A/N: Happy new year! Here's to a great 2020… there's glitter on the floor after the party… And here the interviews are pulled to a close. These have been so fun to write! I plan to have two more chapters out before the bloodbath. Next chapter will be a "night before" kind of thing, and chapter 36 will be the launch rooms, tubes, and maybe even a tiny little glance of the arena ;) I've got the next chapter written up and it should be up very quickly after this one. Stay tuned, and please review if you can :D
"Next out is Neveah Sunshine from District 9!"
The girls enter wearing a long-sleeved lime-green dress that sweeps the floor. The garment hides their features, so all that's visible are their heads and hands. You could almost believe there are two separate girls under the material, which makes everyone a little more comfortable.
"Neveah and Heaven Sunshine! It's a pleasure to see you two."
"We're super happy to see you too, Phoenix," Heaven replies.
"I've been enjoying the Capitol. It's very beautiful," Neveah adds.
"Glad you've been enjoying yourselves. You miss your family?"
"Oh, yes," Heaven says. "Mom and Dad. We miss them terribly. We miss them both so much."
The girls are just so friendly, a little too friendly, almost.
"I'm sure they miss you too," Phoenix wears a sad smile. "Either of you got anyone special back home?"
"Fernie for me, Abe for Heaven," Neveah says. "They're both very nice."
"That's gotta be awkward sometimes."
"Oh, it is. It is," Heaven says. "But we've learned to live with it and embrace it. We're closer than any humans could be, and that's something very special."
Phoenix smiles. "Got any talents the other tributes should watch out for."
Neveah purses her lips. "We have sticky fingers."
He feigns a look of revulsion. "Not literally, right?"
"I mean, we're fast and we're good at staying unnoticed. We have… disadvantages, sure, but we aren't helpless."
The buzzer rings, and the twin girls leave the stage smiling.
"Put your hands together for Gray Golas from District 9!" He shouts as the boy enters in a shining cold suit. It gives him his own flashy aura.
Gray puts on a half-smile and sits down. "How are you this evening?" Phoenix asks.
"I'm great." He says, then stays quiet for a moment. "This has been the most memorable experience of my life."
"Oh, for sure," Phoenix says. "It isn't like you've ever been to the Capitol before! What are you enjoying the most?"
"Everything," he says. "But I must say I've been looking forward to my interview. Now that I'm in front of all you fine people, I can't say I'm disappointed." He gestures toward the audience.
"How cute," Phoenix says. "There's a rumor that you've allied with a few other tributes. Anti-careers, maybe?"
"Definitely," Gray says. "Monita and Rocky and Bryndle and I. We make a great team."
"What are you good at?"
"Oh, you know I can't tell you," Gray says, laughing a little. "But we complement each other. I think we can make it through if we make an effort."
"I'm sure you can. Until then, I'll make an effort not to explode with suspense."
"You know none of us believe you. Soon enough you'll be screaming."
"Truer words have never been spoken," Phoenix says, which makes the audience laugh. "Is someone copying my style?"
"You wish."
The interview takes a more serious turn as the audience quiets down. "Gray, I know there's something you'd like to say to someone back home."
"Yeah." He swallows hard. "A boy named Tiller bullied me for several years when we were younger. He apologized to me in the goodbye room, and, at that moment, there's no way I could have forgiven him. But I've been thinking about him a lot, and all of this makes me realize life is too short to hold grudges. I'd like to be your friend if I ever make it home. I forgive you."
Gray ends his interview with a bang, and it works. The audience falls dead quiet, then roars with applause as the buzzer sounds. Gray leaves center stage with a confident smile.
"From District 10, Bryndle Greer!" Phoenix announces.
Bryndle looks lovely, entering in a dark red dress with matching lipstick and heels. She reminds me of a movie star. The way she moves is very elegant as well.
"Phoenix," the girl says, nodding as she seats herself across from the host. "How nice to see you. This chair is very comfortable."
She pauses a little while for effect. "Very comfortable. What do you say about calling off the interviews to let me stay here the rest of the night?"
Phoenix just laughs and shakes his head. "Brought your sense of humor, didn't you?"
"You bet. You want some?"
Bryndle puts a finger near her nose as if to pull something out.
"You should keep it," Phoenix says, feigning revulsion. "You'll be able to use it better than me, anyway. I've not got a funny bone in my body."
Bryndle frowns. "Who told you that? You're great."
"Why, thank you."
"Don't mention it."
"Would you mind telling us about training? How'd you rank ninth?"
The girl grins and shrugs her shoulders, happy to hold a secret. "I have my ways."
"So, Bryndle, what do you think of your competition?"
She purses her lips. "Well, I won't say there aren't any strong tributes. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make my way through. Don't count me out."
"Oh, you know I would never do that," Phoenix says. "Never in a million years."
The buzzer rings, and Bryndle exits with a spin of her red dress. Overall, her interview was a huge success. Given she wasn't particularly popular before, those three minutes just might have saved her life.
"Arien Whicker, District 10!" Phoenix exclaims.
The small boy makes his entrance in a generic black tux. The look is enhanced by the cow print boots with spurs, which add to the whole District 10 feel.
"Arien Whicker! Please have a seat! How are you?"
"Good. Thanks for asking." The boy's voice is young and sweet.
"Why don't you tell me about yourself? What do you do back in District 10?"
He thinks for a moment. "I act."
"Really? In plays?"
"Sometimes," he answers. "My school does one theater production every year. Sometimes it's fun to round up a few friends and act out something after school."
"Well, we have some great playwrights here in the Capitol," Phoenix says. "If you become a victor, you'll be mighty pleased with everything at your disposal, I'm sure. Got any other talents?"
Arien pauses and leans in for dramatic effect. "Can you keep a secret?"
Phoenix nods briskly, then glances at the cameras and back. "Just between me and you. No one has to know."
"I can touch my tongue to my eye."
Phoenix leans back, completely shocked. "Don't leave us hanging, boy."
Arien reaches into his mouth, grabs his tongue with two fingers, and pulls it up to touch his eye. The audience cries out in either disgust or laughter as he lets go, letting it slide back into his mouth.
"May I ask how you discovered this talent?" Phoenix asks.
He shrugs. "Bored."
The buzzer rings, and Arien leaves with the cheers of the crowd behind him.
"From District 11, Fawn Weed!" Phoenix announces.
The girl enters wearing a fuchsia dress and matching heels. Her hair is extravagantly curled.
"Thanks for joining us, love," Phoenix says as the girl takes a seat. "I love you outfit."
Fawn tilts her head and smiles. "It's lovely, isn't it? My stylist and prep team are incredibly gifted in what they do. I should ask for a round of applause for their expertise."
The audience complies.
"Fawn. I have to ask, how are you feeling?"
"Well," she says. "As well as you can be when you'll be thrown into the snake pit tomorrow."
"Been thinking about it a lot?"
She shrugs. "I have endeavored not to. But I've found strategizing to be beneficial at times."
The girl is rather regal and picturesque, with her speech incredibly clear. If one thing is for sure, she's putting on a good image.
"How have you been holding up?" Phoenix asks. "I know that's a lot of pressure to put on a young fawn's shoulders."
"I'm not young," Fawn snaps. "Admittedly, I'm at the lower end of the age spectrum. But I'm fierce and I know I can make it out of this thing alive." She sounds sincere.
"You don't have the mannerisms of a fawn," Phoenix says.
She shakes her head. "No. I don't. A fawn runs and cowers next to its mother at the first sign of adversity. I might want to come up with a nickname, but Fawn is about as short a name as you can get."
"Good luck with that. I can't wait to hear what name you'll pick. What do you do in your spare time?"
"I do a lot of things."
"Pick one."
"I like to hang out with friends."
"Tell us about your best friend."
"Her name is Daisy," Fawn says. "She's very sweet. We complete each other, you might say." Which makes a good part of the audience laugh.
On that note, the buzzer rings. Fawn looks rather confident as she makes her exit.
"Edamame Stanton, District 11!"
The boy from 11 enters wearing a brown suit. As he walks, the suit begins to change from the brown of soil to the bright green of plant life. Somehow the lights on stage manage to shift the colors as he travels.
"Welcome to the stage, Edamame!" Phoenix shouts as he takes a seat.
"Please call me Ed."
"I have to ask, Ed, who are those friends you found in the training center?"
"Newt and Gwyneth from District 5."
Phoenix persists. "And what have you three been up to?"
"Nothing." He refuses to open up about his strategy, which is smart.
"Really? It didn't look like nothing. Usually tributes don't spend three days doing nothing."
The audience chuckles. Edamame goes with the generic answer, "A little bit of everything."
Phoenix smiles. "And a little bit of everything is always a good thing. You have family back home?"
The boy nods.
"Is there anything you'd like to say to them? They're probably watching."
"I miss you and I love you."
Phoenix blinks hard, shocked. "I can't believe I've taken this long to ask you about your outfit. How does it work?"
"Well, nobody explained the physics to me completely," Edamame admits, "but it's something to do with lots of little pieces that shine in different places when the angle of the light changes."
"Sounds complicated."
"A little. But it looks nice, doesn't it?"
"For sure."
The buzzer rings, and that's that. The entire interview was rather plain. Other than his costume, pretty forgettable. One more district left to go.
"Heather Lotus, District 12!"
Heather enters wearing a sparkly silver dress. Little pieces of something shiny cover the dress like falling stars. Black fabric hugs her torso, with something silver woven into her hair.
"Heather Lotus! Your dress is amazing!"
"Thanks," the girl replies. Then she looks over the audience. She makes eye contact with just about every person in the first few rows, her gaze like daggers.
"Tell us about home, sweetie. What was your favorite part of District 12?"
"Friends."
"Where did you hang out with them?"
"School."
She refuses to peel her eyes away from the audience. She is one cold girl. Her expression blank of everything but the anger in her eyes, she continues to sweep her gaze over the crowd, a hate so strong carried with it.
Phoenix tries his best, but he can't coax any good answers out of the stubborn the girl. The buzzer rings, and the girl is gone. No handshake, no words of parting. Heather Lotus has my curiosity piqued, that's for sure.
"Last, but certainly not least, Turner Willard from District 12!"
The boy from District 12 jogs onto stage. I quickly realize why he's running. The friction of his arms running against the suit causes orange sparks to shoot from the fabric. The sparks land on the floor and go out immediately. Still, a peacekeeper with a fire extinguisher has his head poked around the corner, ready for anything.
"Please have a seat," Phoenix says. "How does it feel to finish off the interviews?"
"Definitely stressful," he admits. "But I've had the most time to think about what I want to say. I feel prepared."
"Something else you've been preparing for?"
"Oh, the games?" The boy suddenly lights up. "I've been preparing for those my entire life, even if I never thought I'd enter them."
Phoenix squints. "Could you explain?"
"I watch them over and over again. The library has almost all the deluxe editions, only the super expensive ones—50 and 100—missing. I know what it takes to win. I know what you have to do, I know how you have to act. I know what's worked in the past."
"With all due respect, Turner, you're pretty young. How do you find it to keep your head up?"
"Yes, I'm young," Turner admits. "That's what Poplin and Pixel thought. Well, Surge might have been thinking it too. But I doubt it."
The audience chuckles. "Anyway," he continues. "My chance of winning will always be there. It has to be there. It's history, it's math. 100-1 odds is all I need to win."
"I wish I could be this optimistic," Phoenix remarks.
"Thank you."
"Tell us about your costume. How does it work?"
Turner laughs. "Well, I could sit here all day explaining it. Because I'm just so smart," he says, his voice ringing with sarcasm. "To be honest, I'm not completely sure. I think it works kind of like a match against a matchbox. There's something added to keep anything from actually catching fire."
"And we definitely would not want anything catching fire."
At that, the final buzzer rings, and Turner makes his exit, letting sparks fly in all directions.
The audience explodes into applause as Phoenix stretches to full height, spreading his arms. "Thank you all for being here tonight! I hope you enjoyed each of these memorable moments with Jade, Midas, Kennedy, Gaius, Monita, Bernie, Vista, Dock, Gwyneth, Newton, Suzuki, Rocky, Trixana, James, Blu, Gary, Neveah and Heaven, Gray, Bryndle, Arien, Fawn, Edamame, Heather, and Turner! I certainly did. Tune in to Capitol TV at 6:00 tomorrow morning. First, we'll all watch live footage of the bloodbath as it plays out. After that, I'll break things down a quarter frame at the time so nobody misses anything. Who's excited?"
The crowd roars even louder.
"That's what I like to hear! Have a great night, Panem."