A/N
I cannot believe that I am saying this, but this is the final chapter of Crown of Thorns. I'll likely be blabbering a lot in the final a/n, so I'll keep this one short. I hope you enjoy this final chapter, which follows our Victor and survivor in the aftermath of the Games...
But he who dares not grasp the thorn, shall never crave the rose -Anne Bronte.
Risa Delmare, Victor of the 86th Hunger Games
Risa pushed her fork around her plate, puncturing the crumbly flesh of the sautéed fish and moulding the incredibly fluffy portion of creamy mashed potato into a perfect pyramid. Whilst the dinner looked and smelt delicious, Risa couldn't bring herself to take even the smallest of nibbles.
"Miss Delmare," Rawlins looked at her full plate, shaking his head. "Do you not appreciate the effort I put into this meal for you? It's entirely District Four themed –seafood! I thought it would bring you comfort."
Risa glanced at the table which was laden with all varieties of seafood, from the whole fish on her plate to the delicate dishes of oysters and caviar that spread themselves along the glass surface. Baskets full of darkly shaded bread (which were apparently baked with seaweed) sat beside dipping pots of squid ink and oils, and a few large pitchers of a coconut infused cocktail nestled between the over-indulgent abundance of delicacies.
Whilst it did remind Risa of home, to some minor and superficial extent, it did not bring her comfort.
"I am humbled by your thoughtfulness, thank you Mr Rawlins," returned Risa politely, feeling sick at the back of her throat through having to please the man who was trying to control her every move. "I am just a little homesick, that is all."
Rawlins nodded his head once. "That is understandable, petal. You have been through a lot in the arena."
"Yes," agreed Risa, biting her tongue to prevent her from speaking words she may eventually regret. "I was wondering, actually, when I might be returning home?"
Risa had seen from previous Games that Victors tended to return to their homes fairly soon after the conclusion of the Games; allowing time to recuperate and adjust before their Victory Tour would begin several months later. It had been a handful of days since she had been pulled out of the arena and so far there had been no mentioning of when she may return home. Risa saw herself as physically quite recovered from her time in the arena; the Capitol's medicinal technologies had made light work of her injuries, including emptying the smoke that had clogged up her lungs and clearing away the blisters from her scorched palms. Though Risa couldn't deny that her mind was far from being returned to its pre-arena state and she knew with a sadness that ached in her heart that she would never return to the person she used to be.
"Ah yes," Rawlins slid an oyster down the back of his throat with an elegant tip. "I was planning on discussing that with you this evening."
Risa felt a nervous tickle in the pit of her stomach.
"We will be changing the time scale a little," he explained. "Your Victory Tour will be brought forwards –to next week, as a matter of fact. We thought that with Panem in mourning over the tragic loss of our dearest President, the people could really do with a distraction. Something to keep their spirits up, hm? Wouldn't you agree?"
Risa had to quickly bring her eyebrows back down, which had slowly risen as Rawlins had explained the change in plans. She was confident that the Victory Tour would be more than just a distraction away from grief –it would be a distraction to avert the eyes of Panem towards a constructed fairytale. That suggested that there was something Rawlins and his associates were desperate to keep hidden, and Risa was just as desperate to find out what that something was.
Risa cleared her throat delicately. "What an excellent idea, Mr Rawlins."
Rawlins seemed pleased with himself. "Well, yes, I thought so too."
"Will, erm…" Risa glanced at the empty seats at the table, "will Aella and Indira be joining us for the Tour?"
Risa hadn't seen her mentor, nor her escort, since before she had even stepped into the arena. She had been hesitant to ask of their whereabouts after hearing that Aella had been arrested in connection with the President's assassination. Aella had been a decent mentor, firm but fair, and there definitely seemed a softer side beneath her tough exterior. Risa had hoped to learn from her mentor, especially if she were to inherit that role for next year's Games.
Rawlins took a long swig of his cocktail, before placing it down on the table. He looked back at Risa with a strained look on his face.
"Aella Castro is still being questioned regarding recent… events," he told her. "Though I am sure she will be adequately cleared before the tour begins. As for Indira, she suffered some injuries during Cascade Nepeta's brutal attack against the Peacekeepers and her fellow mentors and escorts, though I believe she will make a full recovery soon."
Risa forced a smile. "That is positive news."
Rawlins nodded quickly, then waved his hand in a beckoning call to one of the nearby Avoxes. "Yes, yes. Now, shall we move to dessert? We have the most extraordinary tarts and they are shaped like seashells and starfish! How wonderful!"
The rest of the dinner was a slow moving and rather uncomfortable affair, though Risa made every effort against her internal judgement to laugh at the Capitolite's jokes and force a selection of desserts into her mouth. Once Rawlins was finally satisfied with his consumption of food, he swallowed the remaining mouthfuls of his beverage and then rose promptly from the head of the table.
"There are matters I need to attend to regarding your Victory Tour, so I'm afraid I must leave you," he said, patting down the creases in his silk jacket. "It was a pleasure dining with you, Miss Delmare."
Risa bowed her head as she rose from her seat, feeling the hem of her long skirt tickle her ankles. "Thank you for the meal, Mr Rawlins, it was very considerate of you."
Rawlins then bid Risa goodnight before swiftly exiting the apartment, leaving Risa stood in front of the table, which was being quickly cleared away by Avoxes. She looked at the large empty space around her, which just a week ago had been inhabited by her, Aella, Indira and Kai. Now, one of them was imprisoned, another injured, and the other dead.
Risa was the only one left standing.
Her mind wandered to Scout as she walked across the apartment with her bare feet treading gently against the marbled floor. Risa thought about the look on the boy's face as the Peacekeeper had held the gun to his temple, not even flinching as the safety had been flicked off. It was as though Scout had come to terms with his death long before a bullet waited patiently just inches away from his skull. Risa supposed that the odds hadn't ever been in the boy from Twelve's favour; they were stacked against him, in any consideration. So she supposed it was rather logical for him to have come to the conclusion that he would not walk out of the Games alive.
And yet, he had.
Risa wondered what that would do to a person's mind. She herself had already played with the reality that she may have died in that arena along with Sapphire, Silven, Elena and Luca, and the other tributes who had fallen. Though where Risa and Scout had differed was that Risa had volunteered for the Games, possessing therefore a reasonable pinch of hope that she may have won; whereas for Scout that hope didn't exist at all. Barely even a fragment of hope of survival would have crossed his mind; it had been clear from how bewildered he had appeared that he had been living a part of his life he had never planned for, nor even considered may ever arrive. Whilst most people would have been relieved to still be feeling their heart beating and drawing breath into their lungs, Scout had appeared almost regretful.
Which brought Risa to one question: had she made the right decision bargaining for Scout's life?
It was an answer she may never find, Risa thought as she stood beside a large window in the apartment, gazing down at the streets of the Capitol below. She supposed she would likely never see the boy she had saved ever again; never knowing whether her actions would become a blessing or a curse.
Just another thought to tap on the thin glass wall that surrounded the fragilities of Risa's mind.
With the Victory Tour launching in a week, Risa wondered how many more thoughts it would take to shatter the glass entirely.
Scout Summers, Survivor of the 86th Hunger Games
The glass shattered as it hit the solid wooden floor, a thousand splinters scattering at Scout's feet. With a startled step backwards, Scout looked at his now empty hand which merely moments ago had been holding a glass filled with a sour tasting liquid, which he supposed was also on the floor.
Cursing under his breath, Scout crouched down, reaching to collect the larger pieces of broken glass. As his body naturally curled inwards, making his structure more compact, he suddenly sucked in a sharp breath as he consciously reminded himself that he wasn't in the arena anymore, and he wasn't trying to conceal himself from the threats of another tribute.
The momentary distraction caused Scout to catch the tip of his finger on the edge of a shard of glass, which drew blood almost immediately. His eyes fell to his bleeding finger, staring as the crimson liquid oozed from his skin, trickling down into the creases in his palms. A tiny pool began to form in the centre of his hand, where a large white scar broke his skin. Almost at once Scout felt a sharp pain pulsating from his hand, as though Listra's knife was being plunged into it again and again.
The man in the peacock suit had sent in a nurse during the first day he had spent in the apartment, and she had patched him up impressively well for one person alone. Scout hadn't realised how advanced the medicine was in the Capitol; what could have been life threatening injuries back at home were merely scratches to the woman who had tended to them with silent care. He wasn't grateful for the efforts, however; it simply harnessed his bitterness towards the Capitol. People in Twelve were dying from infection, yet in the Capitol they could cure almost anything with a simple cream or pill.
It made Scout sick.
The whole apartment made Scout sick. The lavish furnishings, the elaborate embellishments; the aura of undeserved privilege clung to every fibre in the air. He would have felt more at ease sleeping on the streets, but that wasn't an option for him. A prisoner of the walls around him, Scout was trapped.
Realising his hand was trembling, Scout closed his fist and rose to his feet. Walking to the bathroom, he held his bleeding finger beneath the tap, flinching as water automatically began pouring from the tap like a miniature waterfall. Even having used a similar sink in the tribute apartment before the Games, Scout was still finding it difficult to adjust.
The water was cool as it cleansed his open wound, washing away the blood from the rest of his hand. Lifting his hand from the sink, Scout dabbed it dry on a soft warm towel and reached for a tissue, which he used to wrap around his fingertip in case the bleeding began again.
Scout then returned to the site of the accident, careful this time to collect the pieces of broken glass without slicing his damaged skin again. Once all the pieces were cleared away, he leant against the wall, looking at the apartment around him.
How long had it been?
Days? Weeks? Scout struggled to keep hold of his sense of time. He could recall having seen maybe three moons from inside the apartment? Or was it more, or even fewer?
The Capitol man who had brought him here –Rawlins, or something like that –had warned him that the windows were made from a semi opaque glass, meaning that Scout could see outside, but the outside could not see him. That made his imprisonment even worse. Scout would have rather remained in a room underground, such as the one beneath the arena, than to have to see the world moving outside but not be a part of it. It wasn't that he particularly wanted to live his life for himself, but rather that he wanted to live his life for Ebon.
Scout supposed his sister believed him to be dead; she would have watched the speech delivered by the minister who had brought Risa to the stage, declaring her as Victor. He wondered if she had shed tears over him, as she had cried for him in the Justice Building. Had she built a memorial stone beside Shale's grave? Scout supposed he may never know.
Scout was a ghost, neither living nor dead. Hovering between two worlds, being unable to taste the sweet taste of freedom nor feel the sweet relief of death, Scout was tormented.
Perhaps it would have been better if he were dead after all.
Without his family, what did Scout have to live for?
Scout looked into the open pot that he had tipped the broken glass into. His eyes lingered over one of the larger shards, his fingers twitching.
The sound of the front door being unlocked drew his attention away from the glass.
"Boy, are you home?" the smooth but sickly voice of his captor filled the apartment.
Where else would I be? Scout thought with bitterness.
Rawlins smiled with an obvious falsity as he looked Scout up and down, his gaze lingering on the tissue that was wrapped around his finger, though he chose not to question it. He walked over to the table in the centre of the room, pulling out a chair and gesturing for Scout to do the same.
Reluctantly, Scout took a seat on the other end of the table, his hands resting in his lap.
"How are you tonight?" asked Rawlins, frowning as his eyes caught the damp patch on the floor where Scout had dropped his drink.
Scout shrugged.
"Still a boy of few words, I see," muttered Rawlins, his eyes glancing around the room. "Well, you don't really need to talk anyway, just to listen."
Scout chewed on his lower lip.
"I came to inform you that the Victory Tour is leaving next week," he explained. "We are starting it early this year for obvious reasons."
Scout said nothing.
Rawlins picked something from under his nail, flicking it onto the floor. "I was never that keen on this apartment really –too small and too far from the centre of the Capitol. Though I suppose that is what makes it an appropriate place to hold you until we can find a more…permanent solution to our predicament."
The predicament meaning him still being alive, Scout thought to himself.
"I shall be overseeing the Victory Tour for the coming weeks," Rawlins continued. "Once it is concluded I shall see to finding alternative arrangements for you. In the meantime my personal Peacekeepers shall continue to keep an eye on you, and the Avoxes shall keep you comfortable. Despite not being Victor, I shall endeavour to be a gracious host for you."
Scout bit his tongue, holding in the anger that was brewing dangerously within him.
"Well, that is all for now," Rawlins stood up, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen over his forehead. "I shall see you in a few weeks, boy. Do ensure to tune into the Tour; it would be delightful to see your family's faces, would it not?"
Scout managed not to send a fist into the face of the Capitolite, choosing to send it straight into the wall instead after Rawlins had left the apartment.
Retreating from the wall, Scout looked down at his bloodied hand.
He supposed he needed a bigger tissue.
Risa Delmare, Victor of the 86th Hunger Games
"Risa dear, would you mind passing me a tissue?" Indira asked politely, holding a delicate finger to her nostril.
Risa plucked a tissue from the jewelled box beside her, reaching across to hand it to her escort. Indira took the tissue gratefully, placing it over her nose and pulling a disgusted face at the sight of blood on her finger.
"Absolutely disgusting," Indira muttered with repulsion. "A terrible side effect from my injuries. I sincerely hope that these spontaneous nosebleeds cease sharpish!"
"No, you wouldn't want to get blood on your dress now, would you?" Aella replied, her voice thick with sarcasm as ever. She pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut as she took a deep breath.
The Tour had left at dawn; stepping onto the familiar train that had brought Risa to the Capitol following the Reapings, it had been the first time Risa had seen her mentor since the Games had ended. Rawlin's words had seemed truthful as Aella had been released from custody, and Indira discharged from hospital. Though Risa knew better than to trust the words of the minister who was pulling her strings like a puppet; she supposed Aella's release had only been to maintain appearances for the Tour and worried about what would happen the moment the cameras went off.
Aella had been supportive, as Risa had expected her to have been; she had enveloped Risa in a tight hug the moment the train started its journey and had told her how proud she was. Indira seemed a little emotional at the reunion, but an unannounced nosebleed quickly dampened her spirits.
Yet despite the comforting words, something had changed within Aella. She seemed distracted; never fully present. Risa wanted to ask what had happened, though she knew better than to pry when the wounds were still open.
Indira, however, had no problem with sharing her own experiences as the train made its way to the first stop on the tour: District One.
"Oh Risa, it was terrible," whined Indira, patting her nostril and breathing a small sigh of relief as the blood seemed to have stopped leaking. She reached for a bottle beside her, pumping a squirt of strong scented liquid into her palms that she rubbed generously over her hands. "The screaming, the gun shots –oh my goodness. I thought I had been shot in the head when I was knocked into the counter. Everything went very hazy; I could hardly see! Oh and the pain –unbearable!"
"At least you made it out alive," Aella muttered, just loud enough for them both to hear as she stood beside the window, watching as the world zipped by in a flash.
Indira sighed, a forlorn look passing over her heavily made-up face. "Queenie was a dear friend, despite our quarrels. She shall be missed. Not sure I can say the same about Eudora, she wasn't to everyone's taste."
"I think Eudora more than made up for her past mistakes," snapped Aella. "If it weren't for Eudora it would have been my brains decorating the floor of the mentor suite."
Indira held her hand over her mouth, gagging. "Please don't mention brains, I can't quite get that image out of my head. Excuse me for a moment, Risa my sweet, I need to pop to the toilet."
Risa watched as the escort hurried out of the room, her body lurching as she tried to hold back the vomit that was rising in the back of her throat. As the door of the main carriage slid shut, Aella turned from the window to face Risa.
"Capitolites are always so dramatic," she complained, folding her arms across her chest. "They always have to play the victim."
Risa nodded in agreement.
"We're the ones who know what shit is really like, right?" Aella huffed.
Risa looked down at her hands, which were resting in her lap with her fingers entwined together. Her face was pulled into a tight frown as she tried to take a grip on the endless thoughts that were swirling around her mind, each one fighting for the chance to be in the spotlight.
She was thinking about the Games, about the lives she had taken and the life she had spared. She was thinking about her family, and her friend Garcia, and of all the family and friends of the fallen tributes she was about to stand before. Victory Tours never looked like an easy ride for Victors, regardless of whether they had volunteered or not –and those Victors had benefitted from months to prepare, whereas Risa had only had a week.
"The first one is always tough," said Aella, as if she had been reading Risa's thoughts like a book. "But you'll get through it; you've gone through worse."
Risa smiled at her mentor; it was a weak smile, but it was all she could manage as the train pulled into the station.
Being quickly prepped by her stylist team, Risa was escorted by a handful of Peacekeepers to the Justice Building, where she waited for her cue to walk on stage.
Behind the large double doors, Risa could hear the sound of the Capitol anthem playing and the crowds cheering. Despite Silven and Sapphire having died in the arena, their home District still appeared to be enjoying the celebrations. That was quite normal for a Career District, Risa supposed, as the doors opened and she walked out onto the stage.
Dressed in a dark navy dress that swept way past her ankles, dragging across the floor elegantly behind her, Risa was shocked to see how she looked in the array of screens that filled the square in front of the building. Her dark hair, which was styled in an effortless bun that sat at the top of her head complimented the shade of her dress and married beautifully with her light silver make-up which shimmered as she blinked to adjust her eyes to the lights that focused on her. She looked as though she had aged by a few years at least; she was no longer the girl who had entered the arena with a torn mind, but she was now the woman who had survived what the world had thrown at her.
She would have felt a growing confidence if it hadn't been for the steady images of Silven and Sapphire that faced her directly as she stood in front of the applauding crowds. It was as though they were staring straight at her; Sapphire's piercing green eyes found Risa's, her lips curled in a smug smile. Risa could almost hear her bitter taunts, which were soon drowned out by the sound of her screams as the cornucopia smothered her. The Hyland family looked at Risa with stern faces; Risa supposed that they had observed that the girls hadn't been the best of friends. Risa felt her cheeks growing hot as she tried to avoid their disapproving faces, realising with an after-thought that Sapphire had been the cause of her own demise. That didn't stop her from feeling somewhat guilty, though.
Risa's eyes then found themselves settling on Silven's. His cheeky arrogance was radiating from his picture; his blond curls looking as though they were made of pure gold. Risa had discovered in the days between leaving the arena and starting the Tour that her ally had been killed by the duo of Listra Wray from Six, and her nimble ally from Ten. She had hoped that Silven's family would have looked more kindly upon Risa, but a furious looking man who Risa suspected was Silven's father stood with his arms folded tightly across his chest, with a weeping girl beside him. There appeared to be no love lost between Silven and his father, which would have explained why Silven had been so desperate to prove himself.
As the Capitol anthem died down, Risa pulled out the prompt card to read the script Rawlins had prepared for her. Opening her mouth, Risa glanced at Aella quickly, who offered her the reassuring nod she needed to let the words fall from her mouth.
Once the short speech was over, Risa was quickly swept off the stage and taken back to the train station with barely enough time to even pause for breath. What Risa did notice, as she was stepping into the train, was a small crowd of people rushing towards the platform. She tried to turn around to see what was happening, but she was ushered into the carriage by one of the Peacekeepers who blocked her view. Quickly moving into the closest carriage, Risa pressed herself against the window, looking out at the gathering crowds who were all holding bouquets of white roses and shouting words that Risa could not make out from behind the protective glass of the window.
"What were they doing?" Risa asked Aella as the train started to pull from the station.
Aella shrugged, perching on the edge of a table. "Maybe they were mourning for the President? I don't know. It's not worth worrying about."
Risa thought about the white roses for the rest of the night as she tossed and turned in the silk sheets of her bed. The images of the President kept replaying in her head over and over, to the point where she looked down at her arm and thought she saw thorns growing through her skin, causing her to spend the rest of the night in a restless heap of sweat and tears.
The journey to District Two seemed to pass even quicker than the journey had to One. Risa barely had time to wash the remnants of her sleepless night from her skin before her face was poked at and her hair pulled, and she was slipped into a figure-hugging dress a sombre shade of burnt orange.
As before, she was taken into the Justice Building before walking onto the stage and being faced with her allies once again.
Aella may have told her that the first one was the hardest; but that wasn't true in Risa's case. Looking at the projected images of Luca and Elena, Risa could feel the back of her throat burning. She wouldn't have considered them friends; Risa was sensible enough to know not to form attachments in the Games; yet she had grown close enough to the pair from Two that being reminded of their deaths sent a sharp pain through her heart.
Elena's family maintained a calm exterior; her parents and sister showed very little emotion as they stood beside the image of the girl who had died in such a brutal way no one should ever see their loved one go through. Luca's family seemed somewhat distant; his parents also having to witness a scene of horror which Risa knew she wouldn't be forgetting in a hurry. A boy also stood a small distance from the parents whom Risa guessed was Luca's friend; the one who must have sent him the letter Luca had refused to read. Risa wondered if perhaps Luca had been in love with that boy; it seemed as though if he had been, the feelings were reciprocated.
Risa hadn't really known the tributes from Three, though she remembered how Elena had taken the life of Serenity. The young girl from Three had seemed inspiringly brave in the moments before her death, which Risa had wished to say to her family, though she couldn't risk departing from her prompt card. As the name Tseng left her lips, there was a sudden uproar from the crowds. Hooded figures slipped out from between the rows of people, flashes of light moving down by their wrists as they darted between bodies. As the screaming began and the first person fell in a heap on the ground, Risa gasped as she realised that the hooded figures were stabbing people. At once a movement of Peacekeepers swarmed into the crowds and Risa felt a tug on her shoulders as she was taken to safety. As the doors of the Justice Building slammed shut, Risa swore she heard a person yell the eye of the eagle sees all.
At the train made its way to District Five, having missed out her home District, Risa felt a chill to her bones as she thought about the hooded figures. She hoped that there hadn't been many casualties, though she supposed that she would never know.
Risa hadn't known the tributes from Five very well, though she remembered that the boy, Herman, had been allies with the sweet girl from Three. Aella had told her that the boy had taken his own life, after Luca had chosen to show him mercy. Despite this being news to Risa, it didn't entirely surprise her; her ally had been a complicated boy and it was almost comforting knowing that he had a decent heart beneath the façade he tried to show off. The girl from Five, named Ota, appeared to have no family standing in her name, though there was a small group of people who seemed affected by her death, including a teenaged girl who appeared particularly upset as a man at least ten years her senior lay a protective arm across her shoulders.
Similarly in District Six, not a soul stood for Zino Tayn. No one seemed particularly affected by his passing either, which made Risa feel pity for the boy. He had certainly ruffled a few feathers during the Capitol, though perhaps a lack of love in his life could have been to blame. The Wray family stood with composure as Risa paid tribute to Listra; two brothers and a serious looking father remained stoic as the Mayor of the District expressed what a shame it was to have lost her. It almost seemed as though Mayor Venturi was pleased about Listra's death, which played on Risa's mind as she was taken back to the train for the next stop on the dragging Tour.
Risa felt perhaps her most uncomfortable in Seven. Having taken the lives of both Piken Halbrik and Hesmina Caspum in the finale of the Games, Risa found herself unable to look their families in the eye. The Caspum's seemed devastated, and Risa recalled Hesmina's interview when it had been revealed that her older sister had died in the Games before she had been born; Risa couldn't imagine her parents pain they were experiencing, and that made the guilt she felt weigh her down as she struggled over her prompt card. The Halbrik's seemed just as upset as the Caspum's, with a handsome young man with dark hair visibly trembling. His eyes found Risa's for a split second and Risa felt an immense feeling of responsibility as she quickly averted his gaze. She felt the most relieved she had felt over the entire Tour as she entered the train and was swept away from the dense forests of Seven.
District Eight was one of the quieter Districts on the Tour; a single woman stood for Cambric Mayweather, whilst a group of young teenagers gathered in a close huddle for Yeila Cruz. However, as Risa read out her pre-prepared speech, Rawlins' words sliding off her tongue with a bitter aftertaste, she noticed a tension among the people who stood before her. A few Peacekeepers slowly moved their hands to their holsters, as if they were expecting a disturbance. Risa's heartrate quickened as she tried to speed through the rest of her speech, anxious as a few people shifted within the crowd. As the final words left her mouth, there was a sudden scuffle in the crowd which Risa did not see the outcome of before she was whisked away from harm yet again.
District Nine was uneventful, which Risa was thankful for. A small family stood for Royal Kariki, with a boy who didn't share their looks, making Risa believe that he was a close friend or boyfriend. Risa hadn't known Royal, but she remembered the confidence she had shown which was admirable when stares had naturally followed her. One woman stood for Barric Forsyth, a shaking figure who looked as though she had seen the bottom of one too many bottles of liquor.
Risa recognised the two tributes from District Ten, though she had never really crossed paths with either. The girl, Atarah, she knew had been allied with Listra and between them they had taken down Silven. A single woman stood for Atarah, though she bore no physical resemblance to the girl at all. On the opposing platform stood one man for Dalton Stokes, a vacant look in his eyes as he stared forwards. Risa remembered Dalton had been popular with the Capitolites for his looks, which had also captured the attention of those in his home District too. A flock of young girls wept over the boy, gazing at his picture where his golden skin, tousled hair and perfect smile almost glowed in the warm sun.
There was a strong tug at Risa's heartstrings as she walked onto the stage in District Eleven. Both Camryn and Pumpkin had been so young; their youthful and innocent faces almost bringing a tear to Risa's eyes as she tried to maintain a calm exterior. Risa remembered that Pumpkin had volunteered for the Games in order to provide medicine for his dying mother. She looked over at the platform in front of the young boy's picture, which stood empty. With a sinking feeling in her chest, Risa hoped that Pumpkin's sacrifice hadn't been in vain.
By the time the train pulled into the dusty station of District Twelve, Risa was both physically and mentally exhausted. Fatigue clung to her muscles and clouded her mind as she walked between Aella and Indira up to the Justice Building. The rumours about the coal mining District appeared to be true; there was a sense of depression that hung in the air, the scent of death and desperation seeping into Risa's nostrils as her heels became coated in dust as she struggled to walk along the uneven pathway.
"So Twelve hasn't changed," muttered Aella quietly as she looked at their surroundings. She leant in closer to Risa, whispering in her ear. "No matter how much sympathy you feel for these people, you must stick to the card. You cannot let them know about Scout, both for your sake and his."
Risa nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in the back of her throat. Aella hadn't known about Scout initially, but Risa couldn't keep the secret from her mentor and so when the train had fallen silent in the dead of night, Risa had slipped into Aella's room undetected and told her what had really happened after the arena had shut down. Aella was surprised, but understanding; she admitted that if she had been in the same situation, she may have been tempted to do the same. It had helped having someone to share her concerns with, though Risa and Aella had to be careful over when they spoke about Scout in case their words fell into the wrong ears.
A decent crowd had gathered before the Justice Building, though Risa suspected that they were there through force and not choice. The forlorn, hollow faces of the people of the District looked at Risa with vacant expressions; they believed that she had claimed the lives of both of the tributes from Twelve, though they did not seem to hate her.
Risa's eyes first found themselves looking at the face of the first life she had taken in the arena: Senna Fleury. The same dark hair and dainty features presented themselves on a young man, who stood with his hand entwined with a pleasantly dressed young woman. Risa felt her lips moving into a small, sorry smile as she looked at the man who was likely Senna's brother. Unsurprisingly, the smile was not returned.
Risa found herself looking over at Scout Summers' family, despite her better judgement screaming at her not to. His parents and sister stood on the platform; his parents with a look of distraught loss on their faces, but the sister had a look of fury in her wild eyes. She found Risa's gaze, her stare unwavering as her fists trembled at her sides. A small tuft of yellow perched on her shoulder.
A small cough from behind Risa made her realise that she had been stood in silence for too long. With shaking hands, Risa lifted up her prompt card and drew her eyes over the words. Risa usually found comfort in words, but the ones that stared back at her only filled her with anxiety and frustration.
"I… I'm sorry," Risa croaked into the microphone, letting the prompt card fall from her hand as she turned her back to the stage and walked towards the building behind her.
They made their way back to the train station, Indira flapping with panic in her voice about how Risa had done so well but then had to ruin things at the last stop. Aella had taken Risa's hand, squeezing it hard as they walked quickly to the platform; she said nothing as she walked beside Risa, keeping her eyes focused forwards.
Risa could feel sweat gathering in her hairline as her feet took shaking steps forwards. She hadn't realised how difficult it would be seeing Scout's family but being unable to ease their pain with news of his survival.
"Risa!" an unfamiliar voice cut through the dusty air.
Aella tugged at Risa's hand, urging her to ignore the call and carry on walking, but Risa found herself glancing over her shoulder.
It was Scout's sister.
Peacekeepers were on her almost instantaneously, pulling her arms back behind her. She seemed to ignore her arrest; her eyes were purely focused on Risa and Risa alone.
"Where is my brother, Risa?" she demanded, her voice steady. "I know you didn't kill him."
"Risa we need to go," Aella whispered sharply into Risa's ear, ushering her towards the train.
"If you killed him then I want to see his body!" the sister called out as Risa turned away from her, heading towards the train. "Tell me what they did with him! Risa, please!"
Tears filled Risa's eyes as she stepped up into the train.
Behind her, the voice of the girl became fainter and fainter as she was dragged away by the Peacekeepers, her pleas fading as the train doors slid shut.
Scout Summers, Survivor of the 86th Hunger Games
The door swung open.
Scout looked up from the floor; he had no idea how long he had been sat there for. He had sunk to his knees the moment the stream of the Victory Tour had focused on his family; seeing Ebon's eyes unrelentingly staring at the girl who had spared him had crippled him. Scout had thought endlessly of his sister, but seeing her face other than inside his head was something he couldn't have prepared himself for. Nor could he have prepared for the words that had left Risa Delmare's mouth.
I'm sorry.
The perfect Victor had strayed from her card. Over the past two weeks Scout had watched the Victory Tour coverage, his eyes unblinking as he watched Risa perform her role to perfection; looking stunning in her different outfits and speaking each word with a fluency that flowed naturally from her lips. Even as disturbances rippled through the Districts, Risa appeared to handle the situations with an ever calming posture. She truly was the perfect Victor.
And yet, as she stood on the stage that Scout had walked up to a number of weeks ago, Risa had faltered. She had let her card fall from her grasp, speaking only two words.
I'm sorry.
What was she sorry for? For killing Senna Fleury? For 'killing' Scout?
Was she sorry for lying to his family and to the rest of Panem?
Was she sorry for the life she had condemned Scout to? The life that wasn't really living?
His eyes were raw, stinging from the endless tears that had spilled down his cheeks, as he looked up at the two Peacekeepers who had entered the room.
They both had their guns drawn.
Scout sighed to himself.
"I suppose you're here to kill me?" he said quietly.
Scout had faced death more times than he could count; by now he wasn't afraid of the endless nothingness that came with it. In fact, he almost welcomed it.
"Rawlins sends his apologies," spoke one of the Peacekeepers. "He would have liked to have kept you alive, but your little sister is asking too many questions."
Ebon.
A panic took hold of Scout. "Is she hurt? Is Ebon ok?"
"She'll be fine," replied the Peacekeeper, pausing for a moment. "If she learns to keep her mouth shut, that is."
Oh Ebon. His little sister was smart, but sometimes her mouth could get her into trouble and with her emotions at breaking point, Scout feared for her safety.
"Show her my body," said Scout, bowing his head. "Let her know that I'm gone and she'll stop asking questions."
"That's the idea," replied the Peacekeeper, removing the safety from his pistol. He took a step towards Scout. "Sorry lad, but you should have died in that arena."
Scout let his eyelids fall shut.
He waited.
A moment later a gunshot rang out. He flinched, waiting to see his life flash before his eyes, or whatever was supposed to happen when you die.
There was nothing but darkness.
Slowly, Scout opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was a pool of blood seeping into the wooden floor beside the fallen body of the Peacekeeper. The second thing he saw was a hand extended towards him.
"We ain't got much time," said the second Peacekeeper, lowering his other arm which had been holding his gun in the direction of his dead colleague. "Come on."
Bewildered, Scout took the Peacekeepers hand and allowed himself to be helped to his feet. He was led out of the apartment, using the back stairs instead of the elevator. Scout asked no questions as the man in white armour guided him out of the apartment block, pulling him into a darkened alley between buildings.
"We need to get to the train station," the Peacekeeper told him. "Here, put this on."
They were standing beside a few boxes, marked with the Capitol symbol. The Peacekeeper lifted the lid from one of the boxes, reaching inside and handing something to Scout.
Scout looked at the white chestplate in his hands, but did as he was told. Sliding it on over his head, Scout was then passed a pair of matching legplates and arm pieces, and finally a helmet.
The Peacekeeper armour was surprisingly light and roomy inside, despite its appearance. And yet, Scout felt as though he had crawled inside the skin of his enemy. He shuddered.
"Follow my lead," the Peacekeeper instructed. "Keep your posture upright and walk with purpose. Don't say a word."
Scout nodded, feeling the helmet move with his head.
Glancing around them, the Peacekeeper gestured for them to walk forwards. Scout fell into step alongside him, matching his every move. The apartment was on a quieter side of the city, though that meant it was close to one of the train stations; not the one Scout had arrived at following the Reapings, but one mainly used for transporting goods in and out of the Capitol.
The darker side of the Capitol was a lot different to the centre that Scout had seen during his time in the Games building. Where those central streets had been filled with vibrant bars, clubs and shops; these streets were lined with residential buildings, and ones less lavish than the ones Scout had seen. He supposed that this would have been considered the poorer area of the Capitol, though what was poor to the Capitol was far richer than anyone in Twelve could have imagined.
As they paced through the streets, passing a few Capitolites on the way who barely batted an eyelid towards them, Scout noticed that there were a number of white roses scattered across the streets. His eyes grew wide as they passed a large wall, which had become a mural, with the most stunning piece of art painted across its grey surface.
It was a painting of President Aurelia Snow. She was lying in a bed of white roses, her eyelids closed carefully and her lips resting peacefully shut. A light touch of pink tickled the tops of her cheeks, warm against the pale complexion of her skin. Her dark hair was painted in long swirling strokes, gathering at her breasts where her hands clutched a bouquet against her body. Beneath the painting were the words: may Panem be better.
Scout hadn't realised that he had stopped in front of the mural until the Peacekeeper grabbed his arm firmly.
"No time to waste, Summers," he said in a hushed voice. "Our window is narrow."
Mumbling an apology, Scout picked up his pace as they continued their walk.
They soon reached the train station, which was mostly bare other than a few bodies that drifted around the platforms. It was late; out of business hours, it seemed. Scout was glad for the lack of people, he was starting to become uncomfortable keeping up his disguise.
The Peacekeeper raised his hand towards the other people at the station; each of them nodding in return.
So they're all in on it, thought Scout. He was surprised that even one person was interested in keeping him alive, so seeing a handful more was difficult to process. It seemed as though people were either desperate to kill him, or desperate to save him.
"You're in this one," they stopped by the side of one of the trains.
"Are you coming too?" asked Scout, glancing between his saviour and the train.
The Peacekeeper shook his head. "I've got things to handle over here. But someone will meet you at the end of your trip."
"Where am I going?"
The Peacekeeper tapped on the side of the train. Scout looked to see a symbol painted on the side of the train.
District Two.
"District Two?" Scout was perplexed.
"It's best not to ask questions," said the Peacekeeper. "Just trust that there are people who want to help you."
Scout looked at the helmet of the Peacekeeper, which still had the visor pulled down to conceal his face.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Just one of the people who want to help."
The train door beside him slid open.
"That's your cue," said the Peacekeeper, gesturing for Scout to enter the train.
Scout reached his hand towards the handle inside the doorway. As he started to haul himself into the carriage, he looked back at the man in the white armour.
"Thank you."
The mysterious stranger nodded once, then slapped the side of the train, signalling that Scout was on board. Scout stepped back as the train door slid shut.
As the train started to move, Scout turned around. The train wasn't the same as the train he had arrived in the Capitol in; this one was built for the purpose of transporting goods, so the inside was bare of any lavish embellishments or furnishings. Instead, piles of secured boxes lined the interior of the carriage, though whether they were filled or not didn't really matter to Scout.
Removing the helmet from his head, Scout placed it on top of one of the boxes. He slid out of the rest of the armour, piling it up beside the helmet.
As there wasn't anything for him to sit on, Scout settled for the floor. Leaning against a stack of boxes, Scout found himself more comfortable than he had ever been on any of the Capitol seats.
Bringing his knees towards his chest, Scout wrapped his arms around his legs. The train moved seamlessly as he sat in silence.
Scout was used to sitting in silence, passing endless periods of time, but this time the passage of time seemed even slower than before. His palms were sweaty as he worried about Ebon; with her not having proof of his death, how much further would she push before it was too far?
Scout only hoped she would stop before three Summers graves sat outside their shack in the Seam.
Scout hadn't realised he had been sleeping until he opened his eyes. Stretching his arms above his head, he squinted his eyes as the carriage door slid open and daylight poured in. He rose to his feet, walking cautiously over to the door.
A young man stood outside the train, offering a small welcoming smile.
Farley Mir, the mentor from Two.
"Are you…" Scout's words trailed off as he looked at the Victor in surprise.
"Someone who wants to help," Farley replied with a grin, holding out his hand.
"There seems to be a few of you," said Scout, stepping out of the train. "How do I know I can trust you?"
Farley chuckled. "You don't. But what other options do you have?"
In truth, Scout had none.
So he took the only option he had: he walked towards the unknown, down a path he could not see the end of. It may end in his death, but that didn't matter; he was living a life he wasn't meant to be living after all.
Risa Delmare, Victor of the 86th Hunger Games
Life moved on, as it always did.
The warm setting sun caressed the top of Risa's cheek as she stepped out onto her front porch. The smell of salty waves and sandy beaches was a lot fainter in the Victors Village, but the cool ocean breeze still managed to weave its way to the top of the District.
"Good evening Risa," one of the older Victors held a hand up in greeting as they strolled past the front of Risa's house. "Have you heard the news?"
Risa shook her head, gently frowning. "What news?"
"The President is making an announcement to Panem this evening," she replied. "I'm on my way back home to watch it now. Heading to Aella's?"
Risa nodded.
"Then you'll just about make it," the elder said with a soft smile. "You have a good heart, Risa Delmare. Not many of us can claim to still have one."
Risa looked at the older lady, unable to find any suitable words. Instead, she smiled warmly and bid her a good evening, quickly jogging down the front stairs. There was a ramp to the side of the stairs, which she'd had installed for her father's wheelchair. Risa's parents hadn't moved into the new home with her; choosing to remain in the family home Risa had grown up in, but Risa had insisted on installing the ramp to encourage her father to visit whenever he pleased. He came around quite often; the two of them enjoying each other's silent company as they read in the large open spaces of the house. Risa saw her mother less frequently, though that was not an unusual situation, even before the Games. Her mother's job kept her at the side of the ocean for long hours, and even when she wasn't working, few words were spoken between them. It had been that way since Rex's death, to the point where Risa sometimes wondered whether her mother suspected the truth.
Aella's house was only a short walk from Risa's, so it took only a few minutes for her to reach the front porch. A Peacekeeper stood in front of the door, stepping to the side when he saw Risa approaching.
Risa knew the drill; she held her arms out at her sides, allowing the Peacekeeper to scan her body with his detector. He frowned as he saw something sticking out of the inside of her jacket pocket, but after inspection he was satisfied that she posed no threat and unlocked the door for her.
Risa's mentor had been under house arrest since the conclusion of her Victory Tour nine months ago. It was the same deal afforded to Daphne LeFay, who had also been associated with Cascade's escape from the Capitol. The Victor before Risa was still yet to be found, though Aella had received several encrypted letters (which Risa had helped her to decode), which confirmed Cascade's safety. It transpired that Scout had also been rescued from the Capitol during Risa's Tour, and he too was being held in a hidden location, much to Risa's relief. She found herself thinking of the boy she had saved frequently, wondering if the two of them would ever cross paths again.
"Just me!" Risa called out as she walked into the hallway.
"In the kitchen!" Aella shouted back.
Risa shrugged off her jacket, hanging it on the coat rack, before walking to the back of the house and into the large kitchen.
Aella was sat on top of the table, never much a fan of chairs, watching a holographic screen that was lit up at the end of the room.
"Is this the announcement everyone is talking about?" asked Risa, pulling out a chair and taking a seat.
Aella nodded. "Mm-hm, I think it's about this year's Games."
At the mention of the Games, Risa's heart sunk. She knew that she would have to return to the Capitol soon, to mentor the two tributes from her District as Aella had done for her and Kai. She dreaded it.
"Here, I brought you a new one," said Risa, sliding the book she'd had in her jacket across the table.
Aella picked it up, inspecting the cover.
"You'll like this one," insisted Risa. "A decent female lead and some rather weak male side characters."
Aella winked. "Oh, you do know me well."
Risa smiled back at her mentor, reaching for a mango from the fruit bowl in the centre of the table.
"Oh, another letter arrived," said Aella, suddenly remembering. "I couldn't make out all of it, but from what I could gather, Cascade had her baby."
"That's great news," smiled Risa. "I'll help you decode the rest of it after the announcement, if you want?"
Aella nodded. "Absolutely –I want to know what she called the little one. From what I can tell, it was a boy, which is a shame. I just hope he doesn't turn out like his father."
Risa had no time to comment as the cameras were drawn from Caesar Flickerman and towards the balcony of the Presidential Palace as the President walked out. A small lump formed in the back of Risa's throat as she remembered stumbling onto a replica of that balcony, having crawled out from the fire inside.
President Fabian, who had somehow clung to his temporary title for a surprisingly long time, appeared tired as he addressed Panem. Clearly, the weight of the responsibility of running the country was heavier than the minister had anticipated, especially with the fallout from the previous President's death growing worse each week. Riots in the Districts had spread to the Capitol; with people demanding a trial for those involved in the plot. Risa was surprised that they hadn't held the trials yet, though Aella believed that Fabian was holding off as he didn't have the evidence he needed for a clear-cut case, and with vital players still on the run like Cascade, a trial could easily collapse even with the judge in his pocket. Fabian was beginning to understand the strength that could come in numbers, and with protests gathering and disturbance in the Districts, he could barely keep control over the masses, never mind host a series of criminal trials for a bunch of likely innocent suspects.
"They should just execute Ivo and be done with it," Aella rolled her eyes.
"He's probably innocent," Risa pointed out.
Aella huffed. "Innocent of murdering the President, perhaps, but he's certainly guilty of a lot of other things."
"Aren't we all guilty?" suggested Risa, taking a small nibble of the mango.
Risa knew she was guilty. Did Aella?
"Oh, here we go," Aella waved her hand towards the screen.
The two of them fell into silence as they listened to the speech.
"As acting President of Panem, it is my duty to bring peace to our Districts," spoke Fabian, with a subtle strain to his voice. "My predecessor, President Aurelia Snow, had a vision of peace in Panem. Her vision was cruelly ended along with her life. We as a country mourn her; we as a country demand justice for her."
Aella raised an eyebrow.
"It is with Aurelia in mind that I share with you this announcement," continued Fabian. "Panem, your children will be safe from the reaping bowl this year. There will be no Hunger Games this year, out of respect for the passing of our beloved President, and also as a gesture of goodwill to show that the Capitol remains on the side of its people. Together we will become a better Panem."
The Capitol anthem started up as the screen faded back to Caesar. Aella picked up the remote, switching off the stream.
"Well that was a bit of a shock, right?"
But Risa was already at the door. Slipping her arms into her jacket, she quickly left the house, though instead of going home she headed straight for the centre of the District.
The ruins of the Delmarian were still the same as they were the morning of the Reapings. Risa made her way to the top of the spiral staircase that still stood strong, letting her legs fall freely off the edge as she sat down.
No Hunger Games this year. For the first time in over eighty years, there would be no Reaping, no volunteering. Parents could sleep at night knowing that their children were safe for another year; children could continue playing in the streets knowing that at least for another year they wouldn't have to say goodbye to one of their friends.
Another year before Risa would have to step up to her role as mentor.
A gentle evening breeze brushed a few loose strands of hair across Risa's cheek. The evening seemed calm, almost too calm.
"Miss Delmare?" a figure stood below her.
Risa frowned. "Can I help you?"
"A delivery, it was addressed to you at the library," the person replied, placing a parcel on the floor. "Have a pleasant evening."
The person quickly left, disappearing into the District like a shadow.
Risa flung herself off the stairs, landing gracefully on her feet. She walked over to the parcel, bending over and plucking it from the dusty ground.
It was covered in brown paper and sealed with a pale yellow ribbon. Frowning, Risa unravelled the ribbon and tore off the paper.
Inside was a book.
The cover was a dark brown leather, soft against Risa's fingers. There was no title, or any words at all on the exterior of the book. Risa carefully opened it up, flicking to the first page.
In the centre of the cream page was a pencilled sketch.
The drawing of a girl seemed to resemble Risa, with dark hair and a ranseur in her hand. She was stood upon a pile of bones, with smoke rising between them, surrounding her in a grey haze. The only colour on the page was a dark red ink, which was spilled across her hands.
And atop her head sat a crown of thorns.
A/N
And that's a wrap! Crown of Thorns is officially over!
This final chapter helped to tie up a few loose ends, whilst also raising new questions to be explored in MoS. What do you think is next for these characters? Is Scout safe, and will he be able to see his family again? Who is behind the book given to Risa and what are their intentions? With no Hunger Games this year, what does the future hold for Panem and how will that affect MoS?
I would love to hear your thoughts on this concluding chapter, as well as the story as a whole! I would like to share a few thoughts of my own on Risa and Scout, similar to the eulogies I have written for the other tributes.
Scout Summers, 18, District 12 Male. Submitted by darthnell
Scout, as I've said before, was the perfect protagonist. Being from District Twelve in President Snow's memorial games was always going to be a tough position to be in, and despite all the odds being against him, Scout kept pushing on. He had always been a dark horse in the back of my mind; I hadn't initially thought of him as a Victor, though I knew he would quietly go far. As things drew to the end, his qualities for Victor kept improving and I could really see him leaving the arena alive. However, the question became whether the Capitol would allow him to become Victor and what the consequences may have been. In the end, the idea of keeping him as a survivor appeared and well, you know what happened then. What I love about Scout is that he knows the world is against him, yet he always manages to find that part of him that wills him to survive. He holds a bitterness towards the Capitol, rightfully so, yet he doesn't want to be a matyr. Scout's protectiveness over his sister Ebon not only added to his wholesomeness, but also kept him grounded and perhaps without Ebon, he may not have dug deep enough to keep surviving. There is a lot more to explore with Scout, and I can't wait to continue his story. Thank you Nell for sending me such a brilliant tribute. It was an absolute honour to write for your first ever tribute submission and I am sure you are just as proud of him as I am!
Risa Delmare, 18, District 4 Female. Submitted by My-Mental-Mind
From the moment my eyes read over Risa's submission form, I knew she would go far. She possessed such a quality about her that was difficult to ignore. Having placed first in both polls, it was clear that my readers felt the same way towards her. Risa was always thinking; her mind was both her strongest asset, yet also her weakness. Her ability to think logically edged her ahead of some of the other Careers, though she often felt prey to her own doubts. She had to make many decisions throughout her time; before, during and after the Games. Whether she made all the right decisions is still to be decided, but for now she is still standing. Risa's initial clashes with Sapphire put her at a dangerous spot within the Career pack, but as the Games went on she grew closer to Elena and Luca; which I really loved exploring. Her relationship with Kai was also a very interesting arc to write; even after his death his words still played on Risa's mind. Perhaps she is a victim of societal expectations after all? There is so much more to explore with Risa's post-victory story, and I can't wait to share it with you. A huge thanks to Ben for creating such fantastic tribute; she was pure art and I am honoured to have her as my Victor!
Okay, Crown of Thorns is over. I cannot believe that we are at this point. A year ago the thought of fanfiction hadn't even crossed my mind in years, never mind the thought of having completed a full SYOT! It has been a whirlwind which I have enjoyed every moment of, and it has made me fall in love with writing all over again. I wonder why I ever stopped in the first place; I certainly plan to continue doing what I love! A huge thank you goes to each and every person who has supported me through this; those who submitted, those who read, who reviewed, and those who haven't read the story but have still hyped me up in discord. You are all wonderful and I am appreciative of you all.
A special thank you must be given to My-Mental-Mind, whose email alerts for Picking Up The Pieces at the end of last year was what inspired me to jump back into this. He brought me back into a wonderful community where I have met some incredible writers and lovely friends. I can't believe where we have come from since we first chatted years ago, to where we are now. I appreciate you so much!
Another thank you goes to Remus98, who has had my back throughout this experience. He is the most supportive of friends I could ever have wished for, and I know that I can go to him for advice on anything. He also helped a lot with the blog for this story, which I certainly would never have been able to create without his expertise! Much love, my friend!
I could mention so many other people, but I would be typing forever! So just a quick shout-out to Nell for her hilarious reviews and live commentary, and to Reign of Winter for their incredibly lengthy and detailed reviews! Also Pacecca for his fun theories in the discord channel, and ellalovesmusicaltheatre for always reviewing so quickly! There are so many other people I could mention; you know who you are!
Where do we go after this? Well, I can announce with pleasure that submissions for Mask of Shadows are officially OPEN! The mysterious additional question has been added to the tribute form posted on my bio, so ensure to answer this before sending in your tributes! I will be updating the interest list as and when submissions come in so that you can keep track if you are concerned about a spot being popular. I don't have an official closing date as of yet, but I am currently thinking of around 12th December as I know many people have already made a start on their tribute forms. If anyone needs longer than this, let me know and I can be flexible! Life has been particularly busy at the moment with work and my professional course I am studying alongside, but I plan to have the first prologue of MoS posted in the coming weeks, as well as an early look at the blog, which will include information about worldbuilding.
An important note for MoS: the prologues will explore the reasoning in detail, but there will be a five year time jump between CoT and MoS, but as you may have noticed, MoS is the 87th Games... What does this mean? Well, as in Risa's final POV we discovered that the Games were to be cancelled for that year, this trend will continue for the following four years as political clashes continue, and chaos spreads throughout Panem. Submitters may therefore wish to keep this in mind whilst constructing their tribute forms! I will be posting more detail about the state of Panem and the situation in each individual District within the next week, so look out on my bio for that information as it may help you when completing your tribute forms!
Any questions about MoS, please pop me a message and I'll be glad to help! I'll be keeping my bio updated with progress and news about MoS, so keep an eye on that too!
But for now, for the final time in Crown of Thorns, I am signing off. Until MoS!
~Firefly