XXXI. Stay Down

Well may you launch upon the deep salt-sea
Your vessel, keeping still my wake before you
Upon the water that grows smooth again.

She opens her eyes to a panoramic view of incertitude and entropy.

A lake of cerulean water reflecting onto her skin, an incandescent sun hung high in azure skies casting her shadow against the slowly lapping ripples, and a blanket of clouds lining the shore.

A blanket of clouds and a boy with fair skin that's been stained crimson with blood.

A boy with fair skin who's killed.

Endellion doesn't know who he is. Her mind draws a blank as she tries to remember…

Where am I?

What am I doing?

Who is he?

WHY IS HE COVERED IN BLOOD?

She trudges through the lake, trying to be quiet even though the water's pressure grows with every stride. The boy has a perplexed look on his face, his piercing gaze transfixed on her as he calls out, "Ellie?"

She recognizes that he's referring to her, but Endellion doesn't answer. She doesn't know how he knows her name, but the boy's a threat, an enemy. He's covered in blood, and while she doesn't know who's it is, she fears that it'll be hers if she doesn't act quickly.

Again, he addresses her, "Um… Endellion?" but this time he sounds less confident and instead just concerned.

An odd temperament for a murderer, she thinks.

Endellion reaches the end of the lake and examines the boy again. The splatter of blood on his shirt seems more fresh than she'd previously thought which worries her. He's still as she places one of her hands on his shoulder, a wicked grin beginning to sprout on her face.

He asks, "Are you okay?" but she doesn't answer.

Instead, she cups her hands around his throat and squeezes them tight until he falls to the ground.

Endellion tries to get out of the water and run away, but the boy regains consciousness before she can do so, propelling her back into the lake with an assertive push. She sinks into the blue, tension bubbling in her ears as she thrashes her hands to bring her up to the water's surface once more.

(The feeling of drowning is something familiar to her. Endellion swears she knows what it's like to be crushed by water until her vision grows blurry and her head begins to spin. It's a memory from her childhood that she can't quite place, but maybe that's because it was never her memory.)

She blinks the water out of her eyes once she's back at the surface and she notices that the boy is still standing there, seemingly bewildered by her presence. Her eyes dart down to the spear beside him, crusted blood coating the tip as it dries. Endellion reaches her hand outside the lake, struggling to grab ahold of the weapon. Her fingertips barely graze the handle before the boy grabs it first and looks at her with eyes of disappointment.

"Ellie, please don't take that," he stammers. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but clearly you're not okay. Just… please… don't take the spear. I have no idea what you're going to do with it, but I promise you'll regret it."

"Regret what?" Endellion hisses, climbing out of the water and pushing the boy to the ground and sending the spear flying to the left. She crawls towards it, her mouth foaming with glee. Finally, she wraps her fingers around the weapon, so she turns herself to see the boy chasing towards her. She thrusts the spear in his direction but she's unable to release it into the air because the boy tries to block it with his hand.

The metal tip probes through his palm with a spray of blood. It pushes through the outmost layer of his skin, but the boy retracts it before it can cause further damage. He wipes it on his pant leg without much thought then pushes her down onto the ground. The clouds embrace her as she falls and her vision is painted a milky white.

Ellie opens her eyes in a panic. Sinny's crouched over on the ground, his palm pressed against his pant-leg. She runs over to him, but he pushes her away.

"What's your problem," she spurts out in frustration. The last thing she remembers is going into the lake to clean off her face, but suddenly Sinny's bleeding and he seems… mad at her. Ellie knows he was mad at her for the whole acid thing, but today's a new adventure, right? If Sinny was mad at her, he wouldn't have saved her from the weird octopus man thing…

He lifts his hand off his leg to show it to her. It's dripping in blood, and though Ellie can tell that it's not too severe an injury, he seems rightfully pissed off about it.

"I should be asking that to you." Sinny replies, desperately trying to find something to clean his wound. "First you don't say anything when you see the drains moving in the castle, effectively destroying most of our supplies, and now you try to fucking throw a spear at me"

"Wait— what?" Ellie looks down to see a spear at her toes, which is odd because she doesn't remember throwing it. "Is that how you hurt your hand?"

"Um… yeah." He rolls his eyes. "Look, I get that you're mad I was taking the Games seriously when you just wanted to have fun and party or some bullshit, but that's no reason for you to stab me."

"I didn't!" Her breaths grow heavy as she realizes maybe she did. There was a period of time where Ellie experienced a lapse in memory, but still she's confused as to what would lead to her actively hurting Sinny. Sure, she's pissed that he has a stick up his ass, but she never wanted to—

Aren't you tired of being called dumb all the time, invasive thoughts interrupt her from trying to reason logically. Aren't you sick of being the stupid one? Your whole life has been spent in Reina's shadow; aren't you sick of always paling in comparison?

"Shut up," she says to herself through gritted teeth.

All you'll ever be is a loser, Ellie. Isn't it a shame that Calsin actually realizes that? You're good for nothing and that'll never change. You're just a waste of space. Don't you want to take revenge? Don't you want to prove that you actually have worth, Ellie? Reina's probably laughing at you right now; her poor twin sister, finally giving in to her inadequacy. I bet she thinks it's ironic that you're by the water too, you know, the same water where you tried to—

"Shut up," she repeats.

Haven't you realized yet? I can't shut up because I'm a part of you, Ellie. I am you! And I'm a traitorous sister and a full-fledged idiotic monster. At least I have the courage to embrace it.

Sinny looks at her and furrows his brow. "So now you're talking to yourself, huh? Look, Ellie, you're really confusing me today."

You confuse everybody around you Ellie. Why haven't you realized that.

"There was something in the lake," she says. "I don't know what it was, but it like… somehow got into my mind. I don't remember anything that happened, I promise. I was just standing by the water and then I closed my eyes and opened them and I was on the ground and you were bleeding."

It wasn't something in the lake, you brainlet. It was nothing. Don't you want to go back into a state where you can't feel a thing? Wouldn't you give everything just to feel nothing?

Ellie pauses for a moment, touching her hand to her eye to prevent a tear from falling. "I'm sorry Calsin. I ruined these Games for you, didn't I?"

Of course you did. Why are you even asking him?

"Not at all," he says, quickly trying to cover up his past sins. "I just… was kind of too adamant on killing Atlantis, and it got to the point where I was becoming like her. It got to the point where I was hurting my relationship with you. I should be the one apologizing."

He's not sorry, her mind tells her. He hardly knows you.

A wind rocks Ellie back onto the ground, her body inching towards the lake. Sinny reaches onto her, screaming, "Don't go back in there!"

Go back in there! If you don't want to be Reina and you don't want to be yourself, what's the problem with not being anything? Being nothing is better than being yourself.

It's too late. Though she's not completely sure why, Ellie lets herself roll into the body of water, not even flinching when it embraces her once more.

The boy looks at her with a furious rage. He deeply exhales, then screams out to her, "You're screwing yourself over!"

Endellion huffs, letting the water completely cover her. His hand is still dripping the blood that she drew, but she wants to do even more damage. She's not sure who this boy is, but he seems to want her dead.

Again, she crawls out of the water and reaches for the spear. She stands up tall, trying tackle him to the ground, but she misses. She clenches her fingers into fists, her knuckles white hot with rage. Endellion swings her left fist at his chin, his head turning to the side as he grunts in pain.

"Ellie! This isn't you!" He screams.

"What do you mean?" She goes for the spear again, but the boy grabs it before she can. "You're the one who's covered in blood and trying to kill me."

He swings back his arm, trying to keep the weapon out of Endellion's reach. "I'm not trying to kill you. It seems like you're trying to kill me. You're not feeling well, but it's going to be fine, I promise."

"It was never fine," she scowls, kicking her feet off the ground so that she can climb on top of him. The boy stumbles on his feet, grunting as he brings down the spear on Endellion's back.

She gasps in pain as blood pools underneath her. Sinny's standing over her, huffing and puffing with confusion, but Ellie should be the confused one here.

"Why am I bleeding?" She asks him, though a part of her doubts that she's even going to tell her. "Did you—"

"I didn't mean to!" Sinny opens his mouth in shock. "You were like… climbing on top of me. The water's cursed Ellie. It's trying to make you forget who I am."

She bites her lip. "Oh, I remember who you are alright. You think you're all tough, but you're just like Atlantis." Ellie can't control the words that leave her mouth, but she keeps saying them anyway. "You're malicious, and bitter, and you only care about yourself. You never cared about me, just admit it! All you care about is killing her, so just do everyone a favor and fucking accept it."

"You don't get to say that!" Sinny's voice is filled with wrath as he grabs onto Ellie's wrist. She kicks her feet at his shins, but that doesn't stop him from lifting her up and thrusting the spear into her back again.

Ellie looks down to see her blood on the floor, and screams. "See! That's exactly what Atlantis would do!"

"Shut up!" Sinny… no Calsin, hisses. He lifts her off of him and flips her on her side, throwing her body into the water again. Her vision falters as her head sinks deeper and deeper to the bottom and more and more dread grows inside her stomach.

(She was only seven years old when she tried to drown Reina and the worst thing is, she still doesn't remember why.

All she remembers is Reina screaming at her, begging her poor sister to just set her free.

"You're a good-for-nothing loser," she had said once Ellie finally let her go.

The words stuck to her mind like glue and they'll never rub away.)

Maybe this was always the ending that Ellie was supposed to have. Maybe everyone was right when she said that she was useless, and that she'd never amount to anything. And maybe now Reina's finally happy, because she's served her revenge to the twin-sister who plagued her, and now she gets to sit back and laugh and laugh.

But a cannon fires, so maybe none of that was ever true at all.

The second cannon of the day goes off and some fucked-up part of Verdigris' brain hopes that it's for Hedy. A darker, even more fucked-up part of their brain wishes it was for themself.

I'd certainly deserve it, they think, their back resting on the side of the tent they woke up in earlier that day when everything was different. Truth be told, Verdigris didn't intend on scrambling back to the campsite, they got their directions confused in the heat of the moment. They'll probably need to find somewhere else to stay sooner rather than later, but for now, they appreciate the familiarity.

Maybe it would be a good thing if Hedy wasn't dead and she returned here to put Verdigris out of their misery. The only problem with that is that even after everything, they're still too stubborn to give into her. Surely they should've learned their lesson when they somehow let themself get manipulated into shooting a child in the stomach, maybe Hedy simply is above them and they should just give up. Even if that's true, Verdigris is again, too fucking stubborn to admit to it.

Part of that feels hypocritical though. Especially when their father was battered and bruised by their mother, tolerating it with his head held high until the day he no longer did. Part of Verdigris wonders if they've now be cast into the same situation, Hedy playing the role of the Mayuko to her Viorel, and now's the part where they run. But Viorel ran to protect their child, and Verdigris ran to protect themselves, which is selfish. The universe seemed to be setting up their death when the gun only had one bullet, and now Verdigris somewhat feels like they were in the wrong for not accepting their fate.

(Or maybe they're not Viorel here. Their father would've never lashed out in a violent rage towards their mother. Their father would've never tried to shoot her, would've never ripped the hair from her head and disrespected her with his words. Their father would've been submissive to Hedy's abuse, at least he would've at first. He would've given her an apology for upsetting his "dear Mistress," and then he would've bowed down and hidden his tears as he continued to grow numb from pain.)

If Verdigris can't stay loyal to Hedy after this blatant abuse, who does that make them? Likening themself to Mayuko seems like a bit of a stretch, but they do fear that they're less like their father than they thought they were. Killing the girl from Eight was selfish. Lashing out at Hedy was also selfish. For somebody who's prided themself on being a good and moral person, Verdigris worries that they've lost their touch.

Their father would've never gotten angry the way they did. Such volatile rage is a trait their mother embraces like a crown on her head, and Verdigris loathes themself for having it in common with her.

Verdigris remembers what she told them the night before the Games, "No matter how hard you try to hide it, I'll always be your mother. I'll always be a part of you."

They bet that she watched them make the kill with a smile on her face a top some lush Capitol rooftop, musing "That's my girl!" to her fellow socialites.

Eight didn't deserve to die, and Verdigris certainly doesn't deserve to feel so torn up over killing them. It's selfish of them to loathe themselves for their actions when they're not the one who was hurt by them. This whole situation has painted them in a light that's so fucking selfish.

She's ultimately not theirs to mourn, and every ache of sadness in pain in their bones isn't theirs to feel. It'd probably hurt more if you were shot, they muse in between the tears they have no right to even shed.

The more Verdigris goes without something to do, the more they're forced to think about the repercussions of what they've done. They're forced to think about the people in Eight who were hoping and praying their little girl would come back home to them while they watch the stuck-up brat who shot her brood in the corner as if they did nothing wrong. Verdigris imagines the recaps on television, a closeup on their eyes during the moment when they went from a kid to a murderer.

They don't want to, but they still think about their father and step-father's reactions back home. Viorel's probably curled up in a ball on the sofa, tears in his eyes 'cause he's still in disbelief that his "precious child," the one he risked it all for, now has blood on their hands just like the woman he ran from. They wonder if he'd even let them in the house if for some reason they won this thing, because they personally wouldn't claim themself after what they did.

At least Viridian's comforting him, or fuck maybe he isn't. Maybe their step-father's puking in the toilet because he had so much to drink once he saw the kid he thought they knew fire a bullet. Or perhaps he isn't puking. Perhaps he's still drinking himself sick, cause Viorel's too disappointed in Verdigris to care what he does. Or maybe he's on a drunken rampage, the first one in years, and he's screaming and breaking things, and now Viorel's afraid because he's resembling Mayuko far too much.

Halcyon's probably miserable too. As annoying as he can be sometimes, Verdigris is sure now that their step-brother is trembling in fear, asking over and over, "Are they going to do that to me? The girl from Eight was even younger than I am; how do I know they won't hurt me too." Viridian and Viorel would probably try to comfort him if he said that, but even those words potential leaving his lips are enough to leave Verdigris horrified.

They fear that they're no longer welcome in their home back in Five. As dysfunctional as they're capable of being, none of them would ever dare shoot a literal child. Maybe Mayuko was right and they'll forever be hers.

A flock of doves play in circles in front of them, and Verdigris feels a bit guilty when they laugh at them. Just like the pidgeons back at home, one of the doves seems to be sniffing another's ass, and Verdigris can practically hear their step-father giggle.

How ironic is it that they nearly made Viridian a demon just because he was drinking, because now Verdigris is the devil themself with blood on their hands and the memory of a child's death playing out in their head.

Their only saving grace is that they didn't have to see the life leave Eight's eyes before she finally died, and they weren't there when the cannon fired. They wish they could be naive and pretend there's no confirmation that Eight is dead, but there's been two deaths today, and the chances of neither being hers are zero to none.

Getting their hopes up would be selfish. Even if Eight was somehow alive, that wouldn't change the fact that Verdigris shot she in the stomach and had probable cause to think that she's dead.

They're unsure why they kept the gun with them when they ran. It was probably out of instinct, but they hate the physical reminder of what they did and how they're now nothing short of a monster. Even if it doesn't have any bullets, they're still forced to stare at it from across the clouds as their guilt continues to consume them.

Or I could change that, they figure, standing up off the ground and stretching their arms in the air. They walk towards the gun and hold it in their hands. It feels… heavier than Verdigris remembered, but that could be because they no longer have all that adrenaline pumping through their veins. They tread towards the edge of the clouds and draw extend their arm backwards. A part of them tell them, everything would be so much easier from here on out if they just jumped off the edge with the gun in their hands, but Verdigris refuses to do such a thing.

If watching their child kill another potentially has left their father in shambles, watching them kill themself would be enough to make him completely break.

Though the thought of death runs rampant in their head, Verdigris has had enough of it for the day, selfish.

They release the gun into the air with a slight grunt and watch as it falls over the edge and through the abysmal skies. Part of them wonders where it's going, but ultimately Verdigris decides that they don't have it in them to care.

As they walk back to their bench, they feel something tug at their pant-leg, and look down to see that it's one of the doves from earlier. They scoff, shaking their ankle to ward it away, but the dove continues to walk towards them, several more following it.

If the fact that doves, a sign of peace, following them around is meant to give them closure, it certainly isn't working.

No matter how it's phrased, Verdigris Ahane-Voclain will always be a murderer, and even if by some means of nature, they're able to get over it, the rest of the universe never will.

He's not sure how many hours have passed since Ascot's cannon sounded, and he's not sure he wants to know either. However long it's been since she died, it's a time period that never should've existed at all. Simeon Coello doesn't deserve to be alive while Ascot lays dead on the ground, her body hardly decomposed because of the ice.

Simeon doesn't deserve to be sitting beside her, holding her hand even though her skin's begun to peel as he waits for either the cave's roof to come off so that a helicopter can extract her from the arena, or for the ground beneath her to open up so that her body can slide away.

He wonders what they'll do with her body. Obviously, they'll send it back to Eight, but after that? Simeon isn't sure. He's also unsure he wants to know the answer either. Because Ascot truly has nobody at home who cared about her. There's not a single choir in Eight who sung her requiem as the cannon marked her dead, and maybe it's conceited of him to think this, but he fears that he was the only person who cared about her, and the fact that she's dead doesn't mean a thing in the grand scheme of things.

At least when he eventually dies, whether it be here or back in Ten if he wins by some force of nature, Simeon can be assured that he does have people who care about him. He has his brothers, Dinah, and his mother and father who'll all mourn him even if they don't have the right to do so, and the people who've heard his story will probably celebrate his demise as well. Bad attention is better than being completely forgotten, even after death.

Maybe Simeon's family is morning Ascot the same way they'll eventually mourn him. More likely than not though, they're probably pissed that their fuck-up of a son left an innocent to die, and he's once again stranded with blood on his hands.

It's a vicious cycle that he'll never break free from. He killed those men for Dinah yet she's still somewhat afraid of him, and when Simeon didn't kill those girls per Ascot's request, he still feels like a horrible human being 'cause he never should've left her and given the others the chance to strike.

He wishes he could be mad at Three and Five for contributing to Ascot's demise, but ultimately killing is the Hunger Games' nature, and if he was a foul person who saw a thirteen year old girl on her lonesome, he'd do the same thing. That's not to say that Simeon thinks the two girls are foul people, but rather, they played offense instead of defense, and even if it involved killing a child, it worked.

Maybe Simeon should've killed Three when he got the chance, but Ascot told him to let them go, and he'd be a fool to disrespect her dying wishes. He's already fucked so much up, and chances are, he'll fuck even more up before he fucks up one final time and ends up dead because of it.

And he's already established that that's what the whole world deserves.

If anyone deserves the utmost honor of being remembered, it's Ascot, not him. The last thing she said to him before she died was that he was her friend. Even if Simeon feels like the worst "friend" alive for leaving her like this, the fact she saw him as one after previously saying that she didn't have anybody who cared about her, much less a friend, has to mean something. If he just stands there moping around, what does that mean he's saying to the world? Is he rejecting Ascot's call for companionship, because if so, that's not his intention.

Simeon has to do something, anything, if he wants to ensure she's remembered. Or not even "remembered," per say, but at least acknowledged. She doesn't deserve to flicker out like a birthday candle; Ascot deserves to slowly subside like a rapturous flame.

He stares down at her bloodied body once more, but this time with the intent of doing something. He rubs his hands against the icy walls until a small amount of water forms in his hands, which he then rubs against Ascot's limbs, lightly scrubbing until the blood washes away. Simeon tries not to be too rough as he digs his nails against the crusty brown flakes that've dried up on her fingertips, only letting a few pieces of hardened skin peel off.

Carefully, he wraps his arms underneath her armpits and around her back, positioning her up against the wall. Luckily, her eyes remain closed, even as he again melts some of the ice to get rid of all the blood, this time from her face. Unlike her rough exterior, Ascot's cheeks are soft. It's a reminder that despite all her rancor, she's still a child. A child that he let die, but a child nonetheless. He mustn't get too wrapped up in the technicalities if he wants to actually succeed in this plan of his.

He runs his fingers through the roots of her hair, freeing the strands stuck together by blood and getting rid of the tangles. He closes his eyes and thinks for a bit, trying to remember all the times back in Ten where he'd watch his mother braid Dinah's hair. That would usually happen in the middle of the night when all the boys were pretty much asleep, and Dinah was worried that her hair would get too knotted if she didn't braid it beforehand.

One strand over the other; left and then right, Simeon recalls. He turns Ascot around so that she's facing the wall and then divides her hair into three sections. He crosses the left section into the middle and then does the same with the right. He lightly pulls the two outer sections to the side, and then repeats his previous action. Again and again, Simeon weaves ascot's hair until it forms a long braid which drapes down her back. When there's only an inch and a half of hair left unbraided, he wraps it around his finger and ties it into a knot.

It's a bit weird not hearing her voice utter sarcastic complaints throughout the process, but it's always going to be a bit weird not hearing her voice from here on out.

Simeon lifts her body carefully off of the ground and proceeds to take gentle steps around the cave, searching for a spot that can be where she rests. He comes across a large icicle propped against the wall, so he sets Ascot down so that he can investigate it. He pushes the icicle to the side and notices a large enough pit underneath it that she can probably fit inside and be covered.

Before he can fully put her to rest, he picks at his own brain to find a lullaby he can offer her. Simeon imagines that Ascot never had anybody sing her a lullaby before. She confessed to falling asleep to the sounds of her own hysterical crying on several occasions, but if she's going to sleep forever now, she best have a song send her off.

Even now that he and his siblings are grown, Simeon's mother would always sing them songs to help them fall asleep at night. The loud winds that flapped against the walls of their tent never made for optimal sleeping noise, but the hymns that came from Leah Coello made everything seem better.

He begins to hum as he sets Ascot down against the wall. "Remember me, though I have to say goodbye."

"Remember me, don't let it make you cry." Simeon fully clears the area so that the spot where Ascot will rest is large enough. "For ever if I'm far away, I hold you in my heart."

He lifts her up again, then kneels over his clearing with a somber expression. "I'll sing a secret song to you, each night that we're apart."

Inch by inch, Simeon lowers her into to the ground, his voice wavering as tears begin to fall. "Remember me, though I have to travel far."

He tilts the iceberg over her, careful not to crush her face. "Remember me, each time you hear a sad guitar."After spending so long feeling so angry at the world, Ascot finally looks like she's at peace. Sure, she can't hear him singing, and that's probably a good thing because his voice is so hoarse from all his yelling, but Simeon's hopeful that if she could hear him, she'd appreciate it. She'd also make fun of him for crying, but that's besides the point.

"Know that I'm with you, the only way that I can be." The iceberg lowers to just a few inches over her face, and all Simeon can see is her eyes, the same ones he had to force shut. "Until you're in my arms again…"

He fully covers her with the ice and stands tall above her makeshift grave. Before his sobbing can fully consume him, Simeon chokes out the ending of the song. "Remember me."

He leans back against the ice and closes his eyes, not wanting to face the truth that once he dies, Ascot's memory will be gone too.

He'll find a way to make the rest of the world remember her, even if it's the last thing he ever does.

She finds that she's lonely, even when she's in the company of two other people. It's a feeling that Lethia Aphelion's grown painfully accustomed to, unfortunately. Even when immersed in all One's fanfare, vibrant lights and a posse of people scrambling after her, she'd always feel alone. She thought it was because they really just cared about Icarus instead of her at first, but even once it became abundantly clear that all the attention was for her, Lethia was never entirely comfortable.

To be followed around and praised for the throne of lies on which you sit is one thing, but to be actually loved is entirely something else. She's never had experience with the latter, and as time goes by, she doubts that she ever will. Even as a victor, Lethia would be surrounded by people who only want her for her name. Nothing would change except for the fact that her father would quit nagging her, pressuring her to be his savior 'cause he'd either be too close to the grave for her riches to help, or actually better and no longer seeing any use for her. Even though Vicente Aphelion seems to have made minimal efforts to get better on his own, always relying on his paranoid daughter, Lethia still feels for him.

Besides, claiming him as her motivation makes her seem a lot less selfish than when she flaunts the fact all she wants in life is to have Icarus dead. That's not entirely true, by the way. Really, she just wants to be admired as an individual instead of a part of somebody's master plan that had the audacity to fall from grace. That's too much for Lethia to ask for, though.

The shitty thing is, she never seems to learn. With this alliance, she's shut herself away in fear that she'll only get hurt if she attaches herself to them. Getting overly invested in Icarus damned her to this life, and now she's far too afraid of once again shattering.

She's not sure she can get close to her allies either. Vancouver's clearly callous, and Lethia can tell that she's trying to play some sort of a mind game with her. She presented herself as an innocent, but Lethia now sees the truth in that the girl from Twelve is trying to drag her by a rope into a fiery abyss. If she had the physical strength to do so, she'd put an end to her as soon as possible, but alas, she still can hardly hold a weapon without flinching.

There's always the option of getting Beowulf to help her, but Lethia truthfully doesn't know him well enough to ask such a thing of him. At this point, the idea of getting to know him feels somewhat daunting.

He doesn't seem to be in the best mental condition either. Ever since the two deaths from earlier in the day illuminated the sky, Beowulf's been standing downcast in the corner of their mausoleum. At one point, Vancouver tried to comfort him, but he shewed her away before she could finish whatever it is that she was trying to say. Lethia does recall one of the cannons announcing the death of his District partner, Endellion, but she never got the feeling that the two of them were close.

She attempts to make eye contact with him from across the room while also continuing to observe Vancouver as she sleeps. She's afraid that if she speaks too loudly, the Twelve girl will weak up, and surely that'll put her in a bad mood, which Lethia does't want to deal with. She watches as Beowulf fiddles with his sword, the tip wedged into the mausoleum's wooden flooring, even though he's still exceptionally gloomy.

Standing on the tips of her toes, Lethia lurks over to his side of the room, occasionally turning her head over her shoulder to ensure that Vancouver's still fast asleep. Truth be told, she's not entirely sure what she wants out of this conversation, but she hasn't had the chance to fully talk one-on-one with Beowulf since the Games began. Part of that's her own fault because she pushed him away when he tried to talk to her after the bloodbath, but at the time she was truthfully convinced he was faking his inferiority complex. Based on the fact he's spent so much of these Games as a husk of a man, Lethia now doubts it. Even when he's asleep, Beowulf seems afraid and miserable, and that's definitely not something that can be performative.

Carefully, she taps him on the shoulder, trying her best not to feel guilty as he flinches. He whips his head around at her and whispers, "Lethia? Is everything okay?"

"Somewhat," she responds, her voice equally soft. "First off, I'm sorry for sort of blowing you off a few days ago when it was clear you wanted to talk."

"Don't worry about it," Beowulf says, far too casually. "I'm used to being ignored."

"Oh."

"Wait no; don't feel bad," he stammers, his arms slightly shaking. "Fuck, I just ruined this whole thing, didn't I?"

Lethia puts her hand on his shoulder and reassures him. "You didn't. I promise."

"Thank you!" Beowulf rapidly exhales. He loses eye contact with her, instead focusing on fiddling with his sword once more. "Anyways, continue on with what you had to say."

"I just wanted to check in on you." She removes her hand from his shoulder and puts it back by her side. "We haven't really talked much since training, and I just wanted to get a sense at where your head's at."

Beowulf sighs. "Not in a good place, if that even surprises you at this point. I'm still a bit shaken from the bloodbath, and the fact Endellion's dead now isn't making me feel much better."

"You're upset about your District partner?" Lethia asks. He nods his head, signaling the affirmative. "I didn't realize that you guys were close. I feel like I only saw you talking to her maybe once during training."

"We weren't close," he responds. "If I'm being honest, I didn't like her much either. She was far too careless for my liking, but still she was from home. Well, a different part of the District and I only had met her twin sister before, but she was still from Two. While I never thought that she'd go too far, it was nice knowing that the burden of wanting to do District Two proud didn't fall only on my shoulders."

Admittedly, it's hard for Lethia to empathize with him on that. She doesn't give a rat's ass about One when push comes to shove. She's always been here for herself. Still, she attempts to reason with him. "I have to say, that shocks me a bit. Just based on what you told me, about how both Two and your mother really pushed you, I didn't think you'd still be so loyal to them."

"I'm not—" Beowulf flinches at his own words. "Well…I'm not sure if I am. It's hard, you know. I spent my entire life chasing after this demented dream of coming to the Games, but I never considered the fact I may not even want it. I never had a choice in training; it was always my mother's will that I would end up here, but now that I've arrived, I have no idea what I'm supposed to do."

"But, I will say…" He pauses for a minute, then continues. "Just based on what you've told me about how you're only here to kill Icarus, I don't really think you have room to judge me. If you're going to judge me, that is."

"I'm not," Lethia replies. She realizes that now's one of those times when talking about her father will prove her well. "I haven't really talked about this much, but the main reason I'm here is because well, my father's sick, you see. We don't exactly have enough money to take care of him, so if I win the Games, maybe then we can afford treatment so he finally gets better."

Beowulf nods. "Understandable." He lets his sword drop to the ground then raises his head to once again make eye contact with her. "But at the same time, that also makes me wonder why I'm here. All the other volunteers, they have their reasons, you know? Like Ellie. She told me on the train that the reason she broke Two's rules and volunteered without being the chosen volunteer was because of her sister. Yeah, her twin. She went missing, and Ellie swore that she'd volunteer in her place. You're here for your father, and I'm sure Icarus, Calsin, and Atlantis all have reasons better than mine for throwing myself into this mess. Same goes with the boys from Six and Ten. You all have tangible reasons for why the Games will help you if you win, and all I have is the gratification that maybe my mom won't hate me."

Lethia's unsure where her mother currently is, but at times she does wonder if the lady's proud of her, or if at the very least, she's watching the Games and slightly cares about them. Part of the reason Lethia's always been so devoted to her father is because her mother left as soon as he got sick, so it wouldn't really surprise her if she still doesn't care now.

Beowulf's situation is difficult; she acknowledges that. At least, if she dies, she knows that her father will be at least somewhat proud of her, instead of just being disappointed.

"If your mom seems to loathe you this much Beowulf, she doesn't matter." She shakes her head. "I don't mean to be harsh, but you winning isn't going to change the fact that she seems like an awful person."

"Oh, I know," he says. "And that's why I'm struggling. I'd never put myself in harm's way for the sake of myself, and now I feel like an idiot for doing it for my mother."

"You're not an idiot," Lethia assures him. "And listen, obviously there's going to be a time in however many days where you and I are pitted against one another, but until then, I'll support you no matter what. Not in the sense that we're just in a business alliance like we previously were, but I actively want to push you ahead with me, even if it means leaving Vancouver in the dust."

"Are you sure?" Beowulf asks. "She's our ally too, right?"

"Positive." She presses her lips into a line. "Vancouver's my ally, but you? You're my friend. If that's okay with you, at least."

"Please." His eyes widen. "It would be an honor to be your friend, Lethia."

Without thinking, she opens her arms wide, gesturing for Beowulf to hug her. His arms wrap behind her back, and she swears she feels a tear drop from his eye and onto her cheek, though she chooses not to say anything about it.

They let go of one another, and Lethia looks up to him and smiles. "It was nice talking to you, Beowulf."

"Just call me Wulfie," he quickly stammers.

"Wulfie," Lethia repeats to herself in a whisper. "Nice."

She may not have any idea what Vancouver's planning, but now that she has a friend, she can safely say that she feels a bit less alone. For once, something so subtle is actually enough.

14th Place: Endellion Dubois, District Two - killed by Calsin Verrillo

Okay okay, that chapter was sad as fuck, we've been knew, but I don't want any of you bitches getting mad at me, because LOOK! Wulfie has a friend! Because I was feeling like a little shit and didn't leave an A/N on the last chapter, I will say officially instead of on Discord or on the blog that Tia, I am so sorry for killing your child. Nate, I am sorry for killing your child too. The blog updates are now up, and I have I melodramatically eulogized these lovely ladies. I miss them already.

Before any of you come for me, yes I am aware that I had Simeon sing Remember Me from Disney's Coco, but it just worked, okay. Please suspend your disbelief for me. Thanks.

Day 4 shall begin soon, but until then I will say goodbye.

Fuck this shit, I'm out,
Linds