No, I haven't died. I know you were worried. Next best thing, though; finals are finally over, freeing up time and energy for finishing this Fic!
Our first third person chapter... enjoy.

"Hello, Panem, and welcome to our exclusive airing of the interviews with our remaining eight tributes' friends and families. Our very own Caesar Flickerman has jetted all over Panem to get these reports—How excited are you, Caesar?"

"Extremely, Wingnim. We have such an interesting bunch of contenders this year—and the finish is drawing close. How thrilling for us viewers, but how do the actual flesh and blood relations feel about it? Let's take a look at these clips to find out."

.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.:!:.

"Mr. and Mrs. Liner, correct?" Caesar asks politely, putting a hand on the bony man's shoulder. The four stand inside what looks to be a bead shop, with racks and racks of dangling jewels, a lush carpet, and small counter complete with an old-fashioned cash register.

The man shakes out from under Caesar's hand and dusts off his shoulder as if there is a foul substance there. "Yes," he answers curtly.

"And your name is?" the interviewer holds his microphone out to the fourth person in the shot; an extremely good-looking boy who looks to be in his early twenties, with chestnut hair swept off to one side and piercing green eyes that are well-acquainted with the camera. "Stitch. Pearl's boyfriend."

Caesar nods warily at this, as if he already feels sorry for the boy. "We don't have much time, so let's cut to the chase: as her parents, you must be so proud of how well Pearlescent is doing in the arena."

The shorter, blond woman leans into the mic. "Of course I am. She was honored to volunteer, I'm sure."

"And the proud father?"

"She's… alright. If she hadn't lasted this far, she would be disgraceful—she's just now reaching her ability level."

"If she hadn't lasted this far, she'd be dead," Caesar chuckles, but the three Ones don't seem to find it amusing. He moves on quickly. "And Stitch, how does it feel to know she's in so much danger?"

"I'm not worried about her. She's badass. And hot. And last night, when I was dreaming about her, I—"

"Obviously very concerned for her welfare, aren't we? Now, if you could each say one thing to Pearlescent right now, what would it be? Mr. Liner?"

"Work harder."

"Very motivating. And Mrs. Liner?"

"Well…" the woman faces the camera full on, as if Pearl is on the other side. Not in an arena. "I'd like to say that I love you, and miss you. I can't wait for you to come home, but if you could please stop throwing yourself at that Four—"

"And we're out of time. Thank you, Liners, and Stitch. Best of luck to Pearlescent!"

The screen cuts almost instantly to a new clip, this time in front of a concrete wall with fading graffiti. A small family is huddled next to Caesar; a huge, broad-shouldered man with the same greasy black hair as their tribute; a stick-like woman whose skin hangs off her bones like candle wax, with her arms protectively around a small boy, the embodiment of youth, who smiles up at the camera, transfixed with the lens.

"Mr. Clickit, how do you feel about your son being in the final eight?"

"Well." The man's voice is low and husky, like his son's. "He's a fighter, for sure. Don't be expectin' him goin' down without givin' it his all."

"Wouldn't dream of it. And Mrs. Clickit, it must be so heart-warming to watch all of his successes."

"Of course," her voice wavers and cracks a bit as she continues, "he's just like his father. I can't wait for him to come home."

"Any specific thoughts on his performance so far, Sam?" Caesar kneels to get down to eye level with the small, black-haired boy.

"The fishes were scary. It wasn't me—I was here. The fishes just looked like me."

"Very clever design, aren't they? How do you think your brother is doing?"

The kid's dark brown eyes widen as he gazes seriously into the camera. "He's going to kill the pretty girl, and win."

"Is that so?" Caesar gets back to his feet. "Thank you for your time, Clickits, and best of luck with James."

The screen goes black for another second, before lighting up with Caesar, in the exact same suit, with neon green hair and lips, standing on what looks to be a dock, backed by the seemingly smooth ocean. A small family, obviously related by their identical tan skin and light hair, stands by him. The oldest man looks stiff in the way he holds himself upright, hardly leaning on the driftwood walking stick in his clutch.

"Mr. Bosun—Maris, is it?—could you maybe sum up a few words for how you're feeling toward your son right now?"

The man stares off into the sky behind the camera for a few moments, before squeezing the woman next to him a little closer to his side. "We're proud to have watched him thus far, and hope he makes it home soon. We need him around here," he adds with a half-hearted smile.

"Of course—you work on the bigger vessels, correct?"

The younger woman leans into the mic to answer, sweeping her bleached blond hair out of her face as she looks up at the camera. "I'm Litha, his big sister, and yeah he works with Crest and me on our boat, way out there." The camera zooms in on a harbor a ways down the beach. "He hauls all the nets and stuff while I drive. Crest helps, I guess, but Nev's an important link."

The shorter boy scowls a bit. "We're definitely missing him down here, though."

"Of course," the girl adds somewhat sheepishly.

"And Helene, Mrs. Bosun, if you could advise your son, what would you tell him?" Caesar draws the mic away from the siblings, letting it hover before the woman clutching the man's side.

"Well," she starts, clearing her throat a bit and brushing wisps of white hair out of her eyes, "I would tell him to stick with the other tribute from Four—she seems to know a thing or two. But not let any loyalties he forms in there blind him from the nature of the Games—he needs to stay on his toes."

"Of course," Caesar says with a nod. "Everyone in there is in it to win it by this point—it will be so exciting to name one Victor. Thank you, Bosuns, and best of luck to Neveah!"

Again, the screen cuts momentarily to black right before showing Caesar, identical to all the last clips, standing in front of a humble, small house, accompanied by two men and a woman—the elder man had a secure arm around the woman's shoulders, and the pair stood a little further off than the younger man.

"Mr. and Mrs. Claremont; Adam Liles. I'm going to be honest here and say that not many Eights usually make it to the final eight. How does it feel to see Baize go so far?"

"She is her mother's daughter," Mr. Claremont says in a low, deep rumble that matches his bulky frame. "So brave."

"Oh, don't be modest," Mrs. Claremont says, giving his chest a playful slap, "she has more of you in her than me. But yes, she's been so courageous over this whole event. We couldn't be prouder to call ourselves her parents."

"How touching," Caesar intones honestly, before holding the mic out for the younger man, whose gaze is locked on the pavement. "And Adam, do you have anything to say about Baize?"

"I…" his voice cracks, and he runs a hand through his short, almost black hair, shifting his weight. He continues slowly, as if thinking up each word before speaking. "I have a lot to say about Baize. She's… inspiring to me and everyone who watches her. I know—there are people who take her more sensitive outside as a liability, but… it isn't. She wears her heart on her sleeve, and I guess… I love her for that."

"And if you could say something to her right now?" Caesar prods gently.

"That…" he finally raises his gaze to the camera, his light brown eyes boring into the lens. "That I love her and can't wait for the wedding, and that she's doing an amazing job in there."

"Couldn't have said it better myself," Caesar smiles, his and the camera's attentions caught by the Liles boy, zooming in on him to cut the parents out of the shot. "And how did you meet Baize?"

"We ran into each other—literally." He scuffs the pavement with his shoe. "At the market."

"Was it love at first sight?"

"If… if you believe in that sort of thing."

"And do you?"

"I didn't… until Baize. Not to sound—tacky—but she's the only one for me."

"Has the age difference ever been an issue for you two?"

"She's… out of school, and I'm only two years her elder. No, not an issue."

"Well I would love to stay in this lovely District and chat all day, but our time's up."

The camera cuts back to the broader shot of all four of them. "Thank you for your time, Claremonts," he shakes each of their hands, "and Adam. We're all eagerly watching Baize."

The screen cuts to three slim individuals, framed by a wooden archway and brilliant blue sky. The one adult is an angular woman with brown hair twisted back in a simple ponytail and dirt smeared across one cheekbone. The little tiny boy in front of her was obviously her son, while the older girl stood a little off to the side.

"Kailers. What a pleasure to meet you all. Emily, how do you feel toward your daughter now?"

"I'm, um, happy. And concerned for her safety. Those other kids are not kind at all."

Caesar chuckls. "Well said. And Emilius, are you watching your sister on TV?"

The little boy stares, transfixed at the camera for a moment before piping up. "She's a little scary." He giggles to himself, staring at the camera.

"She's doing very well," Caesar nods. "Any thoughts, Cassia? Being Sora's friend, you must have some opinion on her strategy."

"I don't think she has one right now," the girl states bluntly with a small shrug. "Go with the flow, sort of."

Caesar takes his time with the small group, but hardly any other emotion or information drips out of the dry conversation. He finally turns, slightly resigned to the camera and casts them off.

This time, the screen cuts to a narrow dirt lane, backed with an endless stretch of some golden crop that waves fluidly in the wind. Four children stand in a neat line next to Caesar. Two of them—both teenage girls—are identical in their appearances, with matching long, wavy hair the exact color of their brother's, as well as the same piercing blue gazes. The girl standing nearer to Caesar has a more confident way of holding herself, but the further one has much more expression to her gaze; she has an arm around the smallest boy, whose dirty blond hair brushes his shoulders as he eyes the camera in curiosity. The older boy stands furthest off from Caesar, his pale blond hair hiding his face as he watches the ground.

"How very nice it is to meet you, Kingstons, and I am so sorry your parents couldn't be here."

The more confident twin shrugs and tugs her sloppily cut bangs out of her face. "Work is work—but I'm sure we're all going to watch this tonight. Hi, mom!" she waves at the camera with a smile before her twin bumps her shoulder a little too roughly.

"And you are?" Caesar asks politely, steering the mic back to the first twin.

"Violet, but everybody calls me Vi. Not that you can. It's just, like, Lily and Sparrow and these two—"

Her twin bumps her again, efficiently shutting her up.

"And you're Lily?" Caesar moves the mic to the quieter twin.

"Lilac—that's just a silly nickname we toss around here."

Caesar chuckles. "My sisters call me Cece, so don't feel too bad about 'Lily'!"

The twins' laughter was obviously fake.

"And what's your name?" the interviewer asks the small boy, wrapped under Lilac's arm.

"Falcon!"

"Another bird, like your brother?"

"Yup. 'Scept falcons are big and strong, ad eat little birds like sparrows." He beams into the camera.

"Right. And you must be River, then," he addresses the lightest haired boy.

"Yeah."

"And how old are you?"

"Thirteen." His voice cracks over the single word, causing him to cough conspicuously and look at the ground again.

Caesar pulls back to his original position. "So which of you is closest to Sparrow?"

"Me!" Falcon shouts at the same time Violet says, "You can't pick." She shoots her littlest brother an exasperated look.

"We're a family; besides maybe Vi and me, there aren't any particular ties," Lilac pipes up diplomatically.

"And how do you think Sparrow's doing?"

"Great," Violet smiles. River snorts, attracting the mic again.

"He's doing better than he does here!" the blond says, half-joking. "He's got the freedom he's been harking about forever, he's got adoring fans, he's even got a girl—"

"And do we have any opinions about that?" Caesar asks, raising his shockingly green eyebrows.

Again, there were multiple answers. Violet exploded with "Yes!" as Lilac shook her head modestly, stately simply, "No." Falcon continued to beam at the camera.

"What do you think, Lilac?" He directs the mic back to her.

"I think—he's being stupid. I love him, but he's making a mistake with this girl who's already admitted herself to be a dangerous killer, and is crazy half the time. He'd be better off alone." Lilac nods a little, as if confirming the fact to herself.

"And what does your sister have to say?"

Violet pulls the mic toward her. "I'm proud of him! He's letting himself have a little joy—is that so bad? And anyway, Ash is so pretty, and they're completely adorable together. He's scoring points with this nursing her back to health thing—I just wish he'd kiss her already!"

Falcon giggles as if his sister had used a swear word.

"Conflicting opinions, huh? What about you, River? What do you think?"

"I think…" he bites his lip, obviously coming up with an answer. "If he's allied with her, he's allied with her for a reason. So I trust his decisions, and I think he's got lots of motives behind whatever he does."

"Well put," Caesar compliments with a nod. "But I'm afraid we're out of time. It was very nice to hear all your opinions, and best of luck to Sparrow—we're all rooting for him."

Once more, the brief shot of blackness is broken by a group of people—obviously a family, despite the range of appearance. The girl right next to Caesar smiles contently at the camera, without the gesture really touching her eyes—if it weren't for the corkscrewing hair, she could have passed as a carbon copy of Aislin. Beside her stands another dark-haired girl, but this one is much smaller and unsure in stature. She tugs a ringlet nervously, daring glances at the camera every once in a while. The two adults stand furthest away from Caesar and his mic, the man easily towering over his petite wife. His darker coloring clashes against the fair complexion of the woman, whose blond, curly hair was bound in a stubborn bun at the back of her head, her blue eyes keeping a watch on her daughters.

"We've been all over Panem, have met so many interesting people, and now we meet our last crowd. All the way in District Twelve, I'm saying hello to our dearest Aislin's family. Phoenix, correct?" Caesar raises his eyebrows at the man, who nods and clears his throat, shifting from foot to foot uneasily. "How are you feeling about your daughter being in the final eight?"

The tall man coughs again. "We're worried, of course. But she's—worth it, if you understand. She could very well win this thing. If… she keeps her head in the game, so to say."

The woman smiles. "She's too young for a boyfriend," she says sweetly, straight into the camera. Her oldest daughter tugs the mic toward her.

"I'm Skye, Schuyler actually, but nobody can pronounce that, so I'm just Skye. Ash is my twin. I was her fish person, did you see? Anyway, I can't even really say how much I've missed her… we're usually joined at the hip, so it's hard."

Caesar maakes an odd sort of sympathetic noise. The blond woman pulls the mic back to her, leaning in while keeping her gaze on the camera. "She's too young for a boyfriend." She smiles.

"And who are you?" Caesar continues, ignoring the mother and kneeling down to the little girl's height. She burrows herself deeper into her sister's arms,

"Giselle," she mutters from between her hands.

"And how do you think Aislin is doing in the arena?"

"She's… good. Very good. And he's so handsome."

The camera stays on the little girl for another second as the mic is pulled out of the frame; the shot follows it back to the fair woman.

"She's too young for a boyfriend," she insists with the ever-persistent smile.

Caesar gives a slightly forced chuckle. "And…. Sky? Do you have any thoughts on our favorite romance?"

The girl seizes the mic. "He's so cute—and was I the only one who almost fainted when he showed her his scars? How manly. Seriously." She sighs. "Ironic, isn't it, that the only guy that grabs my sister's attention in the history of the world is…. In there? What a shame."

"She's too young for a boyfriend!" the blond calls from just out of the shot.

"Even if your opinions are split, I can say for certain that Panem is just as in love with those two as could be. It was very nice to have a word with you—"

"She's too young—"

"—and we all look forward to the grand finale, when we will determine a winner. Thank you, Panem, and good night!"

Review. And remember my last A/N's... I think I mentioned something important back there. Too exhausted to check. Oh, and check out my profile for my new poll... I'd love your opinion...

May the odds be ever in your favor.
Topsy