Afandina Hariri, 17
District 10 Male
(TW for attempted suicide)
Scarily enough, Afandina isn't sure he'd make it. Of course, it's all figurative—Afandina is plenty smart enough to realize that no one could jump off the tallest building in the Capitol and survive. That's not how physics and, like, gravity work. What goes up must come down and stuff.
But up until now, Afandina has been so certain that he was going to make it. That he would win, that he would be the sole survivor, and he could go and have more money than he knows what to do with. He always thought he could make the jump, that he could scale the cliff, make the kill, survive the seemingly-unsurvivable.
Now? Now, he's not so sure, and Afandina has always hated not being sure.
He's never been more unsure in his life, and there's no way to change that.
Well, there is one way. The only way to be sure is to win. He has to prove himself as the ultimate survivor to restore his confidence in himself. He's always been confident, been so, so confident. But confidence isn't enough. He's seen the Games before. He knows that people fall for being cocky…
…is he cocky? Is he over-confident?
He never thought so before. After all, everybody always said you should have a healthy amount of self-esteem, and Afandina always thought that he was a great person.
And he is a great person, damnit! He just…might not be good enough to win the Hunger Games.
See, that's a question Afandina has always avoided:
Is he good enough?
He always thought he was more than good enough. He always thought that he was the best of the best, a talented gambler, the luckiest man alive when it came to decks of cards, the one who was always ten steps ahead and knew exactly what to do to get there. He always knew how to get from here to there.
Now, he's somewhere in the middle, wandering aimlessly in search of some kind of Victory. He needs that kind of validation, but he doesn't know where to find it. He can't go gambling. He's not even allowed outside of the Tribute Center.
Suddenly, he becomes very, very aware of that fact. He's trapped. He's trapped in his little bedroom with its' big picture windows and perfectly clean bathroom. He's stuck in a nightmare and pinching him won't wake him up.
Maybe that's all this is. Just one big, long nightmare that he has yet to wake up from. It's a dizzying spiral from where he started, high and mighty, on top of the world, to here. Laying in a bed in the Capitol while the escort bangs on the door, demanding that Afandina go down to Training, hungover and contemplating his very existence as a person.
That must be what this is. Yes, soon he'll wake up at home, no dogs to walk, no farm animals to tend to, no Kyle to bother him…he'll go gambling, make some money, and revitalize his faith in himself.
Except he's not going to wake up. Deep down, he knows that. He's just too scared to admit that.
He is supposed to be the best. He's always been the best. Afandina doesn't lose, he doesn't cheat, he doesn't give up, he doesn't do anything short of perfect. He doesn't know how to handle any of this. Who is he, without victories to show people? Who is he, without something to prove his worth?
Who is he?
Who is Afandina Hariri?
Well, up until very recently, he was one of the most amazing people in Panem. He was smart and calculating and clever and quick-thinking and lucky and handsome and amazing.
But what is he now?
What has he ever been, if he was not the best?
Has he ever been the best?
Yes! Afandina decides, sitting up. Of course he once was the best. Things just…change. He's not what he used to be. He's not what he thought he was.
God, how did he fall so hard?
Afandina gets to his feet and begins to pace. He's supposed to be the winner. He's always been the winner. Everybody around him knows that he is supposed to be the winner.
But the way people looked at him when he was Reaped…did they ever really admire him, or were they just afraid of him? Which is better?
Well, Afandina doesn't want to be amazing because he's intimidating. He wants to amazing because he's the best. He wants people to admire him, want to be him, not cower in fear whenever he steps near them. That's not admiration. That's not what he wants.
So it begs the question: did anyone back in 10 ever think of him as a winner? Did they think he was a cheater? Did they think he somehow rigged his games so they would always turn in his favor?
It's a thought that has never crossed his mind before now. It's a thought he's never wanted to cross his mind before now.
He's the best, damnit! He's always been the best, and if he isn't the best, what is he? Nothing! He's nothing! He's absolutely fucking nothing! He's nothing. He's…nothing. Absolutely…nothing.
Afandina can't take it anymore. He yanks open the door, shoves past the escort, and makes a break for the stairs. He takes them two at a time until he reaches the roof, out of breath but satisfied. He runs out onto the roof and reaches the edge in a matter of seconds, vaguely aware of the escort screaming at him down the stairwell.
If he's nothing, then he doesn't need to live. He doesn't need to be here. If he's not a winner, then what's the point of trying at all? What's to say that he doesn't just…jump, right now?
He said he would make it. But he won't. Nobody will. Certainly not him.
He's not the best. He's not the best. He's not the best. He used to be the best until he started to lose, until he started to fail, and now he's nothing at all. There's no point at all.
Afandina throws himself over the railing.
For a few, glorious seconds, he falls. Wind whips through his hair as he plummets, and he shuts his eyes. This is what he deserves. He deserves to die.
He's not the best. He's not a winner. He's a loser, a cheater.
But, as he falls, he's in control. He has control, and oh god does it feel amazing. He loves control.
And, suddenly, he's back on the roof, sprawled out on his back with his escort screaming in his face.
"Fucking forcefield!" Afandina screams for the whole world to hear, angrily slamming his fist on the railing. It does nothing but make his fingers ache. He considers trying again until the escort clamps his hand around Afandina's arm and drags him down the stairs.
He practically throws Afandina into the elevator and slams the down button, leaving Afandina to screech and pound his fists against the metal doors.
After a few seconds of this, feeling hot tears welling in his eyes and not knowing how they got there, Afandina pauses.
No. He's better than this. He will rise above this…this…this whatever it is! He is better. He may not be the best, but nobody else needs to know that. To the world, he's still perfect. To Afandina, well…he's not much anymore.
Geo Stryker, 15
District 12 Male
He's taken to avoiding people like the plague.
If he doesn't interact with anybody, he doesn't have to worry about what to say or what to think or what they like or who he is or what he is or who he fucking is because he doesn't know anymore and if he doesn't know who does—
It's certainly not Geo. He doesn't know who he is anymore.
Well, he's not quite certain he ever knew who he was in the first place.
It's enough to leave him staring blankly at Sterne, Darwin and Mercury when they approach him to join their alliance. What do they want him to say? Well, they probably want him to say yes. They wouldn't ask him if they didn't want him to say yes. But how do they want to him to say it? Would Sterne want him to say it differently than Darwin would? What can he say that will make them like him? Is there anything he can say to make them like him?
"Um…" Sterne says, raising his eyebrows and waving a hand in front of Geo's face. "Anybody home?"
"Oh!" Geo says, too loudly. "I—uh, no. Um, no. I'm…I'm good on allies, thanks, or—or no thanks. Whatever. I'm going to stop talking now."
And he pivots on his heels and walks away, his legs moving as fast as they possibly can without breaking into a sprint.
What is wrong with him? If Sterne, Darwin and Mercury didn't hate him before, they one-hundred-percent do now! How is it possible for him to be such a screw-up? How is any of this possible?
Geo darts off to the bathroom, occasionally glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Sterne, Darwin and Mercury aren't still staring at him. He finds Sterne and Mercury working to build some sort of shelter while Darwin lopsidedly throws knives. He breathes a sigh of relief only to remind himself that they still hate him.
He's just put a huge target on his back, for Panem's sake! If they hate him, they'll be more likely to want to kill him! You don't just say no to an alliance offer in the Hunger Games! All that does is make you more of a target!
Yet Geo did it. And while Sterne, Darwin and Mercury don't look like much of a threat, who knows what they could do with weapons? Darwin can't throw straight, but what if Sterne can? Mercury is from 7; what if he's good wit axes? How many ways can they kill him since they obviously have it out for him now since he rejected their alliance and holy shit he's going to die—
"Oh!"
Geo suddenly finds himself sprawled on the floor, looking up at the face of a boy with bright blond hair. "Um…"
"I wasn't watching where I was going," the boy continues, extending a hand to help Geo stand. "I'm just distracted." The boy shakes his head dejectedly.
Geo stares at it for a moment, as if expecting to contract a deadly disease simply by touching it. Should he take it? That's probably what the boy wants, right? He extends it so Geo will take it. But should he? He's pretty sure this boy is a tribute; he can't remember which one, but he's definitely seen his face before.
After a moment, Geo takes his hand and allows the boy to pull him to his feet. "Um…I should have watched where I was going too."
"Ha! I guess we're both distracted," the boy says. "Probably with different things, though—Geo, right? District 12?"
"Yes," Geo says, his words short and clipped. His idea of avoiding human contact has certainly fallen apart. "What district are you from?"
"Oh! I'm from the Capitol," the boy says, laughing and shaking his head. "Just got on break from University in 3, though. I'm Ezra."
Geo pauses for a moment. "Oh. I-I didn't mean to insinuate…" He trails off, unsure of where he's going with this. Ezra probably hates him now, too, since he thought he was from the districts…he's pretty sure that is a huge insult to most Capitolites. He just has to hope that Ezra views it differently. He certainly seems to act like he does but…
"No worries," Ezra says. "You know, I like you, Geo. I hope things go well for you in the Games."
"Oh. Oh!" Geo stammers. "Um, thank you. I should probably…go back to training, now."
"It was nice meeting you," Ezra says. "Good luck."
"Y-yeah…thanks." Geo closes the door of the bathroom in Ezra's face. He slumps against the wall, breathing out heavily. This is just his life now, is it? Being unable to hold a normal conversation? He doesn't know what he did to make Ezra like him, but he must have done something right.
But all he did was stammer and stumble over his words. He ran into the poor guy, for Panem's sake! He has every right to hate him…
…but does he?
Ezra said he liked him. He even wished him good luck in the Games! Who does that if they hate you? If Ezra hated him, wouldn't he have said so? If Ezra hated him, why would he have said he hopes the Games go well for him? If Ezra hated him, he probably would have said he hopes that Geo dies slowly and painfully.
So he obviously did something right.
That begs the question of if Sterne, Darwin and Mercury also hate him. He clearly did something that made Ezra like him, but he wasn't trying. He wasn't trying to make Sterne, Darwin and Mercury like him either, which just leaves him back at square one again.
Geo slowly and dejectedly gets to his feet. He opens the bathroom door and stalks out into the hallway, looking around carefully to make sure that Ezra has moved on.
As he steps out in the corridor proper, he glances behind him and realizes that he was in the girls' bathroom the whole time.
He heaves another sigh and starts back toward the Training Center. He can practically hear Ezra laughing at his stupidity from here.
Darwin Abner, 15
District 3 Male
"So, that didn't go as planned," Darwin comments nervously as he watches Geo scramble toward the bathroom. "Do you guys think we should go after him? Ask if he's okay, maybe?"
Sterne watches Geo's retreating back for a moment before he says. "I don't think it's worth bothering him again. He did say no, after all."
"Yeah, okay. You're right," Darwin agrees. "Are we still thinking of asking the boy from 11? He doesn't have any allies."
"I think he's being eyed by the Careers," Sterne answers. "I say it's not worth it. What do you think, Mercury?"
Mercury startles, seeming surprised to be addressed. "Oh…it's…I agree."
"Okay," Darwin says decisively. "So, we're going with just us, then? Unless there is anybody else you guys want to ask?" He surveys the Training Floor for a moment. "We could try the boy from 2? Or from 10?" He pauses again. "Come to think of it, where is the boy from 10?"
At that moment exactly, the elevator doors open a few feet behind them, spilling a red-faced Afandina Hariri onto the Training Floor.
"Should I ask him?" Darwin whispers to Sterne. "I mean, he's right there and everything."
"Can't hurt," Sterne says, sounding uncertain. They both glance at Mercury, who shrugs, his eyes wide.
Darwin takes a deep breath and steps in Afandina's path. "Hey! I'm Darwin from 3 and those are my allies Sterne and Mercury and we're wondering if you might like to join our alliance? You can say no if you want to because I promise we won't hold it against you and—"
Suddenly Afandina's fist slams in Darwin's face, sending him toppling over in surprise. His head slams against the ground, making his vision spin and his head pulsate with pain. A wave of black crosses his vision and he screws his eyes shut in an attempt to avoid passing out.
"I don't need allies to survive, bitch," Afandina growls, stepping over Darwin and stalking away.
Darwin sits up, finding that the room has started spinning. He blinks rapidly and puts a hand up to his left eye, finding the skin around it wet with blood. That's gonna bruise, he thinks vaguely. It's certainly not the first time he's been punched in the face, and it probably won't be the last. He knows what a concussion feels like…
…at least, he's pretty sure. Right now, he can't really remember. Is that a symptom of concussions? Is Afandina strong enough to give him in a concussion with one punch? Shad or Bayou probably could, but Afandina? Darwin doesn't know much about him, but he's pretty sure he's not that strong. He doesn't exactly seem like the type to do recreational weight lifting. Maybe it's a side effect of slamming into the ground? That's probably part of it? Right?
"Darwin, are you okay?" Sterne exclaims, kneeling down in front of Darwin's face. Mercury crouches beside him, looking at Darwin's face with a slightly tilted head.
He sees Mercury's mouth open, but his ears start ringing loudly enough that he can't understand a word they're saying. So, probably a concussion, then? He did hit the ground pretty hard…and he knows that he's extra susceptible to concussions, since he's had them before…and it will probably go away before the Games start…
"I'm going to get one of the nurses," Sterne proclaims, jumping to his feet. He quickly disappears from Darwin's view, leaving Darwin trying to blink away the blur in his vision.
Spoilers: it doesn't work.
After some amount of time that seems to pass beneath Darwin's notice, Sterne returns accompanied by a woman with electric blue hair. The woman gets up in Darwin's face, probably looking for dilation in his pupils…right? That's part of concussions? Or is that just something that happens at the optometrists'…
"His pupils are dilated," the nurse says. "He's got a concussion. It's mild, but it's there."
"How do you treat a concussion?" Sterne asks. "I've never had one before."
"He'll have to sleep it off," the nurse says. "Of course, there's a certain protocol you have to follow to make sure the patient doesn't fall into a coma or worsen in condition, but he should be fine before the Games start."
"Right." Sterne shakes his head. "It's all about the Games."
"Yes," the nurse says. "I don't suppose one of you could go fetch his mentors, could you?"
"I'll go," Sterne volunteers, once again disappearing from Darwin's vision.
Darwin shuts his eyes and drops his head. His head is seriously starting to ache. It feels like his brain is clawing at his skull in a desperate attempt to escape. He should have never bothered to ask Afandina…but the blue-haired lady did say he would be okay by the time the Games started…right? Yeah, he's pretty sure she said that…probably…going into the Games with a concussion would be a serious problem…
Suddenly someone is snapping in his face, and after a moment he realizes that it's Thalia. "Darwin, can you stand? We're going to take you upstairs to rest."
"Okay," Darwin says, taking Thalia's extended hand. The room tilts dangerously once his feet are underneath him, and he probably would have toppled over again if Thalia didn't have her hand firmly on his shoulder.
He really is an idiot, isn't he? A reckless idiot. But, then again, didn't both Sterne and Mercury agree to asking Afandina? They probably should have ruminated longer, but what's done is done. What is punched is punched.
Thalia leads him to the elevator, making his head spin and pound. He leans heavily against the glass walls of the elevator, looking at Thalia with half-shut eyes. He feels tired. Like, really, really tired. He wasn't tired before. He's exhausted now. Like, he could probably pass out right now…
"Darwin!"
"W-what?"
Oh. Maybe he did actually pass out. Momentarily, but he's okay now. Totally fine.
"Come on, Darwin. You can go sleep on the couch," Thalia says, putting her hand back on his shoulder and leading him out of the elevator. She brings him to the couch, telling him to lay down, and that she'll wake him up in an hour to make sure he hasn't fallen into a coma.
It doesn't make him feel very confident, but the need to close him eyes and stop existing for a while overpowers any qualms he has about falling asleep. He lets his head drop back against the couch cushions, sending a small pulse of pain coursing through his body.
A few moments later, he drifts off to sleep, wishing that none of this had ever happened.
Bayou Hacksom, 18
District 4 Male
He is not having a good day.
Or a good week.
The last few days, ever since he volunteered, have actually been pretty shitty. As if he wasn't already unsure about the Games, the mess that is the Career alliance has been putting him further on edge. They're all nervous, he can tell, but the whole thing has just upset his brain. His head just feels muddled, overloaded. It's not that there's too much information to process, it's just that he cannot stop worrying. What's going to happen to him? What's going to happen to the rest of the Careers? What's going to happen once they enter the arena? Will they all turn on each other? Or will they somehow decide to play nice and stay off of each other's nerves?
"So, there's a lot we need to debate," Calista says as she sits heavily at the table the Careers staked out the day before. She meets the eyes of each of them before she continues. "First of all, we need to agree to a compromise. At least, we need to truce, for a while. We can kill each other all we want in the arena, but right now, we need to play nice. So, I say we should elect a leader. And—" she eyes Ottilie annoyedly. "—each of us gets a vote, and you can't vote for yourself. Seem fair?"
"Good with me," Scoria says, looking at Shad out of the corner of her eyes. "I'll vote for Calista."
Ottilie rolls her eyes. "I'm not voting for anybody."
"Fine, then," Calista says. "I'll vote for Scoria."
Scoria raises an eyebrow at Calista but, apparently, decides to keep her mouth shut.
Bayou takes in a deep breath and adds his two cents in. "I'll…go fer Calista."
She's the best option, right? He knows that they will all turn on him with a moment's notice, but Calista seems like the most trustworthy out of all of them. Scoria seems intelligent, but something about her rubs him the wrong way. Ottilie is obviously not an option. Shad seems skilled but at the same time…not the right option. And then there's himself, who he can't vote for, wouldn't vote for, and shouldn't be voted for. He may have been chosen as the volunteer against all odds, but he's certainly not a natural-born leader. He doesn't feel bad about that, since it's only the truth. He's just not a leader. But you don't have to lead in order to win.
"Alright, Shad?" Calista says.
Shad doesn't answer, instead just angrily jabbing his fork into a pile of mashed potatoes.
"Shad," Calista says warningly. "Play nice."
Shad wrinkles his nose at her and scoots further left in his seat. "Scoria."
"We can't have two leaders," Bayou pipes up. "Right? Havin' two leaders?"
They can't make decisions easily with two leaders. Especially since he figures Scoria and Calista are going to have differing views on what's best for the Careers. All of the options seem like people to look out for their own self-interest, but Calista is…not Scoria? Calista is the safe bet.
"Why do we need a leader at all?" Ottilie growls, crossing her arms indignantly like the child she is. "Why don't we just vote on everything?"
"Coming from somebody who thought she was the leader without giving anyone else a voice," Calista says, raising an eyebrow. "Well, Ottilie, time to cast your vote. We're split down the middle, so whatever you decide goes."
A terrible decision, really, Bayou thinks.
Ottilie's eyes jump from Calista to Scoria for a moment. "And if I, say, vote for Bayou or Shad?"
"Then we'll replace you," Scoria says curtly.
"Yeah, right," Ottilie says, once more rolling her eyes. "Like you'd ever do that."
"Anybody can be replaced, Blackwell," Scoria says in a low voice. "Anybody."
"Fine, then. Calista." Ottilie grabs her tray and stands up. "I vote for Calista."
After a moment of silence as they all watch Ottilie march over to the trash can, Calista takes a deep breath and says, "Well, that settles it, then." She eyes each of them before she continues. "So, this is our alliance. Nothing more, nothing less, right?"
"Right," Bayou agrees, nodding firmly. He'd be lying if he said he isn't afraid to fall asleep next to Shad or Ottilie, but he supposes he'll have to get used to it.
This alliance just feels different than what he was expecting. Back in District 4, when they would watch past Games to figure out better strategies and learn what not to do, the Careers always seemed so formidable. They seemed like they got along well enough and weren't constantly at each other's throats.
Maybe this is just different. It's been different for the past few years. After all, Wake, Coin, Cash, Myrian, Brookley and Ariella were doing their best to not murder each other in their sleep. The girl Careers and the boy Careers weren't even one alliance the year after that. Azariah, Ilyanna, Nyroc, Stella, Reef and whatever outliers they could drag up did nothing but hunt for Vin, and they didn't even succeed.
As it turns out, this year will be no different. They'll be lucky if half of the Careers get out of the Bloodbath alive.
Bayou is no exception. To say that he isn't afraid of Ottilie turning on him and throwing a spear into his back in the first five minutes of the Games would be a lie. Maybe one of the biggest lies Bayou would ever tell.
He's always thought of himself as a man of honesty. He's never been very good at lying, and he's never really liked lying in the first place. It's always been his philosophy that when you had a choice between being honest and being nice, you should choose honesty.
But he's seen many a tribute lie their way to Victory. They would tell lie after lie after lie, until eventually it became as easy as breathing for them.
Bayou doesn't want that to happen. He's always said he would do whatever it takes to win…
…but when push comes to shove, would he? Would anyone? Some people would certainly be willing to lie and cheat and claw their way out of the arena, but would he? He doesn't want the arena to make a monster out of him, but it seems to change everyone eventually. Would it even be possible to stay stagnant through his time in the Games? Or will he concede and become a monster just like everyone else? After all, no good person ever wins the Games.
Well, he'll let the arena make a corpse out of him before it will make a monster.
Ishtar Marmaduke, 18
District 12 Female
It's not what she expected.
Don't get her wrong; she's still back with Jayce, which makes her happy but…it's not the reunion she thought she was getting. She thought she would be back with her girlfriend, happy for just a few days before they entered the Games together. She thought, that if she was going to volunteer to die for Jayce, that Jayce would still be…
…well, Jayce.
Well, it's not that she's not "Jayce" anymore. She's still Jayce Dotter, the beautiful girl that was born in District 12 whom Ishtar fell in love with so many years ago.
But something is off. It doesn't feel the same.
It's wrong! Ishtar should be happy! She's with Jayce again, even if Jayce has changed a bit since they last saw each other! Of course she's going to have changed; they've been apart for so long! It's completely unrealistic for her to have expected Jayce to have stayed the exact same as she was when they parted.
But it just doesn't feel the same. It's different, some way, somehow. Ishtar doesn't know how, doesn't understand what's changed, but she knows it's different. It feels like Jayce is walking on eggshells around her. It's clear that Jayce's opinion of Ishtar has changed.
Ishtar doesn't like that.
She didn't like being a part from Jayce in the first place, but now that they are reunited, it's almost worse. It's worse knowing that Jayce might have…what? Fallen out of love? Come out as asexual? Whatever it is, Ishtar wants to fix it. Can she fix it? Well, if Jayce is ace, there's not much she can do. But if Jayce has fallen out love…can she make her fall back into love? In just a few days, no less?
She's willing to try.
She's willing to do whatever it takes to bring Jayce back. She just wants her love back. All she wants is her Jayce back.
"I'm gonna dash off to the bathroom, okay?" Jayce says, spurring Ishtar from her thoughts.
Ishtar looks up from her tangle of ropes and knots. "Mm. Okay. See you."
Jayce purses her lips before getting to her feet and heading off to the bathroom. Ishtar watches her go, her eyes dancing on Jayce's retreating back, wondering if there's anything she can do to fix this. She just wants everything to go back to the way it was before that stupid intelligence program ruined her life. If only she could turn back time, just a few years, so she could have her Jayce back. She wishes she could go back to her birthday, when she and Jayce stargazed and made out on the couch.
Her hands work tirelessly on her various knots, but it's clear that her heart isn't in it. She stares off into space, her eyes dancing on different tributes throughout the Training Center. The boy from 9 is throwing knife after knife after knife at a target. The boys from 4 and 1 are sparring. The girls from 11, 9 and 3 are learning how to treat stab wounds. The girls from 5 and 10 are sitting on a bench beside each other and holding hands.
Ishtar's sight pulses red when she looks at Tamarah and Liesel. They're happy, somehow. Somehow, they seem to have just fallen right into love.
And it makes her sick.
Why do they get to be happy when she's stuck here, with someone who may or may not still love her? Why do they get to be sitting there holding hands, probably whispering sweet nothings to each other, while Ishtar is waiting for Jayce to keep loving her?
It's not fair.
It's not fair, and there isn't a damn thing Ishtar can do about it. If she could change the past, she would in a heartbeat.
She clenches her hands around her tangle of ropes, practically shaking with anger. What have Tamarah and Liesel done to deserve happiness when Ishtar is right here? Doesn't she deserve love as much as they do? Shouldn't she get to have her Jayce like Tamarah gets to have her Liesel?
What has she done wrong?
She spots Jayce returning from the bathroom and shakes her head at her own stupidity. It's not regret. She doesn't regret coming here. She doesn't regret volunteering to be with Jayce again. It's just disappointment.
Disappointment in the fact that it's not what she thought it was.
Disappointment in the fact that Jayce isn't who she thought she was.
Disappointment in the fact that nothing will be ever be the same again.
Disappointment in the fact that her love is…over?
Is it over? Is this just the end of her and Jayce's seemingly-endless romance? She had been so certain that everything would just turn out fine, that she and Jayce would reunite and immediately start making out. That they would just go back to the way they had been years ago.
She was blind.
Well, she's not blind anymore. She's opened her eyes to the fact that maybe Jayce never even loved her in the first place. Maybe she was wrong the whole time, and the girl she loves to the ends of Panem never loved her back at all.
She can see the truth now. She understands that everything is different now.
"I ran into this weird blond guy outside the bathroom," Jayce says as she settles down next to Ishtar. "He wished me luck in the Games, blah, blah, blah, introduced himself as "Ezra". Ever heard of him? He said he was the president's nephew."
"I didn't know the president had a nephew," Ishtar replies. "And I don't know anybody named Ezra."
"Well, let's hope that his wishing luck pays off, huh?" Jayce says with a small laugh. She looks at her lap, her eyes downcast and sorrowful before she says, "You know, for one of us."
"For one of us," Ishtar agrees. She wonders which one of them it will be. She wonders which one of them will fall first. If it's Ishtar, what will Jayce say? Will she mourn? Or will she move on, like she apparently already has? Or perhaps she hasn't? Perhaps she's still holding on, and Ishtar's death will lead to hers as well?
But…if Jayce dies first…what will Ishtar do? She still loves her to the moon and back, and always will. Even if Jayce is dead, she'll love her all the same. No matter what it is that Jayce does, no matter who she kills, no matter who she hurts and lies to and cheats and manipulates, Ishtar will love her all the same.
She will love her all the same, no matter what.
Liesel Leenheer, 17
District 5 Female
It hurts, knowing that she's probably going to die. It hurts, knowing that Noor is going to win in the end. It hurts, it hurts so much, but it hurts less when she's in someone else's arms. Tam isn't Noor, not even as gentle as Dyna, but it's better than nothing. Tam has strong hands and broad shoulders—Liesel feels safe when Tam is holding her. They're compatible. They're believable. They make sense, too personalities that could fall quickly and stupidly into love right before they both go in the Hunger Games.
The Capitol will just gobble them up, especially once Liesel tells them that her awful ex Noor cheated on her. She just doesn't have to tell them when. They'll only like her if they know she isn't being petty for the sake of being petty.
"Have you noticed the girl from 12 seems to staring at us an awful lot?" Tam whispers, squeezing Liesel's hands.
Liesel looks up and, sure enough, the girl from 12 is staring them down from the knot-tying station. The girl from 6 is chatting about something or another, but Ishtar doesn't seem to be paying attention. "That's creepy."
"She and the girl from 6 seem like quite the pair, don't they?" Tam continues, looking at Liesel with those deep hazel eyes. "There's certainly something off about their dynamic."
"Where isn't something off here?" Liesel asks, not expecting nor wanting an answer. "Everything's fucked up. Aren't they just another tick on the list?"
"Well, you're not wrong," says Tam. "We're all just another tick on the list."
Liesel runs a finger through one of the grooves on the metal bench they're sitting on, knee-to-knee, still hand-in-hand. "Yeah."
The afternoon starts to drag into evening as darkness peeks in through the windows near the ceiling. It, oddly, makes Liesel thinks of the roof of her family's building, where if you craned your neck you could see the stars. She figures you can always see the stars in District 10. There's no buildings or factories to obscure your view of the sky.
"Did you hide the keys?" Liesel asks quietly, re-entwining her free hand with Tam's.
"Did I ever." Tam grins. "I threw them off of the roof."
Liesel feels a small pang at the thought of her being unable to return them in the eventuality that she does, in fact, claim Victory. Instead of voicing that concern, she simply bursts out laughing. "Nice!"
"I figured you'd be impressed," Tam agrees. "So, Liesel—what's your opinion on alcohol? I'm a bit of a—fanatic, for lack of better word—myself."
Liesel's parents had this huge wine cabinet that she and Tena liked to raid when they were little kids. At first, they would never drink any, instead just put it in fancy glasses and have tea parties, but by the time Liesel was of Reaping age, they'd gotten pretty tipsy together several times. It's not like it was their fault their parents went to so many dinners, stayed out late, and didn't lock up their wine.
But Liesel has never encountered anything outside of the high-quality red wine her parents liked to display. She's never had real beer, never touched a bottle of scotch or vodka. "Well…I've had wine. Does that count?" She laughs a little at the end of her sentence, trying to make it seem less sad.
"Sure does," says Tam. "I like my wine just as much as I like my hard liquor. I mean, back home, me and my buds spent our lives either perpetually drunk or perpetually hungover."
Liesel decides to ignore Tam's misuse of grammar, finding it oddly endearing. "That hardly sounds like a way to live."
But has Liesel been living any better? It feels like she's been dedicating her entire existence to pissing off Noor. Maybe it made sense at first. Maybe people could understand at first. But by now, everyone back home is starting to think she should have moved on by now. And if she gets home, what is she going to do? Just go back to doing what she always did? She doesn't want to get back with Dyna. She doesn't even want to see Noor at all, not anymore.
"It's my way," Tam says with a careless shrug. "It's just how I work. If I get back home—" Tam blinks hard before she continues. "—it's probably how I'll go back to living. Old habits die hard, ya know?"
"Yeah, I guess," Liesel agrees, staring at her lap.
It doesn't sound like a very good quality of life to Liesel. She can't imagine spending her entire life in a haze, but at the same time, the past few months have been exactly that. A haze. A blur of pettiness and anger. She's been going out of her way to make Noor angry, to make Noor regret cheating, to make Noor's life miserable, yet she herself has hardly lived a second.
She may as well have died when she caught Noor in bed with Iona O'Hare, since she's pretty much stopped living ever since.
"How about we talk about something more cheerful?" Liesel suggests, fighting to keep any sign of nervousness out of her voice. She's not nervous. She's not anything. She's just fine, thanks. "Like…um, what's your favorite color?"
Tam eyes her oddly but answers nonetheless. "Burgundy. Yours?"
"Purple," says Liesel. "What's your favorite, um, animal?"
And they go around and around and around like that, Liesel asking some little inconsequential question. They both answer them, still sitting on the bench hand-in-hand until no sunlight reaches the windows and the other tributes are filing into the elevator.
Liesel gets to her feet, still holding onto one of Tam's hands. Tam has a seriously strong grip. "So…I'll see you tomorrow morning, then. Maybe we'll discuss our private sessions."
"Yep," Tam says. "See ya tomorrow."
Tam weaves through the remaining tributes until she finds her district partner, leaving Liesel standing alone in the middle of a crowd of teenagers who could kill her. Her eyes land on Tam once again, wondering if she's truly trustworthy. An alcoholic who is willing to fake a romantic relationship at the drop of a hat…maybe it wasn't a very good decision to basically put her life in Tam's hands, but she can't stomach going back. Liesel isn't sure that she could stomach hurting another girl who she is supposed to love. And if Tam is really who she says she is and has no ulterior motives…well, Liesel doesn't want to hurt her when she could be dead in just a few days.
Liesel could be dead in just a few days. She knows that, doesn't really fear it, but at the same time doesn't want to die.
She crams into the elevator with the pairs from 1, 7, 11 and the girl from 3. She's not sure where her district partner is—maybe with his ally that got she's pretty sure got punched in the face—but she can't say she doesn't mind him not being here. One less person she has to worry about. One less person she has to mourn for when they're dead.
A/N: Boy oh boy did this chapter take me a while. I was showing off my expert procrastinating skills this time, since I just kept telling myself that I'd work on it tomorrow and go play Animal Crossing today.
1. Thoughts on everything Afandina did?
2. Thoughts on Ezra being back?
3. Will Darwin's injury inhibit him in the Games?
4. Are the Career less screwed than before?
Random Question of the Chapter: what is your favorite color? (I've probably asked this before but whatever)
My answer: anything on the spectrum from green to blue to purple. Like, literally anything in that general vicinity.
ALLIANCES:
We're Still Extremely Volatile This Year: Shad (D1M), Calista (D1F), Scoria (D2F), Bayou (D4M), Ottilie (D4F)
Flower Power: Lana (D3F), Eris (D7F), Lyndie (D8F), Ainsley (D9F), Ashe (D11F)
Sad Lesbians: Jayce (D6F), Ishtar (D12F)
Disaster Lesbians: Liesel (D5F), Tam (D10F)
5'6 Gang: Darwin (D3M), Sterne (D5M), Mercury (D7M)
So, next up is night number three, which if all goes well, should be out either today or tomorrow. The POVs I have planned should be easy to get done.
-Amanda
