.

◈
לחוקק
le⬩cho⬩kek
to legislate
◈

Cerise sighed, resting her head on her desk for a moment. It had been a full month since her first address, and even with the chaos of the now-concluded Nox trial, she had foolishly hoped that she'd have the hang of things by now. But more and more policies and questions and procedural documents kept piling up on her plate to the point that Cerise didn't know how to handle them. She'd never realized just how many things her mother juggled at once; it was as if for every one policy Ruby made, there were four more going on behind the scenes and another six lodged deep in Ruby's brain that just never made it out to the public. And now, Cerise was expected to pick up right from where Ruby left off, because apparently the president normally trained their successor for months or even years before they stepped down.

Cerise couldn't tell who she hated more: her mother, for not preparing Cerise at all for the job in the off chance she had to take it, or herself, for shoving herself into a role that she was clearly unprepared for.

A knock on the door shook Cerise out of her thoughts. "Who is it?" she called.

"Secretary Walters," came the response.

"Come in."

The door opened, revealing Secretary to the President Auden Walters, her red hair slicked back into a bun as put-together as her outfit. It wasn't until she became president that Cerise understood why Secretary to the President was a position one held for life, or why there had been such a long overlap between Auden and her predecessor, Secretary Toritius. Eternally professional, Auden was nothing short of Cerise's saving grace, a veritable repository of information, advice, and institutional memory. From public policy to classified information, there was nothing that Auden didn't know – or that she couldn't quickly find in the briefcase that she always carried around. In short, Cerise would be completely and totally fucked if it weren't for Auden's presence.

Yet another thing her mother seemed to know better than Cerise did.

"Good morning, Madam President," Auden began, opening up her briefcase as she sat down.

"Good morning, Auden. Remind me what we're talking about today?"

"We're reviewing a series of changes your mother made to the Games, as those are coming up."

"Right." There was Ruby, as she always was. As much as she tried not to, Cerise could not shake her resentment towards the fact that she was stuck in her mother's shadow. Cerise was president now; she should be able to forge her own path, to start building her own legacy. So why was it that she felt so guilty about undoing her mother's?

Perhaps it was the fact that this was all Cerise's fault in the first place.

"Do you have the list I asked you to make?" Cerise asked.

"Yes, ma'am. Before we start, however, I wanted to let you know that I spoke to the mayor of District Eight, and the name of their industry has officially been changed to Factories."

A semantic change, sure, and one still within her mother's framework. But Cerise felt oddly satisfied with how easy it was to put her own stamp on her mother's decisions. "Excellent. Raw Materials was such a stupid name anyway."

Auden slid a manila folder over to Cerise, then took out a clipboard and a pen. "I believe it makes the most sense for us to start from the biggest and most notable changes and work our way towards smaller things. So, the Statute System."

"The Statute System," Cerise echoed, pulling a piece of paper out of the folder. Perhaps the most popular decision her mother made, the Statute System established that only those children whose parents committed crimes, or who had committed crimes themselves, would be eligible for the Reaping. Statutes were assigned for a number of Reapings based on the severity of the infraction and expired either once the last Reaping passed or once a child on the Statute was Reaped. "I take it I would be very unpopular if I entirely repealed it."

"That would be my guess, yes."

"But after the rebel attacks, I cannot justify keeping it in place entirely. Especially after ending the Events."

"Understandable."

"I've been thinking about this one, actually, and I think I have an idea. What if instead of the Statute kids being the only ones eligible for the Reaping, they just have more slips? So anyone could be Reaped, but the odds of it being a Statute kid are higher."

"How would that be structured exactly?"

"I haven't quite figured out all the details yet, but I have some ideas." Cerise slid another piece of paper across the table. "This was the math I worked out."

"Mmm. As long as you can explain it – or if you have the ability to explain it if someone asks – I think that will work."

"Perfect. I also have some ideas for how to use the Statue System to pad Thirteen's Reaping pool. It's small enough as it is and I would like to try our best to avoid sticking a private with potential or a kid in the Junior Special Operations division into the Arena without a way to get them out." Cerise's brow furrowed for a moment as a thought developed in her mind. She took a note quickly, then gestured to Auden to continue.

"Next on the list… two Victors, regardless of district."

"No. But… I've been thinking anyway about how to breathe new life into the Games. I feel like they need a new spin of some kind, especially if I'm going to put the fully innocent kids back into the Reaping pool. So here's what I'm thinking. Two Victors, provided from the same district. If they both win, then their district receives double the packages, and their non-Statute kids are removed from the pool for the next year."

"I like the idea. Encourages District partners to work together. And gives a little bit more hope."

"Exactly. Next?"

"Games Fairness Council. Making sure the Games weren't rigged in any way, helped make the slips, and handled various and sundry Games-related logistics."

"Were they helpful for my mother?"

"She found them useful, yes. From what little I knew of her, though, I got the sense that she wouldn't rig a Reaping."

Cerise nodded gravely. "If the Statute System idea that I just showed you works out, there will be easier ways to rig a Reaping."

"Understood. Next on the list… the Career Academies in every district."

"I assume this doesn't include the ones in One, Two, and Four?"

"Sort of. There are technically Capitol Academies in all of those districts, but they're basically unpopulated. Most citizens who do train attend their main Academy system, which we consider to be privately owned and operated even though Two's at least has some involvement from the district-level government. When your mother established Academies across Panem, there was a request for us to funnel our funding into their main Academies, but she refused. Given the current circumstances, I think it was a smart call."

"Alright. Hmm." Cerise knew very little about the Academies that her mother established ten or so years prior: not their attendance, not their curriculums, and certainly not their instructors. She understood the logic of maintaining the Academies – if someone wanted to volunteer and had the training to fight, it would spare an innocent life – but Cerise couldn't justify keeping them open if she didn't know exactly what was happening between their walls. "Let's lock all of the Capitol Academies down for now – call it a byproduct of the unconventional transition of power. I want to do an audit on all of them and see what the situation is before we really think about reopening. Private ones in One, Two, and Four can stay open… and let's make sure that any Academies in the Capitol are considered private."

"Mhm. How about the option of a single, non-gendered Reaping bowl?"

"What do you mean by the option?"

"Districts were given two choices for how to organize their Reapings. One was putting all of their eligible children into one large Reaping bowl, therefore being required to Reap two children regardless of the year. If a district chose to split their Reaping bowls by gender, however, they were only required to Reap from a slot if they had eligible kids. Meaning: if District Twelve, for example, had no eligible males, they weren't required to send in a male tribute."

"Did that ever happen?"

"Yes, a couple of times."

"And were districts locked into one choice?"

"They could change year to year."

"Interesting. Well, there will always be a kid in every slot now, so it's not like splitting them will save a kid. I think let's just put all the names in one bowl. Could make things more interesting."

"The audiences do love a good same-sex couple," Auden added.

"I don't get why they go so feral over them, but to each their own. What else?"

"Not much. There's the randomized order of chariots and interviews thing."

"I agree that we shouldn't go in district order, but we can definitely make the interviews less random if we wanted to."

"Understood." Auden scanned her list once more. "I think that's everything. Did you have any questions for me?"

"Yes, actually. I want to make some personnel changes: new announcer, new interviewer, new Head Gamemakers. I appreciate Sami's contribution to the Games, but I want someone I trust more as Head Gamemaker, and I think the announcer and interviewer jobs could use some fresh blood. So how do I… do that?"

A smirk flashed across Auden's face, soon replaced by a concerned expression. "You just do it," she explained. "You're the President. But I would advise against it."

"Why?"

"Because bringing in a new Head Gamemaker means you have to teach someone else about the rescued tributes. Probably not something you want to do in your first year as President."

"Wait wait wait. Back up. The what?"

"Ah," Auden said. "I had assumed your mother told you about this, but evidently not."

"Nope."

"Aha. So. Your mother, every year since the 120th Games, has been choosing two children to save from the Arena, usually those from less rebellious districts or on lesser Statutes, and generally not Careers. These children are trained and then sent out into the districts as agents of the government, to spread what I can best describe as propaganda and just generally keep an eye on things. A number of them also served as escorts for the Events."

"We have one in every district?"

"We do. At least one."

"Who knew about this?"

"A few people. Your mother, obviously. Your brother and his wife. Amethyst. Sami Rolo – it was her job within the Gamemaker team to facilitate such extractions and oversee the former tributes once they were out. And Liana Klepper, who has taken over the overseeing part now that Sami has the responsibility of Head Gamemaker."

"Liana? Why her?"

"It was a mix of factors that we can review another time once I brief you more formally on these former tributes. Quite honestly," Auden continued, momentarily breaking her professional façade, "I was somewhat surprised that your mother didn't pick you. This all happened before I'd fully assumed my position and all of the knowledge that came with it, so I guess I just assumed you were on the list of people who knew and that you just had some other job to do instead."

Cerise was almost too unsurprised. Why would her mother bother telling the daughter she cast aside about anything important when her golden son was right there? For all she knew, the Games had been a farce for as long as Cerise could remember. Had Ruby been lying to families in the districts that their children were dead? Why would she think that was even close to a good idea? Was having those extra eyes and ears worth the effort – and worth the risk? What if the families found out?

And what if the families of those who weren't chosen found out?

Cerise remembered the way she felt when she first realized the extent to which her mother favored her brother over her. It was a particular kind of rage, fueled by betrayal and sadness and longing for a parent who actually gave a fuck about her. Those same feelings bubbled up now, geared towards not just her mother but towards the one person whom Cerise had any power over: Sami Rolo. She was president. She had power. Sami could easily feel her wrath, the wrath of forty-two years that had built and built and just needed a way out.

But for once, Cerise did not act immediately. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then another, then another, allowing the anger to pass. Acting rashly and out of anger had already gotten her into a mess she didn't know how to clean up. Now was not the time to create another.

"I think I'd still like to swap Sami out," she said carefully. "I need something stable right now, and that thing is Violet. Please thank her for her service and ask if she'd be willing to remain in contact regarding the rescued tributes and inform her that, should another task suited for someone of her prestige come up, I may request her assistance in the future."

"Absolutely. I suppose in this case we should also discuss what you plan to do with those tributes, and with the program as a whole."

For a moment, Cerise's mind flailed, until it returned to the thought she had earlier in the meeting. She looked down at her notes, smiled, then looked back at Auden. "Well, the secretive rescuing of tributes is certainly not happening anymore," Cerise insisted. "Quite honestly, it was uncharacteristically risky for my mother. But it does spark an idea in my mind, actually. Something that I think could be very interesting."

But before Cerise could elaborate, there was another knock at the door.

.

.

Have you ever, in the split second before making a decision, felt an all-encompassing sense that your life is about to change?

You feel a small hitch in your breath, as if time stops for that fraction of a second. And somehow, the world that exists after that fraction of a second is fundamentally different from the one that existed before it.

This is not that moment for Cerise Emerald, not quite, not yet. Whether she opens the door or chooses to leave it closed, the future will come to attack her in full force. But when she chooses to open the door for Elizah Klepper Emerald, her hands full of gadgets that neither know how to use, she gains weeks, if not months, on the inevitable.

All Cerise Emerald wants is to establish her own legacy. Little does she know that the legacy of her entire country will soon rest in her hands.

.

『C』『L』『I』『C』『K』

"Oh."

On the other side of the door stands Elizah, the very picture of grief; clearly, the last weeks have taken a heavy toll on her. She wears an elegant black dress, as she has every time Cerise has seen her since her husband's death, though Cerise notices that it's now beginning to stretch around her stomach. Her hair is pulled back into a messy bun, baby hairs flying everywhere; her eyes are somber, accented by deep circles and rims of red. And yet she stands surprisingly tall, as if strengthened by some sort of sense of duty – to her country, to her husband, or maybe to herself.

(Cerise still has not told Elizah that Garnet is dead because of her actions. She doesn't know if she has the heart to. Or, perhaps, she's too scared to see how Elizah reacts.)

"Hi, Cerise. I… I think these might be of more use to you now than they are to me."

"What are they?"

"Pagers and beepers? That's as far as I've gathered. He never told me what most of them were for. One or another would go off every now and again and Garnet would grab it from the hutch of his desk and run."

Cerise nods, stepping back to allow Elizah into the room. "Thank you for bringing these back, Elizah. I know… I know it must be hard for you to be here."

"It felt right," Elizah replies softly, letting her cargo fall out onto the table. The room falls silent as she begins to organize them, almost automatically.

"Are you planning to stay here? Garnet's apartment is yours for as long as you'd like it."

"I appreciate it. But seeing as Izzy is no safer here than she is back in Seven, I think I'd rather be closer to my family. I think nature will be good for her."

"In that case, I'll make sure you have an escort back."

"Thank you."

Cerise pauses, as if she wants to say something else, as if there are any words of comfort even left to be said. But a low beeping noise interrupts her thoughts. She glances at the pile of communication devices, retrieving one with a flashing yellow light. Cerise watches in confusion as the light's color shifts from yellow to orange before shutting off once more. The beeping cuts off a moment later.

She looks up from the device to the other women. Elizah's face is the picture of confusion, her brow furrowed as if putting pieces of a puzzle together in her mind. Auden holds an identical device, an alarmed expression splashing across her features. "What does this mean?" whispers Cerise, a pit growing in her stomach.

Auden meets Cerise's gaze and takes a deep breath. And then, she says the single sentence that will change Cerise's life forever.

"I take it that your mother never told you about Kazanato."

Well, that's a way to start a verse.

Hello, everyone, and welcome to my, like, sixth SYOT! How wild is that? I can't believe ive been going at this for over a decade now, and that both I and the community are still going so strong! Pretty neat if you ask me. (And yes, LHFNP is still going. I promise I'm getting there.)

As I mentioned last chapter, though that was quite a while ago, this is the first installment in a series of three or four fics I'm terming the Blood Diamond Verse. As you might have guessed by the tense and tone change, I'm going to be trying to take this in a different direction from my other stories, but I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless! We're in for a wild ride.

Anyway, subs are now open for this fic! The form and rules are here: bit . ly / ngdgu136. The WB from LHFNP subs is still up on my profile; I know I need to make some more tweaks to it to fit this verse but I'm at camp and busy so be patient pls it will happen. All the other stuff you need to know is in this chapter – hence why I think the first bit is rather infodumpy – but if you have any questions about things, please ask! There are a few things that I'm going to be treating this story as like a soft reset for, so if it doesn't completely line up, don't worry about it! we can work it out for sure.

Like LHFNP, I'm doing an absurdly long sub period to account for camp and also the fall Jewish holidays. As of now, the deadline is October 22, but I may push that back by a couple of days. Keep an eye on Discord for that information; I also reserve the right to close slots or districts early as I see fit, and may choose to do like a couple of sub waves depending on how things go. Also, if you're not on Verses, PM me for a link! The most up to date sub information will be there, as for the next two months I won't have the energy to check multiple places.

Thank you all so much for sticking with me, some of you for many, many years now! I can't wait to see what y'all come up with!

xoxo, xxxi