Prologue II: The Word of Limos.
- Pushing Up Daisies -
The Twenty-Second Hunger Games
'During the Dark Days, the nation of Panem clashed in a civil war. Famine, pain and violence was all they knew for many years.
Brother against brother. Sister against sister. Hope seemed lost. Sacred blood was spilled in the name of greed and ignorance.
Their nation would eventually crumble under the hands of those it longed to cradle.
From the ashes and destruction, a guiding light brought clarity and order. Limos herself, a herald of good fortune and prosperity, spoke to a young woman.
'Do not be lost, my child, for without darkness, light would never prevail.'
Taking her words as gospel, the young woman boldly took the reigns of the civil war, strangling out the last flicker of rebellion. She preached the words that were whispered in her ear. She gave the broken fractions hope that there was more to their life than pain and sadness.
All they had to do was let the light into their hearts.
With her wisdom and guidance, the young woman was able to reform the Panem she had known into a Panem that shone with beauty and integrity.
For her Word is gospel, Praise Limos.'
Applause resounded in the church. Eclectic patrons rose to their feet, smiling wide with wet eyes. Elated, happy but simple people who longed for a firm hand to guide them.
Minister Damarion Revery stood proud at his pew, looking down on his flock. His Mother, President Iris Revery, was in the front row, adorned with elegant jewellery and surrounded by her security, a harsh contrast in the forgiving space of the church. She wore a thin smile: one of dignity and pride, for the young woman that Limos spoke to was herself. She proudly saved her own nation. A true act of both patriotism and religious zeal.
Damarion politely raised his hand and the congregation obeyed, sitting down. "I would also like to take this opportunity to express my sincerest respect to the upcoming tributes. It is a great honour to be chosen by Limos to participate in the Hunger Games, and an even greater honour for us to be privy to her choices in a Victor. For with Limos, we are a better nation, and in turn, better people to serve her. Thank you everybody, and a happy Hunger Games to you all."
A final round of applause made Damarion's ego swell. He smiled, a hand on his heart, silently thanking those who attended and listened. Slowly, the congregation dwindled as they left, a sea of obnoxious colours and sounds, excitedly chatting away like birds. President Iris, however, remained alone, her security removing themselves to just outside. She approached her son and hugged him modestly.
"That was a magnificent speech, my son," she kissed his cheek, "I know I say it all the time, but Limos was wise to pick you. You really carry her word true."
"Thank you, Mother," Damarion smiled, "I hope to do her and you proud."
"As you should. I might've whispered her word at the beginning, but it is you who is pioneering it. These people look to you for guidance in their spiritual and moral journeys, especially with the Hunger Games on the horizon once more."
"Ah, yes," Damarion's brow furrowed, "There has been some whispers of discontent amongst the congregation."
President Iris smiled faintly, "There always is. Disbelievers are hard to sway onto the righteous path. That is why you and I must guide them. The sacrifices we make are our penance for the self-destructive road we travelled down. If we do not give Limos the blood she is entitled to, then this beloved nation of ours will implode once more."
Damarion nodded in agreement, "I shall include that in my next sermon. Hopefully those powerful words will help ease the worries."
"The worries are natural," Iris sat back down on the bench, offering her ageing bones some respite, "What is more pressing is making sure they don't act upon it. Foolish men are one thing, but foolish men without a purpose are dangerous to all we have built."
Damarion sat next to her. He shared a small, knowing smile with his Mother. A silent exchange that spoke a thousand words. "I know. We have to make them believe in her more. That this is her godly wish and right."
Iris patted her son's knee warmly, "Bacchus has the perfect idea to stamp out the discord," she looked at him. "We have to place our trust in him, even momentarily. Nothing speaks more volume than an epiphany."
"I respect your choice, even if I don't agree with you wholeheartedly on that front," Damarion scowled. His eyes looked up at the marble statue of Limos - well, their interpretation of her: her expressionless gaze and cold eyes bore down on him in judgement - and he sighed, "I just wish it wasn't such a battle. Why can't they see that she only means well? Twenty three sacrifices a year is very little in the grand scheme of a thriving nation."
"They will learn… one day. They always do. Patience is a virtue, my boy."
'For the penance of their own greed, each year, Panem sacrifices twenty four children to their saviour and holiness. Their spilled blood nourishes the earth, Limos herself. In kind, Limos chooses one to overcome the odds, bathed in her forgiveness and allowed to become a beacon for the lost - a Victor.
Being chosen by her grace is a blessing. For when chosen, the path to eternal peace is an easy road to follow.
Each tribute to Limos is gifted supreme powers momentarily: an inner reflection of themselves, one to bring out into the world. From there, destiny will carve their futures.
"Your true selves will be bathed in the light of forgiveness. Allow the light in your heart, and let it guide you to the end."
For her Word is gospel, Praise Limos.'
Bacchus Han had been waiting for this day since he was a young boy.
A man from a meagre background, beady eyed and intelligent, he lived and breathed the Hunger Games with every bone in his body. He would lay on the floor, watching every repeat that was aired between the years. He stored every minor detail in his encyclopaedic brain and replayed the greatest moments like an eternal track of damnation.
For him, there was no other path in his life than to one day orchestrate his own symphony of sacrificial bloodshed.
So, when President Iris approached him, noted his dedication and passion for such a role, and offered him his future as Head Gamemaker… he jumped at the chance. To fulfil his true wish and ultimate desire, he'd be a fool to not snatch it with both hands.
Lost deep in his architecture, he didn't hear Cyril Vermilion, Chief of the Blessed Program, coming in.
"How is your arena coming along?"
Bacchus hummed absentmindedly, "It's going to be fantastic. Her excellency required something with both a deeper meaning and... pizzazz. It was almost like an epiphany."
Cyril nodded. His mad eyes twinkled behind his glasses, "I'm also very excited to see what my serum does to the latest sacrifices."
"Tributes, Cyril," Bacchus berated him, "They're tributes to Limos. President Iris doesn't like it when you call them that."
"Yes, yes, you're quite right. Slip of the tongue there," Cyril smirked. He peered over Bacchus' shoulder, staring at the work in front of him. But as quickly as he was able to make sense of Limos' crucifix, bold and empowered in the centre, Bacchus covered it up.
"It's a surprise," Bacchus defended, "It's my first year as Head Gamemaker. I want to do this... right. Even you cannot know until the unveiling."
"I see I'm not privy to this," Cyril adjusted his glasses, "I hope you do well, of course. It's a shame that Penn had to retire, but you have huge shoes to fill. After all, you proclaim to be a true fan of his work."
"He was a master of his craft. I hope to do him some justice."
"Quite right... and of course, our excellency too. I hear she has high hopes for you. It'd be a shame to disappoint her and Limos herself."
Bacchus gulped, hoping to hide his nerves from his nosy colleague. "Yes, I know. Now, if you don't mind, I have a lot to do in such a short space of time."
Bacchus completely missed Cyril's unabashed smile, having gotten under his skin. Bacchus may have been young, but he was bright, resourceful, crafty and creative. If anyone knew the ins and outs of the Hunger Games and every gory little detail, then it was him. He would do it, had to do it, could do it.
It was his destiny.
No, Limos' destiny for him.
He smiled as he finished crafting the final touch of the building, standing proud at the centre of the entire arena.
"For her Word is gospel, Praise Limos."
I hope this gives you a little more insight to the new Panem.
I want to introduce things to you slowly over time. Their way of life, the impact the religion has on the Capitol, the "special care" that the tributes get. Before we even introduce any tributes (can't wait to see them!), they'll be another prologue just to finish the beginnings of the backstory.
As ever, thank you for the reviews and PMs of encouragement and well wishes. I really do appreciate it!
If you want to see more details, I have a blog running currently with some background details, characters and such! I'll leave the link here, but also on my profile. Go check it out, it looks pretty!
/ panemunitedhg . blogspot
Forms are now graciously accepted. I have left a list of world-built rules as well as personal rules alongside the list. It's nothing major, but it's important your character fits in nicely to the world.
~Jay.