Dahlia Dutchmann, Internship #23: Age 16
Death has no awaking. None. No matter how much Dahlia wanted, wished, it to be untrue, a lie whispered from the lips of the Capital's soul, she knew it wasn't. A dark enchanting lie Dahlia often found herself wrapped and lost desperately in. For this wasn't the first time the girl found herself witnessing the utmost murder of the innocent and it most definitely wouldn't be the last.
Only a flickering hope, that's all that was left in Dahlia. A shining shimmering light radiating in the two pairs of eyes surrounding her. Dahlia can't help herself, slowly darting her eyes across the pure ivory book frame. Scanning her best friends' faces'. Avi's shine's bright crimson and Foster's, a stoic statue. Neither look utmostly happy about the impulsive decision the three of them had made. Dahlia's heart pounds deep in her chest, throat squeezing tight. Her bright blue eyes flicker to the bloody mess below her.
It's not possible, the accident unfolding beneath them. The trio hid, unseen in the dark shadows, haunting, as the man sits below them. A devilish grin capturing his gaunt feathers. His sullen, amber eyes creep over the scene, scanning for any peering eyes. Much as Dahlia, Avi and Foster are. A small hollow draft laughs, playfully tugging at Dixie's hair and sending a shiver down her spine.
Dahlia hesitantly tears her eyes away from the man below them to nod at the boy beside her. Foster had never been good in intense scenes, his eyes darting across the room. He balls his fingers in fists, his face trying to remain calm and emotionless. Dahlia has always been good at picking up on body signals and Foster practically solely communicated by them.
The figure below the trio holds the long curved blade confidently in the palm of his left hand. The dim light modeling his features. He looks quickly to his right, eyes pouring over the bookcase Dahlia, Avi and Foster shelter behind. The trio had survived much together but never such a close encounter. Even in the dim haunting light, Dahlia could make out the steady stream of dark liquid that dripped down the man's forearm.
Dahlia watches as the dark-suited man starts to hobble his way towards the oak-stained door. He carries himself upon a limp overtaking his right leg. The man's heavy footsteps whispering across the library's open chambers. They cut cleanly through the dense silence that poured between the trio.
The tall figure of a man opens the door with a creek and slips his thin wiry frame out. Dahlia waits a shattering, solid minute before letting out a heavy sigh of relief. That was too close for her, too close for all of them.
"What the heck?" Avi gasps, hand covering her cracked lips. "We've got a problem."
"I don't have a problem, I have two idiots who have a problem." Foster laughs, running his hand through his messy mop of dark hair.
"All I wanted was to get to camp, I didn't sign up for witnessing murder," Avi says, her dark eyes wide as boulders. They caught the dim light and shimmered in reflective bubbling chocolate puddles. Avi's eyes are always so pretty, drawing a shimmering picture of magnificence. Her tan skin laced with dark freckles. Dahlia can't help but wish desperately to be as pretty as her friend. Alas, she hates that she got stuck with this light strawberry blonde hair and blindingly pale skin.
"I'm not an idiot, you're an idiot." Dahlia laughs and Foster just rolls his eyes.
"Whatever you two, please, we have to figure out what to do." Avi sighs as Dahlia starts to advance toward the figure laying limp across the marbled floor. Foster tries to grab her wrist but she's too quick for him, coming to the edges of the crimson pool. A flood of guilt washes over the girl as she stares into the dark wound on the woman's chest.
Avi turns to Dahlia, eyes pouring over the body dripping on the floor. "Should we get your dad?"
"My dad?" Dahlia lightly scoffs. "You can't be serious."
"Well, what are we going to do?" Avi asks, eyes prying at Dahlia for answers about her father. Of course, Foster and Avi are her best friends but there are some things best kept under wraps. Dahlia's heart throbs thinking of the family she'd left back in fourteen. A pang of guilt shoots through her veins, guilty about leaving them to attend camp. Or what she thought would be camp but turned into witnessing a murderer.
Camp was the only thing that could tear Dahlia from her sisters and younger brother, but even that was filling her with raging, breathtaking doubts. District Fourteen doesn't have the best living conditions and for her to just leave them there, what kind of sister is she? Obviously a terrible one. No matter how bad she is, the camp needed her. This was her first year she could actually participate as a mentor figure to the younger students.
Foster, Avi and Dahlia had pretty much grown up together at this camp. So of course, it's fitting they each returned to the mentor program. She knows she has to pay tribute for all the camp has done for her. Even if it's leaving her siblings behind. They could take care of themselves, plenty of work for them in Thoe's fields. That'd give them the money they needed to keep the room.
District Fourteen citizens weren't given large houses after what happened to Nine. Instead, one to two-room apartments. Dahlia can't even remember what the district looked like before it was savagely burned to the ground by both Capital teams and rebel fleets. The Capital believes it dismantled the filthy rebels but she knows there can only be peace for so long. It's been a total of ten long and horrid years since the wheat district had been destroyed and in that time District Fourteen has risen up from its ashes. For this winter will be the first year Fourteen actually is able to send tributes into the Ga-
"Dahlia?" Avi asks, her voice shattering Dahlia's thoughts and pulling her back to reality.
"Daydreaming again, weren't you?" Avi asks.
"No." Dahlia laughs, "of course not."
"Oh really?" Foster replies, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Whatever, we need to figure out what to do with this body, and now," Avi says, trying to play the part of the responsible friend she is most of the time.
Anella 'Anne' Finch, Victor of the 300th Annual Hunger Games: Age 29
Anella can remember only a few things after the utterly painful crash. She remembers scrambling to the safety of an escape pod- the eerily blue water of the alien-like world beneath her feet. The broken shaft of the escape pod slowly dripping the liquid onto the marble floor. The ground becoming covered much quicker than she wants have liked, she hoped she would at least have some time.
Nothing else brings back memories, why she's here or why she's the only one here?
Alone. Completely alone.
Such an odd concept to the girl, complete and utter silence from the dim darkness of the escape pod. So dim compared to the unusually icy blue waters that trap her oh so far down underwater. Part of Anella wondered if she would ever see sunlight smile down upon her again. But oxygen would run out. The fall the escape pod had been through was catastrophic. The glass viewing window is cracked and from the sickening way the door was bent inward, Anne knows there is no way out. A feeling in the pit of her stomach stirred. How did this happen? Everything had been fine. Albeit- a bit lonely but it was fine nonetheless.
Suddenly the flash of the light interrupted her thoughts. Blinding Anella with sputtering of sparks raining down upon her tan features. A sickening sound comes to her senses, not unlike a wine glass being dropped. The lights on the roof of the pod shatter and shower down shards of glass. Pain swells and blossoms like a flower through her body.
A cry escapes her lips as a harsh crackling sputters through the radio of the pod. If anything besides her survived the crash thank god it was the radio.
"Hello? This is an escape pod #23, Sunna Saccrain, crew member aboard the Mission Aurora ship. Is anyone out there?"
The voice was static but clear enough to be made out decently. Anne's movements were swift as she rushed to the radio in an attempt to reply. Nothing but a gentle hiss greeted her. Anne runs a hand through her dark curls framing her face, trying to come up with any kind of pl-
That's when she sees it. The giant monster outside the escape pod. A large snake-like body that looks more like a dragon than anything else. A gentle hiss rattling off its thick scaly body. Anella didn't have the slightest clue what it is, but she could assume well enough what it wants. Its midnight black exterior shimmers in the dim light and Anne can't help but shiver.
She knows death is imminent in her situation but in such an age of immortality. After she's survived so much. She can do it, figure out a way to escape from the inky pool now up to her knees. The woman wishes a whisper of hope that she could survive, just with a little bravery. Bravery is something Anne holds close, perseverance coursing through her veins. Death is something she thought she had overcome many years ago.
By definition, it was a noun that means, The act of dying- the end of life; the total and permanent cessation of all vital functions. Of course, she knows what that meant, anyone with a mind knew that. But what is truly the act of dying-
Suddenly Something slammed against the pod and drew a scream from Anella's lips. The creature large enough to swallow the escape pod whole. Powerful jaws that would crack it open like a walnut, and at that moment all of Anne's lively-hooded bravery vanished. Sh-
Anella jerks awake, body twisting in an attempt to shake the bad dream from her mind. A dream. Of course, it had all been a dream. Even with her victory eleven years ago, Anne still has dreams concerning her best friend of a tribute. However more recently, her brain has been gathering the ability to create more and more whimsical dreams of escaping. Sunna had tried to escape the arena during Anne's games so, in turn, Anne craves any sort of escape.
How much she wishes for the girl back, wishes for her best friend back-
"Anne?" A soft voice echoes and Anne covers her mouth with the sweaty palm of her right hand to stop the harsh sounds of her rapid breathing. "Anne, I heard that," Felix says, stopping outside the woman's door.
"I'm fine," Anne shouts to her brother and Felix just lets out a small wry sigh. "Sunna?" he asks and Anella can't stop herself from nodding into the inky darkness of the traincar's bedroom. The mentors are reluctantly being brought back to their districts in preparation for the upcoming Three-hundred Eleventh Hunger Games. Anella, Maya, Asa, Soliei and Willoih are the only living victors and with Asa mentoring last year, these games were Anne's problem.
Anne's glad she only has to mentor once every five years, more often than that and she swears she would absolutely lose her head. Anne looks over at the oak paneling surrounding the golden embroidered door, keeping her little brother from entering into the darkness.
"I'm here if you wanna talk but I'll give you some space." Her brother says and Anne wipes away the steaming group of tears collecting on her eyelashes.
A/N: Annnnnnd we're back with technically the first chapter of Mission Zero! Staboom. I'm super freaking excited to bring to light all the plans I have for this story. Yes, it's in the same verse as Ashes (hense Anne's PoV) just eleven years later. There's the tribute form and blog link on my profile, hopefully you'll take your time to submit but even if you don't, I'm glad you're reading this right now :)). That's really all I think I got, as always-have a good day/night/afternoon.
Bye for now,
Marie