A/N

Another week, another MoS update. As mentioned, this is a short break from the arena to visit some subplot friends. We will be based in the Capitol for this chapter, with POVs from our most recent Victors, Risa and Cascade.

Risa Delmare, Victor of the 86th Games

As Risa Delmare stood in the mentor suite, an untouched drink in her hand, she wondered how they all did it. How they managed to coast through the weeks in the Capitol; drinking, eating, chatting. How they could smile with each new encounter, and their faces never seeming strained under the pretence. Perhaps they weren't pretending at all; perhaps they enjoyed the frivolous lifestyle, and the clinging attention that came with it. Or perhaps they were just used to it, after years of going through the motions it could become part of a routine of living. It had been five years since Risa had been in the arena, but it was the first time she had been in the Capitol as a Victor and a mentor. Time had passed, yet she had not had the practise she felt she needed to blend in and be the mentor she was expected to be.

She was trying, but she feared it would not be enough.

"You're doing a grand job," her own mentor, Aella Castro, whispered in her ear, as though she had attuned herself to the thoughts inside Risa's mind. "Don't overthink it."

Risa turned to her. "How did you…?"

Aella smirked. "Every new mentor has the same look –except for me, of course. I was a natural."

Risa returned the smirk. "As I recall, it was I they named the perfect Victor –what did they name you?"

"Obnoxious, arrogant, stand-offish," Farley Mir leant in towards them. "And those are the only words that my mother wouldn't wash my mouth out with soap for saying."

Aella didn't protest; in fact, she seemed to relish the negative description. A part of her rough charm which Risa had grown to love over the years of their friendship.

"You know, Farley, there are far worse things I could say about you," Aella threatened with a wicked grin.

"Nothing you wouldn't have already jeered at me," chucked Farley casually.

Aella nudged him in the ribs; sharp enough to make him spill a splash of his drink, but not hard enough to wind him. "You know, Farley, this is the first year of mentoring that I haven't explicitly daydreamed about murdering you."

"Isn't that heart-warming," Farley smiled fondly towards Aella. "Now, I'm going to borrow Risa for a moment. Why don't you terrorise one of the other mentors, or perhaps seek out some sponsors for Kazimir? I'm sure he could do with some redemption after his play at the cornucopia yesterday."

Aella rolled her eyes. "That boy is snakier than a fucking cobra. It will take a sadistic fuck to sponsor him –assuming there are any sponsors left who aren't besotted with Cascade's perfect duo, or bloody Mariposa."

But, despite her grumbles, Aella wandered off in the direction of the exclusive lounge which was a stone-throw away from the mentor's suite. It was a lounge reserved only for the most elite –and therefore the richest –Capitolites, who loved nothing more than splashing their wealth on gifts to kids they saw as fictional characters in their favourite TV show. With a sickening taste in the back of her throat, Risa wondered about the types of people who had spent their money on sending her gifts during her own Games.

Risa's own mentees, Circe and Cephus, had so far received very little interest from sponsors. Their unconventionality –a lighter way to put it –had caused a few screwed-up noses and dismissive waves when brought up in conversation. Risa was not one to judge, but it wasn't difficult to understand why the twins were far less popular than the likes of Peach and Beau, or even Riddle and Ragnar. Those who had been delighted at the return of the Games had been eager to see a return of the patriotic tribute, or the well-polished Career who Risa knew herself to have once been viewed as. The Sirona twins were far from that, though from what Garcia had told her from his handful of years training, Circe had once been a formidable threat before she had succumbed to the intoxicated ways of her other half.

Risa in many ways felt sympathy towards Circe and Cephus. From her brief encounters with their parents, it had become almost obvious that Aracely and Euphrates had kept such a tight grip over their children that their only means of escape were limited, and extreme. But there was little Risa could do to help them now; even securing a few sponsor gifts wouldn't bring either of them out of the arena alive, they would have to do that themselves and from what she had seen, neither of the twins really seemed that interested in survival.

Farley walked Risa around the mentor suite, filling her in on a few titbits of gossip about each of the mentors. Risa knew that he was trying to humanise them; to show Risa that at the core of it, they were all just people as he and she were. Being a mentor was just an act, Farley told her, and at the end of each year they all put their masks in the drawer, locked away until they had to bring them back out again.

"Masks are only shadows," Risa spoke quietly as the two of them stood in the corner of the room, facing outwards. "The darkness conceals, but with a closer look and enough light, the truth is visible."

Farley nodded. "Exactly, though you put it in far fancier words than I could have."

"Words are only as fancy as their meaning," said Risa, and with a sigh she suddenly felt an exhaustion wash over her. She missed being in The Delmarian, reading in the comfort of a bay window, overlooking District Four. It had been just over a week since she had arrived in the Capitol, and she was beginning to miss home desperately.

"I…" Risa looked around the room –the mentors were gathered around the holographic screen as the Mistress of Ceremonies confirmed the second death of the day, Lunete Vinter from District Ten. "I'm just going for some air –I won't be long."

Farley nodded, respecting Risa enough not to press her or insist that she stay. Risa was grateful for his understanding as she took advantage of the distracted room to slip out unnoticed.

She passed several clusters of people on her way outside, though keeping her head low she was able to avoid questioning. They all seemed too interested in the fresh deaths to even truly notice Risa as she walked quickly down the corridors, descended down the elevator, and stepped into the fresh air.

Risa allowed her feet to select her destination. They walked with haste, weaving through the Capitol streets to a small establishment not too far from the main Games buildings. Risa had come across the quaint teashop which doubled as a bookstore during her first night back in the Capitol, after slipping out from the District Four apartment in search of quiet. It one of the only places in the Capitol that seemed out of reach from the cold grasp of technology, and the closest thing Risa had found to home.

The copper bell rang quietly as Risa pushed open the door. The owner, who Risa had learned was named Marakumo, smiled instantly as she entered.

"Risa, how lovely to see you again," he greeted her warmly. "What can I get you? On the house, of course."

Risa shook her head gently. "No please, I'd like to pay. I would love a peppermint tea please."

Marakumo nodded. "Coming right up –make yourself at home and I'll bring it over."

With a smile, Risa thanked the older man and sat herself down in the furthest corner. A comfortable bench crafted from a sawn log and topped with a pile of soft cushions with frayed edges held her as she brought crossed her legs under the silken material of her dress. There was only one other customer in the tearoom, who had their nose buried in a book and likely hadn't noticed that she was even there.

"Here you are," Marakumo placed a steaming mug of peppermint tea on the table in front of her. "And I thought you might like this to accompany your tea."

Risa accepted the book that Marakumo had selected for her. With a polite nod, he returned to the counter, bringing out a book of his own as he leant against the wooden furniture.

As Risa began to read the novel, she had only made her way halfway through the first page before she heard the faint ding of the entrance bell and flicked her eyes over the tops of the pages to see who had walked in. She suddenly found her body tensing as her eyes rested on the visitor.

Slender, the Head Gamemaker looked around the teashop, her eyes quickly finding Risa and her lips curling into a small smile. Not engaging with Marakumo, she walked straight over to the corner Risa had nestled herself in.

"Do you mind if I join you?" she asked politely.

"Not at all," Risa replied, though in reality she minded entirely.

"I can see why you're fond of this place," Selene looked around the small shop. "It feels almost like another realm –certainly a lot different to the Hub."

Risa took a sip of her tea.

"I'll have the same as Miss Delmare, if you would be so kind," she called over to Marakumo, who nodded and began to prepare the tea. "Mm, is that peppermint? I'm more of a rose tea woman myself, but I can appreciate a sweet peppermint from time to time."

Risa felt her grip tightening on her mug at the mention of roses. The image of President Aurelia Snow's body entangled with the rosebush was one she could still not erase from her memory.

"May I ask, Madam," Risa began.

"Please, call me Selene."

Risa smiled quickly. "Of course, Selene. Why are you here? Should you not be in the Hub after the recent tribute deaths?"

"My Gamemakers are excellently trained, they know what they are doing," Selene replied confidently, before sighing. "You are not the only one to need an escape, Risa. The Games can be exhausting for Gamemakers and Victors alike."

At that moment, Marakumo brought over Selene's tea, and she thanked him graciously.

"How are you finding the Capitol, Risa?" Selene asked, taking a sip of her tea. "It must be strange after so many years."

"I'm…adjusting," Risa answered honestly.

"Circe and Cephus seem like quite the handful to mentor," Selene mused. "You must have quite the patient temperament."

"I'm trying my best."

Selene titled her head gently. "And that is all we can ask of you, Risa."

Risa took another sip of her tea, trying to conceal her growing anxiety about why the Head Gamemaker had sought her out. She had been visited by a number of authoritative figures before; just six months ago the President –Selene's own cousin –had come to her home unannounced to propose a somewhat alliance. Risa knew that these sorts of encounters were never mere coincidence, nor were they social. There was always an agenda, and she feared what Selene Castellanos' would be.

"May I speak candidly, Selene?" Risa put down her mug.

Selene nodded.

"What is the true reason behind this conversation?" asked Risa, having grown tired of false pretences. "I know this is no coincidental meeting."

Selene smirked. "You were one of the smarter Victors, weren't you? Which is why I will grant you the respect you deserve. Yes, this is no chance encounter. I have been waiting to have a moment alone with you so that I can show you this."

She pulled out a folded piece of paper from her purse.

Sliding the paper across the table, Selene waited whilst Risa carefully opened it up and spread it on the table's surface. It was a hand-drawn sketch, the pencilled lines precise and unsmudged. The sketch outlined the tall, slender figure of a woman with dark hair and angled features; a close resemblance to Selene herself. The figure was sat on a throne, with what appeared to be a crowd of bodies knelt down at her feet. A broken mask covered half of her face as her hand cupped an empty skull. A small trickling of colour ran along the sketch; from the skull, dripping down to the kneeling bodies below. A deep, crimson red.

Risa could not hide the clear expression on her face.

"You have seen a similar sketch before, haven't you?" Selene observed.

Risa nodded slowly, recalling the sketch she had received tucked inside the cover of a book the night it had been announced that the Games would be cancelled in memory of Aurelia Snow. That sketch had been of Risa, her signature weapon in hand, standing atop a smoking pile of bones. A crown made of thorns had been on her head, and the same coloured crimson had been smeared across her pencilled hands. There was no doubt that the artist was the same.

"What does it mean?" asked Selene, the slight crease in her brow indicating a genuine concern.

Risa looked back at the paper, the red stains almost seeming to grow in front of her.

"I don't know."

Cascade Nepeta, Victor of the 85th Games

"I just know that this will be a successful partnership, Cascade."

"Wouldn't this be the most stunning gift, hm?"

"Well I was here first!"

"I'll double his offer –no, triple!"

Cascade held her hands up in front of her, and she genuinely felt as though they were held up in surrender. The rambunctious Capitolites were like a swarm of trackerjackers, hailing down on her in a frenzy, trying to reach a piece of her flesh. But though the swarm were cornering her, it was not Cascade who the harsh light of the spotlight swamped.

"Cascade, darling, would you do me the honour of wearing my new design? It has been an absolute hit and to see you wearing it as well would fill my heart to the fullest." It was as though their words held no meaning as the jeweller did not wait for Cascade's permission, or even acknowledgement, before sliding a necklace over her head. With a startled flinch, Cascade looked down, frowning at the piece. It was a platinum necklace, light of weight, and with an unusual design which took Cascade a moment to figure out. Two halves of a chakram, with an elegant rapier sandwiched between them.

"Exquisite, is it not?" babbled the jeweller. "See the two halves of the chakram to symbolise Beau, and then Peach's rapier in the centre? All the kids are wearing them, they are quite the hot item at the moment. Far more popular than some of the other merchandise I've seen knocking about. And far classier, too."

Cascade's brow creased as she looked down at the necklace, and then back at the jeweller. She was no stranger to the exaggerated lives of Capitolites, but having lived in the serene mountain valleys for the past five years, she had almost forgotten just how obsessive they could really be. Peach and Beau, it seemed, had become the most desired teenagers in the whole of Panem, and the Games had barely started forty-eight hours ago.

"Yes, yes, absolutely stunning," Cascade said whatever the jeweller wanted to hear. "If you'll excuse me, I have something urgent to attend to…"

Side-stepping smoothly, avoiding the eccentric swinging of elbows as Capitolites boasted and argued around her, Cascade managed to slip out of the lounge and into the safety of the mentor suite, taking a deep breath as she closed the doors behind her.

Safety was perhaps not the most appropriate word for the mentor suite, as Cascade recalled the horrors that had occurred during the finale of the eighty-sixth Games that had left two dead, and many others injured both physically and mentally. Cascade carried a lot of guilt with her since her time in the arena, and even after the time that had passed and even knowing that she had nothing to do with Aurelia Snow's death, she still felt as though she could have prevented the deaths of Eudora and Queenie. The latter, especially, had hit her the hardest, with Queenie having been her own escort and friend.

But the past was the past, and there were far larger threats in the present for Cascade to deal with.

"I thought they were about to tear you apart in there," the rough, but somehow well-spoken, voice of Daphne le Fay, the mentor for Six who had always looked out for Cascade, spoke to her.

"It's unbelievable," Cascade shook her head, peeling her body off the doors she had leant against in relief.

Daphne shook her head. "No, actually, it is entirely believable. The Capitol have been starved without the Hunger Games. It comes as no surprise that they are as eager as a tank of hungry piranhas."

Cascade shrugged; Daphne had a point.

"Any other year and I don't think I'd have managed that little joke between Barnabas and I," Daphne smirked, reminding Cascade of the xylophone gift that had been sent to Aldo Giotti from District Eight. "It seems that Capitolites are willing to spend their money on anything and anyone in these Games. I heard that Elpis just secured some medicine for her lad. A sweet boy, Logan, too sweet for the Games, mind you."

"Most of them are," agreed Cascade.

"And none of them ever make Victor," pointed out Daphne in a harsh truth. "Not even our perfect Victor is that sweet, no matter how many smiles she fakes. And you and I, well we aren't crystal clear ourselves."

Cascade didn't argue; she couldn't. To become a Victor was to lose your own morality; assuming you had any to begin with.

"What is that tat around your neck?" Daphne flashed a horrified look as she stared at Cascade's chest. "My goodness, the Capitol's tastes are becoming tackier every year. Have you seen the Mariposa shit they're pedalling? I swear, if I see another bloody butterfly, I am going to bring out my old knives myself. Although, I can't say the popularity harms my lad –that dumb shit really has flipped his luck upside down. It's nice to see men using their cocks for a positive outcome."

Cascade couldn't help but laugh at Daphne's frankness. As a more mature woman, Daphne had experienced a lifetime of what Cascade had only dipped her toes into, and she made it very clear that no amount of threat or enticement would force her to change her ways. Cascade wished she had been born several decades earlier; perhaps her life would have turned out a lot less difficult than it had.

But then she quickly retracted her wish, as without the experiences she had gone through, she wouldn't have had the one pure goodness in her life: her son, Linden.

Cascade had been having doubts about her decision to bring Linden to the Capitol with her. Her original thinking had been that he would be safest close to her, but the demands of her job as mentor had taken her away from his side more often than she had liked. She trusted those who watched him whilst she was working, but it was always a relief to have him back in her arms.

"I see you survived the lion's den," Farley smirked as he approached the two women. "I can't imagine Aella is having much luck in there. I don't see many Capitolites looking to support an untrustworthy boy from Twelve."

"You know, contrary to public opinion, I actually find young Kazimir to be quite the underdog," said Daphne. "But you know me, I've never been one to favour the favourite. I wasn't fond of either of you during your Games."

Cascade and Farley exchanged a look.

"That boy has an eye for survival, that's all I'm saying," Daphne shrugged, taking a sip of her straight vodka.

"Well I'm not a fan personally," Cascade bit her lower lip. "After betraying Velaris, I'm worried about what he might do to Frankie."

"Surely he wouldn't?" Farley raised his eyebrows.

"Oh he would," Daphne piped in. "He's a man!"

"Offense taken," mumbled Farley into his own glass.

At that point, Cascade noticed that she could not see Risa.

"Has anyone seen Risa?" she asked, her eyes scanning the room.

"Oh, she went for some air about half an hour ago," Farley informed her. "She's fine, you know how it is."

Unfortunately, Cascade knew all too well. But she knew that Risa could handle it; that girl handled things better than most.

"Risa has a remarkable patience. She's ever so calm and collected," Daphne commented, and as though by a cruel twist of irony, the doors to the mentor suite flung open and Aella came storming in, a fierce look on her face.

Things had been tense between Cascade and Aella since their argument before the reapings, though over the past week they had somewhat patched up their issues enough to begin to enjoy each other's company once more. But the look on her girlfriend's face showed that that was all about to come to a crashing end.

"Aella, what's-" Cascade began, but Aella did not allow her to finish.

"Did you see Ivo the night before the Games?" she demanded, her dark eyes wide with fury.

Cascade's heart sank. "I did, yes."

"Why am I hearing it from some sad middle-aged group of women who are one round of plastic surgery away from becoming mutts?!"

"For exactly this reason," Cascade remained calm. "I knew how you would react if I told you."

Cascade could practically see the smoke pouring from Aella's ears.

"If you knew I'd react like this, then why did you go in the fucking first place?!"

Cascade opened her mouth.

"You're sleeping with him, aren't you?" Aella suddenly accused, her body trembling. "You still love him. Fuck, Cascade, how could I have been so stupid? I knew this would happen, I fucking knew it."

As Cascade's jaw tightened, she noticed that even Daphne had a look of doubt in her eyes as she looked towards her. Farley's expression was emotionless.

"Aella, keep your voice down," Cascade whispered sharply. "I do not wish to air our dirty laundry in public. Can we go somewhere private to talk, please?"

"No denying it, I see," Aella scoffed.

"Of course I deny it!" Cascade exclaimed, trying to pull Aella towards an exit. "I did not sleep with Ivo, and I do not still love him. I went to speak to him about Frankie, to see if he could pull her from the Games."

Aella rolled her eyes. "Using a kid to get yourself out of this –wow, you've sunk low, Cas."

"I am not using Frankie to get out of anything!" Cascade protested, though she knew better than to argue back and forth with Aella. From the years they had been together, she knew by now that Aella always had a comeback, and if you continued to argue with her, she would never tire.

"You know what, Aella, I'm not arguing about this with you," Cascade shook her head. "If you want to sort things out, then we will talk about it. Like adults. In private."

"What if I don't want to sort things out," Aella flung her arms across her chest in defiance. "What if there is nothing left to sort?"

Cascade's brow creased. "What are you saying, Aella?"

"I'm saying…" Aella's eyes glanced away as she spoke. "I'm saying that I'm done with this –done with us. I can't trust you. I'm out."

And with that, she didn't even look Cascade in the eye as she left the mentor suite, her dark hair flowing behind her like a cloak.

There was a silence in the suite.

As Cascade flashed a weak smile to the faces that stared at her, she wondered why she'd ever agreed to return to the Capitol.

A/N

A little less physical action here, but a lot more social interactions. Risa is feeling the heat during her first time as mentor, and even after going to the place closest to home, she is still unable to escape watchful eyes. What do the sketches mean? Who could they be from? And how did Selene know that Risa had received one all that time ago?
Cascade is inundated with sponsors for Peach and Beau, and she too is feeling the strain of her mentor duties. A small reveal gave hope for Logan's fate as we learn that a sponsor has been secured for his medicine, and also we know that there are a lot more sponsors keen to show gifts upon tributes. Who do you think will be receiving some gifts next? After a chat with Daphne and Farley, Aella comes storming in. Is it truly over for the couple?

Thank you as always for continuing to read and review, and sharing your opinions in the discord channel. I shall be closing the poll this week, I think, so a final reminder if you haven't yet voted for your favourite tributes (as at the end of pregames)!

Next chapter we will be returning to the arena. What lies in store next for our remaining tributes?

Until next time!

Firefly