In loving memory:

District 12

To say that Clair's absence hadn't been felt was a lie.

The truth was, District 12 was upset. They had been so close. Nearly a decade of their children falling like lambs to a slaughter and finally, someone had made it all the way to the end. Clair was practically within victory's grasp, then snatched away like a cold, cruel joke. By the prissy spoiled luxury district too! 1 already had their time to shine. When would it be 12's turn?

It wasn't fair.

So when Clair's body was finally delivered home in a wooden box, the funeral was quite the occasion. And funerals were never an occasion. People died all the time in 12. Usually, the family and a few friends came to watch the cremation and collect the ashes. Clair was given a brand new coffin, a very rare honour for the dead of the little coal miner's town. The local graveyard had very little space for bodies so people often were cremated instead.

Tons of people showed up. Half of these people had never met Clair Ivory. The tribute in question probably would've never wanted such a large gathering anyways, but the dead don't talk anymore and the living probably wouldn't have listened regardless.

But you never speak ill of the dead.

Some people came to wash their consciousness free from guilt. Some came because there was nowhere else to go. Some came because it was the right thing to do. Some did genuinely feel bad for dismissing Clair when they were still a scrappy street urchin, and were hoping to turn a wrong into a right.

Two people didn't even know Clair was alive until they were Reaped and by then, nothing could be done about it.

Two people were grieving parents.

The Embers also came to pay respects, despite already having Stryker's funeral a few days before. There were way less people for Stryker, but that was fine with eir family because those who did show up really did want to say goodbye to em.

Spark carried a rat in her hands. Bob. She had yet to let go of them, ever since she watched her twin get betrayed by eir ally, ran from her house crying, and all the way to the electric fences where Bob came back for her and she sobbed as she told them what happened. But Spark would not be crying today. She had done enough crying. She had mourned Stryker until she couldn't mourn no more and was going to stand tall. It was her little way of honouring em. Ey would've wanted her to be happy.

Or so, that's what she told everyone else.

Secretly, Spark planned to run away.

Away from her parents, who were unbearable to stand the second Stryker died. Away from Lorelei, who just didn't get why her sister would not get over what happened to em. Hell, maybe Spark would jump over the fence and hike across Panem. Maybe she'd stop by 5 and spit on Amelia's grave. Maybe she'd live in the forest, eating wild berries and animals until she got too full. Maybe the Peacekeepers would catch her and give her a public execution. Who could say?

She'd take Bob with her, of course. And she had yet to tell anyone but Max, who had been her friend as much as he had been Stryker's. Her parents and sister didn't need to see inside her head; they'd probably never forgive her if they knew what she wanted to do. But she wasn't that little girl anymore. never had been since Stryker died.

That night, though the procession to the graveyard was a slow crawl, the coffin was eventually carried to a plot that had already been dug up. Four gravediggers slowly lowered in the delicate coffin. People gathered around, some throwing down flowers on top. Then the loose dirt was shovelled back in place and all was still. Clair Ivory was at rest and fate could never hurt them ever again.

Ember ran away that night and nobody from 12 ever saw her again. She had Bob with her.

District 11

Trevor was mad.

Nobody thought much of him, just a mute little boy angrily shoving through the crowd, but he was pissed. He didn't even think he had it in him to be upset anymore, not after all the hell he already went through. But that was in the past and the people who hurt him then were either dead or in prison. He had since moved on, despite the constant swirl of nightmares in his head.

But for them to take Weller?

Trevor couldn't bear the thought of it. Weller had been his shield, his safety net. The one thing keeping him alive and sane. With Weller's help, Trevor could truly put his past to rest and try looking for something good in his life. He could take the future and turn it into whatever he wanted.

Trevor didn't feel like he had a future anymore. He was 12 years old and everything was gone. He had nobody left to love.

He was a scared little kid again, taken advantage of by adults he thought he could trust. Weller had been too, and probably experience the exact same things, if not worse. So he knew. Trevor trusted Weller because he knew what Trevor had gone through. He was that rock Trevor could lean against, ensuring him everything would be fine and maybe the pain wouldn't go away, but it would get smaller. He got it and he got Trevor.

Nobody else did. They all dismissed him as misguided, wronged, a groomed would-be child soldier for the dead rebel faction; he was either not worth an expensive bullet in his brain, or he was clearly too dumb and naive to know shit about the rebellion. He thought about all of this as he reached under his bed and pulled out a gun.

Someday, Trevor would find a way to make them all pay, rebels and Loyalists alike. They'd all be crushed under his heel. He was going to wreck havoc on Panem and he was going to tear this hell of a country down. He would do it in the name of a boy that was taken away from him.

He'd start with the Capitol first. He hated them slightly more.

Meanwhile, another young boy was upset and angry. But for a much different reason. He was upset because his father wouldn't get out of bed. The room reeked of alcohol, vomit, and sweat. He had gotten home from school, scraped a knee in the fields today, and almost burned the dinner he made for his family. He was not in the mood for these dumb drunken antics. He was tired. And he'd have to clean up after dinner and finish his homework, then give Oriole a bath, and then-

"Dad," Viridis Hazeldine hissed. "Come on already. Get up. Go eat before it gets cold."

Nothing. His father didn't even move. Viridis cursed under his breath. Little Oriole watched his big brother from the doorway, his unfinished math homework completely forgotten. Viridis nudged his father again, but there was no response. Just the clinking of some old bottles that had yet to be thrown away.

By now, Viridis could tell something was off. Because his dad wasn't even stirring. Hell, he wasn't even breathing. His skin was too...dull. And for a moment, it felt like Viridis's own heart stopped as he slowly pulled down his father's shirt, just enough so he could press two fingers against the man's cold neck.

There was no pulse.

A young boy's world shattered around him as he fell to his knees and burst into tears. Oriole, who couldn't possibly understand what was going on, hugged Viridis from behind and Viridis pulled him as tight as possible. He couldn't bear to let go of Oriole. He couldn't lose the only family he had left.

But why? Why did this have to happen? Did death love to tear him apart, until he was a hollow shell of himself? Death already destroyed his family before. Death took his mother. Death took Acacia. And now this. What more did death want from him?

"What happened?" Oriole finally asked with tears pooling in his eyes. "What happened to Daddy? I want Daddy!"

"He's dead, baby." Viridis's voice was hoarse and Oriole whined in despair. "Oh my fucking God. He's gone. Oriole, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..."

What was going to happen to them now?

District 10

Brendon got up as usual. He got dressed. He went to the kitchen. He made a meagre breakfast.

Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't think about it.

He didn't have to work today. Everyone else insisted he take a week off, a week off to mourn and take care of himself. They only pretended to feel sorry, but he bet it was because nobody wanted the stench of death and the Hunger Games looming over their heads. Brendon was a bitter reminder of 10's failures. His absence made everyone feel better about themselves; they couldn't care less about a grieving young man whose heart was permanently broken.

Don't think about it.

Brendon didn't mind having a week off, but did he really have to sit in his empty house and drive himself insane? He hated the echoes. How the bed felt both too big and too suffocating at the same time, the empty sheets next to him. How there was no body pressed against him, nobody to comfort and to love.

"Good morning..." he'd whisper, then trail off when he remembered there was no Argen snuggled into his shoulder.

So he kept himself busy. Because if he started thinking about ho badly he missed his boyfriend, how much he wanted life to be normal again, he'd break down and cry. He'd be inconsolable. He'd have no reason to keep going on with his stupid existence and he just couldn't do that. He couldn't do that to Argen, who'd never forgive himself if he saw Brendon like...this.

Don't think about it.

And despite how early it was, everyone was still busy. Including Bale and Trina Belmont, who somehow convinced Red's friends to go take them cow-watching again. By now, the calves had grown a bit and they just had to see. Peter let Trina sit on his shoulders, much to Bale's jealousy. But Brinely offered him her hand and he grabbed onto her, settling for that instead. This time, they actually climbed over the fence and into the pasture. The cows ignored them.

"The baby cows got big!" Trina pointed excitedly. "Look!"
"That's what happens when they get fed," Brinely jokingly told her.
"They get fat?"
"Sure."

"I miss Red," Bale suddenly said without any warning. he sadly looked down at his feet. "I wish he could've come and watched the cows with us."
Peter wasn't sure how to respond, how to put his own feelings into words. Brinely just rubbed both of their shoulders. "I know guys. It's hard. I know."

For a few seconds, they were all silent.

Perhaps the cows noticed them and how low they were feeling, because the little party was soon surrounded by the black and white animals. One nudged the fence and almost knocked Peter off, causing Trina to squeal hysterically as she pointed a finger at him. It didn't take long for the cattle to surround them. Soon, they were gently petting the cows on their heads, feeding them blades of grass, swaying back and forth to the soft mooing sounds...

For a moment, they could almost forget Red wasn't standing there with them.

"HEY! Why are you kids always bothering my cows!? Get off my field!"

Peter grabbed Trina and scooped her up. "Uh oh. Everybody scatter!"

The four of them took off running. Over the fence and back to the safety of the Belmont household. The farmer continued the chase, until he gave up and decided that it simply wasn't worth it anymore. The cows had seen the whole thing, but it didn't bother them at all. And they didn't think much of it either.

They just went back to eating grass and swishing their tails.

District 9

The fate of Lily Baudilair had become a cautionary tale. The importance of thinking before acting. The Reaping was something to dread, not something to bet your life upon. The Hunger Games were scary. In the Games, you could die. Children wailed in the arms of their parents as they watched the horrors of the arena consume child after child and Lily too.

Sonya felt terrible about it.

If only she had kept her mouth shut! But nooooooo, she just had to light her friend's competitive fire in the most extreme way possible! A dare, a stupid little dare! And how did it end? With Lily paying the ultimate price. A trio of friends had just become two.

Why the breakfast table at Olive's house was set for three, she'd never know. Only two seats were filled. The food stuck to the roof of her mouth and threatened to choke her. For a moment, Sonya wished it would.

"You've got to say something, because I know it's bugging you and I can't do anything to help because you won't talk to me." Now Olive was getting involved. "Come on, Sonya. We both know it wasn't your fault. We had no idea she'd react like...that."

That was true. But it didn't make Sonya feel any better. It didn't ease the guilt.

"I should never have said that."
"...maybe..."
"I'm such an idiot. I should've never pushed her. It's my fault."

Olive stared into her oatmeal. Was she mad at Sonya? Was she going to agree that yes, it was her fault? That she was the catalyst, the indirect killer of Lily? She imagined Lily sitting in the empty chair, an accusing finger pointed at her friend's face.

"...Sonya? Sonya. It wasn't your fault," Olive said again. "Repeat after me: it wasn't my fault."
"It wasn't my fault." The words sounded fake to Sonya. "It wasn't. Right?"
"Right."

Sonya didn't believe her.

And Cleve's parents were repeating those words to themselves as sat with all their children on the couch. The Games had started and almost instantly, their poor baby was dead. One moment, Cleve had been alive and well, and the next...he just wasn't. Was there nothing that could be done? Could they have done something? Had they failed their eldest son as parents?

It was less than a week before they were expecting again. Fern Garfield patted her stomach and secretly hoped this one would be a boy. He wouldn't be named after the brother he never met, because Cleve was much too unique to just wind up being Cleveland Senior.

Bodies, by themselves, were easy to replace. Children, it was much harder to let go of.

One would think Cleve's nine younger siblings would barely notice his absence in the chaos of the Garfield home, but it stood out to them like a sore thumb. The elder ones, Sedum, Phlox, Canna, and Nastur, found themselves playing big siblings to the babies of the family. Oaker, Sunny, Lonis, Cedric, and Skimmia could hardly be called babies anymore, despite how young they all were. Skimmia still couldn't walk yet.

Death forced them all to grow up too fast.

Sometimes Cleve's friends would stop by to say hello and play with the younger kids. Florencia would still continue to bat her eyes in Ridge's direction, although less often that she had before the Reaping. Zinnia wanted to say something, but Corcus pulled her aside and they both agreed to keep a secret that had been taken to Cleve's grave.

They'd never tell Florencia how big of a crush Cleve had on her. Not like she had ever noticed in the first place, or would notice again. Not when she was too busy pining for Ridge.

District 8

The community home was always busy.

Sabine Gingham was in charge of about thirty kids this morning, making sure all of them were fed, dressed, organized, and on their way to school work. She shouted out a few names, to get the troublemakers to drop their toys and pay attention. She comforted a few who were in a sacred mood. She never thought much of all the names and faces, even if she knew each one by heart.

Truth was, kids came and left all the time. They aged up. They were occasionally adopted. They ran away once in a while, foolishly thinking that would land them a batter life. And sometimes they died. Whether it be illness, a work accident, or the Hunger Games. Sabine never got too attached, because who knew what would happen next.

One of Sabine's assistants would take some of the younger kids to school, leaving her behind with the ill ones and the teens whose factory shifts started in an hour. So of course, guess who ended up taking care of all the toys scattered about on the ground. Sabine got to work cleaning up.

She picked up three strange dolls. One that looked like a bunny. One that looked like a dog. It was the third that reminded her the most of the girl who would always play with them.

Well, maybe "play" wasn't really the term she was looking for, because Claodis was way too old for that and was hardly a little girl. And these dolls weren't meant to be played with, but spoken to and spoken through in funny voices. And ever since Claodis left the district for good, Omi and company had clearly seen better days with nobody else to love. Most of the kids avoided the dolls, calling them creepy.

But a new little girl had arrived the other week and through her, the dolls found life again. She didn't understand ventriloquy, and had no intention of using the dolls for such, but she was showing the same care that Claodis had and it was rather heartwarming to watch,

Sabine stared into Omi's eyes and she felt like the doll was trying to talk to her. She shuddered and tucked him under her arm. Then, she gently placed all three dolls on a shelf in the cupboard that was meant to store all the toys. And it was time to get back to cleaning.

Outside the community home, two street kids kicked an old soccer ball they found against a brick wall. A distracted Fleece gave it a hard punt, and the ball slammed into the wall. Then it landed right on Rose's head before bouncing away.

"Ow! What the hell, Fleece!? What are you staring at?"
Fleece pointed a finger in the direction of the street, at the people walking by. "Look. It's Mrs. Cross. Twill used to hang out with her all the time."
"Really? Are you certain that's her?"

Sure enough, it was. Neither Fleece nor Rose would recognize Mrs. Cross anymore; she looked like she had aged by at least 10 years. Her hair was gray. She wasn't wearing any makeup, the dark bags under her eyes on full display for the district to see. She was dressed well, but all her clothes were black, no hint of colour to be found anywhere.

In District 8, the colour black stood for a lot of things.

But it was very common for the dark and plain colour to be worn as a sign of mourning.

As Mrs. Cross walked by, Fleece and Rose could see her hands tightly clamped together and the tears rolling down her cheeks. Losing Twill, a boy she saw as almost her own son, must've done something to her. It was easy to feel spiteful of a woman with enough money to hire a sugar baby, but it had been more than that. it was his company she missed more than anything.

"Don't point." Rose grabbed Fleece's arm and pulled it down. "And don't stare at her, alright? Look, she's...I think she took it pretty hard."
Fleece scoffed. He had seen plenty of death on the streets between the factories. "People die all the time here. What difference does it make?"

"What difference!? Does saying that out loud make you feel better? Does it make it hurt any less? Come on, we both miss him. And we're not the only ones." Rose sighed. "She looks lonely. Maybe we can do something about it."

Fleece hesitated for a moment, then nodded. As she stopped on the street to fix her coat, Mrs. Cross was surprised to see two younger teens running up to her.

"Hey Mrs. Cross! I'm Rose and this is Fleece. We're Twill's friends and he told us a lot about you. What are you up to today?"

District 7

If her eldest sister hadn't physically dragged her out of the bed, Lilly would've let the sheets swallow her whole. How could Mauve and her parents keep getting up while their heads held high? They were practically ignoring the fact that their family was being torn apart. First Jonah, now Darra. Did the Capitol want Lilly too? Was she their next victim?

Take me, Lilly thought. If that's what you want to do, then take me. I don't know if I care anymore.

"Come on," Mauve whispered in her ear as she helped Lilly to the kitchen. "Let's go for a walk, yeah? You need some fresh air."
Lilly didn't respond.
"I know it's hard. Sometimes, I want to hide in my bedroom too. But what good will it do you and me to just sit there? Want some breakfast?"

Breakfast wouldn't fill the empty gaps in her life. She had always felt a sense of emptiness ever since Jonah passed, her dearest twin brother. Losing Darra made the emptiness impossible to ignore. Lilly wondered if it would consume her too as she dug into the pancakes her father had prepared. Then, she threw on whatever clothes she had lying around in her bedroom. Before she left, her father gave her a pat on the shoulder and her mother kissed her cheek.

"Want to talk about it?" Mauve asked once they were outside.
What was there to talk about? Four siblings had become two. Lilly was out of tears to cry. She cried at the Reapings, she cried watching the Games, she cried at the funerals. She cried every night until all she could feel was numb.

Did she want to keep feeling numb?

She didn't even notice what she was doing until she leaned into Mauve's side and her big sister gave her a hug. "It's okay, Lilly. We're gonna be okay. It'll get easier eventually. You hear me? It will get easier."

Maybe it will, Lilly thought as she noticed a couple of people running towards the Justice Building. Maybe it never will.

The Delaney sisters decide to avoid whatever was happening at the Justice Building, not wanting to deal with the potential commotion. And a commotion there was.

Because a small group of people flanked by Peacekeepers had come to watch an execution.

Perun Dragomir scowled at the Peacekeeper with an iron grip on the boy's arm. he tried to pull back, only for the Peacekeeper to slap him across the face to yank him towards the noose that had been prepared and was standing tall...just for him.

Standing in the crowd among some of his fellow guild members, Harrion cursed under his breath. He was supposed to be taking care of Perun until Veles got out of the arena. But watching Veles die in the middle of the district had snapped something in the young boy. Perun had been unusually silent lately. Hell, he didn't even speak to Harrion, until he snuck out one night and left behind a note saying he was out for revenge.

He managed to fatally injure two Peacekeepers before they caught him. Whether or not they were responsible for the death of Morana Dragomir, Harrion would never know. It didn't matter now. Perun wasn't walking out of this alive and his sister's murder would never be solved. He and Veles would never get the closure they so desperately wanted.

"Go ahead, you stupid bastards!" Perun screamed as the Peacekeeper tried to hold him back. "I know you did it! You can't shut me up any longer! I know you killed my sister!"

Julian Amber, the district's Head Peacekeeper, just sighed as he made the motions for the noose to be placed around Perun's neck. "Let's just get this over with. Perun Dragomir, you've been found guilty of two counts of murder. Of Peacekeepers. My men. You've also been found guilty of treason against Panem and your district for this act, the punishment for which is execution."

Tapping a foot against the stool underneath him, Perun was suddenly silent. He just glared at Amber, then at the crowd where he spotted the guild. Harrion held a hand to his mouth, out of fear of saying something incredibly stupid. No. They weren't going to be given away, right? Perun wouldn't...

Amber just continued. "Any last words you'd like to say?"

Perun just hesitated for a moment, eyes darting from Harrion to the ground and back again. Amber took the silence as confirmation for the stool to be taken away. As he gave the command and someone reached for the stool, Perun finally spoke out.

"Go ahead. I'd rather be with my family again than here."

He went limp. Harrion looked away.

The first half of the farewells is complete. Yes, I had to break them up because this chapter would've been way too long otherwise. Next chapter is a goodbye to the tributes in Districts 6-1. See you then.

-Vr