13 Lives

by Montenya of the Fairies

The master of death is a misnomer; it is death that is the master. Having only just finished fighting in his own universe, Harry finds himself forced by his new master to fight an entirely new war in an entirely new world. At least he's allowed to bring friends. Planned weekly updates, slow progression.

32. District 8: First Chariots Ride

TEAM 13: DISTRICT 8

Alicia : Verona

The First Chariots Ride

Alicia strongly suspected that the others had planned to stay underground, to wait until at least the end of the parade until they began actively seeking each other out.

She had no such qualms.

After thirteen years of existence spent in what could only be described as sullen squalor she was more than eager to chase what little happiness she had left. There had been times—so many times—throughout the years where the only thing keeping her from a rope or a drop or an unhappy accident was the knowledge of the hole left by death.

Now, knowing that a single person who made the entire torture worth it all on his own, was only a few feet away?

She vanished the second the beauticians' backs were turned, watching as the first chariots of District 1 flowed out with their faux-china doll tributes on top.

Less than a minute later they were kissing.

(It was a really, really good thing George hadn't come instead. She really would have had to kill him otherwise.)

"Hey." She finally breathed, leaning back just enough to look him in the eyes without loosening her hold on him even incrementally.

"Hey." Fred grinned back. There were tears in his eyes, and he hugged her just as tightly as she did him. "You been doing good?"

"Better now, definitely."

His smile turned a bit, but even the acknowledgement that they weren't exactly living in a utopia did little to quell their mutual glee.

"You can't—you can't—" one of the beauticians sputtered, teetering over to them as quickly as her frog-shaped shoes would allow.

"Well, that's a record." District 12's lead designer laughed. "You didn't even make it upstairs!"

"They can't—they can't—" the beautician turned to the designer for aid, but he didn't exactly seem eager to jump on board. "Peacekeepers!"

The two of them were forcefully yanked apart and two minutes later found Alicia finally dressed from head to toe in some sort of taffeta monstrosity— her district's gimmick was apparently going to be different types of fabric this year (so creative. Definitely absolutely had never been done before.)

At least she wasn't Fred; she'd found him already dressed in a flashy but entirely too stiff outfit that was supposed to mimic some sort of ancient coal miner uniform. (She would give his designer credit, though; dressing District 12 as their job's imaginary past hadn't been done in at least a decade. The fire motif was far more popular.)