Silva Mortis: The 80th Hunger Games
Prologue
Lothario Carmichael, 50
Head Gamemaker
Lothario tapped his fingers against his knee in frustration. The chilly air conditioning whirred noisily, making Lothario's scowl more pronounced. For Snow's sake, just how busy was she?
No, not for Snow's sake. No more Snow. That was one of President Thorne's new rules. Snow was a figure of the past. Her campaign was about bringing a new sunrise to Panem. A new dawn.
He scoffed in anger. She was just a foolish young girl who knew nothing of politics. He would have been a much better presidential candidate than she was, but something about 'being the first female president of Panem' had given her a leg up on the competition.
Call him old-fashioned, but Lothario believed women belonged at home, or maybe escorting tributes, doing their nails and hair and being available when their husbands needed them. Especially when their husbands needed them, for relief or anything else. At least his wife understood it, because Lothario could definitely use some relief right now.
"Mr. Carmichael, she'll see you now," the President's secretary said. She was a petite woman with rubies embedded above her eyebrows.
"Thanks sugar," he cooed, winking as he passed by. She wrinkled her nose.
The inside of Thorne's office was tasteful and modern, but dark. Most of the lights were off and Lothario stumbled a few times on his way to a high-backed chair. President Thorne was hunched over her desk, scribbling furiously on a tech pad.
"Welcome Lothario," she said coldly, setting her pad down and raising her head. Her one good eye narrowed and she folded her arms. Like he often did, he wished he could see what was behind her eyepatch.
President Aelia Thorne was an enigma of a woman. She was dark and light, happy and sad, cruel and kind. Lothario couldn't read her, and it frustrated the hell out of him.
"Why do you have the lights off," Lothario snapped, dropping his folders onto the glass desk. A smile curled at the corner of Aelia's lips.
"I don't need lights to see," she said calmly. "Now, how can I help you?"
Lothario flipped the folder open and withdrew a sheet of paper.
"The arena designs ma'am. I want your approval." He ground his teeth as he spoke. He shouldn't require approval from such ditz. Aelia's green eye flashed, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. A shiver ran down his spine.
But Lothario was sure Thorne would like this arena. It was natural, nuanced. The tributes would fight for every last breath. Nothing would be easy. They'd claw survival from the cold, dead hands of their companions.
President Thorne took the paper and looked it over. But to his surprise, a frown spread across her angular features.
"Isn't this a bit… harsh?" she questioned, worrying her lip between her teeth. Lothario clenched his fists.
"With all due respect ma'am, this is a punishment for the Districts. They've rebelled and now they must pay. That's always been the way the Hunger Games work."
"But should they work that way?" Thorne pressed. Her black eyebrows were narrowed into a thin line.
"Yes!" Lothario cried, outraged. His hands shook with fury as he stood up, shoving his files away. "Those District pigs don't deserve even a smidgen of our pity. We treat them like the filth they are because they have not earned our respect."
Thorne's voice was cold as she spoke.
"Get out. I no longer wish to speak to you. Your continuation in this position will be discussed another day."
"Fine!" Lothario spat. He turned and stormed out, slamming the doors loudly behind him. The old glass windows rattled in their panes and Thorne's secretary cursed as she spilled her coffee all over herself.
As he took the elevator downstairs, his breathing slowed to a calmer pace and the throbbing in his head faded a bit.
After his driver dropped him at home, Lothario stormed into the apartment and shut the door loudly. An Avox who was passing by gasped and rushed out of the room. Lothario glared after her.
"Hello honey, how was your meeting?" his wife Fidelia asked, leaning up to kiss his cheek. He pushed her away.
"Horrible," he growled. "That prissy child should never have been allowed to rule Panem. She knows nothing about the follies of the Districts."
"I'm glad to hear you say that," a quiet voice said. Lothario whirled around and gasped.
A beautiful woman with snow-pale skin and plump lips was standing in his living room, a black fur coat draped over her shoulders. She spread her arms, revealing the red silk inside her coat as she embraced Lothario and pressed a kiss to each of his cheeks.
"Drusilla," he breathed, catching her hand and kissing the back of it. "How can I assist you?"
Drusilla Snow's blood-red lips curled into a soft smile.
"You can help me with quite a few things," she said, sitting down and crossing her legs at the knee. "But in particular, I want your assistance with a rather difficult task. I want to take Aelia Thorne down."
Lothario swallowed, sitting down carefully on the edge of his seat.
"Of course. What can I do?"
"Nothing yet," she said slowly. "But soon, very soon, an attempt will be made on her life. It will not succeed. A bodyguard will be hired. And one of those bodyguards will serve you tea and coffee at an upcoming meeting. You, Lothario, will serve Aelia her tea. She will not leave that meeting alive."
"O-of course Drusilla," Lothario stammered. "But won't I be suspected?" Drusilla's eyes flicked to Fidelia, who was watching with wide eyes.
"Don't worry about her," Lothario added. "She won't cause us any trouble."
"Good. Now, as I was saying, you will not be suspected in this crime. After all, Aelia would have died of a heart attack, not from poison."
She took a small glass cylinder of white powder out of her coat and handed it to Lothario.
"This causes heart palpitations. Extreme ones. Strong enough to kill frail women like Aelia. Trust me, this plan is foolproof. I've spent years planning this. Ever since my grandfather passed away." She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, but Lothario could tell she was faking it.
"He was a good man," Lothario said comfortingly, keeping up with the show. Drusilla smiled.
"The best." She kissed Lothario's cheek again and swept to her feet, exiting the apartment with a wave of her hand. "However, he was not a woman. And that's where he fell short."
Author's Note
Hello everyone!
I know I'm starting this SYOT quite soon after discontinuing Caedes, but I've had this prologue written for a few weeks and finished the touch-ups a few days ago. So I guess it's ready to post? The form and all reserved/taken tribute spots will be on my profile. Please let me know what you think in a review!
I do have a few SYOT rules:
1) Please be detailed with your form. This SYOT is first-come, first-serve, but tributes who clearly had no effort put in to them will not be accepted. And if your tribute is unreasonable or a Mary Sue/Gary Stu, they probably won't get accepted.
2) PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE title your tribute forms in this manner: Name - District Number Gender (Katniss Example: Katniss Everdeen - District 12 Female). It's SO infuriating for me to try and find an inadequately titled PM.
3) No re-submitted tributes. If the story was cancelled, that's fine, but don't send me a tribute that's already being written or has already been written.
4) Leave a review every once in a while. They don't have to be long, but please let me know you're reading. It really makes me want to keep writing your tributes.
5) There is a maximum of three tributes per submitter, and one of those three must be a bloodbath.
6) Reservations last for four days, and one extension can be asked for. I most likely will reach out and remind you the day before your reservation ends.
THE FORM (please delete the italicized comments)
Name:
District:
Age:
Gender:
Sexuality:
Appearance:
Faceclaim: (please make it age appropriate)
Personality:
Background: (cliches lessen your tributes' chances)
Family:
Friends:
Reaped/Volunteered:
Reaction/Reason:
Token:
Goodbyes: (who comes to say goodbye)
Train Rides:
Opinion on the Hunger Games/Capitol:
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
Parade Outfit:
Weapon of Choice:
Training Plan:
Allies: (do they want allies? will they approach a potential ally or wait to be approached?)
Private Session Plan:
Score Suggestion:
Interview Angle:
Interview Outfit:
Games Strategy: (have they discussed it with their mentor)
Bloodbath Strategy: (is there a specific item you want them to find)
Preferred Death:
Why Should They Win:
Other: (this is optional)