Thanks dreams and Adventuress for the reviews.

I'm currently slated to (attempt) a chapter a day. This was just difficult since I haven't written the characters much (or at all).

GUYS! Wisdom teeth removal recovery is a beep. I can't do anything. Fudge.

I wrote the last 4 POVs in an hour. I'm not sure whether to say 'you're welcome', or 'I'm sorry'. So.

Day 15 should be tomorrow (I think I said that, like, a week ago) and Chapter One of Ladies First will debut Sunday. Hopefully. Submissions for that are still scheduled to be closed Sep 12th, but I'll probably change that. Anyway.

Eleven POVs from outside the Arena. Let's go!


Julius Incandes, Age 27, Capitol

Games Host


Interviews. The heart of my job. People want to see more than just the faces behind the Games; they want to get to know them, their fears and their hopes and who they are. Conducting as many interviews as I do in a year, I've grown mildly sick of them. But hey, the pay is incredible and I only work like two months out of the year for the most part. Not to mention the other celebrities I get to make.

Such as the six Victors lounging with my crew and I in a pavilion in a far corner of the President's gardens.

The Victors before me seem tired, and I have little doubt that they are. They've likely got little rest in the past two weeks, a price surely worth it, considering how far their tributes have made it this year.

On the farthest left of the semicircle, Kiara Enygma is constantly rubbing her hands together. The Victor from Six is physically the youngest in the bunch, having passed away a few years ago and being brought back in her thirteen-year-old body from the Quell. Her tribute, Aran Quade, has been lucky to have such a Mentor.

In the lounger to her right left is Moara Slater, the Victor from only last year. I've spoken to her rather often since her Victory, and I know for a fact that she regrets ever entering that Arena. She may not have trained Cassia herself, but her popularity has clearly kept the Two girl afloat.

Next to her is the oldest Victor of the bunch, Velvet Furse. Velvet won the Games nearly a century ago, but labs in the Capitol have been able to reconstruct his eighteen-year-old body and mind. Of the six, he's brought the most tributes home, giving Henry fairly good odds considering Eight's current losing streak of fifty-five years.

Halibut Odair, the Victor from ten years ago, seems more out of sorts than the others. Word has gotten around at the promises the young Victor had to make to get Esmeralda that pain medication, only for her to hastily waste it. He may have to rely on the looks and charm inherited from his late granduncle if he's going to pull her out.

Fosca Beralia smiles sweetly at us as she waits for our airtime, though she doesn't say much. I know her better than most; the Victor from twenty-three years ago is not happy to be here. I felt her anger when I spoke to her the first time, five years ago. Her tribute had made the finale, and the interview eventually led to her siblings from the fifth Quell. Her older sister had made the final twelve, though her younger brother had died a couple days before. Meilin succumbed to dehydration later, and the ten remaining tributes from Thirteen entered into their finale.

The last of the Mentors from this year, Tabitha Shearer, rests her head on her arm from her wheelchair. Tabitha is the most recent Victor from Ten, leaving them with the worst current losing streak after Eight. Thirty-two years have passed since her own Victory, since the boy from Three tried to drop a building on top of her and lost his life in the process. The doctors didn't get to her fast enough to save her legs.

There's a slight beep in my ear, signaling that I'm on the air.

"Hello, people of Panem! I'm here today in the beautiful gardens of President Snow, with the six Victors remaining in this year's Games!" I gesture to my guests, "Kiara, Moara, Velvet, Halibut, Fosca and Tabitha!" I laugh. "Now, who would like to go first?"

The Victors look at each other for a moment, and most of them shrug. I pull out the cards with the questions, deciding to start at the top.

"Alright then, I'll choose. Fosca. Bellona Juliere from the Upper Capitol wants to know: what do you think Devon would be like as a Victor?" I look up at the woman from Five, and I can see how hard she's trying not to roll her eyes.

"Oh, she'd love it!" She says enthusiastically. "Devon has a good spirit, and I'm sure she'd love to move into the Victor's Village. It would be a great place for her son, Ori, to grow up, don't you think?" I smile, quickly agreeing with her. Next question.


Velvet Furse, Age 111 (18), District 8

Fifty-Seventh Hunger Games Victor


"Velvet. Jarkov Denae is curious. Do you think Henry could have survived this long if he hadn't had Blue as an ally? Mister Denae argues that Henry was predicted to fall in the Bloodbath, the only one of the remaining six tributes, and only hasn't because of Blue, and Devon, and now Aran." I let out a sigh of frustration at the question, and I have to think a moment before answering.

"Henry has a strong spirit. He may have been predicted to fall in twentieth place, but he managed to outlive that before he met up with Blue. Even if the two never became allies, Henry has an incredible knowledge of herbs and such. I have no doubt that his knowledge would have brought him this far, and I truly believe that, even though he's currently ranked the lowest of the remainder, he has the spark required to take the crown. He's already proved that he has what it takes." I lean forward slightly, glancing to my left.

"I'm sorry, Fosca."

The older woman doesn't flinch. "I'm sure I'll gather enough money to send her the proper medication. I'm remarkably close. Save your apologies for when Devon wins." She's lying through her teeth for Devon's sake, I know. She told me earlier that she wasn't even close to having enough funds to send Dev the proper supplies to remove the poison from her system. She's just hoping to wrangle in a few more Sponsors at the last possible minute.

"Of course." Is all I say.

"Oh my, the tension is remarkably thick in here, folks! And we're just getting started. Moara. Helena Freuce is wondering why you think Cassia's kill count is so low. After all, she hasn't managed to catch another tribute in two weeks."

"Well, Julius." She grunts. "I believe it's entirely a matter of circumstance. You see-" I tune out the younger (older) girl from Two, risking a glance toward Fosca. She meets my eyes, briefly, nodding once. Victors don't hold grudges toward one another. At least, those of us who didn't participate in the third Quell. Cecelia may never forgive Gloss for murdering her.


Fosca Beralia, Age 40, District 5

One-Hundred Twenty-Seventh Hunger Games Victor


It's dark by the time Julius is done with his lists of questions, and I can't get out of that pavilion fast enough. All my questions were about Devon, which led back to what I'm doing to help her, which, more often than not, led to my siblings. I know Julius tried, he really did. But it's his job to ask the questions, despite how I feel about them.

I sense Velvet following me into the gardens as the other Victors go their separate ways. Even Tabitha is wheeling herself away, believing that Cheyenne will do better if she doesn't associate herself with us, something I may be inclined to agree with if it had worked with any of her other tributes since her own Games. Ten and their superstitions.

"I thought we agreed, Velvet." I say. "There's nothing you need to apologize for. Henry has been a strong competitor, despite what the country was led to believe at first, and Devon clearly lost her edge after killing your boy's Ally. We can't hold grudges."

I pause, staring out over the butterfly garden. The 'butterflies' are actually mutts, programmed to stay in this one area of the garden. If I hadn't seen them used in past Games to murder tributes, I might find them beautiful.

"I know, Fosca." Velvet walks up next to me, eyes focused on the flying insects. "But I want to apologize all the same. You know me." He smiles faintly, and I think for a moment.

"The Games are unfair, Velvet." I say. "We're all trying to bring our kids home. I may not have a Victor of my own yet, but we still got Alkaline nine years after I won. Your District, though I suppose you don't see much of it anymore, hasn't won in half a decade. Tabitha's tributes make it far nearly every year she mentors, but she's still the last Victor from Ten. You have four Victors, Velvet, but you were just doing your job. Like we're all trying to do." I reach out, catching a butterfly in my palm.

"Out of the six of us, you and Kiara are the only ones who have brought someone out of the Arena. Moara doesn't seem to want Cassia to come back, Halibut is frustrated with Mera, Cheyenne is only thirteen and is in an Arena full of tributes who have proved that they could kill her, and Devon-" I sigh. Devon's a lost cause.

He lays his hand on my shoulder. "We'll figure something out, Fosca. You never know what may happen in the Arena." I only nod, tears coming to my eyes.

"How are you not broken?" I ask, looking at the physically younger boy. "You won the Games over ninety years ago. You fought tooth and nail to drag Cecelia out of the Arena. You watched them throw her back in just so they could kill Katniss properly. How are you so okay with all this?" I almost feel ridiculous, a forty-year-old woman crying to this man I barely know, but I've lost the desire to care.

"We're all broken, Fosca, in some way. After their Games, when Katniss and Peeta came to Eight on the Victory Tour, I overheard a conversation between her and the mayor of the time. She didn't mean to say it, but it rolled off her tongue, as if she were born to say it. "Nobody decent ever wins the Games." I'm not even half decent, Fosca. I'm just a really good actor."

"I have a hard time believing that." I say, giggling softly.

"You haven't watched my Games then." He replies. "Assuming Henry doesn't die, and they don't put me back under, we'll have to watch when I come by on the Victory Tour. Assuming he does, well…" He takes a step away from me, back toward the main party. "I'd recommend having someone there. I only killed two, but it was brutal."

He turns away, head bowed in shame. I shiver, though the night isn't cold. I pull out my phone; I'd better ask Dole to update me on Devon's status before I join the others in the Capitol throngs.


Halibut Odair, Age 25, District 4

One-Hundred Fortieth Hunger Games Victor


Nobody's going to Sponsor her. I think miserably, looking around at the crowds. Nobody wants to pay for something broken and vulnerable, even if lives are on the line. Especially with lives on the line, with these Capitol brats.

It doesn't help that Mera basically threw away the gift I sent her, and now they're all worried that she'd waste it again. If only she'd stayed with Cassia and Mason! I could have borrowed from their funds!

On the other hand, the others are getting plenty of attention. Velvet, perhaps the highest-ranked out of us, with his easy charm and sly smile. People are practically throwing money at him, hoping that he'll encourage Henry to poison his new Ally as well. Or they want him to strip. I'm not much of a lip reader.

Tabitha can barely roll around with the amount of people surrounding her, taking photos and hoping to get some hint about what their Arena baby will do next. People loved her before, but now she's the only person in the Arena without a direct kill, assuming the Eight boy's clever trick works on Five.

Even Fosca's getting some attention, mostly people who loved seeing the girl's kid on TV during the Family Interviews. The fact that she killed a half-baked Career certainly helps, and people are willing to at least pretend to listen while the older woman asks for donations. Devon's been a centerpiece of the Games; the Capitol hates it when their favorite source of drama literally dies off too early for their taste.

Six has been another cornerstone of the Quell, and Kiara watches her adoring fans from atop a fountain. I never knew the girl as, well… a girl, but she was always a climber in her Games. She dazzles the crowd from atop her perch, showing off as they take pictures. I imagine that their escort is getting plenty of calls back in the Control Center as well.

I can't see Moara anywhere, though I suspect I know where she might be. While Coriolanus Senior is no longer in charge of the country, his grandsire has continued his practices. Moara is still shiny and new, the beautiful murderess from only a year ago. I still get those 'invitations' myself, neatly folded in my room whenever I'm in the Capitol. Poor girl.

The only visitor I get all night is Fosca, after her own admirers have slipped away. She finds me at the President's private bar, in the west wing of his mansion.

She understands, I think. Her tribute is about as broken as mine. I offer to buy her a round, and she eagerly accepts.


Tabitha Shearer, Age 47, District 10

One-Hundred Eighteenth Hunger Games Victor


Nobody offers to help me with my chair throughout the night, not that I expect them to. The young and beautiful of the Capitol, the group that has found the most interest in Cheyenne, revere me even more than the people in my District did when I had first won. They couldn't imagine my needing help, and I don't dare ask any of the other Victors.

At this point in the Games, the Victors typically attempt to distance themselves from the others, though for different reasons. Some don't want to lost potential Sponsors to the others, some don't want to get hurt more than necessary when their tribute dies.

In Ten, it's considered bad luck to get close to your opponents as the Game draws to a close. Ultimately, five of us will lose yet another tribute, and those unlucky five will then band together a try to figure out how the lucky one did it. How they managed it, despite all they did to prepare their own charges.

Despite what I may tell the potential Sponsors, the odds aren't in Chey's favor. They should have been, in light of the events from the first few days in the Arena. Cheyenne quickly lost her Allies, earning her pity from those that think they have a heart. The Careers were barely a shell of their usual, terrifying selves since Day Three, and early fracture seemed imminent. When the Careers split about a week before the Games, an outlier is almost guaranteed to win.

Yet, two are still alive.

"Tabitha! Do you think Cheyenne still has a chance at Victory despite being the youngest tribute in the Arena?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, my dear. I've already pledged my Sponsorships to Velvet and Henry. He's quite the talented young man, you know. Did you know he plays ukuele?"

"Oh, Tabby! Just the person I've been looking for! Have you seen Moara? My nephew wants a picture with her!"

Nope. As I told Chey earlier today: no more help is coming.

Five to go.


Kiara Enigma, Age 83 (13), District 6

Eightieth Hunger Games Victor


The easiest way to get Sponsors is to dazzle the audience. The fountain was first, followed by the various pavilions around the gardens. After my Victory, the Capitol expected me to display some kind of talent to them. Nobody had mentioned this to me before; my escort didn't care enough and our only Victors had died in the Quell.

Caesar Flickerman quickly realized his mistake and tried to change the topic, but I was a freaking Victor and it wasn't my job to back down from a challenge.

In my Arena, I climbed between train cars to find food and water and weapons and to escape the Careers. Some of the trains were even moving. I hadn't done it in six months, since the Games, but that didn't stop me.

I stopped Caesar mid-sentence, before standing and walking away. I hiked up my dress, slipped off my heels, and began to shimmy up the curtains of the stage.

Which is why I shouldn't have been so surprise when a drunk party guest cried, "climb the mansion!"

It's remarkably easy, I find. Cameras flash from below, and people scream as I search for hand- and footholds. I jump between the pillars beside the back entrance, easily vaulting over the railing to the balcony on the second floor. I look out at the bright lights of the garden, spotting Velvet and Tabitha and Hal and Fosca in the crowds. I even spot Moara, hidden remarkably well within the back hedges. I can't make out details, but I'm sure she's on the phone with Rocky, her Mentor last year.

Shouts of encouragement arise from below, and I quickly make my way to the roof of the manse. The only difficulty is getting over the nesting spikes, though I find an area somehow devoid of them easily enough. It's a piece of moonberry cake from there.

I raise my arms high, looking down at the crowds. Despite the drunken screams, I hear the slight beep in my ear, from my communicator. I nod, answering.

"Kiara?" Fuschia Tellack's voice inquires. "I don't know what you are doing, but keep going! I had to get servants to ask people to call me back later! Our Sponsor phone is ringing off the hook!"

I grin. "How much?" I ask. Much of Aran's Sponsor money was withdrawn after the Alliance shattered yesterday.

"Nothing substantial yet, but we're bound to get there eventually."


Moara Slater, Age 17, District 2

One-Hundred Forty-Ninth Hunger Games Victor


"What do you mean, 'go back'?" I demand. "Rock, I can't stand all this attention, you know that! Everybody out there wants something from me! And I have nothing I want to give them!" Tears are streaking down my face, and I'm sure my stylists would throw fits, but they can go to Hell for all I care.

"Moara, it's important for your image. You're one of the only Mentors left in this year's Games. You managed to survive the private dinners and the party at Viking's house for the Final Thirteen. You can do this."

"No! It's too much! I-"

"How do you think I felt when I was in your position?" He asks. I curl myself tighter, unsure of what I think. "Annie couldn't care less about how I was doing. She only lectured me about how I'm a Two and Twos never back down from a fight. She never was much of a doter. I suppose that's why her brother went into the Games."

"And now he's dead."

"Yes. Now he's dead."

"It was easier before, when Jacob did little other than try to steal the spotlight from me. He was just trying to take Cass' potential Sponsors, help Mason along. But now Mason's dead and I'm alone and I just can't."

"So you're just going to sit in the bushes all night?"

"Is that an option?"

"You know it isn't." I sigh. "You'll never get better at this if you don't try to learn. There are ways to cope with those sharks, Moara. It's something you learn by instinct; it's unteachable."

I pause for a moment. "I hate you sometimes." I choke, wiping the sleeve of my jacket under my eyes.

"And you love me all the same." He replies. I chuckle slightly, shifting.

"Maybe." I say, staring up at the stars. "Maybe."


Bellona Juliere, Age 26, Capitol

Daughter of Honei Juliere, District Women's Rights Activist


"Now then, let's get this meeting started. Bellona dear?" I step around the corner from where I had been instructed to wait for Mother's call. I look briefly over the dining area, where the elite from my mother's little group speak in hushed tones. Moments ago, they were plenty loud with their plans. My presence, as an outsider, affords me the cold shoulder.

"Yes, mother?" I ask, bowing my head. It is my job while my mother's friends are here to service their every need. It's ridiculous, but my mother always said that that was the only reason I was ever born.

"Jasmine tea, all around. Then retire to your room."

"Yes, mother."

She makes a similar request of me at every meeting. The tea isn't difficult to make; it's impossible to complicate tea. Only one cup gets something different: frengelier venom, a rare toxin found in a specific species of tree frog. The venom is remarkably slow-acting, sometimes taking up to a week to claim its victim. Henry Reynoso is using this to great effect in the Arena.

The tea is handed out to each woman in the circle with my head bowed. The woman to whom the tainted cup is served, Laritza Heeldaughter (she refused to be known as 'Heelson'), doesn't suspect a thing as she speaks nearly inaudibly to her neighbor. Not that I would care for anything she has to say, anyhow.

After I retire, Mother will mix the soft antidote into her tea, after she begins to complain about a dry throat. She shouldn't even know what's going on until she's on her yacht sailing around District Four.

After serving, I bow once more to my mother, who is trying to hide her sly smile. Then I make my way up to my room, sitting quietly on my bed.

Mother is a member of the ADR, the Association for District Rights, though she is specifically over women's rights. However, since she began her monthly meetings nearly ten years ago, it's become something… different. The women in lower tiers still believe that they're fighting for the Districts- indeed, a few decent things have come from their efforts. But Mother's tier, the women in the dining hall two floors below me, are up to something entirely different.

Those women are like-minded, in that they all believe that the country deserves a female President.

They all feel that the Snow Dynasty has been overbearing, and they intend to overthrow it. Their plans are still a few years out, and Mother takes out anyone who begins to feel even traces of doubt, before promoting someone who agrees with her.

Hence Laritza's position.

Mother believes that the girl prepped to replace her would be better-suited anyhow, ready and willing to help my mother assassinate the President and his family, before taking the Presidency by force.

She intends to take the country for herself, but I can't let her. It isn't time yet, but I'll have to kill her too.

One day.


Mars Viking, Age 20, Capitol

Head Gamemaker


The party at the President's mansion is drawing to a close, and I'm eager to get back in the Control Center. I'm so close to the end; I always have a difficult time walking away from my work, let alone when I'm close to finishing it.

It's been a remarkable year. The pair from One reacted to the Arena in ways nobody could have predicted, and ratings are always higher when the heavy betters lost their deposits. The pair from Two played their role well, stumbling and cursing as they tried to hunt the tributes. The girl from Four has surprised me by making it this far, however. I'd have figured the Twos would have killed her before she had the chance to leave.

The Victor hasn't been decided yet. Some years, it becomes clear early on; the President typically asks me to reward and punish tributes as the Games progress, and I quickly get a figure for who he wants to win. This helps me to subtly groom the tribute for being a good Victor, guiding them to the Throne while trying hard to not let the others seem disadvantaged.

The President, however, hasn't even tried to intervene this year. Which I have taken to mean that he wants it to be more natural, drawn out, anxiety-inducing for the audience. And so I've done little to help or hinder the tributes.

Other than the earthquake that triggered the tsunami and the volcano. And the Hellhound. And sending Cordin the night vision goggles I felt I owed him. Shame the Hellhound took him, I rather liked his spirit.

Yes, this year's Victor could be any of my six little pawns. Cheyenne, the little girl that could. Aran, the lover with the broken heart. Cassia, my shining hero. Even Mera, if she manages to live long enough.


Gumei Snow, Age 27, Capitol

President of Panem


I love parties. The dress, the lies, the subtle manipulations. Every person in my garden has a scheme behind their smile, an ulterior motive. And I know them all.

My Victors want their tributes to get home, and that requires Sponsors. Velvet has his charm, Tabitha her pity, Kiara her gymnastic skills from the years after her Games. That's why I made sure nobody shot her down from my walls as she scaled them.

My great grandfather, the first Coriolanus Snow, despised the Victors. Their rebelliousness, their pride. That was why he changed the rules for the Third Quell; he hated Katniss and Bread Boy. Loathed Finnick. Suspected Cashmere of rebel sympathies. Enobaria was an assassin for him, for officials and distant family who spoke out of turn. He solved all his problems by throwing them into an Arena.

Gloss was one of few that grandpa great would have allowed to leave alive. He intervened at every crossroads in the Games, a practice I try to avoid whenever possible. Sure, I take care to eliminate particularly troublesome tributes, but never the Victors. The Victors are sacred.

They were the ones who survived against all odds, who, despite the trials they endured, spat in Death's face and triumphed. Their stories, each and every one, are inspiring.

There was only one troublesome tribute this year, really. Others tried, but I took little notice of Eleven or Twelve or the boy from Four. The girl from Thirteen was about as subtle as a hurricane, less fun than the others might have been. Esmeralda quickly fixed that problem for me, bless her soul.

Perhaps I should repay her for what she's done. It isn't like people wouldn't expect it; she is the current leader in kills.

Nah. I can't give her a solution so easily. Victory must be earned, it cannot simply be given.


Camilla King, Age 19, Capitol

Student at the University of Panem


There are highlights from the Games on every screen in every household in Panem tonight. Annually, the Capitol elite celebrate the Final Six with various parades and parties and intimate nights under the light of the fireworks. And they play highlights. Lots and lots of highlights.

The Bloodbath is first of course, after all the boring Pre-Games bull that goes on for what feels like hours. I don't care that the girls from Twelve and Thirteen Volunteered; they're dead. I don't care about the beautiful peacock dress that the girl from One wore in the Parade; she's dead. I don't care about how dreamy Marcus and Mason looked during their Interviews; they're dead.

I'm careful to pay attention to Aran's Interview though. Can I say dreamy?

There's a little segment as each of the tributes die though, and I pay attention to those. My History class has a huge project due when class gets back in a few weeks, and I chose the Games as my topic. The tributes, specifically.

Sparky Montgomery takes a knife to the throat, and I learn about the state of insanity they found his mother in when reporters went to speak to her. She's in an asylum.

Kenzi Williams was a prankster and a model back in Seven, though it's hard to tell with all the tendons and nerves spewing blood from her neck. Gross.

Tulle Salane upset the boy from Two the day before the Games were supposed to begin. Explains why Two targeted her so heavily.

Thorn Ashbury was suspected in the murders of Peacekeepers in Eleven, after one shot his sister. They show her screaming as her brother falls.

Keola Foeba Volunteered for the girl who saved her from bullies. She screams and laughs and cries as she plummets down the far side of the mountain.

Harvest Miller was, of course, the sister of another Victor. She was the first person to be killed by someone outside of One or Two.

Rebelle Rine, daughter of a Victor, was surprisingly proficient with a trident. She managed to hold off the girl from Four for ten minutes before her own weapon shish-kabobbed her. Ouch.

Soot Maloy's death was voted the best the year. His certainly lasted the longest, about half an hour. The floor of the Cornucopia is slick with blood by the time Four's finished her kill.

Denny Rico was the first tribute to fall victim to the Arena. The jaguar was all-natural, imported from the boy's District's own hunting grounds. Ironic.

Marcus Caelum's death was anticlimactic. Fin.

Jetta Carter starved herself back home. Her family was well off, but she gave her food and clothes to the poor of the District. I wish my family was well off.

Darius Line was a terrible fighter, which was incredibly unfortunate. He was the only outlier with a kill, and he blew it. Lame.

Infiniti Reagan was experimented on by a madman in Three. I wonder if I could talk to him…? Madmen are always smokin hot in the TV shows.

Willow Orchids was one of two tributes this year with a twin. Ironically, she was killed by the other tribute with a twin. Perhaps he felt challenged?

Logan Woodson made little impression on anyone. He survived an encounter with the Careers, like, once, and he didn't kill any of them. Lame.

Jasper Blue was the second tribute killed by a Five, and reportedly left his family home in order to train for the Games. So much dedication gone to waste.

Thanatos Rize was straight up creepy. Something about his parents being in a cult that believed people like him were diseased? He certainly looked it.

Cordin Bolt was a thief in Three, which pretty much explains why his whole strategy was to steal from the Careers. Done and done.

Mason Lepodolite was the last-standing Legacy Tribute, though I'm disappointed he didn't make it further. His sister must be so embarrassed.

Malaya Garnet had three boyfriends back in One, and then turned around and got with another boy in the Arena. What a little-


It's a little after midnight, but I finally finished it. Yay!

I'm going to forego the usual ending stuff, partially because I'm tired and partially because this chapter wasn't in the Arena. Expect Day 15 within the next 24 hours.

Or maybe not. I've a busy day, apparently.


Questions!

Favorite Victor POV?

Favorite Capitol POV?

Thoughts on any in particular?

Anything else?

Peace and Love and Games,

Z

Why do I even the heck?