Leon Kimura, 29

Head Gamemaker

"Did you grab the audio files for me?" Leon called over to Reyna, too busy pacing back and forth in the mutt room to grab them himself. He could have sent an intern to fetch the files, but the room was off limits to everyone besides himself, Reyna, and Peri, who was in charge of programming all of the mutts. Leon was extremely protective of this idea of his, which had been swirling around in the back of his mind as he worked his way up the ranks. Now he had the Head Gamemaker position, as well as all the information he needed to make his idea come to life; all he had to do was put everything together.

Reyna came in carrying a flashdrive, having already compiled the audio files together so he could review them. This was one of the most important aspects of the mutts this year - the realism. Leon had to go off of what the tributes did in their natural habitats, so to speak, and this was the closest he'd come to it.

Immediately sitting down in a chair, Leon moved over to the computer in the room and plugged in the flashdrive. He quickly navigated it to find the file he was looking for, pressing on the first tribute's name - Alila Perwane.

A cacophony of voices immediately assaulted him, making him cringe as he turned the sound down. Somehow he'd forgotten Alila's abundance of siblings, and it sounded like too many of them had crammed themselves into the goodbye room. At least she was surrounded by love, as he couldn't even say that much about some of the other tributes.

He paused it after only a moment of listening before grinning up at Reyna. "Looks like we're in business."

Makani Allard, 18

District Four Female

Makani's friends had come and gone in a blur, most of them deciding to visit her together. Half of them had been crying, but Makani didn't let herself shed any tears within view of them. Those could be saved for the train, as soon as she managed to shake off Bastian, who, as a mentor, wasn't supposed to visit the tributes before they boarded.

Oh god, a tribute. That's what she was now, after all. She'd volunteered just as she was supposed to, and there was no turning back.

It was surreal, being here again. She remembered when Bastian was the one leaving, remembered the way she cried, terrified that he'd leave her. And now it was her that was leaving everything behind, having to learn how to say goodbye.

But no one would see Makani cry, not today.

When Kahlia came into the room, Makani knew that she'd come close to breaking her promise. Kahlia was putting on a brave face, just as Makani was, but she was already beginning to crumble.

"You're really going," she said faintly, hovering by Makani instead of sitting down. "I didn't think…"

"Well, I was chosen," Makani reminded her gently, moving aside so Kahlia could sit down by her. "I went through the process for it, this was always an outcome."

Kahlia sat down quickly, staring at the wall as if in a state of shock. Out of nowhere, Makani felt the urge to laugh bubble up in her, finding it hilarious that Kahlia was more in shock than she was. After all, she was going into the Hunger Games, not Kahlia.

But, Makani supposed, she did have a little more time to adjust to the idea of being the chosen volunteer. Plus the whole volunteering thing made it easy to know in advance, unlike the outer district kids who got the unfortunate surprise of being chosen to die…

"You'll come back," Kahlia said.

Makani wasn't sure if Kahlia was saying it to reassure Makani or to reassure herself, but she didn't want to call her friend out either way. All she did was sigh and lean her head back, staring up at the ceiling and imagining it was the blue skies that she'd been under only an hour ago. Any other day, she'd be dragging Kahlia and the others down to the beach, where they could bask in the sun and try to drench each other in water like they were kids again. They'd all go home wearing tans that bordered on sunburns, too dazed and happy to care a thing about it.

Makani wished more than anything that those days were back.

"Check up on my parents for me, will you?" Makani shut her eyes, her hands clenched together in her lap. "They worry enough as is. I don't want them to stress themselves out when Bastian and I are both gone for the Games."

The other girl coughed a bit in surprise. "I, uh-"

One of her hands went to absently fiddle with her necklace, her fingers seeking out the grooves and tracing them as she thought. "Make sure Isabel and the others know I really am sorry for pulling away; all of this prep right before the Games was more than I thought it would be."

That one was a lie through her teeth, as she'd had plenty of time to prepare but decided to use it to distance herself from people instead of spending time with them. If she didn't think about it too much, she could believe that she was doing them a favor.

"Come on, 'Kani-"

"I'm glad you at least have that painting," Makani said, looking down at her hands and smiling to herself. "And all the memories that went along with-"

Makani made a noise of surprise as she felt a hand brush her cheek, looking up just in time for Kahlia's lips to meet hers. She stayed frozen for a moment, tasting the saltiness of Kahlia's tears. That was nearly enough to drive her over the edge, but instead she let herself soften and warm up to the kiss, which was tentative and unsure and all too short. It wasn't enough, but then again, nothing ever was.

"Don't give up," Kahlia whispered fiercely, leaning back just enough to rest her forehead against Makani's. "You are not allowed to give up on me, not this early. I can see it in your eyes and it breaks my heart not to know why, but you have to fight, Makani."

Of course Makani was completely transparent to the ones she was closest to. Of course they could see right through her every time. It made her wonder if the rest saw through heras well and just sent Kahlia on her own to deal with it.

"I'll do my best," Makani said, her words finally ringing with a bit of truth. She could try; it was the least she could do. She didn't want to leave everything behind, didn't want to think about how everything would surely be different when she was gone.

Makani just wanted everyone to remember her for who she was, not what her dying breaths were like.

"Promise me," Kahlia insisted, the tears streaming down her face now. "You have to promise, I can't stand seeing you give up."

"I promise," Makani said, trying to pour as much conviction into the words as she could.

If it was all she could do to try, then that's what she could do. Makani couldn't disappoint those closest to her (more than she already had), so she'd do whatever it took to get back. Even when the odds were stacked against her, she'd press on.

It's all I can do.

Arcturus "Nash" Prior, 17

District Five Male

Goodbyes weren't supposed to be hard for Nash, as they were a concept he'd been aware of all his life. Even as a child Nash was all about going out and doing things, planning out a future that would take him far away from the world, and leaving always meant saying goodbye.

Nash hated goodbyes more than anything.

Leaving he could deal with, as long as he didn't think about it too much, but goodbyes? Having to own up to leaving everyone behind? Dealing with everyone's reactions to it? It all set Nash on edge, making his leg bounce restlessly as he waited for his last visitor to come in.

His grandparents had come and gone, meaning there was only one person left to visit Nash, the one he was dreading the most. He didn't know how he could say goodbye, didn't know how he would be able to say everything in such a short amount of time.

He wasn't sure what the Games held in store for him, but Nash felt confident that they wouldn't be as hard as trying to say goodbye to Seiren.

Wrapping his old jacket a little tighter around himself, Nash closed his eyes and let his thoughts run through his head, a storm brewing in the corners of his mind. He still didn't fully know what to do or say, as in all of his plans he'd never been able to deal with the possibility of leaving Seiren behind. From the moment Nash had met him, Seiren had always been by his side, and he wasn't sure how to deal with any other reality.

After years of watching the stars, Nash wondered why they never bothered to align for him.

The door clicked and Nash's head snapped up in anticipation, all thoughts of stars gone. Seiren was panting as he entered the room as if he'd just finished one of the training exercises Nash often dragged him into. His dark hat was back on his head, but Seiren looked up at Nash with eyes filled with tears and Nash just couldn't bear it.

Clenching his hands into fists, Nash stared at his best friend, the one person in the world who meant the most to him, and he couldn't handle the sight of Seiren so broken up about this already. He knew that saying anything - that confessing anything - would only make it worse in the long run, and right now Seiren was happy. He could be happy again, but only if Nash kept quiet.

Nash may not have had a say in whether or not he left now, but he could decide how he left. And he would do anything to keep it from hurting Seiren any more.

Even if it meant keeping him in the dark about Nash's feelings.

"What's with the face? You look like you're the one that just got reaped."

Seiren let out a breath that sounded a little too forced, like he was on the verge of breaking down into sobs, but he just shook his head. "Is now really the time to be joking about that?"

The only way Nash would be able to get through this was if he pretended like everything was normal, so that's what he would do. "Now's as good of a time as any." If it's all I have left with you.

Seiren's shoulders sagged as he sat down on the couch next to Nash, his hand impulsively going to tug on the brim of his hat. Nash longed to take it off, but he didn't want to strip away the comfort that Seiren was getting right now by wearing it.

Silence fell between them, an odd comfort that they both knew well. It was never awkward when it was just the two of them, as sometimes Seiren needed the peace and Nash was more than happy to let him be quiet for as long as he needed. Now more than ever, it was the least Nash could do.

"It was weird hearing your real name," Seiren said with a soft laugh. "I haven't heard you go by Arcturus in a long time."

"I didn't even realize it was me for a minute," Nash admitted, though of course Seiren would know that, as they'd been standing together in the crowd when his name was called. "At least they didn't drag my middle name into it, huh?"

Seiren snorted, clearly trying to suppress a smile. "I just can't believe your middle name is Ignatius. It's a good thing they didn't say that, too."

"You know, I wouldn't have gone by Nash if it wasn't for you," Nash said, shooting him a grin. "I would've been labeled an Arcturus all my life."

"I saved you from a truly miserable existence," Seiren deadpanned, but he gave Nash another small smile.

Nash pondered that for a moment before silently agreeing. Even if Seiren wasn't aware of the extent of his impact on Nash's life, it was there nonetheless. Seiren was easy to talk to and be around, giving Nash a tether to earth to keep him grounded instead of constantly wishing to leave.

Clearing his throat, Nash sat up a little straighter and started taking off his jacket. "I need you to take my jacket for me," he said. "I'd rather it not get dirty or anything, and I doubt they'd let me wear it in the arena anyway. I think… it should stay here with someone that'll take care of it."

The other boy's eyes widened at the sight of the outstretched jacket, the dark purple fabric a little worn in spots but otherwise holding up well. "I couldn't, I mean... "

Words seemed to fail him, making Seiren clam up like he had back when Nash first met him. It made Nash's heart ache, something he somehow wasn't prepared for on this day full of regret and longing. He wished that things could go back to the way they were, because at least then he could be content with what he had. Maybe if he'd done things differently, he wouldn't feel this miserable now.

Nash forced out a laugh and shook his head, placing it in Seiren's lap. "You're ridiculous, Seiren. Just take it. You're the one that wears it half the time anyway."

Seiren ducked his head in response, slipping his arms through the sleeves and tugging the collar of the jacket up. He blinked up at Nash, who had to hold back a genuine smile at the way it completely enveloped Seiren's smaller form.

"I actually brought this for you," Seiren blurted out, taking the hat off his head. "I know it's dumb and you don't have to take it, but I didn't know if you had a token… I wanted to make sure you had an option if you didn't… but maybe I should've grabbed something else?"

Nash wanted to tell him to shut up, or maybe he just wanted to kiss Seiren and see if that would do the trick, but just as he'd thought it, Nash imagined the lovely blonde girl with the musical laugh that had completely enchanted Seiren and knew that he still couldn't do anything. Seiren was happy the way he was, and Nash wouldn't - couldn't - do anything to ruin it.

So instead, a simple "Thank you" was all that came out of his mouth as he took the hat and held it in his hands. It was just as old and worn as Nash's jacket, making him suddenly understand Seiren's reluctance to accept his jacket.

He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, the Peacekeeper opened the door and reality came crashing in once more.

Before Nash could even breathe, he felt two arms wrap around his stomach and barely recognized that it was Seiren giving him a hug. He managed to loosely wrap his arms around Seiren in return, feeling numb and stiff as he was once again forced to remember what his future held. But it was over all too soon, as the Peacekeeper in the doorway coughed pointedly.

Seiren leaned back, averting his gaze as he stood up. Nash didn't want to look him in the eyes, scared of what he might find. But Nash had never felt as helpless as he did then, watching Seiren leave and knowing it could very well be the last time he ever saw Seiren. And maybe he was a fucking coward for never do anything, but Nash would never stand in the way of Seiren's happiness.

At least when Nash was gone, Seiren would still be happy. That's all he could ask for.

Jaqueline "Jack" Carmichael, 18

District Eight Female

If Jack kept staring at the table long enough, maybe the Peacekeeper would finally come to take her father and Almira away so she didn't have to keep suffocating in this overwhelming silence. She didn't know why they would bother to show up if they weren't going to say anything, but she was determined to not be the first person to speak.

It was funny, really, how Jack had spent so many years resenting her father only to end up being taken from him without ever fixing their relationship. She couldn't even figure out if she was sad or not, too numb from hearing her name called at the reaping to be able to think about anything else.

And Jack didn't know how to feel about them being her only visitors here. No one else had come, and no one would once they were gone. She was just Jack, alone as she had been for years.

A nearly imperceptible noise caught her attention, and Jack raised her head enough to see Almira whisper something to her father. Jack's father hesitated before squeezing his wife's hand reassuringly, the two sharing some kind of secret moment right in front of Jack. Delicately, Almira stood up and looked at Jack, who was taken aback as she realized the woman's eyes were filled with tears. "I really do hope you come back to us, Jack," Almira said, her tears threatening to spill over. "This has always been your home, whether you accepted it or not."

Jack felt a sting of something, though she couldn't be sure what. All she knew was that she was suddenly hyper aware of the fact that if she'd given Almira a chance, they probably could have been friends. But it was too late for that.

And Jack didn't linger in regret.

Almira left the room quietly. Jack could barely make out a murmured conversation between her and the Peacekeeper before the door closed, leaving her alone in the room with her father.

The silence was pressing in on her now; Jack had never been claustrophobic but she certainly felt that way. She hated the way things had changed between her and her father, turning a comfortable relationship into one where she could barely sit in the same room as him without feeling restless.

He'd broken her trust, and no amount of gaudy, expensive presents were enough to repair it. The only thing that her father had managed to do over the past year was teach Jack that she couldn't trust anyone, not even her own blood. Deep inside, the walls around her heart just grew stronger, making it nearly impossible for anyone to get in again.

Being alone was something that Jack was accustomed to, but loneliness was something that she never let herself think about much.

"Jack, I…" her father started before trailing off, another sign of how things had changed. He was never this unsure of himself, never one to struggle for words. But everything else had already changed, so why not this as well?

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to," he said slowly, leaning forward so he could watch her, "I know you haven't been happy about all these changes. And I… I'm sorry that you've felt that way. I can't help but feel that I messed up somewhere along the way, but leaving you behind isn't what I wanted."

He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to figure out what to say next. Jack caught every hesitation, each pause making it even more obvious that their relationship was broken, likely beyond repair. She had avoided spending time with him recently, so this was the most she'd been around him in quite a while.

Jack found herself caught between anger, irritation, and indifference, each emotion trying to gain momentum in her head. She was angry, but she didn't know if it was aimed at her father or Almira or herself, and she couldn't even articulate why. The irritation was easier to place, as she was irritated that they were coming in here acting like they cared so much when Jack had made a point to never become a real part of their family. The indifference kept winning out, though, as Jack just… couldn't find anything to say. Her mind was surprisingly empty; she didn't think she could come up with anything even if she tried.

"I hope you come home," her father finally continued, releasing an exhausted sigh as he did so. For the first time in a long time, he looked like the father she'd grown up with: run-down and overworked and exhausted. It made her pause and look at him directly, his eyes softening. "I want the chance to be close to you again."

Jack's mouth opened uselessly before her jaw tightened and she closed it once again. All she could manage to do was give her father a tight nod, and after a beat he realized that's all he was going to get in response.

The sound of the door opening was the next sound that they heard, making them remember exactly where they were. Jack stared at the doorway in anticipation, but instead of seeing her father leave, she felt a warm hand come down on her shoulder. She reluctantly lifted her eyes to see her father's tear-streaked face.

"I love you, Jack," he said, laying his eyes on his daughter in front of him for what could be the last time. "No amount of money will ever change that. It never did."

And with that he was gone, walking away to leave her to her fate. Jack stared after him, watching the door close behind the only familiarity she'd ever known. It still cut straight to her core to see him leave, even though she'd hardly had him in her life for the past year.

"You too," Jack whispered to an empty room. From here on out the only person she had was herself. It looked like nothing had changed, really.

Loneliness had first taken hold of Jack years ago, and she was in too deep to escape now.

Thay Alexander Yukimura, 16

District Nine Male

"What the hell was that?" was the first thing that came out of Emilia's mouth as she entered the goodbye room. Her entire face looked pinched as if she was trying to figure out whether she should hug him, strangle him, or just burst into tears. Thay personally hoped for none of the above, but Emilia always managed to surprise him.

"I volunteered," he answered simply, barely looking up at her as he twisted the lone ring on his hand.

Emilia sighed for what had to have been at least the third time since she'd entered the room, burying her face in her hands. "No shit," she said, the words muffled. "I meant why."

"Oh." Thay blinked. "It was the only way."

The ring kept turning on his finger as they lapsed into silence, the room weighed down by things left unsaid. To be honest, Thay wasn't sure what to say. He'd volunteered because he was the last Yukimura left. He'd volunteered because if he hadn't, he'd surely get caught by someone, whether it was the Peacekeepers or the Cardinals or anyone in between. He'd volunteered because this was as close to a way out as he was going to get, and at least this gave him a fighting chance. He'd volunteered because he was tired of running, and this time he chose to never run again.

It was tiring, after all. And now, when Thay's back was against the wall, he would find his own way out. If volunteering was the only way for him to be free, then he'd take this opportunity.

Emilia opened her mouth to say something at the same time that Thay did. The two stared at each other before Emilia gestured for him to talk.

"Take care of the Ospreys for me."

Emilia's face paled at the thought of essentially being put in charge, her hands twitching at her sides like they did when she got nervous. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before the words managed to claw their way up her throat. "You can't put me in charge," she whispered. "I still don't know what the hell I'm doing, they won't listen to me, we need you there Thay-"

He just put up a hand and leaned back, the unusually plush couch putting him on edge. At least this was better than the wide open District getting ready for the reaping, but not by much.

Thinking over his words carefully, he finally locked eyes with her for the first time since she'd entered the room. "If I thought anyone else would be capable, I'd ask them. I'm not just asking because you're the one here; I would've put you in charge either way. So stop being nervous about it and just go take care of them using everything I taught you."

On impulse, her spine straightened, and she gave him a firm nod. Thay could see her hands clench into fists at her side. He knew she wasn't actually ready - none of them were - but she'd be able to pull herself together and get the job done. He trusted her enough for that, as she'd been one of the "leaders" back when they were just a ragtag group of kids. Thay knew that at the very least, Emilia wouldn't let the Ospreys go back to living in the gutters; they'd clawed their way out of that once already.

The thought briefly came to mind that Thay should've done more to get them ready to survive without him, but there was no time for that kind of thinking now. Thay had enough regrets weighing him down. He didn't need any more.

The Peacekeeper standing guard outside his room knocked on the door to signal that their time was up, so Thay just sighed and leaned his head back against the couch. He closed his eyes for a few moments, too short to give him any sense of peace or rest. Emilia's footsteps were soft as they moved toward the door, but he heard her pause when she reached the doorway.

"Thank you," she said, the words barely heard over the deafening silence in the room. "For everything."

Thay opened his eyes to say something in response, but she was gone by the time he looked in her direction. He managed another sigh, at least grateful that he'd have these last few moments of quiet before he began the fight for his life. Hopefully this one would be the last.

"Looks like I came just in time to cheer you up. I can't have you going to the Capitol looking like someone pissed in your coffee."

Thay's head snapped up at the sound of the voice, his eyes wide with shock as he openly stared at the person casually leaning against the doorframe. The faint smell of a mechanic shop wafted off of him, the scent of oil somehow comforting to Thay in this moment even as his entire body stopped moving and he could barely breathe.

It was impossible, after all. There was no way his brother could be standing in this room with him. Ghosts couldn't walk the earth, and Thay certainly wasn't seeing one now.

Ymir let out a chuckle and stepped over to the couch that Emilia had previously occupied, immediately plopping down and resting his feet on the table between them. "What is it, Charon? Too used to being a living legend that you can't stand to see another one in front of you?"

"You're supposed to be dead," was the only thing that came out of Thay's mouth, his stunned disbelief overtaking all else. His body tensed with the desire to get up and run again, to run like he had his whole life, but instead he stayed rooted in place. He refused to let himself outwardly lose his cool, but judging by the smirk Ymir was giving him, his brother already knew that he was beginning to spiral.

"Being dead didn't seem as exciting as being on the run for a few years," Ymir said, shockingly casual as his dark eyes peered at Thay. He absently ran a hand through his hair, making Thay twitch with recognition.

Whoever this was, they at least acted like the Ymir he knew. The thought of Ymir being able to escape Annie didn't sit right with Thay, but the details of that particular mission had been locked down tight. It wasn't supposed to be possible, but…

"You didn't come back," Thay muttered, folding his arms over his chest. For me, was the part that he left out, not wanting to feel like a petulant child, but Ymir seemed to hear it loud and clear.

Ymir sighed and looked at the door, both of them knowing that they were on borrowed time at this point. "Just… listen to me for once, okay? You and I both know that if I'd come back around, Annie would've killed me and you, and then you went off the radar entirely. But Thay, if you win this…" He slowly took his feet off the table, leaning forward to stare at Thay. "We can go home. Together. No more running, no more fighting. After all, what can the Cardinals do to a Victor? You could be untouchable."

Thay's breath was caught in his throat, nearly making him choke. His head was still spinning from all this new information, from seeing his brother alive and right in front of him. It was all too good to be true, and yet…

Slowly getting to his feet, Thay took a cautious step towards his brother, the table still between them. Ymir peered up at him, sizing him up before nodding. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry," he murmured. "But I knew you could make it on your own, and I wouldn't change anything."

Thay hated the feeling of being speechless, of for once not being able to properly sort out the words swirling around in his head. He didn't know what to feel, but all he could do was nod and hold out his hand. "I won't let you down," he swore.

"You make it sound like I doubted you," Ymir teased, gripping Thay's hand tightly.

For a moment there was peace, and things almost felt like they used to. But that never lasted, and Ymir was soon ushered from the room by the same angry looking Peacekeeper that had been standing outside since Thay got there. Thay got one more look at his brother - alive, breathing - before he was gone again.

Sitting back down on the couch, Thay knew for sure this time that there was no one else that would visit him. Part of him dared to wonder if Thee would show up, but he shoved that thought aside quickly. There was no sense in telling himself fairy tales.

Giving his ring another twist on his finger, Thay stared up at the ceiling. He was as ready for the Games as he could be, and he'd play by his own rules, just like he always had. Thay Yukimura would bend for no one, and that would never change.

we have officially entered ~chapitols~ which just means that the grind never stops from here on out. hold on to your horses because shit's about to get real

~de laney is out