Silas Euphemia, 38
Head Gamemaker of Panem
The interviews are somehow the calmest yet most stressful part of the entire pre-games process. On one hand, Silas gets to sit and watch the tributes talk, and now that Graciela is in charge, he doesn't have to worry about being executed because a tribute goes crazy. And, sometimes what the tributes have to say can be interesting. Other times they are completely forgettable, but it still stands.
On the other, the Games begin in the morning, and Silas has enough to worry about with Lanai's wild planning.
Lanai is a point of stress large enough to give Silas migraines. She's far too overly ambitious, and despite the fact that she has nothing to lose, aside from a few college friends, Silas does not the feel same way. He has to keep in mind what is at stake here—and he desperately wishes that Lanai would do the same.
Rebellions don't happen overnight without something big happening. And in their current position, nothing big is happening any time soon.
The people have Panem have stopped caring. They've rebelled time and time again, and they always fail. They feel similarly to Silas—they have things they need to protect more than they want change. A tribute could walk out on stage tonight, stab Alistair McKinley, and cut off their own head, and the people of Panem would still shrug their shoulders and say "At least it wasn't my kid." Although, that event is not outside of the realm of possibility tonight.
But, no matter what happens, Silas will just have to pull through it and keep going. He always has.
"Hello, Silas," Graciela greets as she enters their private booth. "I hope you don't mind that I invited my…nephew, to join us tonight."
Silas's eyes slide to the left, finding Ezra himself standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. "Of course not. I'm sure you remember my trainee, Lanai."
"Yes," Graciela says tartly as she takes a seat beside him. The stage below remains dark, but it will be filled with their tributes in a matter of minutes. Silas can barely even imagine how it feels to be one of them. He has to admit; he's never been in a position where it was life one way, death the other. He's aware there is a clock ticking over his head, but it has, admittedly, never really been looked upon.
"Ezra's eighteenth birthday was just yesterday," Graciela says. "You know, he's very good in politics. I'm thinking of making him my vice president. What would you say to that?"
Silas swallows thickly and works his jaw for a moment. He was sixteen last week. "I think it's a wonderful idea, Madam President."
Ezra, from his seat on the other side of Graciela, almost seems to nod. Silas looks at him curiously for a moment before the stage begins to light up. "Oh, look!" he says quickly. "The interviews are starting!"
"Welcome, welcome!" Alistair McKinley booms from the stage. "Aren't we all excited to meet this year's lovely tributes?"
"Is he wearing a…bulletproof vest?" Silas whispers to Graciela.
"It was either that or we put Navarro in a straitjacket."
"Ah."
"Now, first up, we have the beautiful Calista Abbey of District 1!" Alistair says, settling down in one of the two chairs situated on stage.
Calista prances out onto the stage, wearing a shimmering, dark blue gown. "Hello, Alistair," she says politely, sticking out a hand to shake.
Alistair shakes her back and says, "Well! What a strong grip you have, Calista."
"Yes, well, I have been training since I was a child."
"Have you now!" Alistair says, nodding. "Well, Calista, I've been hearing a rumor that you weren't this year's chosen volunteer…care to tell us why you're here anyway?"
Calista is silent for a moment. "I came here to spite the world."
"And…?"
"The world said I wasn't good enough. I said I don't care. I came here to spite the world, and what it says I can and cannot do." Calista sits up slightly straighter and folds her hands into her lap. "I will spite. Them. All."
Alistair nods for a few seconds before he says, "So what's waiting for you back home?"
Calista chews her lip. "My best friend and my boyfriend."
"No family?"
"Well, my mother's dead and my dad…mm, he's just dead to me." Calista raises her head and levels her eyes with the audience. Several people gasp. "I'll spite him and everything he has ever said about me."
"And I'm sure you will," Alistair says, his voice seeming sincere, but Silas knows the man could care less about any of the tributes. He's heard him talk about them before, referring to them as nothing but dirt and subhuman vermin. "Calista Abbey of District 1!"
The crowd applauds in excitement, knowing now that at least one Career will be more than willing to kill.
Calista drifts off to stage left as Alistair welcomes Shad Marcum. Shad wears a deep red suit, accented with random splotches of brighter reds. Two long cords of crimson beads trail down his arms, ending in gloves that cover his hands.
"It certainly makes a statement," Silas hears Lanai say from beside him. "Not sure if it's a good one, or a bad one, though."
"Greetings, Shad!" Alistair says, extending a hand for Shad to shake.
Shad seems to be trying to break Alistair's fingers with how tightly he holds on.
Alistair finally pulls out of the shake and holds his hand close to his chest. "My…uh, my, what a strong grip you have…"
"Yes, it's much stronger than Calista's could ever be," Shad says proudly.
"Of course, of course," Alistair says, still cradling his hand. "So, I hear you got the same score as Scoria Primer, who is the leader of the Career alliance. Care to tell us how you feel about that?"
"I should be the leader, plain and simple," Shad says, shaking his head. "I am clearly the better choice, the stronger choice, the more levelheaded choice…just, the better choice all around. But…I will respect the poor decisions of my teammates. We are, after all, an…" Shad grits his teeth. "alliance."
"And quite a formidable one at that!" Alistair says, seeming eager to change the subject. "So, Shad, what's waiting for you back home?"
"Family," Shad says off-handedly, picking at a fingernail. "Couple of friends."
"No special girl waiting with bated breath?"
"Nope," Shad says. "Guess I'm a loner for life."
"Wow, he sounds like a ten-year-old," Lanai comments, rolling her eyes. Even Silas can admit that Shad clearly isn't the nicest person…but just about everybody has a redeeming quality. There are, of course, exceptions. Like Ezra, for example. He's just an asshole.
"I'm sure when you return to District 1, the girls will be clambering to get a piece of you," Alistair says. "Shad Marcum, everyone!"
The crowd is louder for Shad than they were for Calista. Perhaps it's the suit. Perhaps it's his high-and-mighty nature. Perhaps it's all of the girls already clambering to get a piece of him.
"Now, we'll speak to Shad's so-called "rival", Scoria Primer of District 2!"
Scoria wears a simple silver halter-dress. Trailing down her back are small chains accented with what looks like tiny knives. It seems fitting for a Career, Silas muses.
"Welcome, Scoria, welcome!" Alistair says. "What a deadly dress!"
"It's rather hard to sit in," Scoria says in a dull voice.
"Yes, I can imagine," agrees Alistair. "So, I've heard you are the leader of the Career alliance!"
Scoria nods. "It was decided that I was the best option…"
"And?"
"That's it. I was the best option via popular vote."
"Ah," Alistair says, nodding in understanding. "Got anyone special waiting for you back home? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?"
"There is no room for love in my life…" Scoria says quickly. "There never has been anyone and there never will be anyone."
"Ah…huh," Alistair says slowly.
"This doesn't seem to be going how Alistair expected it to," Graciela says. "Scoria certainly is an enigma."
"Yes," Silas agrees blankly.
Alistair swallows and says, "Why is there no room for love in your life?"
"I don't need attachments." Scoria shrugs. "Love is nothing but a distraction. Falling in love is weak."
"Yes, I'm sure it is…" Alistair says tiredly.
Scoria lifts her head. "What, are you in love?"
Alistair seems taken aback by the comment and her tone. "No, no…Scoria Primer, everyone!"
For a Career, the response is surprisingly lackluster. Apparently, a girl sitting on a stage and saying how pointless and distracting love is doesn't get her too many good points. Who knew?
"Silas? Remind me to fire Alistair after the end of this year's Games," Graciela says.
"Will do."
Wonder Hammerfort is dressed in a red suit with a strange choker necklace. It looks almost as if Wonder's throat has been slit.
"That's an odd choice of outfit," Lanai comments with a raised eyebrow. "The choker especially. It seems almost…familiar."
"So, Wonder, I hear that you are going it solo," Alistair says.
"…other people make me nervous," Wonder says quietly in explanation.
"Ah," Alistair says. "So, what is waiting for you when you return home?"
Wonder is silent for a moment. "…I miss Wake."
The crowd seems to emit one large sigh of sympathy, or perhaps mourning for the loss of a favorite tribute.
"Do you?" Alistair asks.
"She promised me she would come home." Wonder sniffles a little bit, curling his arms to his chest. "She never lied to me before. Why would she lie?"
The crowd practically melts into a puddle of commiseration.
"Some people are so gullible," Lanai says, rolling her eyes and gesturing to the crowd. "At least the kid can act."
"Wake was truly a one-of-a-kind girl," Alistair agrees. "I'm sure she's watching over you now."
"You think so?" Wonder perks up, lifting his head. "I'm going to win for her. I don't want her to have died in vain." He clenches a fist and sits up a little bit straighter.
"I'm sure you will," Alistair says as the crowd breaks into wild cheers for Wonder.
Alistair waits a few moments for the crowd to quiet down. "Now, let's meet District 3's Lana Meadows!"
Lana drifts out onto stage with a slightly forced grin on her face. She wears a floor-length white dress, but once she sits down, it starts to change color. It flickers through the whole rainbow, over and over again as she sits there.
"Alistair, can I ask you a question?" Lana asks, leaning forward.
"Of course!" Alistair says.
"Do you know anything about great Capitol movie directors?"
The audience laughs. Lana grins and gives them a thumbs up. "See, I'm supposed to write an essay about them for school, and I don't even know where to start! But I want to have it done for when I get back, you know? I don't want to get a bad grade!"
"Well, Lana, I happen to know some great Capitol movie directors. Perhaps, when you return from the Games, I could arrange an interview for you?" Alistair proposes.
"That would be great!" Lana exclaims enthusiastically.
"Now, your dress is certainly a showstopper," Alistair says. "It's very bright."
"I really think that my stylist has outdone herself," Lana says. "I mean, just look at all of the colors!" Lana's eyes light up. "Speaking of which, Alistair, I don't suppose you can think of a new color for me, can you?"
Once again, the audience laughs.
"Let's see…there's, uh…um…"
The audience continues to laugh the longer Alistair hems and haws.
Finally, he seems to give up and says, "I don't think I can."
"Well, every color that humans can actually see have been thought up!" Lana says with a laugh. "Of course, animals see colors differently than us—some of them see less colors and some of them see more color than we could ever even imagine. Isn't that fascinating?"
"It certainly is," Alistair says. "Lana Meadows of District 3!"
The crowd cheers for her. The Capitolites always enjoy a jokester…
"Her dress was practically mesmerizing," Lanai says tiredly. "I don't think I'll ever get it out of my head."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Silas asks playfully.
"It's certainly a thing."
Darwin is dressed in a black suit, but the black is hardly visible. The suit is covered in sloppy white writing, leaving only small patches of black visible. Silas leans forward and squints at Darwin, trying read what it says. After a moment, he is finally able to focus on one, and realizes that it is one word, over and over again:
Justice.
The irony certainly is not lost on me, Silas thinks, shaking his head. There is nothing about the Hunger Games that is just.
"You know, um, I'm used to always having the right words," Darwin says seriously, resolutely looking at Alistair. "Buuuut…I guess concussions kind of let all of the words fall out, right? I mean, I never have to search for words—I always just kind of know what to say, you know? I just…I never stumble or stammer or anything! Words just make sense. But these ones don't. You know, I always get told that I talk too much. Do I talk too much? I think I talk too much."
"Well, you clearly have a lot to say," Alistair says slowly. "And that's good! Having a lot to say is always good, especially when you have the attention of the entire nation for three minutes."
Darwin swallows visibly and looks out toward the audience. "Yes. I do."
He suddenly whirls around and looks back to Alistair. "So, I'm in an alliance with these two others guys, right? Mercury and Sterne. And you know what's funny about that? All three of us are the exact same height. Who would have guessed?"
"What a coincidence!" Alistair says. "But…let's talk more about your injury, shall we?"
"Oh. Yeah." Darwin shifts his position. "Well, I was going to ask Afandina to join our alliance. He's not the same height as the three of us, but the offer still stood. He must have been having a bad day or something, because he just…punched me in the face! Who does that?"
Alistair just nods as the audience laughs.
"Well, see, back home, I've been punched before. I get into a lot of arguments—I guess you could say I'm rather stubborn and like to stand up for what I believe in," Darwin continues. "I've got a lot of words in my head, and there's got to be some way to use them, right? But I don't think I've ever been punched hard to get a concussion. Well, I've been beaten up before, but that's not really the same thing."
Alistair laughs a little and says, "Well, if I didn't know any better, I'd think I was talking to Brice Kylar!"
Darwin leaves the stage to cheers and laughs from the audience.
Ottilie is dressed in a blue and red dress. The base fabric looks like the ocean, blues and greens mingling together, but with each step, it shimmers to red and back to blue. Red seems to be quite the theme this year, Silas thinks as he shifts in his seat.
"Hello, hello, Ottilie!" Alistair says. "How are you tonight?"
"I'm excited, Alistair," Ottilie says, cocking her eyebrows. "Tomorrow is the day I've been waiting for my entire life."
"Is it now?"
"It's been my dream since I was a child to be the youngest chosen volunteer Victor in history. The previous record is held by Saior Waller, but not for long…" Ottilie trails off mysteriously, cocking an eyebrow at the audience with a light smirk on her face.
"How do you plan to achieve this dream?"
Ottilie glares at him. "I can't go around giving out my secrets, buddy."
Alistair nods quickly. "Of course not. But I must ask…if this dream has been yours for so long, why did you not capitalize on the last Quarter Quell? You would have been the correct age if I am not mistaken."
"The difference is the choice," Ottilie says haughtily, holding her head up high. "I was not the chosen volunteer in the past Quarter Quell; in fact, there was none. It was a bust year, and chances were that someone who didn't even train with the Academy would get chosen."
"You still would have been able to volunteer just fine, yes?"
"Let me rephrase that," Ottilie says, irate. "The difference is the honor. I'm only breaking records and stamping my name in the history books if I am chosen to do it. If I volunteer out of turn…I'd just be another Victor. And that is last thing I want."
"Is winning not enough?"
"Winning isn't enough. Winning is only enough if I break something whilst I do it," Ottilie huffs. She rolls her eyes and says, "You know what? I'm done with this. Buzz me out for all I care!" Before she turns and angrily stalks off of the stage.
"Well," Alistair says with his eyebrows raised. "Let's move on to the next tribute, shall we?"
Bayou Hacksom comes out dressed in a sea blue suit covered in what appears to be painted-on fish. They sure took "from District 4" to an extreme, Silas thinks as Alistair greets the boy in question.
"So, Bayou, why did you volunteer for the Games?" Alistair asks.
Bayou shifts and says, "I want ta prove that us backwater folks can win too." He looks out into the audience for a few seconds, his eyes swerving over the crowd.
"Backwater?"
"Yeah, backwater. We're the, uh, not desirable people. Poverty and that stuff. We're not too popular with the tidewater people either." Bayou explains choppily. "I'm not very good at words."
"I can understand you just fine," Alistair says assuringly. "What do you mean by proving that the backwater people can win as well?"
"Well, all of the, the, tidewater trainees are better fed, better, better, built. They have the ad, advantage," Bayou answers. "Backwater trainees don' really volunteer, let, let alone win. I guess I want ta change that."
"A noble cause," Alistair agrees with a sagely nod. "When you do complete this mission, what awaits you in District 4?"
"The backwater folks are pretty, pretty, tightly knit," Bayou says with a shrug. "I know a lot of people are rootin' fer me back home…but ma parents, sister, grandma, and best friend most of all. Everythin' will get so much better fer 'em if I win." Bayou smiles at the audience, the grin surprisingly genuine for what the Careers have previously showed.
Bayou receives average cheers for a Career; he certainly doesn't have any girls swooning over him like Shad did. Silas wonders if that is, perhaps, a trait of backwater citizens, just as those from District 1 are likely more attractive than they should be.
District 5's Liesel Leenheer is wearing yellow. Her dress is form-fitting and sleeveless with a shimmering bodice and a skirt that is longer in the back than it is in the front. The only part of the outfit that isn't nice is Liesel's face—she looks tired. Like, really tired. Tired as in she hasn't sleep in days, which can never be a good thing.
"Trouble sleeping?" Alistair asks.
"You could say that," Liesel says tiredly. "I have a lot to think about."
"What is that you have to think about?"
"Home. My ex. My current. My other ex. Everything," Liesel explains, her shoulders drooping. "Now that I mention it, I realize that my life is very wrapped up in romance."
"It sure seems like it. Care to share the story?"
Liesel sighs. "I love with a girl. Everything was…beautiful. Perfect. But she went off and cheated with another girl. We broke up, I got with another girl…and then came Tam. Gosh, I never would have expected Tam."
"Tam, as in Tamarah Colt? Of District 10?"
"The very same," Liesel affirms, leaning back in her chair. "I know that falling in love in the Games is dangerous, but sometimes…well, sometimes you just can't help it, you know? What Tam and I have…it's something special, Alistair. It's unfortunate that it's a relationship that was only built through loss."
"It truly is," Alistair says with another one of his sagely little nods.
"I only hope that Tam and I can have a few short days to be happy together before the inevitable bloody end…" Liesel trails off dramatically, seeming to be staring longingly at someone standing at stage right. "Neither of us are perfect, but we work. We work like I've never worked with someone before."
Liesel's words elicit several aws from the audience. A starry-eyed district girl who falls in love with another tribute, a romance that can never be…well, it's been done. Yet it gets the Capitolites every single time.
Sterne Colvin comes onto the stage wearing a firetruck red suit, grinning from ear-to-ear. Silas is too far from the stage to tell, but something about it seems almost forced. It's no surprise, of course. How could he fault his tributes for trying to seem more confident than they are?
Sterne enthusiastically shakes Alistair's hand, seemingly missing the fact that Alistair wipes his own on his shirt once they let go.
"So, Alistair, I have something of an odd question for you," Sterne begins, leaning toward Alistair.
"Alright."
"Have you ever thought about how'd you like to die?" Sterne says in a tone that suggests it's a great joke.
Silas raises his eyebrows, his interest piqued.
Alistair gasps. "Well, no! Isn't that slightly morbid?"
Hypocrite, Silas thinks, biting his lip. You're talking to a teenager who may be dead in less than twenty-four hours. Read the room.
"I have," Sterne says proudly. "I always wanted to do something spectacular before I die—like drive off of a cliff in a car full of loaded fireworks or something. I want my death to be memorable, you know? And I'd go as far to say that dying in the Hunger Games is pretty dang memorable."
"I would agree with that," Alistair says, seeming eager to change the subject. "So, Sterne, what is waiting for you back home?"
"Not much, I guess," Sterne says with a shrug. "I've got a few friends that I'd like to get back to, though. We really tear up those streets, you know? Everybody knows us. I'd like to think that's a good thing, but I'm honestly not so sure."
"I suppose it depends on why you're known to so many people," Alistair says.
"Yeah," Sterne agrees, shrugging. "Well, I'm going back to them. I don't care what it takes. I'm…willing to do whatever I have to to get back them." Sterne's eyes flit to the ground for a split second, his smile faltering, as Alistair bids him farewell.
"Now, let's meet the lovely Jayce Dotter of District 6!"
Jayce drifts onto the stage wearing a midnight-blue halter dress. Her hair is braided down her back and she wears what appear to be yellow earrings. She's smiling, but it hardly seems genuine.
"So, Jayce…" Alistair says. "I've heard a rumor that says you know Ishtar Marmaduke, of District 12."
Jayce sighs and says, "Yes, I know her. We were a thing, long ago, before I moved to District 6. We were in love, madly so, but our bonds were split." Jayce pauses for a moment, seemingly considering something. "I must admit, it feels somehow different from when we were younger. I want to love Ishtar, and I do, but something about it feels wrong."
"I have a feeling you know something about the reason Ishtar volunteered, yes?"
Jayce looks out into the audience, her eyes searching endlessly for something. "Yes, I do." She looks up at the ceiling and continues. "When I left for District 6, I promised Ishtar that one day we would be together again. We agreed that when we turned eighteen, we'd volunteer for the Games, together. I was so lovesick I didn't understand what I was getting myself into."
"Very unfortunate," Alistair comments. "So I take it you weren't planning to volunteer, then?"
For a moment, Jayce says nothing. "I made a promise. I like to think I am a person of my word."
Alistair seems to want to press her further, but Larch Tyre is already standing off stage and he is forced to announce her for applause.
Speaking of Larch, he is dressed in navy-blue-and-silver suit. The sleeves are tight, likely designed to show off his perfectly-chiseled muscles to all of the adoring women in the Capitol. It would make much more sense if Larch struck Silas as someone to go for the sexy angle.
"So, Larch, do you have any family waiting for you at home?" Alistair begins, as per usual.
Larch lifts his head. "No. Everyone is dead where I come from."
"Oh, that's terrible," Alistair says. "What happened?"
"Let's just say…the streets of District 6 are not a pretty nice, and neither are the factories. I watched my own brother get his arm eaten by a haywire machine…and had to clean his blood of the cold stone floor. He was the last thing I had. The last piece of a broken puzzle." Larch drops his head, instead staring at the floor of the stage, eyes closed. "But, in the end, it's all survival of the fittest. Just like the Hunger Games."
"Speaking of the Games, what kind of chance do you think you have at victory?" asks Alistair.
Larch shrugs. "Pretty good, I'd say. I'm strong from years in the factories, and I understand what I have to do in order to survive. I'm willing, I'm prepared…and I'm going to win. There may not be anything left for me in District 6, but I'll make my own future if I come out as the Victor." He clenches his fists and levels his eyes with the audience, as if daring them to look away first.
"Larch Tyre, everyone!" Alistair calls. "Remember to join us for the second half of our tributes, after these important messages…"
A/N: …eh, hi.
So it's been about a million years since I last updated and, once again, I have no real excuse. I just haven't been able to make myself write for months now. That said, I'm not giving up on this story. Not now, not ever.
I'm back now, and I'm ready to wrap up the pre-games and get into the actually interesting part. Because trust me, dudes, I probably have too much planned for the Games.
1. Best interview?
2. Worst interview?
3. Are you as bored of Alistair McKinley as I am?
4. Thoughts on Ezra's appearance in this chapter?
Random Question: why does Lanai comment that Wonder's outfit looks familiar? (you might have to do some digging for this one, but the answer is in one of my past stories. It's kind of silly connection, but I kept it anyway because why not?)
If it takes me another several months to update the second half of the interviews, you have my full permission to lock me in prison or something.
-Amanda
