(A/N: Welcome back, guys, to the prelude to the prelude to Level 4! That's no typo. ;3
This chapter is filler filler, essentially. It's something I've wanted to do a little bit later, but saw a good opportunity to give you guys earlier!
Here's something for you guys to answer: What would you ask each of the families of the remaining six tributes?
Six questions. If they're good enough, they might be answered next chapter. :D Now onto the filler filler!)
~Terra's POV~
Two weeks earlier...
I stare blankly at the door for a few moments, resisting the urge to cover my ears in a futile attempt to drown out the loud silence. I don't want to do this... But reliving him for a few moments is better than enduring this stupid empty sound indefinitely. I grit my teeth and curse my weakness. Angrily, I throw the white door open and peer through the darkness...
Wearing a mask of stone, I stroll inside, ignoring the silly fears I seem to have of my own house and heading toward the large and ornate piano that cries out for attention with its brown glossy coating that reflects the moon's light. I almost roll my eyes at how gaudy it is, but I sit down at it anyway.
Slowly, I bring my fingers to hover over the right keys. I pause... I know exactly what's going to happen if I do this. That's why I need to do it in the dead of night, when Pyra's asleep and I'm not expecting anyone. I look around one more time, trying to hear through the dead noise for anything... Nothing.
Sighing through my nose, I frown and bring three fingers down for the first obnoxious note.
"Haah..."
There it is. I purse my lips and let the piano's hum chase away the dead noise, but at the same time, the memories flow all too clearly through the dark expanse of my conscious mind... The sound of a moan, whose I can't tell. Likely his, since the scent and feeling of the ghost of his warm lemony breath accompanies the sound.
I hold the note and listen to it die. The dead noise quickly returns, and I almost growl. Shutting my eyes, I play the next key, and it triggers another snippet of vividness: a sharp tug on my long brown hair, even though my hair isn't long anymore. I can't stop playing now. My fingers, known for being rough and oft times balled into fists, dance across the keys and weave a melancholy tune into the air.
The little snippets in my mind run rapidly and consistently, and I'm forced to witness my memory all too clearly. His lips hot and wild against mine, his rough hands ripping my clothes impatiently... I'm lost in the overwhelming presence of his body all over mine, of his crude jokes making me laugh, of the playful spanks, the tickles, the nights spent away from home, in his arms... The tingling in my core is almost real...
Then the bad memories. Of screaming at the top of our lungs at each other, of glass breaking, of that empty space between us on the couch when we didn't talk to each other, of my brothers begging me to get away from him, of all the times he called me a bitch and made me cry, of all the times he called my sister a bitch and made me mad, of the times he was too rough in the bed, of the couple of times he dragged me across the floor, of the threats, of that one time he cheated, of that one time I cheated, of that one time I hit him, of that one time he hit me back...
But I loved him. So much. Through all our shit and baggage, I loved him. And he loved me. And before I know it, that day is playing out right before my eyes like a bad film...
17 years ago...
I just told him. Now I'm waiting for him to fucking talk to me... Crossing my arms over my chest and one leg over the other, I glare at the back of his head and his temples, watching his shirtless form pace around with a look of stunned anger and flabbergastery. I try to focus on him and not the 'dirty-boy music', as he calls it, blaring from the stereo that we had been banging to the beat of a couple of minutes ago, and I almost feel like I should get off the couch and turn the light on and the music off. Maybe that'll get a response. But no. I'm going to wait until he's man enough to speak and act for himself.
"What the fuck, Terra?" is the first thing he growls.
I sneer at him. "Is that all you have to say to me, Glaive?"
"Of course it's not all I have to say! Do you not understand how pissed I am?"
"Well, judging from how far away you are from this..." I gesture lazily to my naked body laying across his couch, "I'm guessing you're pretty mad. So instead of pacing around like a housewife, maybe we should talk about it, yeah?"
Glaive's steely eyes glower at me, and it almost scares me. "You do not want me to come over there, Terra."
"Your threats can't scare me anymore," I snort defiantly.
Calling his bluff is never a good idea. He either follows through or backs down, and both options make him angry. Do I lack common sense? Likely, but I'm too annoyed to be sensible right now. Unfortunately, he follows through this time and storms over toward me, steely eyes now molten. He reaches out his hands, and I gasp, thinking he's going to drop to a new low and start choking me. To some relief, he only grabs my shoulders roughly and pins me down to the couch, to which I growl and kick and squirm in defiance.
"How long?" he growls, shaking me a little.
"Since Pyra won four years ago!" I answer immediately, less aggressive and more frantic and desperate to get him to let go.
"And when were you going to tell me?"
"The day before this year's Reaping, after we had sex, so there was no way you could stop me, and you'd be in a pretty good mood. ...Looks like I'm right on schedule."
He lets go of me and stands straight up again. "Terra, how the hell did you think I was going to feel about this?"
I stand up as well, in a feeble attempt to seem imposing when I'm shorter than him by inches, ass-naked and weak in the legs. "I thought you were going to be supportive, like a good boyfriend! I knew you'd be a bit upset, but I thought you'd have one positive thing to say to me! One word of encouragement! Is that so hard?!"
Glaive surprises me by pushing me back down to the couch and uttering these words: "It is when I plan on volunteering, too!"
My blood runs cold and my jaw drops. For a moment, I'm horrified that I didn't think about this sooner. Glaive has been talking about volunteering, but he didn't last year, and this year, he's eighteen. But I've set my heart on volunteering when I was sixteen, like Nimbus and Aquos did. Am I too selfish to wait another year? Do I want to risk him dying? He's not going to volunteer if I do. He loves me more than he loves the idea of winning the Hunger Games... Right?
"Glaive..."
"You're not going to volunteer, Terra. You're going to sit your ass down somewhere and let me go and win the Games so I can come back to you."
He pokes me above the chest like I'm a child as he speaks, then he tosses my clothes over to me and goes upstairs without another word. The tears of rage well up in my angry brown eyes. I was probably going to let it go before he said that. He should have damn well known better.
I'm Terra Johansenn. No one tells me what to do. Looks like I'm going to have to call his bluff again.
The next morning, my mind is nowhere but the Reapings. I ignore all questions on why my clothes were tattered or whether or not I was with Glaive. Things move in fast-forward in my mind right up until the moment the girl Tribute's name is called. Then I do it.
"ME! I volunteer!" I scream, knocking other sixteen-year-olds aside to burst out onto the walk toward the stage. I manage to get there first, and the crowd cheers as they realize who I am.
"My name is Terra Johansenn, and I'm gonna be the Victor of the 157th Annual Hunger Games!" I grin wildly, already feeling good about my chances, and even better when Pyra and Nimbus, the District Two mentors, come up to hug me. As a show for the cameras, I tear my sleeves and flex to show off my arm tattoos, the words 'BIG' on the right bicep and 'BOOM' on the left, done in ornate lettering. I feel like I'm on top of the world!
All that good energy bursts into shards when the male tribute is called, and the male volunteer makes his way up to the stage. I want to cry. So badly. But I don't. I stand my ground and look right up into Glaive Molotov's eyes as he stomps up to me.
"You couldn't do it," he growls down to me. "You couldn't stop being a selfish bitch for one more year."
Nimbus steps up, setting a firm palm on Glaive's chest and pushing him back. Now it's my brother and my boyfriend in each other's faces. "I'll kill you myself if you ever talk that way to my sister again."
Nimbus's voice is not one I would call threatening or imposing, but he's serious, I know it. I watched his Games, and so has Glaive, so he smartly backs down and turns his back on me. Pyra pulls me back by the shoulders and hugs me as she leads me into the Justice Building.
...
He doesn't talk to me again until after the chariot rides. After dinner that evening, I left to my room without a real word to anyone. I was getting undressed for bed, but instead of reaching for pajamas, I just stare at myself naked in the mirror for a long moment. And as I look into Terra Johansenn's eyes, I see a greater weakness and frailty than I've ever sensed in her before. I look intimidating and strong in my body. I look like a warrior, like a Victor... Like a Johansenn. But where it matters, in my eyes, all I see is distress and frustration with my life. I thought I was in a good relationship, no matter what my family told me. I thought Glaive and I would be happy together forever, but now...
My head turns toward the sound of the door opening, and I'm frozen like a stone statue to see him standing there, looking at me. I don't want to talk, but he's waiting for me to say something first. We play this game all the time, and I always win. After six beats, I turn away from him to go through the pajama drawer, and the door closes again.
"Terra, I-"
"I don't want to hear your-"
"-came to tell you-"
"-fake apology, Glaive, I'm-"
"-that I'll still be-"
"-through with you."
"-your ally."
Both of us talk at the same time, unwilling to yield to the other. Typically, this results in raised voices, but we're both too weary for that shit. We still comprehend each other, and are left in silence as we let what the other said sink in.
"What made you think I was coming to apologize? I don't do that."
I rub my arms, trying not to be angry or hurt. "I would have thought my brother threatened you to."
He makes a derisive noise in his throat. "He won't threaten me; he's my mentor. He may choose not to be a good one, but he can't really hurt me unless he wants the Capitol to hurt him back."
I cross my arms over my chest and frown, quickly growing irritated. "If you're not sorry, then why are you here, Glaive?"
"To let you know that whether you like me as a person anymore or not, we're both going to be in the Career Pack, and we're going to work together. I don't care what you do for me, but I'm going to help you."
"Why? Why?!" I growl, frustrated at this cryptic attitude of his. "Why do you push my buttons and call me names and act like a straight-up bully to me, then turn your back on me for a whole day, and now come back and try to be noble? What kind of person does that, Glaive?! Do you realize how much fucking stress you put me through?!"
Uncaring of decency, I drop my arms and stomp toward him, intent on pushing him. He grabs my wrists firmly before I can, and I struggle to get free, swearing and kicking.
"Don't act like I'm the only one at fault here, Terra. You try to play these stupid-ass games with my mind, then when I get angry about it, you get angry back. I don't push any button of yours that you didn't push for me first."
He shoves me away, almost causing me to stagger, but I stay standing and meet him in a glare-off.
"You make it so difficult to love you that I don't know what to do," he says.
"I don't... mean to." I pause myself. Am I... conceding an argument? Am I that tired of this?
Glaive looks surprised as well. His voice becomes less critical. "Why do you play these games and screw with me, Terra?"
"Because..." I start, not sure how to proceed. I almost crack. He almost gets me. "Because you always ask dumb questions like that and say stupid things to me! We'd both be happy if you just shut your mouth occassionally, Glaive!"
He shakes his head and leaves without another word. I slam my fist into the door frustratedly after he closes in, and subsequently stay awake the the rest of the night cradling my wounded hand and trying not to throw up.
...
...
We only speak on occasion afterward, and spend most of our time being awkward next to each other in training. The other Tributes, especially our partners in District One, immediately pick up on the tension between me and Glaive. The chatty D1 girl, Mercedes, takes every opportunity she can to tease us about it. One thing we can both agree on is that all this attention pisses us off.
On interview night, I try to balance remembering what Pyra told me about interviews with worrying about Glaive's steel gaze on the back of my head. What's he thinking? I'm certain by now he doesn't buy the harsh front I put up at the end of our conversation that night. I run his question through my head a couple times... Why do I give him so much grief? It... is sort of my fault...
A light push snaps me from my thoughts. I glare back at Glaive, but he lifts his brows and points ahead.
"Terra Johansenn?" calls Copper Keel's voice on stage again. I realize with a start that I'm supposed to be entering and rush onto the stage. The bright lights and booming cheers initially blind and deafen me, but after a moment, I do what Pyra instructed for me to do, and ham it up for the crowd. Bowing and strutting along the stage, cheering back at them, even starting a rousing chant of 'Johansenn' that lasts several moments. My outfit, a rough-and-tumble getup of earthy camo and combat boots, skimpy enough to get the male sponsors' attention, fierce enough to give them that classic D2 spice that the rest of the sponsors adore. The lack of sleeves easily expose my trademark tattoos to the crowd. Copper speaks only when the audience finally quiets. His voice is as strong and animated as his mentor's, Caesar Flickerman.
"Quite an entrance, Ms. Terra Johansenn! I'd expect nothing less from the fourth in a line of victors the likes of which are unheard of! Some are saying that Johansenn is one of the most powerful names in Panem today! How does it feel being the last in this epic chain? You are the youngest Johansenn, correct?"
"That's right, Copper!" I smirk widely. "My brothers and sister all won the Games before me, and I'm gonna make history this year, for sure!"
"Such confidence!" Copper laughs over the cheering crowd. "With the Johansenn name and an '11' in private training, do you think the other tributes fear you?"
"I know one thing: they'd better."
"Tell us a bit about your home life, Terra, starting with that impressive ink on your arms."
"Oh, these?" I chuckle, flexing again, to the delight of the crowd. "I made the decision to get these after Pyra won. I knew I'd be in the Games to win the Games, so I thought I'd do something that I knew would make an impression. My parents may not like them, but I'm glad you guys do!"
I grin and drink in the audience's love. I know as well as everyone else that I'm a fan favorite to win. I've heard aside from other tributes discussing strategy in training that if I survive the bloodbath, it might as well be over already. Ha.
"Now, Terra, you know I have to ask... In your Reaping, on the screen behind us, we can clearly see some sort of tension between you, your brother, and the male tribute who I'll be speaking to momentarily. Terra, who is Glaive Molotov to you?"
"He's..." I stumble. All in an instant, my momentum screeches to a halt. All because of Glaive again. Fuck, fuck, FUCK. "He's my boyfriend."
The audience all begins to gasp and murmur at once, including Copper, who exaggerates and pretends to swoon. "My word! You know that only one of you can leave the Games alive, yes?"
"Of course I know that."
Ugh... Now that my buzz has been killed, I'm starting to sound stale.
"Was it... a bad relationship between you two that led to all this hurt and tension and anger I now see in your eyes?" Copper asks, flexing his perception muscles.
I take a moment before answering. "No one understands. Glaive and I had something special. No one at home liked that we were together except maybe Pyra. We had some big downs and big ups, but more than that, we had each other. And after these Games..."
I pause, and my heart sinks slowly into my gut as the full weight of the shit I'm in collapses on top of me at once. After a few days, whether I win or lose, I'm never going to see Glaive again. We're never going to have an up or a down again. I'm never going to find anyone like him again...
I thanks the heavens that the buzzer saves me. If I had been on that stage a few more moments, I'd have cracked, and all that I've built myself up to be would have been washed down the drain. I give Copper a hug and wave to the crowd again as I leave the stage, brushing shoulders with Glaive. A spark jumps between us from the fabric of his outfit, and it stings my arm. Wincing slightly at the prick, I turn and watch as his name is announced, and he's called onto the stage.
"Glaive Molotov, everyone! Wonderful to have you here tonight, young man!"
"Good to be here, Copper," Glaive replies coolly, and from here I can hear ladies in the front row swooning at the sound of his deep and likeable voice. He can sound like a big ol' teddy bear when he wants to...
"Now, I've heard it all before; you're pumped for the Games, you're ready to win. Amazing 10 in private training. Tell me more about you and Terra, hm? I think that's what we're all interested in, right people?"
The audience cheers madly, eager to bore into our personal lives at our expense. Glaive nods once and crosses his arms.
"Not much to say. I love her."
The audience gives a playful round of heckling at the flat answer, and even Copper chuckles and pats him on the shoulder. I don't move. I just watch and listen, my face stiff and my eyes glassy.
"Come now, my boy!" Copper says. "Surely, there's more there! Who is Terra to you?"
Glaive pauses. He turns his head slightly and gives me a sidelong glance. I'm still as a statue.
"From the moment we met, I knew that being in love with her wouldn't be easy. There were lots of times when I wanted to quit, and I did once, but that was a long time ago. We argue and fight almost every day, but at the end of the day, I love her, and I know she loves me, because she shows me by getting on my nerves. And I show her I love her by always being there. No matter what. Terra's almost everything to me."
There's a soreness in my chest that blooms as I listen to him, followed by an overpowering sense of weariness. I lean against the wall, ready to just crumble, but I refuse to. Not in front of ten other Districts.
"But you saw that she volunteered, Glaive. You knew that you'd never see each other again if you volunteered as well. If you hadn't, there'd at least be a chance-"
"Copper, I was angry that Terra didn't listen to me at the Reapings, and I let her know I was angry. But I didn't volunteer anyway because I wanted to kill her. I volunteered because even if she doesn't know it, I know that she can't do this without me."
The audience gasps collectively and begins to murmur in surprise at this sudden revelation. Some of the other tributes give me strange looks, probably at the strange look I have on myself. More things have dawned on me in the last five minutes than the number of dawns I've woken up to, and it's like the ground is coming out from under my feet.
I try not to breathe heavily as I start to walk away, almost stopping to swear at the murmurings of the lower Districts. I can't think about this anymore. I just... I need sleep.
On my way to the elevator, I pass Mercedes, who gasps and tries to start it up with me.
"Terra, boo-boo!" she chirps, clattering toward me on giant unsteady high heels that she has to shuffle in if she has any chance of functioning. "I was watching the live interviews, girl! You were looking sexy, and you still are! Those tattoos are really really fierce! You know, when I first saw you, I thought you were a lesbian because even though you have long hair, you're really butchy and stuff, and I was afraid you might come on to me and I'd have to laugh and politely inform you that I don't play for that team, but then I found out you were with that Glaive cutie, and I was so happy!"
I've ignored and stormed past her, but she's insistent on following and annoying the living fuck out of me with her stupid voice and her stupider heels. We make it to the lobby before I can't take it anymore.
"Speaking of Glaive, I was watching his interview, too, and I was surprised at the super-twist! He volunteered to protect you; isn't that sweet? I thought all District Two tributes were trained to focus solely on winning and being selfish as their number one and two strategies for the Games, but he's willing to die for you! Isn't that romantic, Te-"
Before we reach the elevator, I turn and deck her on the nose before pushing her down to the floor. She comes out of her heels and her necklace breaks and sends several red beads rolling all over the floor. The dumbfounded look on her face is amazing. I can almost see her concussed pea-brain swell to the size and consistency of a cotton ball as she looks at me with a shifting light in her eyes, like I'm a stranger in a strange place.
"Say something else," I warn in a low and dark voice that I didn't even know I had. She wisely scoots away from me on her ass, fear and pain on her face and blood dribbling down her nostril. Probably the ugliest I've ever seen someone from District 1.
"That's what I thought, bitch," is the last thing I say to her as I step through the elevator doors alone.
...
...
The door is closed, the lights are out, and my interview clothes are thrown carelessly on the floor. The only one who can hear me crying is me. Several times already, my sobbing has been so wracking that I seize under the sheets and groan with the agony that I've loaded onto my own shoulders. I want to scream, but that would draw too much attention. So I'm slowly and personally getting this out of my system. I'm probably not going to get any sleep tonight. I don't deserve it.
When the door opens, I choke myself back and say as harshly as I can manage, "Get the fuck out."
The door closes, and I assume that's what the person who was there did. I go back to my sobbing and wracking and crying, hoping to get all of it out in time to become the cold and murderous shell I need to be tomorrow. For a few minutes, nothing happens, and I lock myself back into my prison of sorry and seizure. Everything stops again when I feel the bed sag and hear the groan of more weight upon it. Whoever was in here never left.
I almost either shatter or explode. Luckily, he identifies himself before I do either.
"Shh..." His warm breath tickles my ear, and an emotionally-agonized moan escapes me in response. I can feel his hands in my hair, and almost laugh at his attempts at being gentle. A year and a half of using my hair as reins has numbed him to the concept of gentle.
This would be the point where I'd call him a pussy and goad him into anger so he'll be rougher, but gentleness is what I need right now, and while he's not very good at it, it's the thought that counts. He's un-Glaive-ly patient with my sobbing and crying, and it's almost a full ten minutes before he moves again. My thoughts drift off down the subconscious stream as he climbs into my bed beside me, covers us with the thin, breathable sheets, and just lays with me.
My body melds into the familiar curve of his, and as he shares his warmth with me, my sobs eventually quiet. There's just his warm breath on the back of my neck.
"Glaive..." I murmur. He shushes me again, just the same as he did the first time, and begins to kiss along the back of my neck. In ten minutes, Glaive has done for me what I would've taken all night to do for myself.
His lips get more eager, and before long, he's turning me, forcing me to look into his eyes. Steely grey. Cold and assertive. Protective. My heart beats and I lose what control I've had. Our lips clash eagerly and nearly violently under the sheets. Our breath mingles into a hot and stuffy cloud around our heads.I drape a bare leg over his body, he takes a firm hold of my hips. I close my eyes and go silent, letting what happens next happen. Because I need it. I need him.
...
...
Sixteen dead. I rip my dagger out of the Thirteen girl's back and wipe it clean in her hair before turning to the other Careers. The pep has left Mercedes' eyes, but she still doesn't look nearly as dark as Glaive or Ashton. Without a word, we all begin to walk back toward the main path, with Ashton from One holding the lantern we stole off Four's corpse a while back. Lucky we have this; there's no moon at night.
"...Hey. Let's all tell ghost stories to take the edge off, yeah?" Mercedes chirps, ever eager to liven the Career Pack up. It's a wonder she was able to kill two people in the bloodbath.
"In a second, Mercy. After the death announcements," Glaive says. On cue, the sky briefly lights up with neon-like mesh, and over the center of the arena and the solemn tune of Panem's anthem, the faces, names, and Districts of today's slain tributes begin to post themselves on the sky.
While Ashton and Mercedes are looking up at the sky, Glaive puts his lantern down and casually swipes Ashton into an iron chokehold. The handsome redhead is so taken aback that he doesn't think to even try to bend forward and break it. His hands rise to Glaive's choking arm, and he wheezes for breath.
In the exact same moment, I turn and slice at Mercedes' wrist. Obeying her instincts, she yelps and drops her knife, grabbing the slit wrist with her other hand. The next stab goes to her side. At this point, Mercedes falls to her knees, and I kick the knife away, taking a hold of her hair as she coughs up blood.
Glaive turns Ashton toward us, and makes him watch as I drag my blade slowly across Mercedes' throat. Ashton's eyes widen in horror at the unspeakable agony in his District partner's eyes as the cut is made. Then the kill move. I pull on Mercedes' hair roughly and wrench her head back. The wound sudden gapes horribly, and her final haunting breath whistles lowly from her neck. Mercedes' eyes dim.
After her body is allowed to slump to the grass, Glaive cleanly snaps Ashton's neck and drops him to the ground, too. Barely a sound was made in the whole affair, and soon after, two more cannons sound in succession.
Eighteen dead. I go to pick up Mercedes' knife, then watch as the airships come to pick their bodies up. Glaive puts an arm around my shoulder, and I lean into him.
...
...
Twenty-two dead.
I stare darkly at the boy from Seven's corpse as the blood pools underneath him. Not panting is a challenge, as my mind and body have grown too weary of all this death and killing. I turn my head and stare at the last person alive in the arena besides me.
"Glaive..."
He looks at me oddly, then grins. Moving over to the Seven boy's body, he picks up the sword that he was using.
"We had fun, didn't we?" he says thoughtfully
"Glaive, don't..." I wheeze, walking toward him. He outstretches a hand for me to keep back.
"I wish you'd listened to me, Terra. But there's nothing I can do now. I can't kill you, and you can't kill me." His words aren't angry at all. They're full of acceptance.
"We'll kill ourselves together," I recommend immediately. He shakes his head.
"What'd I tell you about being selfish, Terra?"
Right there in front of me, my boyfriend stabs himself straight through with the sword, and with a sickened look of pain on his face, he falls to the ground, purposefully jamming the blade even deeper through his body so that it can't be safely removed, and he can't be saved.
"Glaive! GLAIVE, NO!" I scream, running up to him and dropping to my knees. Knowing it'd be in vain to remove the sword, I just cry wretchedly next to his dying body. "Why?!" I scream.
With the last of his strength, he undoes the dogtags around his neck, the ones that belonged to his grandfather, a soldier who lost his life in the Second rebellion, and the token he brought into the arena. He sets them weakly in my hand. "You have... whole family... w-who loves you... I had you. I love you, Terra. I lo-..."
Twenty-four dead.
...
...
Present day...
Seventeen years later, I've come back to life, a bit. He's with me, I can feel it...I fiddle with the silver shimmering tags in my fingers as the elevator descends quickly from the District Two level to the lobby. Aquos, Nimbus, and I step out, and Pyra and Alto stay in the elevator.
"Stand by, you guys. Wait till it goes down to move, then wait till it comes back up and jump in immediately. Stay low, and stay close," Pyra instructs. All three of us nod, and the doors slowly close. At the last moment, Pyra sticks her fingers between the doors and forces them to open again.
"I didn't know you could play the piano that well, Terra. You sound good. I'm sure he'd be happy for you."
She grins at my look of shock and lets the door the doors close fully. Nimbus and Aquos give me strange glances as I shake off the stunnedness and glare at them.
"It's none of your business," I huff before turning and walking toward one of the lobby exits. In the emptiness of the hallway I start down, I let a small tear fall before wiping it away. A little tribute, and a reminder to never make a mistake like that again. What I'm going to do, I'm going to do right. For Glaive.
I'm Terra Johansenn, one of the strongest women in Panem. And I won't fail twice.
(A/N: Merry Christmas, you guys! Sorry this is almost three weeks late. I did start working on this before Thanksgiving, but so much stuff to deal with!
Send in your questions! Next chapter is the tribute relative interviews, and then our Final Six will clash in Level Four! Behind the scenes, District Two has started mobilizing. But for what? You'll find out... ;3)
