Sororal: adj. relating to, or characteristic of, a sister.
the 25th hunger games.


"In rememberance of the Capitol families torn apart by the senseless acts of violence during the Dark Days, the tribute reaped must choose a sibling to accompany them into the arena."


Lunet had always hated it when Seren wouldn't stand still.

It was an almost impossible task; Seren was always swaying, or twirling her hair around her finger, or tapping her foot. And almost every time, Lunet would smack her on the shoulder, bending down to hiss in her ear.

"Stay. Still."

And even though she and Lunet are plates away, separated by ten tributes at the very least, Seren swears those words carry on the breeze, pointed and sharp as her sister glares at her. If she wasn't so scared, Seren might have been able to muster a cocky grin as she rocks forward on her toes again, but Lunet will have to settle for the half-smile, half-grimace that she manages instead.

The countdown reaches single digits, and any sign of a smile wipes itself from Seren's face. She stops rocking, poising to run.

And when the gong sounds, that's exactly what she does.

It's tempting to go for the supplies. She pauses for a split second as her feet hit the ground, debating whether or not to snag the backpack that is sitting in the grass not too far in front of her. But she and Lunet had agreed that they would find each other before supplies, and so Seren skirts around to the outside of the pedestals, making a beeline for where she had last seen her sister.

Lunet meets her somewhere in the middle, eyes alight with panic that dulls only slightly once she spots Seren. She reaches out, wrapping her fingers around Seren's wrist the same way she used to when they were kids in the marketplace, and she was making sure that Seren wouldn't run off.

They don't even have time to say anything to each other; a blood-curdling scream grabs their attention, the pair of them watching in horror as the boy from Four tackles one of the tributes from Nine, the youngest one if Seren remembers rightly. They tussle for a minute; a tangle of limbs, but it's not surprising when the Four boy comes out on top. Pinned to the ground, the girl looks around wildly. Her eyes find Lunet's face first, then Seren's.

"HELP!"

The absolute desperation in her voice chills Seren to the bone, but seems to spur Lunet into action. Suddenly, Seren is being yanked away from the pedestals, her feet managing to catch up with the rest of her body just in time to stop her from crashing to the floor.

"Lunet!" She yells, looking back over her shoulder. In the chaos, she can see neither the boy nor the girl though, honestly, she isn't sure she wants to. "We have to go back! We don't have anything! Lunet!"

Lunet doesn't say anything. They cross into the towering trees, trampling daisies underfoot as they run. Even when they finally slow down, collapsing within a snaking mess of tree roots, she stays silent. For the most part, so does Seren. She's rarely at a loss for words, but what is there to say?

That night, when the Nine girl's face shines in the sky, Lunet doubles over and throws up.


"I swear to God, if you don't stop complaining, I'm going to—"

"What? Kill me?"

"I will if you don't let me finish my sentences."

"Suits me just fine if it means I don't have to listen to you whinge anymore."

It's unsurprising to anyone who knows them that, two days into the arena, Seren and Lunet are already at each other's throats. They've never been the most amiable set of sisters, and being chucked into an arena where death lurks around every corner doesn't exactly help matters.

Neither does the lack of sleep, food, and water.

The only saving grace, really, is that the arena is pretty. Too pretty for the horror occuring within, certainly. Seren has never seen trees like the ones in this arena; thick, dark trunks, branches starting higher up than is possible to even reach. Lunet had always been the better climber of the two, but even she couldn't scale the trunks.

If the pair from Seven had survived the bloodbath, Seren thinks they'd probably have had a field day up there.

"Don't say things like that," Lunet scolds her when Seren voices that thought out loud. "Why can't you just stay quiet?"

"I was just saying. I wasn't being rude."

"Yes you were. Do you think mom and dad would be proud of you saying that?"

"What are they going to do? Ground me?"

Lunet whirls around, clenching her jaw in frustration. "They'll be burying you in the ground in a minute."

"Hmm," Seren tips her head back, looking at the thick canopy of leaves above their heads. "A minute? That's a quick turnaround, don't you think? And I hope they do bury me in the ground, 'cause I'm not sure where else—"

A sharp stinging radiates across her cheek as Lunet slaps her, Seren's mouth dropping open in shock as her gaze snaps back to her sister.

"You just slapped me in front of the whole of Panem, you know that, right?"

"Well, you were being annoying in front of the whole of Panem," Lunet says flatly. "So, I think they'll understand."

"Whatever," Seren grumbles. "I don't even care. I'm not snooping to your level."

The pair settle into a stony silence, walking side by side through the forest. A few times they stop, to strip bushes of berries that don't do much to stop their hunger pangs. It's something, is what Lunet tells Seren when she opens her mouth to complain, and she should be grateful for that.

And, for the most part, Seren is. Food is food, no matter how little they have. But it's hard not to regret grabbing that backpack she saw by her pedestal; she'd kill for some dried fruit at this point. Almost literally. Hell, even jerky would taste divine right now, and she'd hated every piece she had tried in the Capitol.

Suddenly, Lunet is holding out an arm to stop Seren. She's squinting forwards, into a dark patch of trees ahead.

"There's something there," she says.

Seren swallows thickly, looking over her shoulder at the way they'd come. "Should we run?"

"No." Lunet shakes her head. "It's not a tribute something, it's a… building? I think?"

"Oh. Might've been good to lead with that—"

Lunet fixes Seren with a glare that shuts her up right away. She can see what Lunet is talking about now; a decent sized hut in the distance. Seren fights the urge to run towards it, excited about the posibility of a roof over her head tonight. They haven't needed it so far—not in a practical sense, anyway—but it would be nice to spend a night sleeping not in plain view.

That's if other tributes haven't gotten to it first.

"I'm going to go and check it out," Lunet says. "Stay here."

Seren just nods, listening to Lunet for probably the first time in her life. Even though nothing is certain, even the threat of other tributes being in the vicinity makes Seren's blood pressure skyrocket. Even more so given that neither of them are armed.

She's just starting to regret letting Lunet go up there alone when the silence around her is shattered with the sound of smashing glass. With no time to even think about what she's doing, Seren rushes forward, hands balled into fists at her sides.

"Lunet?!" Glass crunches under her boots as she nears the hut. A flicker of movement catches her eye inside, and she braces herself to fight, but it's Lunet's face that pops out of the broken window. She skids to a stop, taking a deep breath. "I thought you were in trouble!"

"I'm not," Lunet says. "We're the only ones here."

"You could've warned me," Seren says, gesturing to the window and the glass littering the grass underfoot. "You're always snapping at me for being too loud, and then you break a window for no reason?"

"It wasn't for no reason." Lunet leaves the hut, crouching down next to Seren. She takes a few moments, eyes darting around the grass. Seren only barely manages to stop herself from tapping her foot in frustration. Here," Lunet says finally, holding out a jagged piece of glass. "Now we have weapons. Just make sure you're careful holding it."

"Yes ma'am." It hits Seren, then; the ridiculousness of it all. "If you told me two months ago that you, of all people, would be handing me a weapon, I would've called you crazy."

"Yeah, well, things change." Lunet shrugs. "For the record, though, I wouldn't have to be handing you a weapon if you didn't get yourself reaped."

"Oh? So it's my fault?"

"Well, I didn't invite myself up to the stage, did I?"

There's a weird sort of comfort in their bickering, Seren thinks, like nothing has really changed, even though literally everything has.

And, even though they've spent 80% of the day arguing, and there's more than enough room in the hut for them to spread out, Seren still finds herself falling asleep curled up against her sister's side.


"Really, Seren? What are you, an eight year old?"

"I just don't see why we have to move!" Seren pouts, staring up at the ceiling of the hut. She can't say she slept well last night, but it was the best sleep she'd had since the first few days in the Capitol, at least. "Can't we stay here one more night?"

"No." Lunet's words are accompanied with a tug on Seren's ankles, moving her slightly across the room. "Unless you want someone to find us. This hut sticks out like a sore thumb."

"Who cares?"

"You will when another tribute is hacking you limb from limb." Lunet says. She gives another tug. "Don't think I won't drag you around the arena like this, because I will. Do you not realise where we are right now? You need to start taking this seriously."

"I am taking it seriously." Seren huffs.

Grumbling, she finally gets to her aching feet. She's practically a pro at pushing through uncomfortable conditions—anybody who works in Eleven's orchards is—but just because she's used to it, doesn't mean that she can't complain. And whilst the look on Lunet's face makes her think twice about voicing those complaints out loud, it doesn't stop them from circling around and around in Seren's head as she stomps after her older sister.

At least it's pretty, she tells herself for the umpteenth time since the bloodbath. At least there's berries, and cute little toadstool rings, and the occasional ponds that haven't made her and Lunet sick yet, despite not purifying the water before they drink it. There's even tiny little fairy houses nestled into the sides of trees, and underneath roots.

As the temperatures start to swell, the pair of them decide to take a break, sitting in the shade of a tree. Seren notices her perking up out of the corner of her eye, eyebrows knitted together in a frown.

"What?" Seren asks, her expression probably mirroring that of her sister. "What, Lunet?"

"Shut the fuck up." Lunet warns, her voice low.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on, or—"

"Just shut up!"

"No! Tell me what you're looking at!"

Lunet smacks her on the back of the head. Seren, clenching her jaw, responds with a sharp elbow to the ribs. She lets out a loud yelp when Lunet shoves her hard, sending Seren to the ground. It isn't until she pushes herself up to standing that she sees the two pairs of eyes staring at her through a gap in the trees.

When Seren glances at her, Lunet is pale. She looks back at the other tributes—an older girl and a younger boy, noting immediately the backpack on the older girl's back, and the lack of weapons on either of them. An idea flashes into her head.

Oh, Lunet is going to kill her for this if the other tributes don't.

The younger boy is closest to her, his eyes widening as she lunges towards him. Her hand locks around his wrist, twisting it behind his back before she nudges the shard of glass from yesterday out of her pocket and holds it towards his neck.

"Give us your backpack," she demands the older girl. "Or I'll kill him."

"Seren!" Lunet hisses from somewhere behind her.

"Give us your backpack," Seren repeats. She presses the piece of glass against the boy's neck, shaking so hard she can barely keep her grip on it. "That's all we want. Then I'll let him go. I promise."

The sharp edges of the glass bite into Seren's hand, blood dribbling from her palm and down her arm. The girl doesn't say anything, nor does she move. Panic flutters in Seren's chest; not that she'd actually had the time to think this through, but in that split-second she'd imagined it going so much better.

"Give us the backpack." Seren says, yet again. "Please." She feels sick, hearing the little boy whimper as she presses harder. If she has to guess, he's not even a teenager yet. And here she is, threatening to kill him on live television.

She hopes that her parents aren't watching this.

It seems to drag, the first minute or so. Seren, standing, trembling from limb to limb. The boy in front of her, Lunet behind her. The other girl, just staring.

And then, when the girl lunges forward, it all goes too fast.

Seren doesn't know why she does it.

It would be so easy to just let him go; to shove him towards his sister, and then flee the way she and Lunet had come. It's what she should do, because she knows that she isn't a killer.

Not really.

But, in just a few seconds, the blood on her hands isn't only hers, and that little boy—that twelve year old—is on the ground, blood spilling from the jagged cut across his throat.


The girl calls him Aston.

When she screams for him, she calls him Aston.

Seren doesn't remember too much of the aftermath, but she remembers that. The screeching. The screaming. The punches that Seren doesn't even try to defend herself against because she knows that she doesn't deserve to.

She remembers seeing Aston's face in the sky that night.

She doesn't remember getting the backpack, doesn't know whether that was her or Lunet, but it's looped around her sister's shoulders all the same.

Lunet keeps her going. Seren wants nothing more than to sit and wallow, but her sister doesn't allow it. Even though Lunet has always been the quieter of the two, it's her who fills the silence, talking about anything and everything. They don't argue, and that's rare.

But Lunet has never been good at hiding her emotions, and the fear in her eyes is as clear as day.

She's scared of Seren.

And, somehow, that strikes deeper than the Six girl's anguished screams.


A boot prods Seren's side.

She doesn't move at first, pulling her legs closer to her chest. But then it happens again, and again, and eventually Seren pushes herself into a sitting position, a headache immediately starting to pound at her temples.

"What?" She glares at Lunet.

"It's your turn to keep watch," her sister says. "I'm tired."

Lunet settles beside her, letting her head fall back against the trunk of the tree. Eventually, her breathing starts to even out. Seren swallows thickly. No matter how hard she tries to look away, her gaze keeps snapping to the backpack her sister has tucked under one of the roots.

It wasn't worth it.

None of this was.

Sometimes, she thinks, it would have been better to end up like the Nine girl. Killed before the terror can even begin.

If you asked Seren on day one, she would've described the arena as a forest. An enchanted forest, even, like the ones in the picture books her father used read her and Lunet to sleep with. Now? It's nothing but a sponge, sucking up Seren's sanity little by little.

And, well, soon enough, she's not sure that there will be anything left for it to take.

In fact, when she sees the small shape in the distance, her first thought is that she's hallucinating it. Vaguely humanoid, blurry around the edges, it isn't until it gets closer and closer that she realises it's real.

"It's a fairy," she breathes quietly, to a half-asleep Lunet, awoken by Seren's elbow digging into her ribs. "Do you see it?"

Lunet squints, turning her face away. "Leave it alone."

"No," Seren deadpans. "I'm going to tie a piece of string around it and keep it as a pet."

"Finally got your sense of humour back, huh?" There's the faintest smile on Lunet's lips, though her eyes remain shut.

Seren watches as the fairy flutters right in front of her face. It's unsettling up close; a smile that doesn't waver, eyes that don't quite see. She knows it's a mutt, that's what keeps her from reaching out and touching it, but it doesn't seem malicious. It just hovers there, in front of her.

"It's still here," she murmurs a few minutes later, growing more and more apprehensive as the seconds tick away. Lunet stirs again, swearing under her breath. "Maybe it wants something," Seren suggests. "What do you even feed a fairy?"

Lunet snorts. "Knowing the gamemakers, it probably wants blood."

"Not funny."

"I thought it was." Her sister shrugs. She reaches for the backpack, digging through it. "Here," she tells the fairy, tossing it a chunk of dried fruit. "Now fuck off."

It moves, but it doesn't go after the fruit. Instead, it makes a beeline for the backpack, the moment that Lunet puts it down. And it's such a ridiculous notion, this tiny fairy being able to carry something so much bigger, that neither Seren or Lunet react. Not until it's too late, jumping to their feet only after the fairy zips away, taking everything the own with it.

If they had any sense at all, they would have known to cut their losses. They would have realised that they were running into a trap.

But they're worn down. Tired, hungry, thirsty, and everything in-between, so they take chase.

It's Seren who's faster, always the more nimble of the two, but even she can't keep up. Every time she thinks she's getting close, it darts away from her outstretched hands. But there's something within her that makes her unwilling to give this up, running and running until she can't any more.

"I couldn't catch it," she pants, aware of movement behind her. "Fuck, Lunet! Wh-why didn't you stop it?! You were closer than me, you could've—"

"Lunet?" An unfamiliar voice scoffs, chilling Seren to the bone. She straightens up slowly, her bottom lip beginning to quiver. "Hm. I don't think I suit that name."

"Nah," Seren says, with a confidence that she doesn't feel. "It's too pretty for you." She turns around then, holding the District Four boy's gaze. Slowly, she moves her hand to her pocket, wrapping it around the shard of glass.

"And what's that going to do?" The boy laughs. He twirls his own knife between his fingers.

"I killed someone with it," Seren says. Her voice is thick with tears. She's stalling, clearly, but the boy decides to humour her anyway. "His name was Aston. He was from Six."

"Did you stab him with it?"

Seren shakes her head. She holds the piece of glass up, hand trembling, right in front of her throat. The boy laughs.
"You won't be my first kill," he tells her. "And you won't be my last, either. Is Lunet your sister?"

"She's more of a nuisance than a sister." Seren shrugs. "But you won't get her. She's probably far away by now."

"Oh. So, she abandoned you?" The boy quirks an eyebrow. He doesn't believe her, and he's right not to; Seren knows that Lunet will likely be here any minute. "That can't make you feel great."

"Are you going to kill me or not?" Seren asks. She's tired. The boy chuckles, stepping forward, and Seren tips her head back, closing her eyes.

It's a cruel twist of fate, that she dies like Aston. The metal of the boy's knife is cold against her neck until it isn't, and she's standing until she isn't, chest heaving with the effort to try and take a breath Seren knows isn't coming.

There's a distant scream. Guttural, and loud, and all too similar to the girl from District Six. Seren knows it's her sister, she fights to keep her eyes open, wanting to see her sister's face one last time.

But even though Lunet doesn't come, Seren doesn't die alone.

Lunet: little moon. Seren: star.

The last thing she sees is the night sky.

It's close enough.