She knocks on the door, and doesn't wait for an answer before stepping in. Father is at his desk, presidential as ever as he scribbles notes on paper while holographic displays show feeds and data.
"I expect the preparations have been made?" He says, cold and calm. That's the way his voice always is. Never any warmth to break through the ice of his demeanor, whether that be anger or love.
"The arena is complete and ready to go," she says, not bothering with formality as she walks around the room, tracing her fingers against the patterns on the wall. "But you already knew that."
"I did," he says.
She pauses as she reaches the window, and looks outside. The streets are crowded, all the colorful people of the Capitol wandering about under the calm blue sky. Pop-up betting carts are all over the streets, enticing anybody passing by to place early bets on the upcoming reapings.
"I'm assuming this wasn't a social call?"
"Ever-perceptive," he responds. "No, it is about something of great importance in our near future. Something we need to begin preparing for. The 75th Hunger Games, our third ever Quarter Quell, presents a. . . challenge."
"What kind of challenge?" She asks.
"Here." He slides an envelope across his desk. "Read it yourself."
She strides over to the desk and quickly scans over the paper. "We can just replace it."
"We can. We would, if the quell were only a mere year away. But we have seven to prepare, enough time to ensure that things run smoothly."
"The districts won't be happy with this," she warns.
"When are they? Let them grumble. It will do you well to start your rule by exuding strength."
"Start my rule?" She questions.
"Don't play coy," he chides. He stamps a paper and slides it to the side. "We both know my days of youth are far beyond me. My years of ruling are coming to a close. I need to know that Panem will be safe in your hands, that it won't crumble and return us to the dark days the moment I croak."
She pauses on that, steps away from the window and takes a seat in the chair opposite her father's. Her eyes narrow as she looks across the desk.
"I won't just be a continuation of you."
He scoffs. "I couldn't care less how you choose to run the country once I'm gone. Turn the Hunger Games into a baking contest for all I'll care. Just so long as Panem survives."
"Fine," she says. "I'll prepare the quell, and we'll run the Games. This twist is abhorrent and cruel but we'll do it all the same. But under one condition: That's it. The Hunger Games ends with the 75th." She looks over the table at him expectantly. "Deal?"
He sighs, and shakes his head. She waits for a denial, an argument or lecture or long-winded speech on the necessity of the Hunger Games, and her foolishness for believing otherwise. Instead, he stands up, straightens his suit, and walks to the exit. He pauses at the door with his back still to her and says, "Marsia, dear, if you are to rule, you must learn. You don't ask for permission"
He leaves, and she picks up the envelope. The paper feels heavy in her hands.
Hi again! I don't have anything to say except that I'm so excited to keep getting more amazing characters! If you know anybody who likes to send in characters to these stories let them know I'd love to have them! I have a question for you all too: how do people usually handle writing all 24 tributes as characters? Do they give each character their own chapter for the reapings, the goodbyes, etc, or is it like each character is used for one part/chapter of the story? Super curious to hear any ideas on how to do things!
-Avery