The games are back for another year and despite ex-Head Gamemakers Syrio Flowers best efforts he is no longer in charge, ex-host of the games Nina Ricci is looking to make Syrio pay for costing her everything and the president watching them both intently waiting for that one wrong move. Meanwhile in District Three there are brilliant minds at work and Twelve's only surviving victor has a point to prove. It's the year of the 152nd games and once again only one is going to survive. *Open – details at end of prologue*
Amethyst Swift Victor of the 151st Hunger Games' POV:
There's is a soft tap on my door "Amethyst" my mother says meekly "I made you some lunch"
"Coming" I respond, leaving my writing on my desk. I'd decided to take up writing as a talent for the capitol as it involved not being on camera. I could just send off a few magazine articles and short stories a month and they'd be fought over like the last chicken at the butchers by the capitol presses. Of course I was also fitting it in-between working with Nero for his gyms, training at the centre and the odd capitol appearance of course. They sure didn't like their victors getting bored in Two.
Walking through the living area with its stiff couches and portraits of our dear president I spot my father watching the television.
"Please say you're not watching it again" I say, Dad had taken to watching my games at every possible chance recently as if he somehow needed to connect with me through it. I mean if I'd died out there, sure I'd have wanted him to remember me as best he could but I was stood right here.
"No" he says "It's about Primrose Everdeen, an expose on her life and secrets."
"Ooo" I say joining him "Anything good?"
"Well it seems like old Rory Hawthorne wasn't her only love" he says "They've found some old diaries in the Capitol with some very interesting stories about her time there"
I chuckle as I listen to the intensely interested narrator tell us of how dear Primrose Everdeen used to lie with every man in both District Twelve and the capitol, sprinkling the tale with sound bites from various capitol citizens who remain shaded in darkness during their interviews.
After a few minutes of this I grow bored and stand up as I walk in to the kitchen I see that my mom has indeed prepared lunch and three jacket potatoes sit waiting for us, still steaming with heat.
"Mmm these look good" I say as I help myself along with a generous handful of cheese. Mom smiles and takes the smallest potato from the plate for herself. It's been strange since my victory how she's acted around me, all shy and nervous. Before she'd be like Dad celebrating every moment of every games like she herself were there and now she acts as if I'm some kinds of monster to be feared. I suppose I am, her little girl gone off to murder and here we are.
It's cruel but sometimes I wish her and Dad still lived out by their mine in that large house that they've now given to Mal my older brother. He and his wife Nyke seem very settled in there while, Lucy lives with her boyfriend Ciarn in one of the houses meant for the workers of Dads mines a short distance away. While my siblings are living their own lives however I feel stuck in this large but sparse home designed for a victor.
I shake the stupid thoughts from my head and stroll back into the living room with my plate of food rejoining my dad on the couch. The program on Primrose seems to have ended and they're now re-showing the interview between the new head Gamemaker Otho and Marc about how Othello plans to revitalise the games starting with the reintroduction of alliances.
"A bold move so quickly after the rule was first put into place" Marc says
Otho who seems more relaxed in the spotlight than Syrio ever did simply smiles "Well as much as we all loved Amethyst and her lone wolf style sometimes it's just brilliant to see tributes interact, working together and best of all betraying each other" he and Marc laugh as does my father.
"I like this Otho" he says "I can see him giving us a good show next year. Though I wish you'd tell me who we'll be seeing in the arena"
"You know I can't" I tell him "Even if we had made our decision yet I'd have to keep it quiet until the reaping in front of the whole district"
"I know that" he says standing up and heading toward the kitchen "Just make sure you pick some good ones okay."
"Of course" I respond as he disappears. I blur out the TV as I think about the short list sat on Blaze's desk back at the training centre, he, Nero and I have been going over the list daily whittling it down to the final lucky two. My friends who will still be eligible have been pestering me every time I see them at training to get them a spot but every time Blaze asks for my input on them I just seem to shrug and suggest another name of someone who I haven't known since childhood. It's not the District Two attitude I know but I can't help it, my need to protect them from the games is too strong.
Nina Ricci – ex-host of the Hunger Games POV:
"Nina" smiles Afrika as I stroll into her salon "I haven't seen you all week my dear have you been ill?"
I shake my head "just busy" I reply thinking of the days spent laying in my bed, watching endless repeats of my favourite interviews. Re-living every moment I'd spent on that stage surrounded by the young and doomed tributes, every re-watch, every memory brining me closer to that feeling of anger that isn't very civilised.
I sit down and without a word Afrika gets to work trimming and styling my hair after a minute or two of silence she finally says what she's probably been thinking since I walked in "I was so sad to hear of your retirement from the games"
"It was just the right time" I reply coldly
"So what are you doing now?"
"I'm in talks to be a roaming reporter" I lie "visiting the districts, following the victory tour that kind of thing"
"Sounds interesting" Afrika says, not really meaning it "Do you want an new colour for the interview?"
"I'm thinking black" I respond
"A bold colour" she says "It'll take a while to strip out once it's set you know. Maybe a wig instead?"
"No thanks; I need some more stability" I say "can you cut a little more off too and straighten it?"
"Sure thing" she says as she gets to work cutting my hair shorter and changing my style completely.
As she finishes I look at my almost unrecognisable self in the mirror, this should stop them staring I think to myself as I empty a bit more of my dwindling bank account with a swipe of my debit card.
Syrio Flowers Ex-Head Gamemakers POV:
"You cancel my rule change, my one lasting legacy in the games and then you have the cheek to come here and ask for my help" I rage as Otho lays on my white leather couch grinning at me.
"The alliance thing was crap anyway Syrio" he responds "what I have planned will keep both our names in the history books for a long time to come"
A/N: Hello all, a new SYOT for you to submit to and enjoy. It'll be a sequel to Reaping Day Promises and Standing Alone and will be continuing the plot threads from those stories if you want to read them. I'm doing submissions a little different this time so just PM me a District and Gender and I'll send you a form and maybe some little nugget of information I want added to the tribute in order to help my overall storyline working. Also I'm gonna say now I'm not gonna accept any tributes who are related to other victors as I've had too many of them die in the last two stories.