CHAPTER XXIX. FREE DAY IN THE CAPITOL

Never underestimate the importance of having fun."

-Randy Pausch

LIANA TAYLOR (15) - DISTRICT 3 FEMALE

On the morning of the day before Liana was supposed to go into the arena, she awoke to the sound of two fists pounding on her door, a shell shocked Edison, one of the Head Gamemakers with a stern look in her eyes, and the delivery of the news she never thought she'd be hearing.

Pascal Packard was dead.

She thought back to the night before when she was watching the Mentor Interviews, sitting next to Edison and their Escort, watching in horror as disaster unfolded. Liana remembered when Lucky asked the first question about his relations with Edison, looking over to her Partner to see a single tear rolling down the side of his cheek.

"It's okay," She remembered whispering, surprisingly calm considering it was a situation she had never been in anything similar to before, "You did the right thing."

"Did I?" Edison asked as the sounds of the crowd went quiet while Pascal was ruining his reputation at an accelerating pace, as he should.

"Yes," Liana gave him a light pat on the bat before resting her head on his shoulder which somehow felt natural, "It's going to be okay."

Liana wasn't so sure about it now though, since well, he was dead which meant her and Edison no longer had a Mentor, something Liana was selfishly more concerned about the issues it would cause for her, even though Edison clearly had it worse as he was the one who endured the pain that lead to Pascal's righteous demise. Not that it even mattered since Pascal was a horrible Mentor even without the sexual assault.

"Can I ask what exactly happened?" Liana was a tad nervous as she spoke to the woman that morning, her elaborate dreadlock hairstyle and pointed red nails seemingly mocking her very existence.

"All you need to know is that he passed away last night after a particularly, polarizing reaction to his interview, and that no charges were made," She spoke with the sort of no-nonsense attitude that Liana would admire if she wasn't somebody who was hired to make it as hard as possible for her to survive.

"I understand," Liana sighed, looking at Edison who had a somewhat wicked grin on his face, probably one of satisfaction being as his abuser was dead and gone, "Will we have another Mentor by any chance?"

"We're still figuring that out," The Gamemaker admitted, clearly frustrated with the unfolding and unprecedented situation, "I would like to say yes, but I honestly can't promise anything."

Liana wasn't quite sure how to react because on one hand, she didn't really have a Mentor to begin with, and she had seen how cruel a great fraction of them were throughout her observations, but on the other hand, perhaps having one could be helpful in a sense, especially since she planned on not dying early in the Games, and later in the Games was when having a good Mentor could really help.

A part of her wanted to be frustrated with Edison, since he technically was the reason the two of them no longer had a mentor, but deep inside Liana knew that she was still telling the truth when she had told him that he had done the right thing, it was just overall a needlessly complicated situation and one Liana honestly didn't want to let rent space in her head, especially considering she had a free day in the Capitol to look forwards too and that had the potential to be fun.

When she was released to spend her time before the interview doing whatever it was that she wanted to do though, Liana was honestly clueless as to what exactly she would spend her precious time doing. She noticed that the majority of the Tributes were either eating in the fancy restaurants or trying on the fancy clothing and makeup, but neither of those honestly vain activities seemed appealing to her.

Why couldn't she fucking be a normal kid and do normal kid things?

Liana was hungry though, but not for fillet mignon or shrimp scampi or whatever else they had been eating all week. Liana Taylor was, as she often was, simply starving for knowledge, yet she felt guilty that she wanted to spend her one period of time in what was supposed to be the most magical place in Panem, all curled up in some aesthetically pleasing bookstore, learning about whatever there was to be learned about. She refused to do that though. This whole experience was designed to push her out of her comfort zone, something Liana figured she'd get a head start on, hence what led her to "Sipping and Sketching," an art class for middle aged women, usually slightly intoxicated.

"I'm pleased you're joining us today Ms. Taylor," The host of the class, a somewhat tall lady with blue hair said, a smile on her face as she handed Liana a glass of red wine, having no problem with the fact that she was a minor and starting the class. Liana was shocked to see that none of the other Tributes were in the class, since she had seriously been expecting Moira, the girl from District 2 to be there, as Liana had observed her painting on multiple occasions and this seemed right up her alley.

Liana did learn a lot of things in the art class though, mainly that she could not draw for the life of her and also that red wine was unnecessarily bitter and something she would never be trying again. What she drew was kind of nice though, a boat that looked like a District 12 version of the one that the host created, but strangely enough, Liana was proud of it. She'd be the first to admit she's a perfectionist in any given scenario, but "Sipping and Sketching" simply did not matter at all in the grand scheme of things.

She had an interview later that night, a healthy eight to ten hours of sleep to be had, and the fight of her life to win.

MOIRA MIKKEL (18) - DISTRICT 2 FEMALE

Moira had been trying her best to embrace the oddities that had come with being at the Capitol, a somewhat frustrating task, especially when Bell turned out to not be her biggest problem in the Career Pack alliance. Bell was full of himself, obnoxiously so and definitely had anger management issues, but that aside, he wasn't necessarily harmful to people unless they deserved it, and his little outburst at Micah (who had done basically nothing since they arrived by the way) was definitely well warranted, as was the constant feuding he'd get into with Lana Lotus of District 4, Moira's new big problem.

Lana was a bit of a quirky one, though Moira admitted she was "unique" herself, and she seemingly had the ability to get people wrapped around her fingers. Her District Partner Kingston was the prime example, always doing whatever she wanted and participating in the weird prayer rituals she would suggest. While Moira didn't necessarily see an issue with religion personally, she was almost one hundred percent certain that gargling salt water and vomiting was typical, but well hey, at least they weren't hurting people. While she was reluctant to at times, Fila was definitely guilty of following Lana's lead way too easily, but she persisted at times, citing her hatred of schedules as the reason for her "disobedience." And then there was Bell, who despite being at it with Lana like cats and dogs more often than not, always gave into her, and was seen a few times making out with her in the corners of the Training Center, Moira and the rest of the gang looking away from it and ignoring it every time.

Luckily, Moira spent most of her free time with Eros and Fila, the pair from District 1, and Eros especially seemed not as hot on Lana, and the trio got along rather nicely, yet the overwhelming presence of Lana Lotus was the big elephant in the room whenever they were together, and nobody would dare mention her. So, Moira swore that on the one day that she had to roam the Capitol however she wanted, with Fila and Eros of course, she wouldn't let her intrusive thoughts of Lana interrupt what could be her last chance of fun, oddly enough still a foreign concept.

"I know exactly what we have to do today, girls!" Eros was seemingly thrilled that they had the whole morning and early afternoon at their disposal, in one of the most interesting places anyone had ever seen, "Let's try on wigs!"

"Eros, no." Fila wasn't too fond of the suggestion, a sigh of relief to Moira who wasn't thrilled at the concept of trying to stuff her kinky curls into something that they wouldn't fit in, "Maybe we could go shopping or something?"

"For what?" Eros chuckled, scratching the back of his head, "It's not like we'd be able to keep anything."

"Well we wouldn't be able to keep the wigs either," Fila fired back, making a damn good point, "At least trying on clothes would give us more variety, and maybe it would be more entertaining."

Moria certainly agreed with Fila's proposal more. Wigs were exciting, yeah, but all the extravagant clothing and jewelry would allow her to feel more of the glamorous Capitol fantasy she was beginning to crave more and more.

"I agree with Fila," She finally spoke, "Let's go try on some clothes!"

While none of them knew exactly what they were getting into, not really having much experience with the activity, since despite them all coming from rather wealthy places, Eros had grown up poor, and neither Fila nor Moira really got out all that much but as they ran through the aisles of sparkly dresses and fancy capes, it was hard not to be entirely captivated by it instantly.

"Who do I look like right now?" After a bit of wandering through the endless masses of clothing, Moira emerged wearing a raggedy old t-shirt, and ripped up jeans, perhaps the least nice clothing in the whole department store.

"To be honest, I have no idea," Fila smirked, staring Moira up and down, "I mean, you look good, but why exactly are you wearing that?"

"You're an idiot, Fi," Eros sprung up from his chair recognizing exactly what Moira was doing, "You're dressed as Micah, right?"

"See?" Moira adjusted her shirt, realizing it was way too big for her, fitting since none of Micah's clothes ever looked like they fit him, "Somebody gets it!"

"My bad, my bad," Fila apologized profusely, "It's just that, you say you're Micah, but I don't see you wearing a snake costume."

Moira and Eros promptly burst out laughing after hearing Fila's joke. It felt good to laugh, since admittedly, Moira hadn't done nearly as much of it as she would have liked during her eighteen years. She remembered laughing with Levin occasionally, making fun of their parents and how strict they could be at the dinner table, but there wasn't much laughing to do now that she was gone, her place at the table always set, reminding the family of the daughter they lost. Thinking about it made Moira hurt a bit, how they probably set the table where she usually sits, in hopes that she'd return home to them soon. Moira hoped so just as much, knowing that despite her parents' sternness, they really would miss her if she was gone.

"What about me?" Fila walked out of the dressing room wearing a neon blue suit with a red turtleneck that honestly looked too warm for July.

"You're, um… what's her face," Moira tripped over her words, "The Head Gamemaker, the angrier one!"

"She has a name, you know," Eros rolled his eyes, "It's Clemensia, obviously."

"Yes, you're her," Moira added, "Clemensia!"

"Exactly!" Fila smiled, admiring how gorgeous she looked in the mirror.

"Alright ladies, alright," Eros stood up, "I'll admit it; this is way more entertaining than wig shopping."

And entertaining it sure was as the triad of friends continued their day, pretending to be the people they weren't, as it was less than a day before they had to be the people they were supposed to be, trained killers without a care in the world, and lord was Moira beginning to dread that.

DEPHRA KIRK (17) - DISTRICT 11 FEMALE

Dephra only had maybe five hours to do whatever she wanted in the Capitol and yet with all the attractions and amusements, the only thing Dephra wanted to do was eat. No, not eat, purge. Dephra Kirk wanted to have a feast, as she had the sinking feeling ever since seeing her training score, that today was going to be her last day alive, and if she was to die, she wanted to be buried with as full a stomach as possible. Sure, sure, her whole mission to find the best food in the Capitol could be considered stupid, Dephra felt that she was doing exactly the right thing, and she was enjoying herself which in a way, was all that really mattered.

She'd been lucky in the sense that she had visited no more than four different food trucks and her stomach still wasn't full. This was indeed a good thing since Dephra was yet to enjoy a sit down meal, as she kept getting distracted by all the other food that she would see on her way. Additionally, the fact that Tributes were given as much food as they asked for at any eatery in the whole Capitol during their free time, for Dephra, this was a recipe for disaster, or well… the best day ever! She spent the previous night doing research on all the best places to eat, scouring through all the brochures until she found just the right place, the destination of her last supper, or well… last lunch, Nakajima's Noodles, the premiere ramen restaurant in the Capitol. Dephra had always found ramen noodles to be particularly underrated, or at least from what she knew about them since she never tried the dish properly, because it combined her second favorite food which was spaghetti, her third favorite food which was vegetable soup, and of course her favorite food of all time, soft boiled eggs.

"Hello, hello, welcome to Nakajima's Noodles," A tall, blonde, and definitely not Japanese woman greeted Dephra at the door, "I see you're a Tribute from the Hunger Games, how exciting!"

"Yes, that would be correct ma'am," Dephra tried her best to mimic the fancy dialect of the lady, though the Hunger Games were definitely not exciting, "May I please have a table for one?"

Throughout her journey in the Capitol, Dephra imagined that when she was finally able to eat at a fancy restaurant for the first time in her whole life, she would be asking to sit at a table with many, MANY people, and not just herself, yet that never happened. She really wanted allies, asking nearly everybody she came across with, yet nobody would take her in under their wing, so Dephra was just the way she was in District 11, alone. Only this time, she didn't have Dalux to be with her and love her so she truly was alone. Dalux was great, as was loving him, but Dephra no longer needed to be loved, just to be tolerated enough that somebody wouldn't mind sharing their last few days with her, yet even that was too much.

"May I take your order, Ms. Kirk?" The lady approached Dephra at her table for one located outside on the balcony, overlooking the beautiful rocky mountains that surrounded the Capitol.

"Yes, one second," There were simply so many different types of ramen on the menu and Dephra honestly had no idea which one to choose. She had flipped through the pages a myriad of times, yet had no idea what she was going to eat, "Actually, what do you recommend?"

As simple a question it was, Dephra often struggled with asking for help for simple things. The Hunger Games were no joke, hence why Dephra believed she'd need companions to accompany her, but the little tasks such as mopping the floors and deciding what to eat that she felt she should be perfectly capable of doing at her age, rarely asking for assistance.

"I'd recommend the spicy vegetable broth," The lady opened the menu and pointed to a picture of a bowl of red liquid, noodles, tofu and of course, an egg, "It's our signature dish!"

"Well then I guess I'll have that!" Dephra chuckled, closing the menu and handing it back to the lady.

Dephra had always seen food as a form of art, so she was excited to dig into the masterpiece she was surely about to be confronted with. But then again, food was more than just art to Dephra, as she equally considered it a source of comfort. When she was alone, nobody wanted to talk to or even associate with her, a common theme throughout her childhood, food was always there for her. Food never argued with her, since it simply couldn't, as food just seemed to understand Dephra more than any fake person ever would. She firmly believed that food was somewhat of a universal language, one she loved to speak more than anything.

"Enjoy, madame," She couldn't help but cry a bit as the lady set down the red bowl in front of her, steam still radiating off of it, a sign of how it was freshly made just for her, and once she slurped just a single noodle into her mouth, Dephra felt euphoric. The noodle was just so perfectly cooked, a perfect mix of tacky and chewy, but still hard enough to maintain its shape, and the broth was simply spectacular as well. While it did have a bit of a kick to it, Dephra could definitely handle it, as it was simply the perfect compliment to the noodle. There were roasted onions in the broth as well, equal in deliciousness, and of course, there was also the soft boiled egg. She hated to admit it, but the soft boiled egg was just as, if not better than one she would have made herself.

"This is amazing," Dephra smiled at the lady, mixing her fork into the broth. If only life could be like this forever.

MARCEL HEMLOCK (16) - DISTRICT 7 FEMALE

The Capitol was known for having essentially everything that the Districts had and more, and while Marcel certainly enjoyed its luxuries, and openly admitted that it was far nicer than 7, there was one thing it had that she could have gone her whole life without… tourists. She hadn't encountered them for the majority of her time in the Capitol, but on the day before the Games, when all the Tributes were allowed several hours to roam as they pleased, her and Teresa decided to go to an amusement park and it was there that they were confronted by the screaming hordes of children and their irresponsible parents who didn't care about what they were doing.

"If I ever wanted to have a child, I wouldn't now," Teresa whispered in Marcel's ear and they ventured through the array of rides, trying to find one to go on.

"Ditto," Marcel laughed, "There's just… so many of them."

The screaming children were indeed quite literally everywhere, running up and down the pavement asking their parents to buy them things then rioting when they were rejected, a sight both obnoxious and painful to see. The girls both agreed to visit the amusement park since it was full of rides and other attractions that they would never get to see anything like in their respective home Districts, and they wanted to savor what could possibly be their last full day alive, though they both were confident in their chances of surviving the bloodbath, since they planned on simply not going.

"Ooh!" Teresa stopped Marcel in her tracks and pointed to a turntable of horses and other zoo creatures, "Can we do that?"

"I don't see why not, my friend!" Marcel followed her ally to the ride, careful not to trample on any of the little rascals since she knew there was a chance she'd be seeing dead people in the coming days, and she was trying to prolong that for as long as possible.

There was a long line to get on the ride, which was apparently called a carousel, but since the man operating the ride saw that they were Tributes for the Hunger Games, he allowed them to cut the line and go on immediately, which caused some visceral reactions from the kids as Teresa and Marcel were able to easily walk past them while they still had to wait.

"Why do those weird looking girls get to go first," A short boy who couldn't be older than 8 scoffed. It was a bit disheartening, knowing that even though she was all glammed up, her hair styled and highlighted and her clothing notably fancier than what she wore at home, she would still be an underclasswoman, and wouldn't be able to fit in with the glitz and glamour, as much as she was getting slowly seduced by it.

"Oh, we can let them," His mother yawned, grabbing her son's hand, "Those people have it way worse than we do, and it's the least we can do."

"What do you mean?' Marcel heard the boy ask.

"You'll understand when you're older," His mother replied.

Oh, "older," a word Marcel had been hearing more and more. When her parents died and she didn't really know how to react it was "you'll get it when you're older." When she told people how she made her money it was "why don't you do that when you're older," and now Marcel was merely sixteen, and barely had a chance of getting any older. It hurt, the fact that this kid probably would never have to work a day in his life, or if he did it would be work that didn't require much labor. Marcel had worked her ass off, day in and day out, despite getting judged by it by everybody that she met, and what did she get? All she got was a five day luxurious fantasy that ended with a death, and even if she didn't die herself, surely she'd be traumatized for the rest of her life so it wouldn't even matter. That poor kid from 3 got assaulted and he hadn't even entered the arena. It happened to Diana, and Marcel knew that if she won, surely she'd be next, just because of what she already had decided to do with her body so she could escape her aunt and that madness.

"Marcel, Marcel," She snapped back into reality as she heard her ally's soothing voice. Teresa was somewhat of a godsend throughout the chaos of the week, acting as the cool older sister Marcel never got but always wanted, "Go on, pick an animal."

Teresa grabbed her hand as they stepped onto the platform, looking around at all the different animals they had to choose from. While most were horses, Marcel decided she wanted to stand out, so she decided to mount a deer, as it was the closest thing to District 7 she could find, and Teresa chose the bright blue horse that was next to it. They patiently waited for the other passengers to mount their animals, but it wasn't that long of a wait and before they knew it, they were bobbing up and down, their animals riding in circles, slowly gaining momentum.

It wasn't necessarily scary or anything of that nature, but it was nice, fulfilling even. Knowing that something was happening and it was out of Marcel's control, but it didn't matter since it would all be okay in the end, something she couldn't say for whatever would happen the next day. The ride was repetitive, which also made it predictable, reminding Marcel how much she missed the predictable nature of District 7 and the life she had left behind.

"Are you having fun?" Teresa called out, the wind making her hair fly like somewhat of a ferocious main.

"Of course!" Marcel replied, smiling on the outside but internally realizing that she was so utterly screwed and it would become apparent soon enough that there was once again, no chance of her ever getting older.

Hey gang! Thanks so much for reading this Chapter, which officially put this story at over 100,000 words, something that is truly bonkers to me!

Not going to lie, writing this made me a bit sad, but I guess this is what I got into when I decided to write for a fandom that is centered on death and destruction.

On a lighter note, I hope everyone had an amazing day and is taking care of themselves.

Best,
Lindsay