Note: After this chapter, the story becomes somewhat of a collaboration between three authors: myself, April Dawson, and another that does not have a FanFiction account.
April's story is called Fallen From Grace
"Victor of the 65th Games! Finnick Odair!"
Gryffon flinched at the news and sank back further in his seat. Annabelle sighed and pressed her palm to her forehead. "He could have won, Gryffon." But they both knew Chrys couldn't have. He died on the fifth day, and the Games went on for several more after, but Gryffon lost count.
As soon as the boy from 4 – the one he had been hoping would last less time than Josh had – was announced the winner, Gryffon got up from his place silently and bounded out of their floor. Now all he had to do was kill time until after the Victor's interview, and he could go back home.
Dia rested her head over the boy's chest. He didn't say anything, just stared blankly back at her with an expression that guarded her away from reading him. "What's wrong, hm?"
Gryffon sighed and ran a hand down her arm, easing her off him so he could sit up. "Nothing's wrong . . . I just didn't expect to ever . . . "
"Mm," the redhead chimed, cutting into his sentence. "Was it as terrible as you expected, though?" At her teasing tone, he found himself smiling then shaking his head. "What exactly is bothering you then?"
"Nothing you did," Gryffon evaded, rubbing the side of his arm. His fingers grazed over a new bump or two and when he looked, there were faint red scratches left behind by her nails. "I just . . . Well, I didn't really . . . I didn't - " Goddamnit, how was he supposed to explain it? Despite her still labeling him a number, his own district, she was still something now. Right? Did that even matter? Gryffon didn't want it to matter. It just made everything more confusing to understand. And then there was him just giving himself to her . . . So easily like he had. It made him feel weak, stupid, and like such a little traitor to himself. He wasn't supposed to be going by anyone else's rules. She didn't seem to agree with that thought, however.
"Of course . . . Your life is yours to control . . . Why did you do anything you didn't want?"
"It's not that," he sighed. "I don't know what I want? Does that make sense?" Again Diamanté smiled, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she pushed herself up and let her legs drop off the side of the bed. "Where you going?"
"Then you have nothing to be confused about, right?"
"What . . ? I do . . . I think."
"You don't. You're going in circles, Eleven. Start over."
She hadn't even given him time to explain himself, or to even really explain herself. Gryffon, at first, couldn't understand what she meant and she hadn't helped by ignoring his question.
Gryffon ran a hand through his wavy hair and looked up as Caesar interviewed the Victor of the 65th Games. The attention was off of him now, he was not the focus of Panem anymore, but when he glanced back and caught the steady gaze of the 1 Victor, Gryffon couldn't help but think over that statement. He wasn't ever really free - he lived there, he'd forever be caught in a cage, no matter how safe he thought he felt. It didn't help that he couldn't even be certain that what he had gotten himself into wasn't a mistake.
"Don't look at me so baffled like that, darling," she mused as she pulled the straps of her dress back over her shoulders.
"I don't get it . . . "
She seemed to let out a sigh, but the good-natured lilt never left her voice. "You just gave up the last thing that was yours." And up in a bun her hair went. She blinked her eyes at him, a taunting smile shining within them. "Now you've nothing left to protect." The 1 Victor leaned her hands over the bed again and cocked her head at him. "Stop hiding away, hun'. Just do what you want.
He couldn't possibly have regretted it, though, because he didn't stop.
Gryffon groaned and ran a hand over his face. "Annabelle, I really don't want - "
"You're just going to watch, okay? You'll start in the summer after the Games, but you need to have an idea of what you're doing before going and ripping up others' lawns," the woman sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Chester's the best there is, so you probably won't end up getting too many calls. But when he's unavailable - "
"Then I go." Gryffon sighed and eyes the silent man sitting beside Annabelle. "This is my therapy, isn't it? I said I didn't need it."
"It's not a therapy, it's more so your job. Every Victor has one," Chester explained in his tiny voice. His hands folded over his lap and he sat straighter than straight in his seat. "Annabelle here is simply gardening," he said with a smile, "and you'll be the designer alongside me - but of course I'm not a winner of anything. Capitol-born and such, after all."
God, did he babble. Gryffon rolled his eyes and looked toward the window. Whatever. "What district are we visiting?"
"None. We're going to the Capitol," Annabelle answered before the landscaper could. "You don't even need to leave the car if you don't want, all you have to do is watch and pretend you're learning something."
Oh, that much he could do. Gryffon leaned his head against the window and looked away from the pink-haired man. "Soooo, basically, all's I'm doing is trying to please you and the grand ol' president, correct?" he asked, glancing toward Annabelle wryly. "Thanks. Loving the birthday present so far."
"This is better than what you've been doing lately, Gryffon, and I doubt you had anything special planned for your birthday, anyway," the woman reasoned, pursing her lips. "Calm the hormones down, relax your attitude, this will take up only a couple of days every year, if even that often, for you, so don't worry." Gryffon groaned again and lolled his head back, clicking his tongue once in boredom. When Chester started talking, however, Gryffon chuckled and dropped his head to the side to be able to see the man.
Chester glanced at Annabelle, then back at Gryffon, puzzled. "Did I say something funny . . ?" Oh the poor, poor man. Gryffon sputtered out another laugh and shook his head. He waved Chester on and with a bit of hesitation, he started explaining how some Capitol-designed contraption that would make breaking into the ground easier, and in and out did Gryffon's attention go. He couldn't find himself taking any interest, couldn't find himself caring at all, and was getting restless again. Sitting there for over an hour was unnerving.
Gryffon's eyes shifted toward the window and he looked up at the sky. There were a couple of mockingjays fluttering about before vanishing into the trees, and when his gaze followed them, Gryffon caught a flash of the gates. They were entering District 10 now, and before long should reach the Capitol. The trees and soft grasses gradually grew into hills and long blades. Stretches of pale green flashed out beyond them, some even whipped against the train as it zipped by. Slowly he blinked and managed to focus on a few black and white spots standing out against the sky. Cows, he remembered. There was another larger figure coming up just behind the animals, but the train vanished into a tunnel before he could identify it at the distance they were in.
As they exited the tunnel and passed the train station of District 2, Gryffon shuffled his feet and looked back over to Chester. "You done?" By the closing and opening of the man's mouth, Gryffon could tell he had just cut through a sentence. Oh well. "Okay, great. Call me when we get there."
An hour later, after maneuvering around all the tiny villages and mountains of the district, Gryffon was called from his compartment and dragged outside with Annabelle and Chester. The trip turned out not to be as hard or as annoying as Gryffon had thought it'd be, and if he were to admit it, he would even agree that it was fun in a sense. Chester and the few other people he worked with called him out to help despite his protests and made him help with the one yard they were demonstrating on. Gryffon didn't feel as restless and quickly picked up most of what he was required to do, however few things that was.
Gryffon's attitude from his first year of mentoring changed drastically by the second. He was just as quiet, but there little he would care for, would express. He complained more often, put his opinions of the tributes out in the air, and on top of it all, still refused to help his kids get sponsors. With his tributes, Gryffon would spew out the most basic of advice and let them deal with themselves, treating them like he had Chrys. No one's life held value, he swore, no one should have to deal with the task they were given each year, and thus, losing their heartbeat would be no true loss.
There was little question when Gryffon proved to appear selfish, disgusting, rude, and just downright angry all the time, especially when his 'friendship' with Diamanté became blatant. Trace and Kella seemed to back away then, too, and honestly? Gryffon couldn't say he minded. Pushing away the others was going to be incredibly easy if his attention remained on the intimidating redhead.
The 66th Games didn't seem too exciting, especially for those who were literally just there to bullshit. The arena had been built like a highschool and the most interesting tributes came from the Career districts. An engaged couple from 4 had even volunteered together and for what reason Gryffon couldn't imagine, but he didn't really care enough to ask around. As to be expected, each kid got a high score from their private sessions and their interviews had been sappy and cute, and seemed to fit the Capitol's description of a typical soap opera: exaggerated on the drama and the love, and insincere.
There was nothing too out of the ordinary in the Games themselves. The couple survived until the last four where they branched and picked each other off, ending with the girl killing her fiancé, seemingly without a bit of regret. Her Victor's interview had been even more peculiar with her admitting to have been pregnant the entire time, and was thankful for not having lost the child despite having lost its father. Gryffon didn't believe the story, finding it too much of a miracle that she hadn't miscarried or perhaps she was saying so to get some post-Games sympathy, but days before her Tour, it was announced her baby was born and the event had to be postponed. She visited the districts without her child, but needless to say, she got the attention she had probably wanted.
The next year, for the 67th Games, the girl came and joined the 4 mentors in the group, without her child again, and showed to be very impolite, genuinely hateful, and indescribably snappy - so unlike how she had acted in both her interviews. Gryffon, on the other hand, had already become friendlier with the crowd, though instead of mellowing, seemed to be more wry, more sarcastic and joking. He wasn't afraid of anyone anymore, and found great amusement in everyone's many different reactions to his charades and comments.
Gryffon had more or less ignored these Games, watching clips here and there, and several times found himself laughing at the favored District 7 redheaded boy. By the time he won - at the expense of a hand, one might add - Gryffon realized just how much he enjoyed watching the Games. All it took was to get invested in one of the 'characters', for all it really was was a reality show with different people picked to be in it, and either cheer them on or bet on the many different ways they might die.
He kept it noted in the back of his mind for the next Games when they started.
In the spring between the 67th and 68th Games, Gryffon was called to the Capitol for the second 'job' he was ever hired for. When he got there, after being reluctantly allowed by the Peacekeepers, Gryffon realized it was his own stylist and his twin who were needing the redecorating. Or the company. After Gryffon fixed up about half the yard, Canworm seemed to have disappeared and left Maple to Gryffon. One thing led to another and ultimately separated Gryffon even more from that slight care he had, from that tiny bit of guilt he felt when he neared anyone but Diamanté.
Instead of teaching him more skill in landscaping, the trip taught Gryffon an excuse he could use to leave his stringent district. He visited the Capitol at least one other time, which gained him a lecture from Annabelle which, at some point, if he remembered correctly, hit a point similar to this: "You're not supposed to just be slacking off, Gryffon - you have a family here, you can be staying with them, maybe even learn what your brother's favorite activities are! You don't even know half his friends, or half of Andie's. I doubt you even remember who they are, am I right!?" she would say, her tone that of a mother - or maybe an army general.
Gryffon wouldn't even try to avoid the conflict. He would just straight-up say something along the lines of: "Oh, I have a brother? I wasn't aware of that . . . And Andie? Is she a sister of yours? Should I meet her?"
Those arguments never really ended well - it usually just resulted in Annabelle slamming the door shut and walking away. Although, she could never imagine the guilt he felt for ignoring Stephen so many times, for actually puzzling why there was a miniature Jay in the house sometimes. Gryffon just couldn't function with anyone who was too close anymore, he had lost the ability to actually feel affection, to want to feel any, and he had convinced his conscious mind that children were nothing but burdens he wouldn't mind seeing burning away in the Games. It really had become the only way to cope, and he was doing just fine with the method.
When the reaping came around again, Gryffon was ready to be bored out of his mind with the recaps shown of the districts before his own - but when he saw the District 8 boy volunteer to go in with a frail little redhead that fainted, Gryffon couldn't help but pin his attention on them and wonder: Why the fuck was everyone outside the Career districts volunteering for friends? It wasn't something he wanted others to make a habit of. Volunteering was sincerely the biggest mistake and regret he had ever made in his life, and Gryffon still couldn't understand why others wouldn't just try to remember that and comprehend it.
Being in there just wasn't worth it. Why couldn't anyone understand that? It infuriated him, to say the least.