Author's Note
I do not own the Hunger Games.
Districts Eleven and Twelve were left, and they were boring compared to everything that had come before. The girl from Eleven had been dressed in a pale blue gown that glittered like the sky, her hair clipped back away from her face.
"Heaven, you look wonderful!"
"Thank you! Isn't my dress beautiful?" She twisted from side to side, the skirt swishing around her legs.
"It certainly is! What do you think ladies and gentlemen?"
There was a little polite applause.
"How have you found your stay here in the Capitol?"
"Oh, it's amazing! It's so beautiful here! And if I want anything, I can just ring a bell and have it delivered!"
"It sounds like you've enjoyed yourself!"
"Oh, I absolutely have!"
"A little birdie told me that you're also pretty good with a scythe."
"Oh, yes. I need to use one for my job back home. Bunny does too, so that's how we ended up allying!" She grinned up at the balcony. "Bunny's pretty cool."
'Bunny,' at the moment, was frowning at Azrayk and leaning sideways towards the boy from Eight in some attempt to clear space for herself.
"And who is there for you, back home?"
"My parents, my little brothers. And Robyn and Louisa. They're my friends."
"I'm sure they'll all be cheering for you tomorrow."
"I know they will." Heaven shifted, adjusting her skirt and sucking in a deep breath.
"I'm scared, I really am, but I have hope I can get back to them. If I give up that hope, I'm as good as dead."
Her buzzer rang. Two Peacekeepers stomped to the edge of the stage to show Heaven off.
"Heaven Jonas everyone!"
There was some applause, but it was scattered and spluttered.
The boy from Eleven was forgettable, tall, lanky, and uncomfortable under the cameras.
Finally it was District Twelve's turn.
The girl was wearing red – it had been a theme for Twelve for a few years now – and it didn't really suit her, reflecting off her olive skin in an odd light.
The remaining mottled bruising from her black eye had evidently been disguised with makeup, and red glitter sparked around her grey eyes.
She stomped out scowling, her shoulders stiff and her hands balled into fists, one clutching a handful of fabric from her dress.
"Tamika, you look adorable in that dress."
Adorable was the wrong word for it really, but Luciente supposed she had to play for the cameras. Always play for the cameras.
"Thank you," the girl managed. She was forcing herself not to cry, Luciente understood, holding her chin high and trying to put on a brave face.
"Come, come, sit down! Are you enjoying your time here in the Capitol?"
Tamika screwed up her face. "I'm waiting here until I can die; why would I be enjoying it?"
"Well, why don't you tell us what your favourite thing here is?"
"Learning to kill people is pretty useful I guess."
Luciente smiled. Oh, it was so a shame Hyperion didn't like her.
"So you've had fun in training?"
Tamika jutted her chin out. "I wouldn't call it fun. I just want to go home."
"And who is there for you back home?"
Tamika shrugged. "My friend Fainne. I'm not close with my parents."
There were a few noises of sympathy from the audience.
"I'm sure they'll be cheering for you anyway, right folks?"
A few claps and shouts came, but most people seemed to just be getting bored.
"I'm not counting on it."
Neither were they, Luciente thought. Little Ariel would be watching, but she saw the truth with those eyes that were so much like her own.
No.
They were all that they had.
They were the same.
Shearra spoke to the girl from Twelve a little longer, but she only began to shake, her eyes welling up with tears and her shoulders shaking. The Peacekeepers escorted her off stage as her District partner was called up.
She shuddered. She'd felt it before, but for a glimmer of a moment she felt it more than ever now.
He was cold.
Not echoes and whispers and could bes and might bes like the boy from Two, but cold, like all the heat and life and love had been sucked from him.
He wore a black suit and red shirt – matching themes, of course - and a foul smile that didn't reach his eyes. Luciente could see him tearing away the front of the shirt to the skin underneath. She peered around Hyperion to the girl from Twelve, clicking her tongue in an attempt to get her attention. The girl from Eleven gave her a frown. She pointed at Twelve. Eleven shook her head and gave her a puzzled look.
She pointed at Twelve again. Eleven huffed and reached over her District partner to tug at the other girl's shoulder. "Twelve. Ten wants you."
The girl leant forwards with a scowl to look over at her. "What?"
Luciente pointed at the boy on stage and made a questioning face. "That boy is bad vibes."
Twelve glanced at him, shuddered, and shook her head. "I know."
"You know anything about him?"
The girl opened her mouth, but one of the Peacekeepers prodded her with his gun, another jabbing his at Luciente. Twelve sat back in her chair, folding her arms tight across her chest.
Finally, after the boy from Twelve was brought up to join them and one last camera pan was cast over them, the interviews were over and a curtain fell in front of them. Their escorts and mentors, along with a large number of Peacekeepers, arrived to guide them away.
Luciente pulled off her shoes as they walked, carefully edging over to get closer to the girl from Twelve. "You know anything about him?"
The girl shot her District partner a look. "Why d'you care?"
"Investigate your enemy."
The girl shrugged again. "There are rumours. Not that anyone's ever cared. No one does."
"Rumours that say what?"
She glanced up at her, and then back at Hyperion, and then over at her District partner. "He likes pretty girls," she whispered, lowering her voice. "Least I'm safe. But they say he… well, there's been…"
"This way Lilah, this way!" squeaked St Clarance. She took another look at the boy from Twelve, the coldness winding its slow way around him. She shuddered, feeling her lip twitch instinctively.
The Peacekeepers marched them back to their apartment.
"You bit Searra!" Meadow shrieked as soon as the door was safely locked. Luciente shrugged. Her mouth still tasted faintly of blood.
"What were you thinking?"
"I mean, it did make an impression," Holden muttered.
Meadow gave him a death glare.
"Of all the stupid, crazy, idiotic-"
"She can't un-bite her," Hyperion grunted.
Meadow stared at him.
"Did you have anything useful to say or were you just going to scream? Because we've got a long day tomorrow and would like to go to bed."
It might be the last time either of them ever had a soft bed.
He was going to enjoy it.
Meadow sighed heavily. "It was a damn stupid thing to do, and I just can't understand for the life of me why you would want to."
"She did give her her hand."
"For a handshake! Not to bite!"
"I just hope it doesn't count against you tomorrow."
Holden smiled. "They'd be fools to make it do. These two are crowd favourites; everyone wants to see you perform."
Hyperion growled. "We're not performing puppies."
"No. Most puppies grow out of the biting stage."
They retreated to his room and stripped off the pretty clothes, piling them up in the clothes basket. She showered first, washing out her hair and scrubbing the makeup and blood from her face while he waited outside. He spent a long while stood under the hot water, simply enjoying the luxury. It might be their last time, whatever happened. He was going to make it last.
Once she was fresh and clean, she padded over to the door. He followed.
They slipped from their apartment and took two steps towards the elevator before finding themselves confronted with a pair of Peacekeepers.
"Return to your apartment."
"We're going to visit the rooftop."
"I want to see the girl from Twelve," Luciente said rather unhelpfully.
"You are to remain in your apartment until tomorrow morning. If you refuse to comply we will be forced to act."
Go here, do this.
"We wanted to see the sunset."
"I want to see the girl from Twelve."
"You're not helping."
"Return to your apartment."
"Please?" Luciente asked.
The Peacekeeper clicked the safety off on his gun.
Hyperion took her arm and tugged her away towards the apartment. She growled softly but still allowed him to lead her back through the door. They retreated to his room and stripped off the pretty clothes, piling them up in the clothes basket. She showered first, washing out her hair and scrubbing the makeup and blood from her face while he waited outside. He spent a long while stood under the hot water, simply enjoying the luxury. It might be their last time, whatever happened. He was going to make it last.
