"Time in a Bottle"

A/N: D1 Intros coming at you. May is the only POV tribute here, so it'll just be her this time around.

~High in the sky

We can see the whole world down below

We're walking the tightrope

Never sure, never know how far we could fall

But it's all an adventure

That comes with a breathtaking view~

May Redding, 15
Two Years Ago

The sky seems brighter from up here; bluer, lighter, and within reach if I could just climb a little bit higher. There's something about the air up here, it's fresher somehow. It leaves me feeling like I wouldn't ever have to stop if I didn't want to. That I could keep climbing all day. Gal seems to be thinking the same thing, taking in a deep breath as he looks over a cliff face. Some of the mountains still block a bit of the view, but down below the lakes and forests are in open sight. It all looks so small from up here, just a tiny patch of unadulterated nature. Down there it felt massive, an unending expanse of green. Funny how quick perspectives can change like that.

"We're almost to the top I think," I say, basing that off of nothing but my quickly tiring feet.

"Depends on your definition of almost," he says, holding up a faded map up to the sun and squinting at it. "But yeah, not too far now." He folds up the map and pats me on the shoulder while a smirk tugs at his lips. "Got something to show you first, though."

He leads me back onto the overgrown dirt path, and I turn to him. "How'd you even find out about this place, anyways?"

"After I won," he says after a while, and I can tell right away from the tone of his voice it isn't a happy memory. "I was trying to find myself still, and I did a lot of wandering. Felt like I needed to get away from it all. One of those days I found the gap in the fence, found the lake, and then eventually within a day or three found my way up here."

"You just. . . left the district? For three days?" I ask, bewildered.

"A week, more like." He shrugs. "Had to find my way back, too. My absence wasn't exactly unnoticed though, and that got me an audience with the president, and he struck a deal with me. I could make a few trips out here as long I stayed quiet about it, kept the visits short, and did a few other favors for him."

"Favors?" I ask.

"Typical victor stuff," he says, dismissively.

"So you've known about this awesome place all my life and you've never taken me out here before?"

"New president, new rules," he says. "This is illegal, you know. They could string us up for it if they wanted."

"Ha, ha," I say dully.

"Not joking," he says. "Of course, they won't, because I'm Galavant Redding, Panem's favorite victor, the one who brought home Glory Fairfax and Prestige Freeman." I can't see from where I walk behind him, but I swear he puffs his chest out as he rattles off a few other accomplishments.

"Yeah yeah, you didn't even mentor for them two," I say, jabbing him in the back.

He shrugs. "The Capitol believes what they want to believe. And they love me, so I'm fine. You on the other hand, well, they might string you up if they catch you out here."

"You are just full of jokes today," I say dryly.

"Something about mountain air," he hums.

"Well, they wouldn't string up May Redding either," I say, puffing up my own chest as I announce my name in a deep, gravelly voice.

"Is that so?" He says, sounding amused.

"Glory Fairfax and Prestige Freeman's best friend, daughter of 'the most popular victor in Panem' and Melody Chiss? I think I'm more untouchable than you are," I say in a sing-song voice.

"Sure thing kiddo." He laughs.

I think to retort back, but let him have his little moment. It's been so long since I've heard him laugh, or make his stupid jokes, or tease me while blowing himself up to be all that. Ever since he came back after Prestige's Games, it was like there was something that wasn't there. And now it's here again, and I'm not going to say anything to get rid of it. He's just been sitting around doing nothing all day for the past two years it feels like, so if he wants to go out and hike a mountain and make fun of me along the whole path up, I'm okay with that. It just feels good to have him back again.

"Remind me what you're showing me again?" I ask after a while. The dirt path has turned into thick weeds and bushes that we're now trudging through, while roots from the towering trees have me carefully watching my every step. "Cause this doesn't seem like a path anymore even. If we're lost, you should give me the map, I told you I'm better at reading them than you are."

Gal snorts. "We aren't lost, you're not getting the map, and I didn't tell you what I'm showing you because it's a surprise. And," he adds after a moment, "we're still on a path, that right there is a stepping stone."

I squint my eyes at the ground, barely able to make out a bit of stone underneath the foliage. "Why are there stepping stones in the middle of the woods outside of the district? And why does it look like nobody's been here in a hundred years?"

"I'm not spoiling it so you can stop trying," he says. "But, think less a hundred years and more six-hundred."

"Six-hundred?" I ask, stopping for a moment and waiting for him to turn around and say he's just joking. He keeps on walking, though, and I quickly hurry to catch up. "What was six-hundred years ago? That's before the dark days."

"It's before Panem," he corrects me, pushing through a thicket of bushes and holding it back so I can walk through. "Before the Capitol, even."

I scrunch my nose. "How do you know that? They taught us at the academy that we don't know anything about the world before Panem." I shrug. "Other than that they messed it all up, I guess."

I get no response to my question.

"Gal?" I ask.

He keeps on moving forwards, acting like he can't hear me.

"Dad," I whine. I speed up and grab him by the arm and force him to face me.

He sighs, looking slightly annoyed. "Do you trust me?"

I squint at him, scrunching up my nose. "Is that a trick question?"

"I want you to close your eyes," he says.

"So it was a trick question."

"It's for the surprise," he explains.

"For the surprise," I echo.

"Yeah." He looks at me with a tilted head, as if I'm crazy for not blindly trusting him. Literally.

"And you won't shove me into a lake again?" I ask wearily.

"No lake," he confirms.

I look over him for signs of some sort of prank. He looks genuine though, and excited too, which more so than belief is enough to get me to reluctantly agree. "Better be a cool surprise," I murmur.

"The coolest." He grabs me by the hand, and for the next few minutes I'm blindly led down the rest of the path.

I wince and complain loudly every time my knees scrape against a thorn or a branch wacks me in the head, but before long we're out of the woods. I resist the temptation to sneak a peek, and keep my eyes closed as I feel my feet walking against cement.

"Okay, seriously, where are we?" I ask. It may be my imagination, but I can't feel sunlight on my skin anymore.

"Take a look," he says.

Whatever I was expecting, this wasn't it. Not even close. The building we're in the middle of is in tatters, glass lying on the ground where windows shattered, chunks of wood falling from the ceiling and onto the floor, while a thick coating of dust covers the entire inside.

I crouch down, my hand brushing up against a small black tape that has a crack running along the middle. Along the front of it a faded label explodes with yellow, orange, and blue colors and above it, some unreadable words. "What is this place?" I ask breathlessly.

"Just a place," he says, running his fingers against the keys of a grand piano in the center of the store. Guitars and drum sets and other instruments I don't recognize hang up along the walls, while rows of shelves are lined with large black discs and more of the small tapes. "I found it the first time I came out here."

I continue walking through the rows of shelves, and come upon a rectangle box, attached by some wires to a headset with bright orange earmuffs that are covered in dust. "What's this?" I ask.

Gal pokes his head into the hall. "What, that?" He smirks. "Let me show you." He keeps wearing his cocky grin as he blindly grabs one of the tapes from the shelves and shoves it into the container. "Put this on," he says, handing me the headset.

"What is it?" I ask again, though I can't help but find myself smiling too, him and his stupid contagious grin, looking so proud of himself.

He helps me out, slipping the earmuffs so that they cover my ear. "Listen," he says again.

Gal pushes a button, and I can see something on the inside of the container beginning to spin. A moment later the sound begins to fill my ears. It's quiet at first, steadily growing louder, guitar strings being plucked and echoing out right into my head.

If I could save time in a bottle, the first thing that I'd like to do. . .

"This, it's. . . ." I stumble over my words, too in shock to think of anything to say.

"It's music," he says, though he's unable to hide the grin that shows he knows it's so much more than that. "Music from a long time ago."

. . . is to save every day, 'til eternity passes away, just to spend them with you. . .

"But that's, how could, do people know about this?"

"There's some Capitolite archaeologists who explore ruins like this." He shrugs. "But there aren't too many of them, and I doubt they sit around listening to every bit of music they come across."

. . . if I could make days last forever, if words could make wishes come true. . .

"So, I might be the first person to listen to this, in, in. . . ."

"In a really long time," he says. This time I'm grinning too, and then I'm laughing out of the pure craziness of it all, all the while pressing the earmuffs closer to me so that I can soak in every sound.

. . . I'd save every day like a treasure and then, again, I would spend them with you. . .

"I don't, this is," I laugh, and shake my head. "How much more of this stuff is out here? Stuff that nobody else knows about, that's just waiting for someone to find it?"

"That's about how I reacted too," he says.

. . . but there never seems to be enough time to do the things you wanna do, once you find them. . .

"Who knows what else is out here?" I ask, and I'm running over to one of the shattered windows and looking out at the forest that surrounds us. "There could be, well, anything! Just imagine the kind of stuff that has to be out there! We should go out and look for it, just imagine!"

. . . if I had a box just for wishes, and dreams that had never came true. . .

"Hold that thought," he says, nodding towards the staircase. "There's one final thing we got to see still."

I follow him as he leads me up the dingy staircase, and out through a rusted metal door that takes us back into open air. The sun is back in my eyes, blocking my vision for a moment as I step out onto the roof.

My eyes readjust to the light, and suddenly the picture in front of me comes into view. The mountains are all behind or below us now, and ahead the tops of trees dip down into the forest floor, leaving an unobscured view of what lays beyond it.

Stretching out wide and far, yet somehow seeming so tiny from so far away, all of District One lights up, frozen in place down below. Surrounding it on every side is mountains and forests and rivers and lakes. It's just a small, boxed in place in the middle of something so much bigger. My whole entire world, just a small little box that I can block if I hold up my thumb in just the right position.

. . . the box would be empty except for the memory of how they were answered by you. . .

"How is it?" He asks.

"It's perfect," I whisper.

He smiles. "I thought you'd like it."

"I know that things. . . that you haven't been feeling right for a while, and well, I guess I'm just trying to say. . ." I lean into him, burying my head against his shoulder and wrapping my arm around him. "It feels good to have you back, dad."

. . . but there never seems to be enough time. . . .

I slip the headset off, and the music goes silent as I drop it gently onto the floor.

~.~.~.~.~

The Morning of the Reaping

The music fills my ears as I circle the training mat. My feet move to the rhythm, the hook sword twirling in my hand as my eyes scan across my opponent, looking for an opening. Sweat runs down Monte's forehead. He wipes at it with the back of his hand while his other hand squeezes tightly on the handle of his sword. He shuffles back and forth aimlessly, his eyes struggling to keep up with my feet as they dance around him.

Monte's eyes flirt downwards as he wipes his hand against his pants, and I lurch into action. I charge at him, making diagonal leaps as I dart towards him. He's backpedaling before I can even make contact, my first swing sending him stumbling backwards. I slash out again, and this time he brings up his sword to block.

The hook at the end of my sword hooks onto his blade. I follow through with my momentum, yanking his blade towards me as I leap forwards. Monte is barely able to hold on to the grip, stumbling as he follows his sword. I stick out my foot and dodge to the side on the off-chance he manages to swipe out at me with his fist or sword, but it's unnecessary as he crashes roughly into the ground, his head smacking against the dull side of his blade when he hits the mat.

He lets out a load groan, and I sigh, skipping over and giving him a gentle kick to the side. "Get up, we gotta get a few more reps in before the reaping to get you ready."

"I don't think a few more reps will get me ready," he says in a muffled voice, his face still in the padded mat.

"You're losing to the best, Monte, don't let it get you down," I tease him. I roll him over with my foot, Monte offering little resistance to the maneuver as I offer my hand.

"I don't think I'm supposed to be losing to anyone," he says. He looks at my hand for a long moment before taking it and allowing himself to be pulled up to his feet. "Isn't that the point of me being the chosen volunteer?"

"The point is to be better than everyone else in the arena, and nobody in there will be as good as me, so I think you're good," I say brightly. "Come on, you win this year, then Valk next year, and finally me to top it all off. Let's go get One another three-peat."

"No offense, May," he says, wincing as he rubs his forehead. "But I think there'll be better fighters in there than you."

"Agree to disagree." I shrug, hopping up onto the wall that boxes in the sparring pit and chugging down my water bottle. I take my headphones off, carefully wrapping the wires and placing it gently at the bottom of my bag. "I'm headed up the mountain again, by the way, so if you want I can pick something up for when you get back."

"I thought Galavant was mentoring this year?" He asks, knowing full well that Gal is his mentor but choosing to give me an out. Not that I'll bother taking it, but still, nice gesture.

"Yeah, he is. I'm headed up by myself," I say casually.

"By yourself?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at me as he pours water over his head. "And Galavant knows about this, of course."

"Since when are you a joker," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Going up there alone seems kind of sketchy. Why don't you just find someone to go with you?"

"Who? I don't exactly have many options." I hold up three fingers and work through them one at a time. "Gal is fine to go with, but he never lets me go far and explore. Glory would slow me down too much, and her parents would freak out if she was gone for more than a day. Prestige would be fine, but she'd probably tell Gal with how chummy they've gotten lately. Besides, she'll be in the Capitol for the next few weeks too, and this is my only chance to go without anyone noticing I'm gone."

"Already confident you won't be needing to do a final eight interview for me," he grumbles.

"Oh, shut up," I say. "I'll be back by then."

"Well, whatever, I'm not gonna try to convince you." He tosses down his water bottle and grabs his sword again. "Just don't get yourself killed up there. Gal would come into the arena and kill me himself if he found out I knew. Now come on, I need some more warming up."

"I'm just joking, you know," I say wearily. "About you needing a lot more practice? You're good, Monte. There's a reason you got chosen."

"I got chosen because I got lucky." He sighs. "I got paired up with Pierre and let him carry me through the tournament. I barely did anything the entire time."

"Nothing about that is luck," I say, taking my position on the mat while he finds his spot opposite of me. "Gal and Luxor choose partners based on who the best pairings in the arena would be. If they paired you up with Pierre then it's because they think you two are the best possible duo. Everyone knew he would be going into the arena, so whoever they chose as his partner is who they think number two is."

"Number two, that's heartening," he whines.

"Yes, right now you're number two, but you have an advantage that he doesn't have," I say. I ready my hook sword, holding it up as I throw my headphones back on and hit play on the music.

"Is the advantage you?" He asks, wearily holding his sword in ready position and nodding at me.

"You know me so well." I smirk. "We still have six hours until the reaping. That's plenty of time for me to give you all of my fighting secrets and turn you into the best fighter in the arena."

"Oh, you've got secrets?" He asks sarcastically, throwing a hand down to his hip. "Please share."

I leap forward, quickly poking my hook sword forward, catching his blade before he can ready himself. I yank the blade, and he doesn't follow this time, letting the sword fall to the ground. I hook it and throw it into the air, catching it by the handle and examining it. "Lesson one: every moment is a fight. Fights don't begin and end, they're constant. Sometimes they're loud, sometimes they're silent, but they're always there. Always be watching, never leave the fight."

I grab the sword by the dull blade and extend it to him. He snags it, grumbling something under his breath as he does so. "That isn't a lesson, that's just playing dirty."

"Gal says anyone who doesn't play dirty is only playing half of a game," I inform him, repeating the lesson that's been drilled into me. "You use whatever's there for you, and you won't give anyone else a chance to use it against you."

"Alright." He sighs, rolling his shoulders and readying himself. "Lesson three, then, oh ever wise May."

"That wasn't one of my lessons, that was just one of Galavant's you didn't pay attention to." I twirl my blade and ready myself again. "Lesson two is simple: listen to the music."

He stares through me dumbly, then shakes his head. "You are aware I can't hear your music, right?"

"Of course I am, nobody listens to the music like I do. The music isn't these songs though. These are just for fun." I press pause and take off the headphones, gently tossing them aside. I twirl my blade once more and hold it forwards, taking position with one hand behind my back and my other hand lightly wrapped around the handle. "The music is everything around you. The wall at your back, the floor beneath your feet, the sword in your hand and the one in mine too. It's the sound of my feet against the floor, the motion of my hands as they control my sword. Anyone can see all of that, but a real fighter has to listen to the music of the fight. The rises and falls, the breaks and pauses, the rhythm and the beat and the crescendo."

"You're just making up words now," he says, unimpressed.

I cross my arms and give him a sour look. "Close your eyes," I instruct him.

He opens his mouth to argue, then sighs and shakes his head, grumbling to himself again but closing his eyes all the same. That's what I like best about Monte. For all his whining, he's very agreeable.

"Now," I say, feeling a slight smile tug at my lips at getting to take on the role of teacher after four years of having this lesson hammered home to me. "Even though you can't see, you aren't totally blind. It's fuzzy, but you have an idea of where you are, and where the wall behind you is, and where my feet are stepping and where my arms are guiding my sword. . . "

He hops backwards, away from the sword that I sent swiping out at him at a turtle's pace.

". . . And that is the music. When we can't see we're forced to listen to it, but when we open our eyes we start to ignore it again. But if you can keep on listening to the music even while your eyes are open? Well," I shrug, brushing back my hair and flashing a smirk. "That's how you become me."

Monte opens his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh as he drops his sword to the ground. "You're fifteen and you're more ready to volunteer than I am."

"Like I said," I say cheekily. "I'm more ready than anyone in all of Panem, so don't sweat it. Just you watch how good I am when I finally get to volunteer."

He gives me an odd look, hesitates for a moment, and then says, "So, you really are going to volunteer, then?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, blowing air out my nose. "Of course I am."

Monte shrugs, looking defensive as he takes a step back. "It's just that some people assumed that since you didn't enter the tournament. . . ."

"I didn't enter because Gal wouldn't let me," I say, not letting him finish the sentence and call me a coward. Of course I'm going to volunteer. What is he talking about? What are any of them talking about? "Why wouldn't I want to volunteer? I'm the best in the whole academy."

He backs up again as I step closer to him. "I mean, why would you? You're already set. Your dad is Galavant Redding. Your friends with Glory Fairfax and Prestige Freeman. You don't need the money or the fame or anything like that."

"I'm not a freeloader," I say, feeling the need to defend myself. "I'm not gonna be the only normal person who lets all her victor friends take care of her. I would volunteer already if I could, but Gal won't let me. He's just being stupid, thinking that I can't do it." I pause, then against my better judgement add, "He keeps comparing me to the other girl from Prestige's Games, Hailey. He thinks I'm like her. But I'm not, I'm like him. I'll go out there and get a Twelve training score just like he did and win every fight without breaking a sweat, just like him."

Monte seems to only be half-listening, his hands fidgeting nervously as he looks up at the ceiling. "Well," he says, his voice shaking. He winces, as if the words he's about to speak scare him. "Why don't you volunteer this year then?"

"Cause I can't," I say slowly, giving him an odd look. Something really must be wrong with him if he doesn't know that the chosen volunteers have to be the actual volunteers.

"No, you can," he says. He pauses for a moment, then holds his finger up and walks up to me, speaking in a fast and quiet voice. "This isn't District Two, the victors don't get to veto volunteers."

"Yeah, but, they get to choose," I say wearily.

"Yes, they get to choose which volunteer to select, if there's more than one volunteer. They get to choose then, but if only one person volunteers. . . well, then there's nothing they can do about that."

The cogs in my brain are turning now, and I give him a hesitant look. "So. . . ."

"So," he steps in. "If I don't volunteer, and you do, then he can't stop you. I'm slotted to be the second volunteer, so you just wait and volunteer, and Pierre will already be up there, I won't stop you, and nobody else will try to stop May Redding from volunteering when they weren't even selected themselves."

I look him up and down, shocked for a moment. He doesn't want to volunteer? Instead he's going to come up with some complicated scheme, a loophole really, just to let me volunteer instead? My smile is uncontainable.

"You're a genius, Monte." I laugh. I stick my hand up and force him into a high-five.

"So you'll do it then?" He asks, still looking unsure. "Really?"

"Monte," I say, slapping him on the back and placing the sword into his hands. "Consider yourself lucky. You get to tell everyone you had the pleasure of getting your butt kicked in training by the one and only victor of the 105th Hunger Games."

Galavant Redding

The morning of the reaping always seems to drag on. I've been backstage for an hour now with everyone else while we wait for everybody to get checked in. It would be so much easier if we could just skip the reapings altogether considering we already know who our tributes will be, but of course nothing can ever be allowed to be easy.

Melody is chatting with Luxor, mostly just awkward small talk. Luxor's always been an outsider among the District One victors, but Melody makes an effort to be friendly, especially when Prestige and I are about to be headed off to the Capitol for the next few weeks. Glory, the other victor to be left behind, is sitting beside them and listening to the conversation, but she's clearly got her head somewhere else.

I tried my best to convince Mel that Glory could use a few weeks away from the district, but she shut that down pretty quick. Glory can't stay sheltered to what being a victor means forever, but if Melody wants to try to keep her away from things as long as possible then I won't stop her.

Prestige is sitting across from me, anxiously tapping her fingers on the table while her feet juggle a small hacky sack. "I didn't see May this morning," she says passively, her eyes still focused on her feet.

"She was at the academy, helping Monte get some last minute practice in," I explain.

"Right, Monte." Prestige kicks up the hacky sack and lets it fall into her hand. She gives me a suspicious look. "Interesting choice for volunteer."

I shrug. "Him and Pierre won the tournament."

"Well, Pierre won anyways," she says. "Monte was just along for the ride."

"Fair enough." I pause, then push aside any pretenses. Trying to play sly around Prestige never works. That girl seems to have a knack for figuring out exactly what I'm thinking, even if I'm not half-sure of that myself. "I thought Monte would be the best choice to go in with Pierre."

"Right, I'm sure you had your reasons." Her voice is dripping with sarcasm as she goes back to juggling.

I sigh, leaning into the table and lowering my voice to make sure Glory and Melody won't overhear. "Nobody I send in with Pierre is gonna beat him anyways."

"I understand," she says non-committedly.

I hold up a finger, pause, and lean in closer. "See, I feel like you're just saying that to avoid calling me an asshole."

She peers up and an amused smile spreads across her lips. "Do you want me to call you an asshole?"

"Honestly?" I ask, shrugging. "Maybe?"

"Well, you're sending an under prepared kid into the Hunger Games, where he's definitely going to die, all to teach your daughter a lesson."

I narrow my eyes at her. "I feel like you're judging me."

"I'm stating facts." She snorts. "You're judging yourself."

"Calling it a lesson is putting it lightly." I sigh, leaning back into my chair and going over the same rant I've echoed to Prestige a million times before over the last few years. "She thinks she's invincible, that this is all just a game. Like I said, whoever I send in with Pierre is gonna die anyways, if sending in Monte can help keep May from doing something stupid and wasting her life, then so be it."

"Hey, I like May. She's a good kid, and I worry about her too. Honestly, I'm not judging." She quirks a sympathetic smile at me.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Thanks, kid."

"Sure thing, old man." She smirks.

A message booms through the loudspeaker out on stage. "And now, introducing our victors, Melody Chiss, Luxor Stonesmith, Galavant Redding, Glory Fairfax, and Prestige Freeman!"

That counts as our cue, and the five of us hop onto our feet and go through the familiar motions. We go out on stage, smile and wave, take our seat, listen to the mayor's speech, and tune out the babbling escort as they introduce themselves. After nearly twenty years of it, the routine has become numbing, particularly when the end result is already known. Aside from those two quell years that gave us Glory and Prestige, surprises don't happen in District One.

The poor escort doesn't even have time to read out the first name she selects. Pierre's voice booms out from the crowd, the tall boy stepping into the clearing as he announces, "I volunteer!"

The cheers are instantaneous, the academy kids all riled up as he makes his way up stage, high-fiving and fist bumping people as he makes his way up. He's got a cocky grin plastered on his lips, and he waves his arms in the air as he goes up the steps, getting the crowd even louder.

Prestige leans over to me. "Are you sure that you want Pierre? Cause I'll take him if you don't."

I snort. "I think I'm good. It's about time that I get a victor under my belt."

Pierre ignores the escort as he rips the mic from her hands and begins speaking into it in an assured voice. "Hello Panem, the name's Pierre Bijou, and it is my pleasure to introduce you to your newest victor."

"Aw, Pierre, come on now, you're too kind." My breath catches in my throat. The lilted voice that rings out from the audience is instantly recognizable. With a skip in her step, May slides out of the crowd. My stomach drops as I see her, a confident expression as she brightly smiles at the cameras. I can already hear the words that I know are coming next. "I volunteer."

My heart stops. Pierre is laughing, and the escort yanks the mic back from him. Melody clutches onto my arm, her face pale as she stares at our daughter in horror. "Gal," she says in a shaky whisper, but nothing else comes out. There's nothing that I can do. My eyes are scanning the audience for Monte, but I already know I won't find him. That his voice won't ring out.

May is up on stage now, and when our eyes lock for a moment she just smiles, winks, and looks away. My head is throbbing. The rest of the reaping goes by in a blur, my stomach queasy as the world begins to spin. May gets the mic in her hands somehow. "My name is May Redding," she says, and there's nothing else she needs to say. The audience is buzzing, and I'm aware that every camera is pointed towards me. Prestige places a firm hand on my shoulder to keep me steady.

"I'm coming to the Capitol," Glory says rapidly, and Melody echoes the sentiment. May and Pierre are fighting for camera attention as the escort wraps things up, the two of them flashing smiles and waves and blowing kisses.

Prestige's fingers dig into my shoulders, pinching me as she kicks me in the foot. The pain is enough to clear my head, dropping me back onto the ground. The haze is gone now, and reality is staring me in the face. It isn't surreal, it isn't a dream. May volunteered. She's going into the Hunger Games.

"Hey," Prestige says in a harsh whisper. Her voice softens when I glance over at her. She looks unfazed, a determined expression as she continues to hold me by the shoulder. "I'll take Pierre, okay?"

I nod my head and swallow the lump in my throat. "Yeah," is all I can manage.

She flashes a joyless smile. I don't have the heart to return it. All I can do is watch as the escort wraps up the introductions, and May and Pierre shake hands, a thousand cameras all focused on the newest District One contestants. May glances back at me again, and her smile drops for a fraction of a moment. Barely noticeable, just a slight twitch in the corner of my eye, I can see her hand is shaking.

"District One, your tributes, Pierre Bijou and May Redding!"

A/N: And there is D1! Big thank you to Micah for subbing May, and while we're at it a screw you for being so cruel to my victors in my happy reset verse lol. But no, May is an awesome character, and it was fun to bring her to life here. She has so many fun connections to the members of the D1 team, and I'm so excited to get to write her some more. I hope y'all enjoyed the chapter, be sure to let me know what you think!

(btw, I still don't have a D1 escort so that's why I kind of made them a blank template and skimmed through the actual reaping ceremonies)

Trivia (1 point): What weapon does May use?