps even mistrustful of others? Or do they need to be surrounded by friends or in the company of their family in order to be happy?
What does your OC believe to be the ingredients of a happy marriage or relationship? Do they believe that they could provide these things to another person? Do others see their expectations as reasonable? Or are they quite demanding of themselves and any potential partner?
Could your OC ever forgive a lover or spouse who was unfaithful to them? If they have an open relationship then is this reliant on them not hearing about their partner's peccadillos? Or is learning about their sexual adventures all part of the fun?
Through what gift or gesture might your OC signify their love or devotion to another? Does this reflect the culture in which they were raised? Their personality? Or simply the preferences of the partner in question?
Does your OC believe it is acceptable to admire another's beauty, even if they are in a committed relationship with someone else? Do they feel guilty if they find themselves admiring or lusting after an attractive stranger? Or do they believe it is no issue when they find their eye wandering, but would be outraged were their lover or spouse to do the same?
Lemon Balm - Sleep, Relaxation and the Banishment of Care.
Does your OC find it easy to relax? Or are they constantly tense or anxious? Has this always been the case or have they experienced significant trauma or harm in the past which has made them particularly fearful or tense?
Does your OC have a regular sleep routine? Or does it vary depending upon circumstance? Do they generally sleep for the same amount of time every night (or day)?
What does your OC do to unwind or to calm themselves? Do they use alcohol or drugs? Or do they meditate or pray? If they are in a relationship then are there things their lover or spouse knows will reduce their tension - perhaps through providing a listening ear, a relaxing massage or sexual release?
What is your OC's greatest source of anxiety? Does it relate to how they are perceived by others? Or their ability to adhere to their own standards or values? Or are they most afraid of harm coming to those they care about?
Does your OC have any recurring dreams? If so then do they attribute any meaning to these? Do they find themselves reliving previous experiences? Or witnessing visions of a possible future? Do they ever talk about their dreams to others?
Catmint - Ferocity, Courage and Quarrelsomeness.
How quick is your OC to anger? Can they fly into a fury, seemingly out of nowhere? Or does it gradually build like a gathering storm?
What motivates your OC to be courageous? A sense of honour or duty? A need to maintain a reputation for fearlessness? A bloody-minded refusal to be pushed around? A wish to protect the vulnerable? The need to win against all odds?
What subject is your OC most likely to argue about? And who are they most likely to argue about it with?
Does your OC often bicker with others? Do they complain frequently? Is this due to genuine dissatisfaction or anger? Or is it done in a slightly tongue in cheek fashion?
When was your OC the most angry they have ever been? What about this situation made them so angry? Was it the person who provoked them? The injustice of the situation? Or their own powerlessness in the face of circumstance?
Sorrel - Affability, Pleasantness and Agreeableness.
How easy is it for others to get along with your OC? Are they easy-going and tolerant? Or stern and exacting? Do they often find themselves picking fault with others and criticising them? Or are they able to view their faults and foibles philosophically - or even with affection?
How quick is your OC to forgive the transgressions of others? Do they bear grudges for extended periods? How important is it that the other person admits their fault?
What do your OC's friends like most about them? What might they consider their "best" quality?
How polite is your OC? Are they courteous and considerate of others? Or gruff and tactless? If they are polished in their manners then is this always a positive quality? Or perhaps something calculated and employed whilst engaged in political or social intrigue? If they are rough in their manners then is this always a bad thing? Or does their lack of external gloss actually reflect their honesty and integrity?
Does your OC always need to be right in every discussion? Or are they sometimes willing to concede a point for the sake of social harmony (or simply a quiet life)? Are there some topics upon which they will never compromise their position? Or can they usually simply shrug and let others be wrong? Does this vary depending on whether the subject is relatively trivial or of great importance to them personally?
Sweet Woodruff - Humility, Modesty and Service to Others.
Is your OC ever boastful or prone to vainglory? Is there something they have achieved that they can't help mentioning at any given opportunity? Do they like to remind others that they are particularly beautiful, powerful or smart?
Is your OC willing to help others, even without receiving praise or reward? Or will they only stir themselves to assist another person if they stand to benefit in some fashion from doing do?
How does your OC respond when someone praises them or pays them a compliment? Do they become embarrassed? Do they minimise their own achievements or even change the subject? Or do they revel in the praise and admiration of others? Are there some things they are more comfortable with being praised for than others? Might they be quite content to be lauded for their martial skill or academic ability, but mortified to be complimented for their beauty or sexual allure?
Does your OC see themselves as being of particular importance compared to the general population? Do they consider themselves to have greater value than the common folk? Perhaps because they are capable of achieving things that regular people are not? Or because they were born into a position of wealth and power? Or even because they have seen things that would drive ordinary people to madness or despair? Conversely, if your OC maintains that they are no more special than anyone else, how realistic is this position? How different are they really when compared to the average person? Are they actually in denial about their own significance?
How much credit does your OC give to others for their own success? Do they see themselves as having achieved things only through cooperation and working with others? Or are they convinced that they have accomplished everything purely through their own efforts and ability?
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thegoddessprose · 2 months
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(Shipping/Relationship)
How did your OC meet their partner/crush?
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thegoddessprose · 2 months
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I think I've shared this in a reblog before, but this is my Tigris fic... It deals with her growth in the aftermath of TBOSAS as well as my interpretation of the origins of the Capitol underground.
Fair warning that this gets a bit OC heavy and that Tigris is written as bisexual and has a male love interest, so if you're really not into that, this isn't the fic for you.
However, if you do check it out, I really hope you like it so far.
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thegoddessprose · 2 months
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thegoddessprose · 2 months
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two different universes? do tell! 👀
The simple answer is that I like to think that your and my stuff take place on completely different timelines (Like, Virgilia and Chiasa pretty obviously don't exist on the same plane) Really, that's just how I view stuff that contradicts canon too much and my own fanon. I have this mindset to avoid silly arguments and such so we can all coexist peacefully 😁
The universe thing is also kind of an inside joke with myself because I kinda do have a THG Literary Fanfic Universe in my head. Most of my OCs are connected in some way, be it blood relations or otherwise. Like, for example, I have a fic on AO3 where Chiasa's father gets involved with Tigris (No, she's not her mother... Her mother is a whole other story entirely and also a friend of Tigris) and as I've stated in my fic, Chiasa has a nephew named Marcus who becomes a protege of Plutarch's. I'd get into more of it, but we'd be here all day 😅
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thegoddessprose · 2 months
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As far as I'm concerned, these are two different universes fanfic-wise. However... I decided to test out compatibility for fun. (Chiasa's birthday is October 3rd, making her a Libra)
Horoscopes aren't exactly law to me (From the messiest Virgo on earth...) but this first result is uncanny...
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in light of the most recent Events (tumblr adding zodiac badges),,, Virgilia is a Taurus (21. April) and Caesar is a Libra (27. September). @heavensbee says Plutarch is a Capricorn (2. January).
Zodiac girlies,,, do with that information whatever you want kiss kiss
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thegoddessprose · 3 months
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Realized that one of the paragraphs was switched around, whoops.... But it's all fixed now, enjoy 😅
After all my yapping about Chiasa and Plutarch, I thought I'd finally put my money where my mouth is and post a fic. This is something I wrote a little while ago, albeit with a few edits. It's a 5+1 rather than a sophisticated backstory (That might come later, once my Tigris fic on AO3 is at least on hiatus), but I'm hoping it'll give a little more insight than the memes :p
Yes, @plutarchheavensbee you can share, I did promise
Without further ado, enjoy
TW: References to past substance abuse, victor prostitution, grief, slightly NSFW but nothing graphic
Five Things That Fascinated Plutarch about Chiasa and One Thing That Made Him Realize He Loved Her.
1. Her Eyes
Simple decorum had forced Plutarch to learn that Chiasa's eyes were a nice shade of icy blue and not much else. They say that eyes are the window to the soul, but he initially didn't bother looking in. His initial impression of her was pretty and overall harmless, but nothing else, and that remained for years.
That was, until this past yuletide night, when he'd taken it upon himself to smuggle a fellow rebel and refugee to the edge of the Capitol. Of course she'd be at the party that acted as the rendezvous point; Chiasa's beloved nephew, Marcus, who also happened to be his protégé played the host. What he didn't expect was her rolling up her sleeves to help, offering to use her fashion know-how to disguise refugees. He certainly didn't expect to have Fulvia poke her head into his office the next day to say Chiasa was on the line and seemed troubled. He most definitely didn't expect for her to break down in his home the next day, revealing decades of pent-up anger toward the Capitol and guilt for only reaching out now. Obviously, there was a lot more to the woman than he initially thought.
He'd invited her again two days later for a more lighthearted visit, simply wanting to know how much he was wrong about... Of course, he had to study up, remember what he'd initially noted and compare notes. Tigris was friends with her and had often said she took a lot after her father (Thankfully...) While Plutarch had never met the late Senator Lapin personally before he was assassinated, there was a lot of information on him in the rebel archives; photos, footage, speeches, letters to Tigris, anything he needed. Her father's eyes were the same shade of blue and his gaze was admittedly disarming, but without a lot of spark. He'd heard it was because he wasn't as bright, but Tigris loved to wistfully say that the kindness in his eyes was real, a rarity for a Capitolite.
Chiasa's mother was a different story... Plutarch knew Seiko better as his predecessor and mentor. She was a cold and calculating woman, and her eyes reflected that well. Dark brown, almost black, like voids, he recalled. On a good day, he remembered seeing little sparks of determination. On a bad day, they resembled black holes; icy pools of nothing sucking out the soul of any poor sap that pissed her off... Occasionally, he was said poor sap.
Chiasa was both distinct and similar to her parents. Through the glassiness during their last meeting, he saw a familiar darkness when she expressed her anger; a supernova rather than a black hole, but he was somewhat frightened nonetheless. Today, with a better view, he saw the warmth and kindness of her father. Yet... There was a certain weatheredness about her, one he'd seen among his elders and even in his own mirror. Sure, she'd taken a couple of decades off her appearance, but there was no doubt of her true age in her eyes. It was clear she'd seen so much, so many historical events, so much pain and suffering that she felt powerless to stop.
"Plutarch?" she asked, snapping him out of his analysis.
"Yes?"
"You'd said I'd be able to stay for dinner, right? I really like talking with you," she said.
For once, he had nothing going on. It had been a while since he'd dined with anyone outside of obligation. A lot of his real friends were dead, busy, in hiding, or outside of the Capitol.
"I did say that..." he replied, "And the feeling is mutual."
Her eyes lit up at his acceptance and just like that, she'd shed about twenty years off her lifetime. While Chiasa was known in a lot of circles to be the life of the party, he couldn't remember if he'd seen this kind of pure joy from her. Maybe he should be flattered that he evoked such a feeling out of her. He certainly felt the heat rising in his cheeks at the thought, and all hope of her not notcing was shattered by her rather melodic giggle.
"Why Plutarch, you're awfully cute when you blush," she complimented.
As if that wouldn't make him blush even more...
2. Her Confidence
Most people who knew of Chiasa Lapin knew she had a bit of a... reputation. Sadly, that was par for the course for women like her who never married and just dated around. Plutarch should have expected certain things out of her, but he was quickly reminded that hearing about something and actually experiencing it were two different things.
As much as he liked planning for all possibilities, Plutarch didn't expect her invitation to her New Year's Eve party would end with them kissing in her room away from the masses. Neither of them had that much to drink, nor were they lightweights. She knew exactly what she wanted when she proposed the reigning in tradition. He wasn't sure what possessed him to accept sp easily; perhaps it was how she looked in that handmade red floral kimono and her dark hair elegantly pinned up, as if she stepped out of an ancient painting. Maybe it was scientific curiosity. It was logical to assume with all her experience, she had to be good. For the record, she was... Not a lot of kisses in his lifetime had him still thinking about her and longing for days.
Then again, perhaps it was how she wasn't afraid to go for what she wanted. The meeker ladies weren't really Plutarch's taste, agreeing with him rather than standing by what they wanted, he wanted substance. Chiasa had quickly proven not to be like them. During their second kiss, he'd felt her try to climb onto his lap. Maybe they could have taken things further if her harpy of a sister didn't knock and interrupt. Even when he left, she wished him sweet dreams of all thing. She knew exactly what she was doing to him, how frustrated he'd be that night.
It was cunning of her to offer to make him something, that way, he didn't need to come up with any excuses for her to come over again, or shoo away rumor mongers. Although... she'd outright admitted she'd wanted to spend more time with him. Her subtlety needed work... Although that could have just been more of her confidence shining through, as it certainly did when she finally visited again.
When working with a new designer, measurements were an early order of business. Chiasa opted for an old fashioned measuring tape for a more intimate experience. He sure was wise to the lingering touches on his waist, chest, and arms as well as her warm breath on the back of his neck. He was a gentleman... He couldn't bring himself to have his way with her immediately. That mini skirt and plunging red top didn't help things either...
If her mother was alive, she would have gutted him for thinking like this about her "ignorant" daughter... But Seiko wasn't here, nor did she have power over him anymore. She'd be absolutely furious at how he'd laid a hand on Chiasa and not be able to do anything about it... And there was that scientific curiosity once again. It wasn't just her kissing skills that had Chiasa infamous... He just had to know what was fact or fiction.
It was still up to Chiasa in the end, and thankfully, she caught the smirk forming on his face as she faced him.
"You know, Plutarch..." she purred, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."
"What a coincidence," he couldn't help but tease as he ran a hand through her hair, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you either."
She leaned in closer and smirked back at him.
"Really now.... I've been thinking about what could have been... What could have happened if we weren't so rudely interrupted, just wondering a few things, " she whispered, "Would we have stayed as we were? Or would you have been on top of me? Would we want to savor each other, really explore each other, or would you want it fast and rough? Would you use that beautiful voice to moan, growl... Both?"
She brushed her lips against his neck and he managed to stifle a moan. Damn was she brazen... He felt his own hand moving down her back, but he stopped himself at her waist.
"No need to stop..." she encouraged, "You've helped me so much over the past few days... But you seem so stressed and lonely too. Trust me... I know a lot of ways to soothe a man... I always thought you were attractive, but being a rebel... Well, that's even hotter."
Plutarch had to admit, it was refreshing to hear an authority on beauty praise his "natural" appearance over the eldrich enhancements of the Capitol masses. He was right where he wanted... This fascinating woman in his arms, one that would make his late mentor scream up at him from hell, one that was practically begging him to take her and make her his... Wait.
"I have been looking for some relief, and company..." he replied, "But you should know, I don't have the time or space for a long term commitment right now."
Chiasa held back a laugh and teasingly pecked his lips. "Who said anything about commitment? I just want to have a little fun..."
"Well... Fun is my job, after all."
There. A bullshit free proposition, just as he liked them, and a hallmark of mature women like her. Yet at the same time, she didn't dress her age, nor look it, nor certain screw like a woman her age. She certainly had nothing to be ashamed of when she'd draped herself on her side to face them after they'd finished. Having spent her youthful years in the 20s ADD, it wasn't hard to imagine her taking a puff from a cigarette or joint to recover. That satisfaction and fire in her eyes, however, was all reality.
"Well, well... You've been holding out on me, Heavensbee," she purred.
Plutarch really shouldn't have blushed again, certainly not after what just transpired, but was it ever worth it to hear that giggle again. Chiasa was right all along, he did feel more relaxed than he ever had the past few months.
"Aww, you have nothing to be embarrassed about... Believe me," she added, reaching over to stroke his arm.
"It's been a while..." he admitted, "I forgot what this felt like."
"You'd have to have been busy," she concluded, "I'm surprised more people aren't throwing themselves at you... I'm definitely here for a good time, and we've established I have no concealed weapons, or wires... You were very thorough in your search."
Ugh, a line taken straight from his dreams.
"We have to do this again sometime," he replied with a smirk.
They came up with a certain arrangement; Chiasa would get a burner so they could communicate undetected, no feelings or other complications neither had time for, they'd fool around and talk to sate each other's stress and loneliness. Simple enough... Both had similar arrangements with others in the past without issues. It should have been that simple...
3. Her Stories
Plutarch was a known history buff; even when he was simply Seiko’s right hand man, one of his favorite duties was curation. The rebel archive had more banned documents, pictures, films, and stories than the secret government archive could hope for. He could spend hours just reading and watching the past.
The only thing better than studying was talking to real people about their experiences. The Capitol's history books were to be taken with a grain of salt, being mostly propaganda. Many of Plutarch's elders were amused by his curiosity about the past, but were nonetheless happy to share a few tales, and Chiasa, being a fair bit older than him, was no exception.
Maybe it was a little different... She was certainly the first to lounge on his bed in a negligee at most while sipping coffee or giving him a scalp massage while telling him stories. Even though she was younger than the likes of Tigris and Seiko, she brought a unique perspective of the ineffable postwar Dark Days. She spoke of her beloved father's service, and confirmed Tigris's assurances that Seiko was a different person back then, and before her sister became such an insufferable gossip. There was one story in particular that made him chuckle, one that involved one of his more insufferable relatives...
"So... You kicked him?" he confirmed, "You kicked Uncle Hilarius in the shin?"
"I was only a kid," she defended, "And he was sure Lucy Gray wouldn't survive because she was a small girl... Emphasis on the girl part. My parents agreed with me that he should have kept his mouth shut, but I still had to be punished..."
"Well... Knowing him, he probably deserved it," he said.
What a time to be alive in that controversial year, and still have the wonder of childhood. What an opportunity to hear about it... Tigris and Seiko had a more mature perspective, and it was impossible to get anything out of President Snow.
As time went on, Chiasa's stories became more vulnerable, and Plutarch remembered an important life lesson. Growing up patrician and joining the rebels had taught him that not everything was as it seemed. During her early years as a stylist, that "mental breakdown" was actually a stint in rehab to kick a party drug habit. She'd started using to cope with her guilt regarding her tributes, but had been encouraged to get help when she found out she was pregnant with her first child. Thankfully, she'd been clean for a long time, but still carried little candies in her purse in case she ever got the urge again.
Another of her stories was the real paternity of her second child, her son. It was a closely guarded secret, and Plutarch felt a sense of pride that she trusted him this much. It was one of her victors, Link Zhou, a now older man from District 3. Plutarch recalled him as one of the first male victors to be sold, and she couldn't even look him in the eye when she told him the story. Chiasa was Link's stylist, and her relief at a living tribute faded when she found out what they were going to do to him. She'd bid to be his first and it was all kosher; Link had a crush on her and he was of age, yet she still felt like she'd violated him. She felt she couldn't give up her son in any way, and thankfully her reputation with men saved them all from any suspicion.
He heard her sobbing as she'd finished, still facing away from him. He turned her, and her tears and pained expression broke his heart... She would have made a damn good agent if she'd joined up. When it came to her addiction, she was regretful, but matter of fact. Now, however, she was ashamed to even exist.
"I... I thought you'd be disgusted with me," she whispered.
He found himself wiping her tears away and wrapped her in an embrace.
"No... You did what you thought was right for the both of them, even if the law said otherwise. That's very noble," he said, "Hell, I think it would be rich of me of all people to judge you for doing something you regret for the greater good."
It was true... There were certain aspects of his plans that he didn't take pleasure in, but nonetheless, they had to be considered and done. His personal feelings often didn't matter.
Speaking of feelings... He couldn't let go of her that night. Chiasa's ceasing her crying and easing herself so quickly in his arms had him feeling some type of way... Like important? Like a hero? When he'd initially guessed that her son's father was some abusive asshole, he was ready to ruin that hypothetical man's life in a second. Protecting her used to be a simple means to an end; to avoid a needless casualty at his expense, and for Marcus's sake... He wouldn't be too happy with his beloved aunt in danger. Now, though... the thought of Chiasa being hurt or in distress caused Plutarch real pain. She didn't deserve that... Logically, she'd been through too much.
"Plutarch... Thank you," she murmured, "You're really, truly... such a wonderful man..."
Damn... He was used to being compliments on his achievements, but coming from her... He didn't know his heart was capable of swelling like that. It had to be because she meant it instead of just trying to kiss his ass... It had to be.
4. Her Wisdom
Naturally, Plutarch was a thinker. People had described him as brilliant, and they'd be right. Chiasa might not have been an intellectual like him, but she was so much more than Seiko and the general public made her out to be. Then again, if anyone reached her age or had her experiences without learning a thing, they'd be an idiot. She was so much more stimulating than the average Capitolite, and not just in the physical way.
One day, as Chiasa placed her hand over his, Plutarch couldn't help but notice her nails. They were red and gold, as the current trends, but the gold designs were inconsistent. Actually, he could have sworn that they were simply red and chipped the last time they were together, and the gold seemed to fill in the gaps.
"Didn't take you for a hand guy, Plutarch," she teased.
"No, I'm just curious about these... Is this some kind of abstract art?"
She smiled sheepishly, then moved her gaze to their now entwined hands.
"Are you familiar with the practice of kintsugi?"
"I'm afraid not," he replied, "Your mother taught me a few words of your old tongue, but I'm not familiar with that one."
"Well... It's the practice of repairing ceramics with gold," she explained, "I like to think of it as a metaphor... We all have flaws, we've all known hard times, but they make us all the more beautiful."
How true... The cookie cutter perfection the Capitol pushed was unattainable, and people who thought they achieved it were liars or at least still highly flawed. Actually, it worked for Panem as a whole. The Districts were beautiful in their adversity and strength. Then there was Chiasa, who persevered through her rough patches, making her into the woman he... was fascinated by.
"Sounds like someone I know," he teased, squeezing her hand.
"I guess..." she replied, blushing a little, "It's always been comforting to me. With everything going on, it was a reminder that I'd come back better. I drew and painted with it as an inspiration. When Daddy died, my first collection afterward was centered around it. Hell, I considered a tattoo a few times, but then I'd have to coordinate outfits around it.
What an interesting idea... Although she was beautiful as she was, it would sure make a statement, even as something temporary, even just makeup. There weren't a lot of visible scars on her body for him to trace; most of them were in her mind. Good enough....
He kissed her forehead and murmured, "In all seriousness, that's a beautiful way of thinking."
Chiasa shut her eyes and let out a contented sigh. However, she wasn't quite done philosophizing yet. She let go of his hand and cupped his face, flashing an alluring, yet sincere smile.
"Plutarch, have I ever told you why I think you're handsome?"
Maybe she'd said a few things in the moment, but it was always hard to tell if anything stuck in that state.
"Because you look like a person," she said, "A real person, not anything they're trying to sell. That boyish grin of yours, your salt and paprika hair... All you, all beautiful."
She paused to rest her forehead against his, evoking said grin until she went in for a brief kiss before continuing.
"Maybe I'm a hypocrite... It's not purely genes that have me looking and thriving this way. But... I don't know. Maybe it's a reflection of you as a person. You're not trying so hard to fit in, you're unapologetic and comfortable in your own skin without being obnoxious about it. I love seeing that in people... Especially men."
She was simply stating a fact. Women like her didn't have time for insecure man-children. She still had a way of complimenting him that caught him off guard. He simply wasn't used to a beautiful woman gushing about how attractive his quiet confidence and idealism were.
"Chiasa, that's... very observant, very kind," he managed.
She giggled. "Well, okay, maybe there are some shallow things too... Everyone knows bigger guys like you are better to lay with... And just better in bed altogether. And I just love freckles... I'm going to sound so cliche, but they're like little stars that just happen to adorn people instead of the sky."
She proceeded to pepper kisses across his cheeks and nose before moving to his chin and jaw, then down his neck.
"Chiasa... What are you doing?"
"I want to kiss all your freckles..."
"Well... It's a good thing we have all night."
The experience was strangely intimate and vulnerable, despite them being familiar with each other by then. Maybe it was how it all tied in... How something perceived as a flaw made him all the more beautiful.
5. Her Joie de Vivre
Idealism was Plutarch's, well, ideal, but cynicism was reality. With all the good he wanted to do, he still lost people, things still went wrong, and sometimes, it was hard to even find joy in the little things. While Chiasa was a cynic in her own way, it was a survival mechanism more than anything. Still, she was so much better at living in the moment. It was all she could do to cope with the world.
The Groundbreaking used to be a patriotic occasion to celebrate the powering of a new arena. Nowadays, it was Gamemaker Mardi Gras; one last day of letting loose before getting to work. Admittedly, he'd always wanted to throw the themed party, an honor reserved for the Head Gamemaker, and "Retro" made sense with the rise of rationing. At least his older colleagues were excited... As was Chiasa. She'd recycled an old, very sheer dress from the second Quarter Quell and adorned herself in glitter as they'd done in the twenties. She was teasing him on purpose...
It wasn't until after the bash that the real fun began. As fun as hosting was at times, it could be exhausting... The leftover confetti and empty glasses almost looked depressing in the blacklight until he felt Chiasa's hand on his shoulder. When he turned around, she ran her hands down his lapels... Of course he couldn't resist wearing her special creation: a jacket decorated in a forties style brocade pattern with extra pockets, simply to be thoughtful. Normally, they were gold to fit the current trends, but she used a special dye to make the patterns appear his favorite shade of purple under blacklight.
"You're looking gorgeous tonight," she purred, "If I do say so myself."
He was quick to pull her into an embrace. "And what were you thinking with that dress... What was your plan? To torture me with our dirty little secret? Having all those other men vying for a dance or drink or more?
"Too bad for them, it was always going to be you at the end of the night," she said, kissing his neck, "Actually... We never had a proper dance, did we? At least now... We don't have to be so formal with each other."
As much as it staved off suspicion, one dance couldn't hurt. Now was a better setting than the party anyway. He started to get in position for a waltz before she stopped him.
"I told you we don't have to be formal, sweetie... That's what a waltz is. I've always enjoyed the rhumba... Less stiff, more sensual."
"I haven't done that since my twenties," he replied sheepishly, "And even then I wasn't that good."
"Aww, that's okay," she reassured him, "It's just us right now. Besides... I know what those hips are capable of... I'm sure if you put your mind to it, you can."
Plutarch was still awful, but it didn't seem to matter to Chiasa. She matched his exaggerated moves and they were soon laughing together. How he needed this, how wonderful life seemed when she was with him... When he easily dipped her and they met in a kiss before heading to his bedroom.
District 13, while a refuge, was a dreary place. No color, no fun, no culture... No Chiasa. Not that he was demotivated, in fact, quelling her worries and tears only gave him more reason to work toward a free Panem. It didn't make him miss her any less, and regret less about not fighting harder to take her with him.
"You know what I miss the most?" he'd said to Katniss one day.
He recalled one lazy, stormy morning, when Chiasa was able to stay for breakfast. It was nothing fancy; eggs over easy for him, poached for her, and toast and coffee for both. Chiasa was in a silk nightgown and curled up on his lap, while he was in a robe that used to gather dust as well as the glasses he barely wore in public. They were simply enjoying each other's company and watching the storm unfold.
Chiasa gasped as a bolt of lightning struck a building in the distance. "It's amazing how something so destructive, dangerous, powerful... can be so beautiful."
"That's just nature, Chiasa," he said, "Believe me, I know a lot about it..."
It would be even more beautiful when it signaled the start of the revolution... Maybe she'd always remember it that way.
"Yes, and how the rain can cause so many problems, but gives life, and makes a lovely sound," she said, "And that smell after a storm..."
"Petrichor."
"Oooh... I didn't know there was a word for it."
He snuck a look at her as she watched the storm go on. Why was she so damned beautiful when she was fascinated... Somehow, she'd grown even more attractive since their initial meeting. Perhaps it was her words, her artist's or wise mind.
"What?" she teased.
Plutarch was saved by a loud clap of thunder that had the pair clinging to each other.
"Don't worry, I'll protect you," he said.
"I'M protecting YOU," she teased.
They met for a kiss. They had coffee breath, but it didn't matter.... It made the moment feel real.
"Plutarch?" Katniss interrupted, "What did you miss?"
Right, Plutarch was still in District 13, and he'd forgotten that Katniss and Marcus were in the room with him. He couldn't tell the truth in front of him... Not while they were stuck together in a bunker anyway.
"Coffee," Plutarch half lied.
Katniss seemed to believe him, but Marcus was skeptical as they both left for the next item on their schedule.
"No, really, what do you miss?" the boy asked, "Nobody's wistful about coffee in the afternoon."
"Let's get back to work, shall we?" Plutarch deflected.
Marcus rolled his eyes, but didn't ask any more. However, though, he seemed to try to elicit something out of him.
"If it matters, I miss my auntie," he said, "Even if the lack of color would have given her a stroke."
Plutarch nodded, seemingly in acknowledgement, but actually in agreement. Chiasa would have found a way to brighten things up. He knew very well the real reason he missed her....
1. Her Kindness
True kindness was a rarity in the Capitol. Nobody was ever just "nice," they always had to want something. Many were simply fair weather, disappearing the moment life got tough. Only a handful of people he knew were kind, many of him his allies... Others just naive. Then there was Chiasa, who was neither an active rebel nor naive about the world.
It should have been a simple arrangement... Chiasa didn't outright say she wanted more, and she was the type to do so. It was nearly summer when he admitted it to himself, and he needed to seek advice from the one person who'd understand and not tease him, Tigris.
He'd kept her filled in on how things were going, as she was a mutual friend and Chiasa would be saved the trouble of coming up with a lie. But now, he told her the whole story, and she only sighed and shook her head with a smile.
"It gets you, that kind of heart," said Tigris, "I know... When you've lived a life full of expectations and without love, that one person who shows you compassion, thinks you're a person worth knowing and loving. You know... Her father was the same way."
That was why Tigris was the best person to ask... She'd had a secret relationship with Tak Lapin before he was killed, that Seiko had allowed. Tigris was right... Every step of the way, Chiasa wanted to know him, and allowed herself to be vulnerable... Allowed him to be vulnerable.
When Plutarch was feeling the loss of an old friend, and couldn't contain himself any longer, she let him have a rare cry on her shoulder, no ridicule, no begging him to be strong. He was another human to her, another person to cherish and comfort. He remembered asking her why she showed him such unconditional care. It was only right, she'd said, that she cared about him.
The night of the interviews was their last opportunity to be together, and the chaos that Peeta caused with his "baby bomb" only helped her sneak over. Unfortunately, one final preparation had gone awry, and after getting socked in the jaw, he had to hunker down. Some of his other agents agreed to fix it, but he was feeling the weight of the pain... And the guilt of having to leave Chiasa behind.
The minute he'd shown himself, she ordered the remaining avox to fetch some ice and vinegar. The next thing he knew, he was on a sofa with her pressing ice against his jaw.
"Don't clench, you'll make it worse," she admonished, "What happened?"
"Mishap," he reassured her, "It'll be fixed.... You're still here."
"Of course I'm still here.... Do you not want me here?" she hesitantly asked.
"No, of course I want you here," he replied, "I'm... ah... I'm just wondering why you're still here... I'm leaving you, Chiasa, I can't believe you agreed."
"Oh, Plutarch...."
She embraced him with her free arm, sniffling, but trying to keep her composure.
"I know it's for a good cause... I know this is bigger than us, I.... I really admire you for this," she managed.
"I wish you could come with me..." he murmured, "I know you can help... I wish I could be sure you won't be in danger."
"I'm tougher than I look, honey... And I never blamed you, never ever. Oh, Plutarch... Just promise me you'll come back in one piece. You know I'll be right here...."
They sat in silence, just holding each other for what seemed like eternity. When he saw her face again, he thought he saw a few tear streaks down her made up face, but she quickly wiped them away.
"If you want to just hold each other tonight, that's okay..."
"No, Chiasa.... I don't know how long I'll be gone," he murmured, "I need to commit you to memory."
Even with his bruised jaw, that last night mind-blowing, both wanting to forget it would be the last... for a while if things went right. The next morning was pure agony; they'd stared at each other, almost daring each other to drop the L-bomb, but neither could. It didn't seem like the right time.... He was a damned idiot, it could have been another regret.
While Plutarch was kept busy and motivated, there were times when he'd miss her the most. The nights were the loneliest, when he'd wish for her to be waiting in his compartment, even just her reassuring voice. Then there was Finnick and Annie's wedding, when love was in the air. He'd gotten into it like most projects, but it felt different... Maybe he was projecting a little... But at least it made him surprisingly helpful with the vows. He had to focus during the final battle... It was crucial in capturing the Capitol, but he couldn't dare look to see if Chiasa was among the panicked masses.
The day of the execution was cathartic for everyone... Even though Coin was initially killed first. What did it matter, she was bad for the rest of Panem and he had a plan to get rid of her if Katniss hadn't taken action. Snow was finally dead, of course, and the era of suffering was over... Yes, there was still a lot of work to be done, but the people deserved to have their hope.
Of course, it was also the day he finally saw Chiasa again, on the steps of the presidential palace with Marcus. He'd certainly be in for a surprise, but he'd adjust... Plutarch did have a soft spot for the kid.
Within seconds, she was back in his arms. It didn't matter that there was more gray and silver in her hair than he remembered, and she was dressed down, he was just happy to be with her again. As was she, and from her very first words to him, he knew she had the same regrets.
"Plutarch… I love you!"
He wouldn't be an idiot this time.
"I love you too, Chiasa," he said, holding her tightly.
The future was bright… The revolution was successful, freedom was within reach, and he was finally going to shape a new world with her by his side. So it went… He didn't need to remain a confirmed bachelor to change the world; in his studies, most of the greats had their greatest loves by their side, and he would be no different. George had Martha. John had Abigail. James had Dolley. Winston had Clementine. Now, Plutarch had Chiasa.
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thegoddessprose · 3 months
Text
After all my yapping about Chiasa and Plutarch, I thought I'd finally put my money where my mouth is and post a fic. This is something I wrote a little while ago, albeit with a few edits. It's a 5+1 rather than a sophisticated backstory (That might come later, once my Tigris fic on AO3 is at least on hiatus), but I'm hoping it'll give a little more insight than the memes :p
Yes, @plutarchheavensbee you can share, I did promise
Without further ado, enjoy
TW: References to past substance abuse, victor prostitution, grief, slightly NSFW but nothing graphic
Five Things That Fascinated Plutarch about Chiasa and One Thing That Made Him Realize He Loved Her.
1. Her Eyes
Simple decorum had forced Plutarch to learn that Chiasa's eyes were a nice shade of icy blue and not much else. They say that eyes are the window to the soul, but he initially didn't bother looking in. His initial impression of her was pretty and overall harmless, but nothing else, and that remained for years.
That was, until this past yuletide night, when he'd taken it upon himself to smuggle a fellow rebel and refugee to the edge of the Capitol. Of course she'd be at the party that acted as the rendezvous point; Chiasa's beloved nephew, Marcus, who also happened to be his protégé played the host. What he didn't expect was her rolling up her sleeves to help, offering to use her fashion know-how to disguise refugees. He certainly didn't expect to have Fulvia poke her head into his office the next day to say Chiasa was on the line and seemed troubled. He most definitely didn't expect for her to break down in his home the next day, revealing decades of pent-up anger toward the Capitol and guilt for only reaching out now. Obviously, there was a lot more to the woman than he initially thought.
He'd invited her again two days later for a more lighthearted visit, simply wanting to know how much he was wrong about... Of course, he had to study up, remember what he'd initially noted and compare notes. Tigris was friends with her and had often said she took a lot after her father (Thankfully...) While Plutarch had never met the late Senator Lapin personally before he was assassinated, there was a lot of information on him in the rebel archives; photos, footage, speeches, letters to Tigris, anything he needed. Her father's eyes were the same shade of blue and his gaze was admittedly disarming, but without a lot of spark. He'd heard it was because he wasn't as bright, but Tigris loved to wistfully say that the kindness in his eyes was real, a rarity for a Capitolite.
Chiasa's mother was a different story... Plutarch knew Seiko better as his predecessor and mentor. She was a cold and calculating woman, and her eyes reflected that well. Dark brown, almost black, like voids, he recalled. On a good day, he remembered seeing little sparks of determination. On a bad day, they resembled black holes; icy pools of nothing sucking out the soul of any poor sap that pissed her off... Occasionally, he was said poor sap.
Chiasa was both distinct and similar to her parents. Through the glassiness during their last meeting, he saw a familiar darkness when she expressed her anger; a supernova rather than a black hole, but he was somewhat frightened nonetheless. Today, with a better view, he saw the warmth and kindness of her father. Yet... There was a certain weatheredness about her, one he'd seen among his elders and even in his own mirror. Sure, she'd taken a couple of decades off her appearance, but there was no doubt of her true age in her eyes. It was clear she'd seen so much, so many historical events, so much pain and suffering that she felt powerless to stop.
"Plutarch?" she asked, snapping him out of his analysis.
"Yes?"
"You'd said I'd be able to stay for dinner, right? I really like talking with you," she said.
For once, he had nothing going on. It had been a while since he'd dined with anyone outside of obligation. A lot of his real friends were dead, busy, in hiding, or outside of the Capitol.
"I did say that..." he replied, "And the feeling is mutual."
Her eyes lit up at his acceptance and just like that, she'd shed about twenty years off her lifetime. While Chiasa was known in a lot of circles to be the life of the party, he couldn't remember if he'd seen this kind of pure joy from her. Maybe he should be flattered that he evoked such a feeling out of her. He certainly felt the heat rising in his cheeks at the thought, and all hope of her not notcing was shattered by her rather melodic giggle.
"Why Plutarch, you're awfully cute when you blush," she complimented.
As if that wouldn't make him blush even more...
2. Her Confidence
Most people who knew of Chiasa Lapin knew she had a bit of a... reputation. Sadly, that was par for the course for women like her who never married and just dated around. Plutarch should have expected certain things out of her, but he was quickly reminded that hearing about something and actually experiencing it were two different things.
As much as he liked planning for all possibilities, Plutarch didn't expect her invitation to her New Year's Eve party would end with them kissing in her room away from the masses. Neither of them had that much to drink, nor were they lightweights. She knew exactly what she wanted when she proposed the reigning in tradition. He wasn't sure what possessed him to accept sp easily; perhaps it was how she looked in that handmade red floral kimono and her dark hair elegantly pinned up, as if she stepped out of an ancient painting. Maybe it was scientific curiosity. It was logical to assume with all her experience, she had to be good. For the record, she was... Not a lot of kisses in his lifetime had him still thinking about her and longing for days.
Then again, perhaps it was how she wasn't afraid to go for what she wanted. The meeker ladies weren't really Plutarch's taste, agreeing with him rather than standing by what they wanted, he wanted substance. Chiasa had quickly proven not to be like them. During their second kiss, he'd felt her try to climb onto his lap. Maybe they could have taken things further if her harpy of a sister didn't knock and interrupt. Even when he left, she wished him sweet dreams of all thing. She knew exactly what she was doing to him, how frustrated he'd be that night.
It was cunning of her to offer to make him something, that way, he didn't need to come up with any excuses for her to come over again, or shoo away rumor mongers. Although... she'd outright admitted she'd wanted to spend more time with him. Her subtlety needed work... Although that could have just been more of her confidence shining through, as it certainly did when she finally visited again.
When working with a new designer, measurements were an early order of business. Chiasa opted for an old fashioned measuring tape for a more intimate experience. He sure was wise to the lingering touches on his waist, chest, and arms as well as her warm breath on the back of his neck. He was a gentleman... He couldn't bring himself to have his way with her immediately. That mini skirt and plunging red top didn't help things either...
If her mother was alive, she would have gutted him for thinking like this about her "ignorant" daughter... But Seiko wasn't here, nor did she have power over him anymore. She'd be absolutely furious at how he'd laid a hand on Chiasa and not be able to do anything about it... And there was that scientific curiosity once again. It wasn't just her kissing skills that had Chiasa infamous... He just had to know what was fact or fiction.
It was still up to Chiasa in the end, and thankfully, she caught the smirk forming on his face as she faced him.
"You know, Plutarch..." she purred, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."
"What a coincidence," he couldn't help but tease as he ran a hand through her hair, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you either."
She leaned in closer and smirked back at him.
"Really now.... I've been thinking about what could have been... What could have happened if we weren't so rudely interrupted, just wondering a few things, " she whispered, "Would we have stayed as we were? Or would you have been on top of me? Would we want to savor each other, really explore each other, or would you want it fast and rough? Would you use that beautiful voice to moan, growl... Both?"
She brushed her lips against his neck and he managed to stifle a moan. Damn was she brazen... He felt his own hand moving down her back, but he stopped himself at her waist.
"No need to stop..." she encouraged, "You've helped me so much over the past few days... But you seem so stressed and lonely too. Trust me... I know a lot of ways to soothe a man... I always thought you were attractive, but being a rebel... Well, that's even hotter."
Plutarch had to admit, it was refreshing to hear an authority on beauty praise his "natural" appearance over the eldrich enhancements of the Capitol masses. He was right where he wanted... This fascinating woman in his arms, one that would make his late mentor scream up at him from hell, one that was practically begging him to take her and make her his... Wait.
"I have been looking for some relief, and company..." he replied, "But you should know, I don't have the time or space for a long term commitment right now."
Chiasa held back a laugh and teasingly pecked his lips. "Who said anything about commitment? I just want to have a little fun..."
"Well... Fun is my job, after all."
There. A bullshit free proposition, just as he liked them, and a hallmark of mature women like her. Yet at the same time, she didn't dress her age, nor look it, nor certain screw like a woman her age. She certainly had nothing to be ashamed of when she'd draped herself on her side to face them after they'd finished. Having spent her youthful years in the 20s ADD, it wasn't hard to imagine her taking a puff from a cigarette or joint to recover. That satisfaction and fire in her eyes, however, was all reality.
"Well, well... You've been holding out on me, Heavensbee," she purred.
Plutarch really shouldn't have blushed again, certainly not after what just transpired, but was it ever worth it to hear that giggle again. Chiasa was right all along, he did feel more relaxed than he ever had the past few months.
"Aww, you have nothing to be embarrassed about... Believe me," she added, reaching over to stroke his arm.
"It's been a while..." he admitted, "I forgot what this felt like."
"You'd have to have been busy," she concluded, "I'm surprised more people aren't throwing themselves at you... I'm definitely here for a good time, and we've established I have no concealed weapons, or wires... You were very thorough in your search."
Ugh, a line taken straight from his dreams.
"We have to do this again sometime," he replied with a smirk.
They came up with a certain arrangement; Chiasa would get a burner so they could communicate undetected, no feelings or other complications neither had time for, they'd fool around and talk to sate each other's stress and loneliness. Simple enough... Both had similar arrangements with others in the past without issues. It should have been that simple...
3. Her Stories
Plutarch was a known history buff; even when he was simply Seiko’s right hand man, one of his favorite duties was curation. The rebel archive had more banned documents, pictures, films, and stories than the secret government archive could hope for. He could spend hours just reading and watching the past.
The only thing better than studying was talking to real people about their experiences. The Capitol's history books were to be taken with a grain of salt, being mostly propaganda. Many of Plutarch's elders were amused by his curiosity about the past, but were nonetheless happy to share a few tales, and Chiasa, being a fair bit older than him, was no exception.
Maybe it was a little different... She was certainly the first to lounge on his bed in a negligee at most while sipping coffee or giving him a scalp massage while telling him stories. Even though she was younger than the likes of Tigris and Seiko, she brought a unique perspective of the ineffable postwar Dark Days. She spoke of her beloved father's service, and confirmed Tigris's assurances that Seiko was a different person back then, and before her sister became such an insufferable gossip. There was one story in particular that made him chuckle, one that involved one of his more insufferable relatives...
"So... You kicked him?" he confirmed, "You kicked Uncle Hilarius in the shin?"
"I was only a kid," she defended, "And he was sure Lucy Gray wouldn't survive because she was a small girl... Emphasis on the girl part. My parents agreed with me that he should have kept his mouth shut, but I still had to be punished..."
"Well... Knowing him, he probably deserved it," he said.
What a time to be alive in that controversial year, and still have the wonder of childhood. What an opportunity to hear about it... Tigris and Seiko had a more mature perspective, and it was impossible to get anything out of President Snow.
As time went on, Chiasa's stories became more vulnerable, and Plutarch remembered an important life lesson. Growing up patrician and joining the rebels had taught him that not everything was as it seemed. During her early years as a stylist, that "mental breakdown" was actually a stint in rehab to kick a party drug habit. She'd started using to cope with her guilt regarding her tributes, but had been encouraged to get help when she found out she was pregnant with her first child. Thankfully, she'd been clean for a long time, but still carried little candies in her purse in case she ever got the urge again.
Another of her stories was the real paternity of her second child, her son. It was a closely guarded secret, and Plutarch felt a sense of pride that she trusted him this much. It was one of her victors, Link Zhou, a now older man from District 3. Plutarch recalled him as one of the first male victors to be sold, and she couldn't even look him in the eye when she told him the story. Chiasa was Link's stylist, and her relief at a living tribute faded when she found out what they were going to do to him. She'd bid to be his first and it was all kosher; Link had a crush on her and he was of age, yet she still felt like she'd violated him. She felt she couldn't give up her son in any way, and thankfully her reputation with men saved them all from any suspicion.
He heard her sobbing as she'd finished, still facing away from him. He turned her, and her tears and pained expression broke his heart... She would have made a damn good agent if she'd joined up. When it came to her addiction, she was regretful, but matter of fact. Now, however, she was ashamed to even exist.
"I... I thought you'd be disgusted with me," she whispered.
He found himself wiping her tears away and wrapped her in an embrace.
"No... You did what you thought was right for the both of them, even if the law said otherwise. That's very noble," he said, "Hell, I think it would be rich of me of all people to judge you for doing something you regret for the greater good."
It was true... There were certain aspects of his plans that he didn't take pleasure in, but nonetheless, they had to be considered and done. His personal feelings often didn't matter.
Speaking of feelings... He couldn't let go of her that night. Chiasa's ceasing her crying and easing herself so quickly in his arms had him feeling some type of way... Like important? Like a hero? When he'd initially guessed that her son's father was some abusive asshole, he was ready to ruin that hypothetical man's life in a second. Protecting her used to be a simple means to an end; to avoid a needless casualty at his expense, and for Marcus's sake... He wouldn't be too happy with his beloved aunt in danger. Now, though... the thought of Chiasa being hurt or in distress caused Plutarch real pain. She didn't deserve that... Logically, she'd been through too much.
"Plutarch... Thank you," she murmured, "You're really, truly... such a wonderful man..."
Damn... He was used to being compliments on his achievements, but coming from her... He didn't know his heart was capable of swelling like that. It had to be because she meant it instead of just trying to kiss his ass... It had to be.
4. Her Wisdom
Naturally, Plutarch was a thinker. People had described him as brilliant, and they'd be right. Chiasa might not have been an intellectual like him, but she was so much more than Seiko and the general public made her out to be. Then again, if anyone reached her age or had her experiences without learning a thing, they'd be an idiot. She was so much more stimulating than the average Capitolite, and not just in the physical way.
One day, as Chiasa placed her hand over his, Plutarch couldn't help but notice her nails. They were red and gold, as the current trends, but the gold designs were inconsistent. Actually, he could have sworn that they were simply red and chipped the last time they were together, and the gold seemed to fill in the gaps.
"Didn't take you for a hand guy, Plutarch," she teased.
"No, I'm just curious about these... Is this some kind of abstract art?"
She smiled sheepishly, then moved her gaze to their now entwined hands.
"Are you familiar with the practice of kintsugi?"
"I'm afraid not," he replied, "Your mother taught me a few words of your old tongue, but I'm not familiar with that one."
"Well... It's the practice of repairing ceramics with gold," she explained, "I like to think of it as a metaphor... We all have flaws, we've all known hard times, but they make us all the more beautiful."
How true... The cookie cutter perfection the Capitol pushed was unattainable, and people who thought they achieved it were liars or at least still highly flawed. Actually, it worked for Panem as a whole. The Districts were beautiful in their adversity and strength. Then there was Chiasa, who persevered through her rough patches, making her into the woman he... was fascinated by.
"Sounds like someone I know," he teased, squeezing her hand.
"I guess..." she replied, blushing a little, "It's always been comforting to me. With everything going on, it was a reminder that I'd come back better. I drew and painted with it as an inspiration. When Daddy died, my first collection afterward was centered around it. Hell, I considered a tattoo a few times, but then I'd have to coordinate outfits around it.
What an interesting idea... Although she was beautiful as she was, it would sure make a statement, even as something temporary, even just makeup. There weren't a lot of visible scars on her body for him to trace; most of them were in her mind. Good enough....
He kissed her forehead and murmured, "In all seriousness, that's a beautiful way of thinking."
Chiasa shut her eyes and let out a contented sigh. However, she wasn't quite done philosophizing yet. She let go of his hand and cupped his face, flashing an alluring, yet sincere smile.
"Plutarch, have I ever told you why I think you're handsome?"
Maybe she'd said a few things in the moment, but it was always hard to tell if anything stuck in that state.
"Because you look like a person," she said, "A real person, not anything they're trying to sell. That boyish grin of yours, your salt and paprika hair... All you, all beautiful."
She paused to rest her forehead against his, evoking said grin until she went in for a brief kiss before continuing.
"Maybe I'm a hypocrite... It's not purely genes that have me looking and thriving this way. But... I don't know. Maybe it's a reflection of you as a person. You're not trying so hard to fit in, you're unapologetic and comfortable in your own skin without being obnoxious about it. I love seeing that in people... Especially men."
She was simply stating a fact. Women like her didn't have time for insecure man-children. She still had a way of complimenting him that caught him off guard. He simply wasn't used to a beautiful woman gushing about how attractive his quiet confidence and idealism were.
"Chiasa, that's... very observant, very kind," he managed.
She giggled. "Well, okay, maybe there are some shallow things too... Everyone knows bigger guys like you are better to lay with... And just better in bed altogether. And I just love freckles... I'm going to sound so cliche, but they're like little stars that just happen to adorn people instead of the sky."
She proceeded to pepper kisses across his cheeks and nose before moving to his chin and jaw, then down his neck.
"Chiasa... What are you doing?"
"I want to kiss all your freckles..."
"Well... It's a good thing we have all night."
The experience was strangely intimate and vulnerable, despite them being familiar with each other by then. Maybe it was how it all tied in... How something perceived as a flaw made him all the more beautiful.
5. Her Joie de Vivre
Idealism was Plutarch's, well, ideal, but cynicism was reality. With all the good he wanted to do, he still lost people, things still went wrong, and sometimes, it was hard to even find joy in the little things. While Chiasa was a cynic in her own way, it was a survival mechanism more than anything. Still, she was so much better at living in the moment. It was all she could do to cope with the world.
The Groundbreaking used to be a patriotic occasion to celebrate the powering of a new arena. Nowadays, it was Gamemaker Mardi Gras; one last day of letting loose before getting to work. Admittedly, he'd always wanted to throw the themed party, an honor reserved for the Head Gamemaker, and "Retro" made sense with the rise of rationing. At least his older colleagues were excited... As was Chiasa. She'd recycled an old, very sheer dress from the second Quarter Quell and adorned herself in glitter as they'd done in the twenties. She was teasing him on purpose...
It wasn't until after the bash that the real fun began. As fun as hosting was at times, it could be exhausting... The leftover confetti and empty glasses almost looked depressing in the blacklight until he felt Chiasa's hand on his shoulder. When he turned around, she ran her hands down his lapels... Of course he couldn't resist wearing her special creation: a jacket decorated in a forties style brocade pattern with extra pockets, simply to be thoughtful. Normally, they were gold to fit the current trends, but she used a special dye to make the patterns appear his favorite shade of purple under blacklight.
"You're looking gorgeous tonight," she purred, "If I do say so myself."
He was quick to pull her into an embrace. "And what were you thinking with that dress... What was your plan? To torture me with our dirty little secret? Having all those other men vying for a dance or drink or more?
"Too bad for them, it was always going to be you at the end of the night," she said, kissing his neck, "Actually... We never had a proper dance, did we? At least now... We don't have to be so formal with each other."
As much as it staved off suspicion, one dance couldn't hurt. Now was a better setting than the party anyway. He started to get in position for a waltz before she stopped him.
"I told you we don't have to be formal, sweetie... That's what a waltz is. I've always enjoyed the rhumba... Less stiff, more sensual."
"I haven't done that since my twenties," he replied sheepishly, "And even then I wasn't that good."
"Aww, that's okay," she reassured him, "It's just us right now. Besides... I know what those hips are capable of... I'm sure if you put your mind to it, you can."
Plutarch was still awful, but it didn't seem to matter to Chiasa. She matched his exaggerated moves and they were soon laughing together. How he needed this, how wonderful life seemed when she was with him... When he easily dipped her and they met in a kiss before heading to his bedroom.
District 13, while a refuge, was a dreary place. No color, no fun, no culture... No Chiasa. Not that he was demotivated, in fact, quelling her worries and tears only gave him more reason to work toward a free Panem. It didn't make him miss her any less, and regret less about not fighting harder to take her with him.
"You know what I miss the most?" he'd said to Katniss one day.
He recalled one lazy, stormy morning, when Chiasa was able to stay for breakfast. It was nothing fancy; eggs over easy for him, poached for her, and toast and coffee for both. Chiasa was in a silk nightgown and curled up on his lap, while he was in a robe that used to gather dust as well as the glasses he barely wore in public. They were simply enjoying each other's company and watching the storm unfold.
Chiasa gasped as a bolt of lightning struck a building in the distance. "It's amazing how something so destructive, dangerous, powerful... can be so beautiful."
"That's just nature, Chiasa," he said, "Believe me, I know a lot about it..."
It would be even more beautiful when it signaled the start of the revolution... Maybe she'd always remember it that way.
"Yes, and how the rain can cause so many problems, but gives life, and makes a lovely sound," she said, "And that smell after a storm..."
"Petrichor."
"Oooh... I didn't know there was a word for it."
He snuck a look at her as she watched the storm go on. Why was she so damned beautiful when she was fascinated... Somehow, she'd grown even more attractive since their initial meeting. Perhaps it was her words, her artist's or wise mind.
"What?" she teased.
Plutarch was saved by a loud clap of thunder that had the pair clinging to each other.
"Don't worry, I'll protect you," he said.
"I'M protecting YOU," she teased.
They met for a kiss. They had coffee breath, but it didn't matter.... It made the moment feel real.
"Plutarch?" Katniss interrupted, "What did you miss?"
Right, Plutarch was still in District 13, and he'd forgotten that Katniss and Marcus were in the room with him. He couldn't tell the truth in front of him... Not while they were stuck together in a bunker anyway.
"Coffee," Plutarch half lied.
Katniss seemed to believe him, but Marcus was skeptical as they both left for the next item on their schedule.
"No, really, what do you miss?" the boy asked, "Nobody's wistful about coffee in the afternoon."
"Let's get back to work, shall we?" Plutarch deflected.
Marcus rolled his eyes, but didn't ask any more. However, though, he seemed to try to elicit something out of him.
"If it matters, I miss my auntie," he said, "Even if the lack of color would have given her a stroke."
Plutarch nodded, seemingly in acknowledgement, but actually in agreement. Chiasa would have found a way to brighten things up. He knew very well the real reason he missed her....
1. Her Kindness
True kindness was a rarity in the Capitol. Nobody was ever just "nice," they always had to want something. Many were simply fair weather, disappearing the moment life got tough. Only a handful of people he knew were kind, many of him his allies... Others just naive. Then there was Chiasa, who was neither an active rebel nor naive about the world.
It should have been a simple arrangement... Chiasa didn't outright say she wanted more, and she was the type to do so. It was nearly summer when he admitted it to himself, and he needed to seek advice from the one person who'd understand and not tease him, Tigris.
He'd kept her filled in on how things were going, as she was a mutual friend and Chiasa would be saved the trouble of coming up with a lie. But now, he told her the whole story, and she only sighed and shook her head with a smile.
"It gets you, that kind of heart," said Tigris, "I know... When you've lived a life full of expectations and without love, that one person who shows you compassion, thinks you're a person worth knowing and loving. You know... Her father was the same way."
That was why Tigris was the best person to ask... She'd had a secret relationship with Tak Lapin before he was killed, that Seiko had allowed. Tigris was right... Every step of the way, Chiasa wanted to know him, and allowed herself to be vulnerable... Allowed him to be vulnerable.
When Plutarch was feeling the loss of an old friend, and couldn't contain himself any longer, she let him have a rare cry on her shoulder, no ridicule, no begging him to be strong. He was another human to her, another person to cherish and comfort. He remembered asking her why she showed him such unconditional care. It was only right, she'd said, that she cared about him.
The night of the interviews was their last opportunity to be together, and the chaos that Peeta caused with his "baby bomb" only helped her sneak over. Unfortunately, one final preparation had gone awry, and after getting socked in the jaw, he had to hunker down. Some of his other agents agreed to fix it, but he was feeling the weight of the pain... And the guilt of having to leave Chiasa behind.
The minute he'd shown himself, she ordered the remaining avox to fetch some ice and vinegar. The next thing he knew, he was on a sofa with her pressing ice against his jaw.
"Don't clench, you'll make it worse," she admonished, "What happened?"
"Mishap," he reassured her, "It'll be fixed.... You're still here."
"Of course I'm still here.... Do you not want me here?" she hesitantly asked.
"No, of course I want you here," he replied, "I'm... ah... I'm just wondering why you're still here... I'm leaving you, Chiasa, I can't believe you agreed."
"Oh, Plutarch...."
She embraced him with her free arm, sniffling, but trying to keep her composure.
"I know it's for a good cause... I know this is bigger than us, I.... I really admire you for this," she managed.
"I wish you could come with me..." he murmured, "I know you can help... I wish I could be sure you won't be in danger."
"I'm tougher than I look, honey... And I never blamed you, never ever. Oh, Plutarch... Just promise me you'll come back in one piece. You know I'll be right here...."
They sat in silence, just holding each other for what seemed like eternity. When he saw her face again, he thought he saw a few tear streaks down her made up face, but she quickly wiped them away.
"If you want to just hold each other tonight, that's okay..."
"No, Chiasa.... I don't know how long I'll be gone," he murmured, "I need to commit you to memory."
Even with his bruised jaw, that last night mind-blowing, both wanting to forget it would be the last... for a while if things went right. The next morning was pure agony; they'd stared at each other, almost daring each other to drop the L-bomb, but neither could. It didn't seem like the right time.... He was a damned idiot, it could have been another regret.
While Plutarch was kept busy and motivated, there were times when he'd miss her the most. The nights were the loneliest, when he'd wish for her to be waiting in his compartment, even just her reassuring voice. Then there was Finnick and Annie's wedding, when love was in the air. He'd gotten into it like most projects, but it felt different... Maybe he was projecting a little... But at least it made him surprisingly helpful with the vows. He had to focus during the final battle... It was crucial in capturing the Capitol, but he couldn't dare look to see if Chiasa was among the panicked masses.
The day of the execution was cathartic for everyone... Even though Coin was initially killed first. What did it matter, she was bad for the rest of Panem and he had a plan to get rid of her if Katniss hadn't taken action. Snow was finally dead, of course, and the era of suffering was over... Yes, there was still a lot of work to be done, but the people deserved to have their hope.
Of course, it was also the day he finally saw Chiasa again, on the steps of the presidential palace with Marcus. He'd certainly be in for a surprise, but he'd adjust... Plutarch did have a soft spot for the kid.
Within seconds, she was back in his arms. It didn't matter that there was more gray and silver in her hair than he remembered, and she was dressed down, he was just happy to be with her again. As was she, and from her very first words to him, he knew she had the same regrets.
"Plutarch… I love you!"
He wouldn't be an idiot this time.
"I love you too, Chiasa," he said, holding her tightly.
The future was bright… The revolution was successful, freedom was within reach, and he was finally going to shape a new world with her by his side. So it went… He didn't need to remain a confirmed bachelor to change the world; in his studies, most of the greats had their greatest loves by their side, and he would be no different. George had Martha. John had Abigail. James had Dolley. Winston had Clementine. Now, Plutarch had Chiasa.
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thegoddessprose · 3 months
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So I have an AO3 now... And I'm writing a fic about these two, if you want to check it out...
I'm sorry to the other Heavensbadies out there. Anything about him and Chiasa will likely be on here before AO3. :p
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Meanwhile, on Tigris deserved better:
Or more accurately, an old photo in Tigris's studio.
(If you want to make your own, here's the link: https://www.dolldivine.com/anime-couple-picture-creator )
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thegoddessprose · 4 months
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Meanwhile, on Tigris deserved better:
Or more accurately, an old photo in Tigris's studio.
(If you want to make your own, here's the link: https://www.dolldivine.com/anime-couple-picture-creator )
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thegoddessprose · 4 months
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watched this scene for the first time ever yesterday this is how i feel about it
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thegoddessprose · 6 months
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OMG.... I'm so ELATED! Never thought I'd find a halfway decent Picrew for Chitarch/Heavenspin! Still a bit cartoony for my taste but PLUTARCH ACTUALLY LOOKS DECENT HERE!
Sorry, I'm just so excited I found this... Here's the link:
Sharing this in the tag but @plutarchheavensbee you are beyond free to share this... The Plutarch gang needs to see this :D
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thegoddessprose · 6 months
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A few more Chiasa picrews as promised :D (Note that the middle one is supposed to be in her younger years... Probably her first cover ever back when she was still a stylist for District 3)
Also found the PERFECT shipping picrew while looking for the "Bachi e Bachi one, but that will be a separate post in a few minutes.
As always, links are below to make your own:
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thegoddessprose · 6 months
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Eighth grade technically, but I feel this in my soul.
Hey, are you awake? Good! No, don't scream, I'm not going to hurt you. It's just I've got this convoluted story, setting, and cast of OC's in my head and I needed to talk to someone about it. I'll let you go when I'm done.
What? NO I can't just tell my friends. What if they think I'm annoying or my OCs are cringe? That's what you're here for.
Now, here are the picrews I have saved so you can get an idea of what my OC's look like. I have at least 57 of the same character, for each of the 23 in my story's main cast. So this whole thing started when I was in 6th grade-
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thegoddessprose · 6 months
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(Used photopea for this, might look a little wonky, but eh, I think it's okay. Also might tag a few people twice but idk. Sorry in advance to them)
Make a mood board with
your fav celeb, fav quote, a cute outfit
your fav drink, your fav color, your fav place
your fav hobby, your fav flower, & your fav book
Thank you @caesarflickermans for the tag
tagging: @detectivesandsucculents @footnoteinhistory @pvntherz @plvtarch @inky-duchess
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