tw: infant death related to child abuse in second pov
How did you feel when Alila saved Thay?
Thee couldn't decide how he felt about… well, about anything.
It was all too much for him. He was glad that at least the other occupants of the Perwane household tiptoed around him, careful to avoid any conversation of Alila or Thay. Thee almost appreciated that no one was asking any questions, but he could tell that everyone was curious anyway.
The younger kids were not particularly subtle, least of all Velvet, the first baby to be adopted by the Perwanes eight years prior. Thee was used to being quiet around the house - occasionally April would gently chide him for startling her by appearing out of nowhere - but that also meant that he occasionally overheard things he wasn't meant to.
"Because it's not like Alila is related to him," Velvet explained. "Not like the Nine boy is."
"That's not fair of you to say," Zuli countered. "It's not like most of us are related by blood and I still consider all of you my family."
"But this is different. I know it, because..."
Thee left before she could finish. Was it different? Was he not allowed to think of Alila as his real sister anymore now that his old family had popped back up?
It was all very frustrating. Thee wasn't sure where he stood in the family anymore. Blood relations had never really mattered, but suddenly his did. Everyone in the house and the Capitol seemed to be watching his every move, expecting him to make some kind of choice, but Thee didn't even know where to begin.
He spent a lot of time holed up in front of the television, watching both of his siblings navigate the Games. He could read Alila's movements, like when she'd thrown herself in front of Thay in the bloodbath to keep him from dying by Kano's hands. The Games were still a novelty back then, so most of the other siblings hadn't taken it seriously until Phaedra had a spear aimed at her throat. That had sobered the rest of them up.
After Phaedra put Alila on house arrest, they'd all sent him indecipherable looks as the broadcast cut to someone analyzing the fight. Thee hadn't wanted to stick around for that, so he headed back to his room and cracked open a book that he didn't read.
It was all for him, he knew. There was no other way Alila would make a miscalculation like that. She'd thrown off her plans for the rest of the Games just because of him. It didn't matter if she'd saved Thay in the hopes that he'd make it home or if she'd saved him because he reminded her of Thee, the fact remained that it was all done because of him.
So he kept an eye on her. Alila hadn't given up, certainly not, but her spirits were low as the days crawled by. Most of the broadcasting footage shifted focus to other tributes, but the damage had already been done around the house. Things were distinctly different. Even weirder was the fact that not everyone treated him differently. Some of the younger kids didn't particularly care either way, and some were almost more welcoming than before. Thee wasn't sure what to make of that part.
There was a lot that he wished he could help with somehow. Thee always knew that Alila didn't make friends because she was preparing to go into the Games, which is why her clear fondness for Makani made him so antsy. After all, it wasn't as if Alila didn't care about others or couldn't make friends. She just always had a bigger goal. But that begged the question: If she was spending so much time doting on others, had she lost sight of her dream?
Thee recognized a lot of her mannerisms, even if Alila herself didn't notice. Sometimes she'd slip into the same gentleness that she only displayed around him, and Thee finally realized that in a way, he was in that Arena with her. It was Thee sitting next to her in silence during the long days where she could do nothing more than braid her hair and do stretching routines. It was Thee humming a tune when she danced with Makani, and it was Thee who assured her that Justus would be a good temporary ally. His chest ached when he saw her instinctively drop everything to help Justus through his panic. Of course she knew what to do. After all, she'd helped Thee through situations just like that many times before.
The mood around the house had grown increasingly somber as the days had passed. Everyone wanted to cheer Alila on, but after the death of the young boy from Three, it had finally hit just how real this danger was.
Alila may not come home.
Someone settled down next to him on the floor, and Thee heaved a quiet sigh. He wasn't sure if he wanted any company, not now. These days, it was easier for Thee to be by himself.
"After these Games, I think Lacey's about ready to pull out of training," April started, nearly giving Thee whiplash as she jumped into a completely unrelated conversation. "Quinton is beyond ecstatic, but he'd never tell her that. And we all know he would've cried the instant she got chosen to volunteer, so maybe it's for the best."
Thee wasn't sure where she was trying to go with that, so he just nodded vaguely.
"Of course, he would've supported her decision either way. And it would have meant the world to Lacey," April continued, giving Thee a look. "I think it's the same with you and Alila. Everyone here knows you were less than thrilled to see Alila go, but all she really needs right now is your support."
"I'm a little far away for that."
"Not quite what I meant. I know you still want her to come home, even if your loyalties are conflicting right now."
"Well… yeah, but-"
"No one will be mad if you don't choose as long as you know they both love you," April said, nudging him gently.
Thee frowned at his legs. "I just… wish she'd do it for herself too."
"I'm sure she is," April said with a laugh. "She's just a little lost right now."
"Lost?"
"Aimless. Wandering. This hasn't been the Games she wanted."
"The Games aren't fair," Thee muttered as quietly as he could.
April gave him a measured nod before quickly circling back to her point. "She'll be looking for something to ground her again."
"And you think that's me?"
"It's always been you."
That was true enough, Thee supposed, but he wasn't sure how that would help her now. "What about Thay?"
April just shrugged. "What about him? He's trying to come home to you as well."
"Only one can win," Thee protested, feeling his stomach twist as he forced the words out.
"There's still a lot of Games left," April said, getting to her feet. "The most you can do is trust that they'll do their best to make it home."
"What if Alila's not the one that makes it back?"
"She's not the only one we love," April said, giving him a kind smile. "You're part of this family too, Timothee. We want what's best for you, even if the others aren't so great at showing it."
He mumbled a quiet thank you before she disappeared, leaving him to his own thoughts again. He really hoped everything she'd said was right and that Alila would be able to ground herself again.
But no matter what happened, Thee would still be here. Waiting.
I… was terrified. Alila means a lot to me, and I don't like seeing her throw herself in the path of danger. But I know she's trying her best to come home, and that's all that matters.
Could you always sense that Phaedra was destined for greatness?
There wasn't a talented bone in Thetis Nikostratos's body.
Being untalented in Two was practically a sin. If you couldn't devote your body, your heart, and your mind to the cause, then you were worth less than the dirt under your boots. And Thetis wasn't just untalented - she was a failure. She'd flunked out of Avantia, ruining any chances for her to rise to greatness and bring honor to Two.
The only thing Thetis was destined for was a menial job with a worthless husband and a child she wasn't sure she even wanted. She'd fall into the cracks of the District, as meaningless as any average quarry worker.
Oh, how Thetis loathed the word average.
Most of her life was spent trying to keep her head down. That's all she was good for, anyway. Her parents reminded her of it every day, their cruel words a constant reminder of how abysmally she'd failed. It had always been her hope to run away, to find something to do with her miserable life, but the likelihood of that happening lessened with every day that passed by.
And then, ever so slowly, things began to change.
Styxia had been around for years, so when a fellow quarry worker approached Thetis and presented the idea of religion to her, she almost laughed. What did Thetis have to gain from some musty old religion with nothing but bad energy? The original Styx had been reduced to nothing more than a martyr, and all of Styxia was crumbling after the Grim Styx's blasphemous ways had been exposed a few days before. Everyone had heard about how the entire religion was fracturing, desperately trying to avoid extinction, and Thetis wanted to take no part in it.
"So?" the woman had asked, eyes so full of light and hope. "What do you think?"
Thetis thought that she could've killed that woman right there, for taunting her with something as frugal and meaningless as religion. She wanted to rip the pleasant smile off the woman's face, but instead she just bared her teeth into a grin.
"I'm afraid I'll have to pass."
The summer day was cooling down as she walked home from the quarry. The barest hints of sunset clung to the horizon, giving way to the stars as day faded into night. A sense of peace washed over Thetis, unlike anything she'd ever felt before. Everyone knew the basics of the Styxian faith and the importance of souls and water and fate, so Thetis found herself pondering each one that night. Her life had been so full of darkness, of nothingness, and Styxia offered a balance.
Thetis was tired of taking a backseat in her own life. It was about time the universe gave back to her.
It took some time for hope to foster itself in Thetis's heart. She wasn't used to the idea of having something to look forward to, but Styxia was almost a comfort. It was a constant. Thetis finally had something to believe in, something that would believe in her right back.
She still worked in the quarry, but her chin was lifted to the sky every day when she walked out. The stars stared back at her, promising something that she couldn't quite figure out yet. But Thetis knew one day her chance would come.
She didn't expect it to come in the form of a prophecy.
A baby, something she'd always dreaded having. Thetis hated the idea of giving birth to a child that would be just as worthless as she was, but the stars gleamed brightly at her that night as she walked home from the sermon. They still promised her something, and Thetis decided to put her faith into them.
She took a different path home, passed by a bar, found a man. If you asked her the next day, she'd already forgotten his face. She never even learned his name. None if it mattered. One night was all she needed.
Those nine months were the longest of her life, but Thetis was on the cusp of happiness. For the first time in her life, she had a bigger purpose. If there was even the slightest chance that this child could fulfill the prophecy, then everything in her life would be worth it.
"Well?"
Thetis could hardly breathe as The Fourth Styx pressed a finger to her baby's forehead. She trembled in excitement, in anticipation. Finally, after all these years, she'd bring honor to her District. Even though she herself would never get to compete in the Games, she'd still be the source of that greatness. An invincible warrior, the prophesied child that would bring glory to all of Styxia by winning the Hunger Games. She could taste victory already.
"I'm sorry," The Fourth Styx said, each word ripping Thetis's future away from her. "This isn't the child of the prophecy."
When Thetis went home, she simmered in her own hatred for long enough that even looking upon the face of her newborn child couldn't bring her any relief. It kept wailing, a shrill cry that made Thetis finally snap.
"Worthless," she muttered, wrapping her shawl around herself as she stared into the fire. She couldn't tell if she was talking to herself or the child, unable to look away as it screamed and cried for a mother that refused to save it from its fiery fate.
She never even gave it a name.
But Thetis was determined to try again. This was her first shot at hope, and this time she wouldn't fail. She couldn't. The prophecy was her second chance at life, and she couldn't possibly squander it.
It was almost irrelevant to Thetis that the prophecy was also the only thing holding Styxia together. The Fourth Styx was nothing more than a leader, nothing revolutionary like The Grim Styx before her. Even though The Grim Styx had radical ideas that went far beyond what Styxia was supposed to represent, she had at least managed to sway the masses in a meaningful way. Her seeds of doubt still lay dormant in the congregation, and they'd only grow stronger without something - or really, someone - to combat the Grim Styx's lies.
A child of gold… yes, that would save the faith. More importantly, it would save Thetis as well. She'd do anything to bring some semblance of meaning back into her life.
Anything.
Another nameless, faceless man. Another nine months. Another painful labor. But this time, Thetis was rewarded for her struggles. This time, she got to present her child - the child - to the rest of Styxia. The prophesied child of gold was finally here.
No one needed to know the truth.
No one needed to know that Thetis herself had visited The Fourth Styx, that she'd held a knife to the woman's throat and threatened to turn her into a Grim Styx too. The foolish woman must've been able to clearly read the resolve in her eyes, because she didn't hesitate before agreeing.
Phaedra Nikostratos was the warrior they'd all been waiting for.
There was always the chance that the child would be talentless like Thetis, but Thetis didn't care. She'd gotten this far. She and Phaedra were heralded as saints, and for the first time in her miserable life, Thetis had a greater purpose. She was to raise the child of the prophecy, bring her to the greatness she was destined to attain.
But as she watched Phaedra flourish, Thetis felt her old sense of mediocrity come crawling back. This child had more talent at a young age than Thetis had ever possessed. So she counteracted that the only way she knew how: by maintaining her sense of control.
There would be no kind words for Phaedra from her mother, not when the rest of the District was happy to praise her name to the heavens. Thetis would teach her daughter what the real world was like beyond those childish fairy tales the girl liked to consume. She was too important to hang around with any of the other children, and so Thetis instead forced her to go to mass every week and train day after day. Phaedra could relax when she'd finally fulfilled her duty, whenever that day came.
After all, it was her destiny.
I knew from the moment I found out I was pregnant. It could've only been her.
You must be so proud of your children - having two enter the Games is no small feat.
It wasn't like Boone wasn't proud of his son. Things were just… a little more complicated than that.
Justus of all people should understand complicated, Boone figured. After all, the boy went into the Games with his girlfriend. Sometimes things were messy and there wasn't a clear cut answer and that's all there was to it.
Back when Justus was first born, Boone was overjoyed. After three daughters, he'd begun to fear that he wouldn't have a son at all. He'd always wanted a boy to look after, one that could follow in his own footsteps and perhaps even surpass him. He was already looking forward to all the training they'd get to do together.
But to Boone's dismay, Justus wanted nothing more than to play with his three older sisters. Boone was horrified to learn that they all enjoyed playing dress-up and braiding hair and putting on makeup. It didn't seem right, and in his mind, he'd already crafted the mold that Justus was supposed to fill. There was no room for error.
"He's just a kid," Eris insisted to him every time he got too bent out of shape over it. "He's having fun with his sisters and being a good brother. In time, he'll be even greater than the idea of him you have in your head."
Boone wasn't sure what to say to that, but he hoped Eris was right anyway.
Much to his dismay, he never had another son. After Justus came four more girls, but when he came home from work each night, he found no resentment in his heart towards the girls. They were all just… his family. And for a time, that was all he really needed.
Justus never quite came around the way Boone hoped he would. He tried to bond with the boy, showing him old Games footage and trying to inspire him in the hopes that Justus would latch on, but nothing worked. He did, however, catch the eye of his eldest child, Asteria. Where Justus faltered, she took off without waiting for Boone to finish. Their passion fed off of each other, and before he knew it, he was watching his eldest daughter volunteer for the Hunger Games. The rest of his family shed tears upon seeing her go, but he could only smile.
Finally, the Cotterams would get the respect they so deserved.
Things changed little by little as Asteria came back a Victor. Instead of feeling like he'd finally won, Boone instead realized that all he'd done was create an insatiable void within himself. Just one Victor wasn't enough - no, not at all. He needed more.
When he proposed the idea of moving Districts to Eris, she'd been more than a little hesitant. She worried about the impact it would have on their kids - especially the younger ones who needed that sense of stability in their lives. But Boone, ever the family man, was too focused on how great their status could be. District One was full of vapid people with their materialistic thoughts, and Boone figured it was about time the Cotteram family moved on from that. District Two was full of pride and honor, with renowned training programs. If the time ever came, Boone figured that's where Justus could make his mark.
He oversaw the packing process as the household got ready for a move to the Victor's Village with Asteria. Eris was nervously fluttering around trying to get everyone packed up while he finished the submission process to get their papers in order for the move. Occasionally Boone would go through the rooms and quietly clear out any unnecessary belongings. He hoped to shed some of the dead weight with their move, and needless keepsakes like old toys or a stuffed bunny were stealthily tossed aside.
Perhaps Boone's ambition was what led him astray. He loved his family, he really did, but the allure of status and respect so easily turned everything on its head.
Not even a new location managed to inspire Justus. Boone quickly grew frustrated with that, but he pushed those thoughts aside as he settled down with his newly renamed Arculeo family. He found himself working as a blacksmith, the kids all went back to school, and he kept in contact with Asteria as she adjusted to her own new life.
One of his more private reasons for the move was because he didn't trust Asteria to keep to herself. She had always been rather close with Justus despite their age difference, and she expressed to Boone numerous times before that she was worried that Justus would go down the same path she did. Victory was a long, hard road, and while she wouldn't actively talk Justus out of training or volunteering, she would make it clear what the price for doing so was.
That wouldn't do at all. Boone couldn't let her get in his way.
Ever so slowly, he began cutting off contact. Boone himself continued talking to Asteria on a regular basis, but he began stashing letters between Justus and Asteria. His paranoia got the best of him - his son still needed to make his mark on the world.
The day Justus came up to him and announced his decision to begin training, Boone was overjoyed. He immediately called up all the connections he'd made - what else was a blacksmith to do besides make friends with trainers that came in to get weapons made? He settled on a man named Rhys and got a preliminary session set up, just to test the waters.
It was nothing short of disastrous.
They'd waited too long. At the age of twelve, Justus was entirely too far behind his other peers to even have a shot at making it into the Games.
The walk home was dead silent. Justus occasionally ducked his head and Boone had to pretend he didn't hear sniffling. There was nothing that could be said between them, not now. This was Boone's dream, but for a single shining moment it had been Justus's too.
Now it was all gone.
"Just wait… One day, I'm going to make you proud!" Justus announced, pointing a finger at Boone determinedly. "That's a promise! An Arculeo never goes back on his word!"
Boone appreciated his son's words, he really did. He even almost believed them. At the very least, he knew his son would try. He figured that was all that was supposed to matter, but somehow it wasn't enough. There was nothing he could say that wouldn't come out wrong, so he just slowly raised a hand and rustled his son's hair. Boone kept his face as expressionless as he could, passing by Justus to get into the house.
When he went to bed that night, he wondered if this was a good idea at all. Boone Arculeo loved his family. He didn't want to do irreparable harm to them, and he was growing worried that this training endeavor would only end in bad news.
"How did it go?" Eris murmured next to him, voice full of hope. Hope for what, Boone wasn't sure. But in that moment, he felt something shift inside him.
"It went great," Boone replied, forcing enthusiasm into his voice. "You were right. He's turning into a fine young man."
"Of course he is. He's your son."
And somehow that made everything worse.
That night, Boone made a promise to himself. It didn't matter if Justus couldn't do it himself; Boone would bring his son to glory, no matter the cost.
And an Arculeo never went back on his word.
Of course I am. Knowing my family might have not one but two Victors is more than enough to bring me joy.
What do you miss the most about Nash?
The stars weren't as bright anymore.
On the nights when Seiren went to find them again, he could never manage to stay long. But it was the only way he could get the chance to clear his head and step back from the Games, which were growing more distressing for Nash with every passing day. To cope as best he could, Seiren would visit their old spot, tug on Nash's old jacket, and sit with silence as his companion. Sometimes a house would have the Games turned on loud enough that the sound could drift all the way up to him, but Seiren would just cover his ears. He didn't want any part of it. He just wanted his friend back.
But even if Nash did manage to come back… Seiren feared he wouldn't be the same. Something about Merix's death had fundamentally broken his friend. He hadn't laughed or cracked a smile in days. He didn't even seem to notice his other ally becoming more restless as the hours passed. Seiren was holding out hope that the two of them would be able to grow back together, that they'd be able to get through this, but it wasn't likely.
The Games only knew how to take and take and take. Seiren found himself hating them more for that every day.
"I finally found you," Allegra said, cutting into his thoughts. "Mind if I join?"
Seiren nodded and tucked his knees closer to his chest as she settled onto the ground beside him, keeping her distance. He appreciated that to an extent. He wasn't really sure what it was that he wanted anymore anyway.
The stars stared down at him. Seiren couldn't keep their relentless gaze, instead turning his focus down to a loose thread on his pants, which he began to pick at.
"How do you think the rest of the Games will play out?" Allegra asked, keeping her voice light and airy. "I know you've been giving it a lot of thought."
"You know too much," Seiren muttered, and Allegra just laughed. He nearly cracked a smile with her - she was the only one other than Nash that could ever really read him.
"We don't have to talk if you don't want to. I just know you'll drive yourself insane with possibilities unless you get them all out of your head."
"Lilith will leave soon," he blurted out before he could stop himself. But even though he didn't really want to talk, the words tumbled out of his mouth. "I'm not sure when, but she still has some sort of goal to accomplish. The Career duo that's left will both stray true to their word, though. I think Alila will stay even after Makani's gone. She has a greater purpose."
Allegra nodded, considering the options he presented. "A strange sense of loyalty."
"But an effective one. Crush will continue to spiral, though I don't know what will happen there. Jack could be a strong contender if she has the willpower for it. Thay will eventually run into Lilith again - probably sooner rather than later. Only one of them will make it out of that fight. Interesting to see District Partners at odds with each other like that."
"Very out of the ordinary," Allegra agreed, her interjections a casual press to keep him talking. "Phaedra?"
Seiren wrinkled his nose at that. "I'm not sure. I'm getting conflicting messages."
"Conflicting how?"
"She's almost like… a frontrunner that keeps falling into the middle of the pack. Her show against the mutts was impressive, but… I'm not sure."
Seiren frowned down at his hands, still trying to unravel the thread. He hated not knowing things, especially when he had no control over a situation. It frustrated him, as he always had the need to try and figure things out.
"And what about Nash?"
"I… he needs something to go home to."
"He has you, doesn't he?"
"That's… different."
Allegra hummed, playing with a blade of grass. "I'm not so sure about that."
Seiren tugged the collar of his- Nash's jacket up higher to hide his burning cheeks. "C'mon, don't be like that. You know he doesn't feel the same way. He tried to set me up with you, after all."
"He doesn't have your impeccable read on social situations," Allegra teased.
"That's more your thing," Seiren insisted. "But… still. We're just friends."
And oh, how those simple words made his chest ache. Part of him wished that he'd been able to summon the courage to tell Nash how he felt during the goodbyes, but with Nash leaving, Seiren's bravery followed. Besides, it didn't feel fair to dump that all on Nash last minute. Seiren would be content to rot with his own foolish emotions so Nash wouldn't have to.
He heard Allegra shift beside him and looked to see that she'd lain back, watching the stars above. Seiren nearly got misty-eyed thinking about how it used to be Nash beside him. He missed the way things used to be.
Seiren was not fond of change, and that's all that seemed to happen these days.
"Do you wish you got to say something to him?" Allegra asked more quietly.
He mulled it over for a moment. "I'm not sure. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be."
"The stars will align someday. You just have to wait for when they do."
Waiting seemed very hard right now, but Seiren tried to trust Allegra's hopeful words. If this wasn't meant to be, then someday in the future there had to be something else waiting for him.
Even if he gave up on them now, the stars would be waiting for him. All he had to do was return to them.
Probably… his optimism. He always liked to see the best in things. He was good at inspiring others to do that too.
What would you say to your daughter if she was here now?
The house was emptier with Jack gone.
Francis had never felt his daughter's absence so acutely. Before, he'd been well aware of it, certainly, but now? The hole in his heart had turned into an all-consuming void, and he spent day and night worrying about her. Even Almira's constant presence couldn't break him out of his monotonous cycle.
Where had it all gone wrong? Had Francis truly overstepped the day he'd fallen in love with Almira? Was it too late for things to be fixed?
He'd been quietly voicing these concerns to Almira for months, and she'd patiently listened to all of them. There was no world in which Francis was worthy of his wife, but he vowed to make sure that, on some level, his wife was aware of how much he cared for her.
It wasn't often that someone like himself got a second chance. After Robyn died giving birth to Jack, Francis wasn't sure that he'd ever feel that same kind of happiness again. Almira showed him that he couldn't, but he could feel a new kind of happiness. A different one. Different wasn't necessarily bad, but Jack had always been rather reluctant to follow the winds of change.
Not that he could blame her. They'd always been quite similar, after all. That's why they'd gotten along so well for most of Jack's life. They had always shared the same values and been on the same page. Each day was hard, but they were good as long as Jack and Francis could get through them together.
Almira always said that she blamed herself for the two of them falling apart, but Francis made sure to remind her that that wasn't the case. Things weren't as black and white as Jack insisted they were. There had been mistakes on both sides, and he mourned his daughter the same way he mourned his wife even though Jack was still right there. No amount of offers to join them for dinner, or even just to talk, managed to change her frigid demeanor every time she walked past them.
"I just wish things could be different," he whispered to Almira some nights, choking on a sob. "Why does it have to be you or her?"
Most nights, instead of responding, she'd just rest her head against his shoulder and let him vent. That was fine by Francis. He appreciated a listening ear and an open heart. At times, it even seemed like she knew what he needed better than he did. Francis wasn't sure that his heart could take the pressure of watching his only daughter fight for her life. But he was grateful that Almira dragged him in front of the television once the Games started; deep down, he knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't watch her every move.
He just hadn't expected it to be quite so hard.
At least he had Almira with him every step of the way. He'd thought his heart would leap out of his chest during the bloodbath, with all of its close calls. Jack had been within feet of the Twelve girl as Twelve made her escape and carelessly killed a tribute in her path. That could've been his daughter instead.
He considered every day she continued to live a blessing. Part of him knew that she'd hate to win - Jack only achieved things through hard work, only went after things she felt she deserved, and Francis knew that his daughter would have a hard time believing that she deserved victory. But he could still hope.
There was so much he wanted to say to her.
That's part of why he hated hearing his own voice speaking to her - no, taunting her. Francis had never expected his own words from their private goodbyes to be used against Jack, and he certainly hadn't expected her reaction.
When he said them originally, she'd hardly reacted at all. Back then, he couldn't blame her. It was all happening so quickly, and he didn't want to dump everything on her at once. But he also wasn't going to waste what could be his last chance to tell his daughter how much she meant to him.
Hearing them again, though… Francis had never truly seen his daughter cry before. Jack was always so guarded, so careful about concealing her true feelings. Even he wasn't privy to her private thoughts most of the time, so seeing her break down was enough to make him do the same. Francis wished that he could block it all out, but he owed it to Jack to keep watching.
And Almira was beside him throughout it all, whispering comforting words in his ear. It was strange to be able to lean on someone's shoulder again. He hadn't been able to do that with anyone since Robyn had died; while he and Jack had always supported each other, this was different.
Oh how he wished his wife and daughter could've gotten along.
Sometimes he could see a resemblance. Almira was just as hardworking as Jack; the only difference was that they were from completely different worlds. Almira tried her best to reach out to Jack, but she would never accept an outstretched hand so easily. His daughter only knew how to work for things, and Francis could now see that it was nearly a detriment to her.
But he was proud of her regardless. Her show against the Six girl proved that she wasn't to be underestimated. Being a cog in the machine was nothing to scoff at, not when it could so easily save your life. Francis knew what it was like intimately, though he wasn't sure he could have reacted the same way Jack did if he was in a similar situation.
There had always been something special about Jack, even though she tried so desperately to keep to herself and blend in. Francis just hoped that she'd be able to see it within herself and get home.
"A cog in the machine, huh," Almira murmured to herself when it was all said and done. "That's some girl you have there."
That was enough for him to tear up again, letting out a soft laugh. "That's my Jack."
Because no matter what, family was family. Francis loved her unconditionally, even if she resented him.
He just hoped he'd get the chance to set things right.
That I love her. I miss her. I want her to come home to me. And more than anything, no matter what happens, I'm proud of her.
[No file found]
"You need to work on your aim," Annie chided gently, taking the crossbow out of Lilith's hands.
Lilith pouted like a petulant child. "I've been working on it! I've been getting better-"
"Better isn't good enough," Annie reminded her. "You have to be the best. One slight mistake and you'll get caught up in a world you want no part in."
"I don't know what that means."
Annie sighed and reeled herself back in. Sometimes she managed to forget that Lilith really was just a child. Her typical cold and detached manner of delivering information to the Cardinals was what made her a good leader, but she had to change her approach when it came to Lilith. But Annie certainly wasn't the motherly type, so she needed to handle this carefully.
"The higher ups in Nine are always on the lookout for people like you. People with… talents, ones they can exploit. If you stray too far from the Cardinals, they could snatch you up, and once that happens, you're a liability. They get rid of anything that could bite them in the ass later."
Lilith offered her a puzzled look in response. Annie couldn't blame Lilith for doubting her; the girl had not yet seen the reality of the streets of Nine. Annie was not so fortunate. She'd seen it happen time and time again: a promising kid drew too much attention, then vanished within a week. Part of the reason why gangs were running rampant in Nine was because there was safety in numbers. It was all too easy for someone to fall between the cracks and never be seen again.
Well, not never. Annie had seen the aftermath sometimes, too. Bodies would be disposed of and blamed on one of the gangs, earning all of them a bad reputation that they'd done little to deserve. Annie would never say that the Cardinals were particularly innocent, but they'd never kill and dump a body in such a callous fashion.
Of course, that was only one option. Annie had heard rumors that some kids that got reaped had been rigged into the Games, but there wasn't a way to look into that without putting herself in danger.
In the end, it didn't matter to Annie. As long as she and the Cardinals stayed in their lane and did what they were supposed to, she didn't have anything to worry about.
"Can I go back to practicing now?" Lilith asked, anxiously shifting back and forth.
Annie watched her for a long moment before conceding, handing the crossbow back. Lilith accepted it eagerly, cradling the bow as if it was her prized possession. Though, to be fair, it probably was. It wasn't as if Lilith had brought many belongings with her when she joined the Cardinals.
Stepping back to let Lilith return to target practice, Annie wondered if this was a good idea at all. Sure, the Cardinals could always use someone on lookout duty just in case they found themselves in a rough spot, but Annie was usually against dragging the younger crew into things.
Maybe Annie saw a little too much of herself in Lilith.
It wasn't supposed to happen that way. Annie was usually good about keeping a proper distance between herself and the rest of the Cardinals. That's what made everything run smoothly. Without any improper attachments, she could keep her judgment unclouded.
But there was something different about Lilith. She was relatively untainted by the grim outlook of everyone else around her. She was quiet and kept her head down and always did her job. Annie believed in the importance of always following through, and Lilith had picked up on that as well. Sometimes Annie thought Lilith could read her mind with how easily she followed unspoken orders.
She was almost a little too innocent. Perhaps Annie should use the word naive instead. Lilith certainly wasn't innocent, but she would be prone to getting in trouble if Annie didn't reign her in now.
(It really was a shame that Annie wouldn't be there to see Lilith spiral without anyone to pull her back. With the loss of the only person that had ever supported her, Lilith would quickly lose any of that naivete she had once possessed. One mistake really was all it took, and Lilith would fall into the wrong hands, just as Annie had feared.)
"Annie?"
Lilith was looking up at her innocently, pointing to her target. Upon further inspection, all of the bolts had hit the mark, and while Annie saw areas where Lilith could improve, she let herself smile and ruffle Lilith's hair.
"Good job, little nightmare," she said, watching as Lilith flushed lightly from the affection. "Any improvement is better than none at all."
"I keep drifting to the right," Lilith countered, pointing to where her shots to the head and heart had indeed gone sideways. Her shot to the heart was particularly off, going straight through the right shoulder instead.
"Then it's a good thing you have plenty of time to keep improving. And besides, a hit like that can still incapacitate your victim long enough for you to get a second shot in."
Lilith appeared dubious but nodded anyway, inspecting her crossbow as if she was missing something. Annie just took a step back, letting her figure out what she needed on her own.
Because someday Lilith would be all on her own. Annie just had to hope that she'd be ready when that day came.
[No file found]
How did you come to meet Thay?
Emilia didn't know what to say about Ymir. Or, she supposed she could call him Thay now, since that was his real name.
It made her wonder if the Ospreys had ever really known him at all
When the reporters from the Capitol had come prowling through the district, looking for anyone with a connection to Thay, she didn't know what to offer them. Sure, she'd been around him for a couple years or so, but did that really count if he didn't share the truth? She didn't even know his name until he volunteered a couple weeks ago. Surely she wasn't actually qualified to talk about him in depth. But if she stepped up, the rest of the kids could remain in the shadows, so Emilia bravely faced the Capitolites that had come for a good story.
What about the brother in One? She was in the dark on that one too, don't worry. What did he volunteer for? Seemed to be running from something, as best as Emilia could tell. Was he running from his District Partner with the vendetta against him? Emilia couldn't say for sure. All she knew was that Thay would keep running until he found a reason to stop. What reason would that be? Their guess was as good as hers.
He was certainly an enigma, Emilia could say that for sure. Sometimes it felt like Thay himself didn't know what was going on. He always had this lost look about him, like he was searching for something and hadn't found it yet. Emilia wondered if he ever would.
Being in charge of the Ospreys was harder than she thought. Everyone always looked to her for answers, and there was no Thay to back her up anymore. Fortunately, however, the Ospreys hadn't floundered much thus far, and for that Emilia was grateful. A band of kids fending for themselves in the tunnels that snaked beneath Nine for reasons lost to time could easily go wrong but they'd done this for long enough that losing their leader wasn't as much of a blow as it could've been. Larger groups like the Cardinals were prone to picking on anyone that crossed their path, but smaller numbers meant the Ospreys were quicker. Emilia would accumulate the occasional bruise from such run-ins, but that's just what life had always been like for her. Constantly on the move.
She once thought she was the same as Thay, that she could understand why he was always on the run. But things had changed so quickly that she couldn't say she knew anymore.
Or maybe she'd never really known.
Some of the younger ones that were more resistant to change were getting antsy without Thay, and Emilia couldn't blame them. She'd caught snatches of the Games here and there on the surface, so she knew Thay was alive and doing as well as he could. From what she could tell, he'd nearly gotten himself killed during the bloodbath, gotten two kills, and then laid low with his alliance for a while. She'd overheard something about a clone and a near run-in with Lilith, but that was about it. Emilia figured that only meant that something big was going to happen soon, but she was doing her best to avoid speculating about what that something might be.
But it wasn't like she could make any false promises to the rest of the group - nor did she want to, given the circumstances. Based on what she'd heard being whispered around Nine, this year's Games were… a little different. Emilia was used to hearing about epic fights and grand scenery, not whatever intimate bullshit had been conjured up this year. One of the Ospreys offhandedly mentioned that one of Thay's allies had nearly gotten led into a trap by a recording of her father's voice from the goodbyes. It all felt incredibly invasive to Emilia, and she was just glad that she hadn't gotten reaped this year. Not that there was ever a good year to be reaped.
But Thay, who was running from something, had wandered in willingly. That's what perplexed Emilia. She wasn't sure what could make him volunteer for something like this, but it must've been bad.
She tried to recall what all she knew about Thay, but it was like trying to finish a puzzle in the dark. Emilia felt sure that she had most of the pieces, but she couldn't double check. If some of them were missing, then she was just out of luck.
If her memory was right, then Thay was originally from another group - perhaps the Cardinals. Emilia was pretty sure that they'd gotten a new leader within the past couple years, so he could've had something to do with that. She wasn't too involved with that kind of information though, so it was mostly speculation.
Still, she remembered the day Thay had started acting differently - that day when he spotted something up on the rooftop. Emilia hadn't seen anything, but Thay was so insistent that she'd never doubted it was there. He'd started cutting her off more, keeping to himself. Whenever she tried to ask about it, he'd give one of his classic non-answers and change the subject. Thay was always particularly good at being frustrating. But he had always been so insistent that he was being watched that perhaps he wasn't lying; maybe whoever had their eyes on him had finally caught up.
Whether it was in the Games or not, someday he'd be forced to stop running. And Emilia wasn't sure what the fallout would be.
I'm not sure that I ever really met him at all…
How do you feel about the recent development in the Games? Has Crush ever expressed that kind of behavior before?
Clamor was weary.
After his twin had been reaped for the Games, Clamor knew that his life would change dramatically. But he'd hoped things would change for the better, not for the worse.
Clamor had expected to huddle around their shitty television every night, hoping that the static would clear enough that he and his father could get an update on Crush before she became the talk of the school the next day. Really, that was the only thing he was sure would happen when Crush's name was called. What he certainly hadn't expected was for his sister to completely lose her goddamn mind in front of the whole country.
He couldn't look at his father when Crush drove her chisel into someone's head without batting an eye fresh out of the bloodbath. Clamor could feel his father shifting uncomfortably on the other side of the couch, the kill bringing back memories that both of them wanted to stay buried. The nightly broadcast had focused more on some spat between the Careers, but Clamor had sat in silence, staring at the floor for most of it. His father had gotten up first, every so slowly, while Clamor stayed rooted in place.
"You saw it too, didn't you?" his father asked, voice barely more than a hushed whisper.
"She never learns," Clamor muttered, the face of the Four girl flashing across his mind. Kindness was something that could be preyed upon; he knew that Crush would take it as a sign of something that absolutely was not there.
He knew what would come next.
"Are you worried?"
"Not for Crush."
If there was one good thing that came out of Crush being gone, it was that Clamor could keep their household running in peace. With their father out of commission, Clamor himself had taken up odd jobs when his strenuous schoolwork - and Crush's - allowed him the time. But he always felt as if he needed to be home as a buffer between Crush and… well, everything else. Now, he had a little bit more freedom, more time to do what he wanted.
He spent his hours after school dragging some of Crush's statues to the market, where he pawned them off for as much money as he could get. Anyone that laid eyes on them could tell that his sister was talented, even if she was equally - if not more - disturbed. Some of the merchants took a particular interest in the statues given their source, and at this point Clamor didn't care if they ripped him off. He wanted the sculptures gone, wanted them to stop reminding him of what he had to deal with.
Clamor wasn't tired, not really. He was bitter.
The resentment took years to build up. It was a quiet thing, the bitterness that clung to him. He almost hadn't noticed it himself, not at first.
Clamor was the older twin, the responsible twin, the one that had to clean up Crush's messes even when they weren't his fault. Crush herself had never been interested in stepping up, in taking responsibility for herself, so Clamor had to fill that role. Every. Single. Time.
And unfortunately, after all the years of being by Crush's side, he knew her well. Too well. After all this time, Clamor knew that Crush had finally gotten too close to the edge. She'd been teetering their whole life, but now…
Even if she did come back, Crush would never be the same. And if Clamor was honest with himself, he didn't know if he wanted her to come back at all. But it didn't matter what he wanted. All he could do was sit and watch what played out before him.
Clamor sat through day after day of recaps, watching as Crush continued to lurk in the background, working harder than he'd ever seen before on her biggest piece yet. The bitterness within him intensified as Clamor wondered why she couldn't put that passion to work at home to make a living or to put herself through school or… or anything. Clamor had always felt strangely helpless when it came to his twin, and the Games were no different. The screen between them served as a buffer, and he could only watch as she ran herself ragged day after day. Without him by her side, she was left to fend for herself. He'd expected her to struggle without his support, but she'd seemed to be doing ok, even though she was driven by an unattainable goal: capturing Four in stone.
And to think it had almost worked.
Clamor had felt the horror slowly building in his stomach, but even then, he didn't know how to handle what he saw. Everything crumbled so quickly. Clamor stayed rigid in his seat, hand clasped against his mouth. He didn't know what sound would come out if he let go even for a moment. He recognized that fear, the helplessness, and even the desire to help Crush despite everything.
He wished there was something he could've done to stop this.
Crush's screams chilled him to the bone. Clamor would always remember the days when they were young and she'd fly off the handle at any perceived slight, lashing out at him with gravel and nails and anything that could hurt. He'd learned from day one that Crush Xing was not to be messed with, not if you valued your wellbeing. If things didn't go her way, if her own idea of perfection stayed just out of her reach…
His shoulders hunched. Neither he nor his father knew what to say. Full minutes ticked by with the only sound being Crush's anguished cries, until finally…
Boom.
He was almost grateful it was over. There was no trace of Four from any of the cameras, so it was a small blessing that her last agonizing moments of life weren't broadcasted all over Panem. She'd never get the chance to go home, but she was free from Crush's grasp. Clamor never would be.
Clamor was eternally damned to be her twin brother. It didn't matter if he fought against that truth or not; they'd always be bound together.
Nothing could tear them apart.
She's always been a bit… temperamental. Her art means a lot to her. If she can find her muse again, she may be able to pull herself back together. But… no matter what, I'll be here. Waiting.