II. A Toast to The Stars

If what has hitherto been said of her
Were all concluded in a single praise,
Scant would it be to serve the present turn.

Crista Cray. 43.
Victor of The 27th Hunger Games.

Every morning, Crista Cray wakes up to take a swim. She likes swimming, has since she was a child and the waters of District Four were all she knew, the only thing she had that somewhat resembled a home. And luckily, her home in One, the manor she shares with her lovely wife Sapphira Starlett happens to have the most lovely pool in their yard, fancy marble tiling that the two of them picked together all those years ago when Crista finally moved in with her, saying she'd only do so if her lover agreed to have a pool built for her to swim in every morning.

That was a good day for the two of them, looking at swatch after swatch of tiles imported from Two until they found the perfect array for their pool, a white surface with black and grey swirls and flakes in no particular pattern, each square different from another. And yes, that day was rather simple, but it was still the sorta Crista's cherished since it happened, no drama or anything of that regard, just the two of them doing life together.

So those are the memories that Crista holds on to when Sapphira gets bad, because heavens knows that's been quite a bit lately, the 51st Games just under a month ago definitely not being her shining moment, though Crista would never a single soul why. Her mouth was agape when Sapphira'd told her what she'd done, killed the lead in the musical they wrote about her Games, mainly out of jealousy and spite because Opal Opulence was apparently one of the worst people Sapphira'd ever met. Crista would never do the same herself, but if there was one thing she'd do, and does do in fact, it's loving Sapphira Starlett unconditionally. Loving the girl who could never quite love herself and making her feel valued if it was the last thing Crista ever did.

She notices that Sapphira's not in their room when she wakes, but Crista doesn't think much of it, instead thinks, Oh she's probably making an early breakfast as she does sometimes, probably reading a book in the living room to Cressida, or watching a movie— nothing to be concerned about, no ma'am. But she puts on her fanciest swimsuit anyways because, Maybe Sapphira'd appreciate that, think I'm pretty or something, as she always says when she sees her first thing in the morning, and she's been so upset lately, which is understandable, but maybe if Crista dresses nicer than usual, it'll cheer her up a bit, which is why she puts on a somewhat revealing swimsuit with stars on it, knowing those are her wife's favorite.

But Crista doesn't see Sapphira when she prances down the stares. Instead she see's Cressida, her daughter still in her pajamas, however that typically giddy expression on her face's been replaced with one of somber, eyes bloodshot like she's been crying. She doesn't even speak to Crista, instead just wrapping her arms against her body and holding her tight. Crista runs her fingers through her daughter's blonde hair and whispers, "It's alright," even though she has no clue what's happened to her.

"It isn't," Cressida mutters, her voice nasally because she must've been crying for a while, "Just… come outside with me."

"Did you talk to your other mom—" Before Crista can continue, Cressida pulls her hand and walks her downstairs, past the furniture and into the yard.

Crista wonders, What's happening? And there's a part of her that know's what's happening, that part just is pretending everything's fine and her lover's going to be outside waiting for her.

"She's—" Cressida doesn't need to say more for Crista to understand what's happened.

She steps closer to the pool and sees her worst nightmare being realized right before her eyes; Sapphira Starlett in a long blue dress, face down in the water and a shattered bottle of vodka on the ground next to her.

In a frenzy, Crista screams, "Wake up," jumping into the pool without hesitation and shaking her wife in hopes she'll wake up, praying she wakes up, even though she looks under the surface and her eyes are glazed over and her lips are crusted and she thinks, How long has she been in there? She panics, Why didn't I save her? Why didn't I know she was outside in the water? Why wasn't I here to prevent her from falling in?

What happened to the girl with stars in her eyes who I was so unbelievably lucky to call my wife?

"Sapphira," She repeats her lover's name, and then shakes her again, turning her upside down to see her skin pale and dry, again, "Sapphira," and her hair's thinning, skin's peeling so she tries to drag her ashore, tries to see if she can fix this, because Crista must be able to help Sapphira get better. She must be her hero, her savior, because that's what she said at her wedding. That she'd love Sapphira Starlett in sickness and in health, love her 'till her breathing stopped which… it can't be now!

Maybe she's out of her mind but she locks her fingers together and pumps against Sapphira's chest, 123-123-123, nothing works she tries again, 123-123-123… but nothing's happening, just her star girl lying there so… no no no! She can't be lifeless, no fuck… Sapphira Starlett's alive and she will be for a long time, she will be until… I don't know, she's like eighty or something— not now… lord Sapphira Starlett can't die now. Hell, Sapphira Starlett can't die ever.

"Mom," Cressida kneels down besides her, the tears in her eyes more intense than previously, "I think she's gone."

And even though Crista already knows that, she lets out an ear-piercing scream because her second love's been taken by the very waters she loves so much.

The mortician said that Sapphira was dead in the pool for nine hours before Crista found her. Nine hours where… I could've saved her… Didn't save her… Didn't realize she was gone and now that she is, it's my fucking fault… shit. And a week later, Cressida hardly understands "why mommy's still crying," even if she's able to realize Sapphira's dead now and being as she's hardly left her room, Crista might as well be too, a part of her wishes she was.

Sapphira's official cause of death was… undecided, a mix of drowning and alcohol poisoning and who the fuck knows, to be honest. Even in death, she's an enigma, an unsolved mystery that nobody will ever uncover until some shitty filmmaker tries to make a documentary about it years down the line and she becomes the sort of star she never wished to be. Fitting though, that she went out as she lived, always full of secrets, even if the tabloid headlines reading "What Killed Sapphira Starlett?" have grown unbearable.

At least she's in the headlines again, Crista's mind wanders as she flips through newspapers under an umbrella tent in District One's cemetery where they bury the many dead Tributes, waiting for the guests to arrive, waiting for the fucking paparazzi who suddenly "couldn't resist" her again to arrive, But I suppose it's what she wanted.

She's never been the type to wear black, always dressing in colors as warm as Sapphira always said her heart is, yet now it seems fitting that Crista Cray's dressed in black pants and a matching blazer, a netted veil draped over her face because lord forbid anybody sees her, especially like this, clouds covering the sun so not even that star's in attendance.

Cressida's still too young, so she doesn't really understand the event, asking several times, "When's mommy going to get here?" because she's too young to understand death isn't temporary, too naive to realize that when all those Tributes are slaughtered in the arena, they don't get to go home, no instead they have to be buried in the same earth Sapphira's soon to be bound to.

It's almost humanizing that she's going to be underneath surrounded by the many slain Tributes she mentored, because it proves that just like them, she was human.

She's lucky that she's not the first person to eulogize Sapphira, that job instead going to Cressida, who stands atop a wooden age so people can see her, and with tears in her eyes, she begins to talk, "My mom… Sa-fee-rah Starlett was my most favorite person in the world."

That's all it takes for Crista to shatter, the piles of tissue in her hand not enough to stop her tears as they continue to flow and she continues to weep alone in her chair with nobody able to put their arm around her and tell her that everything's going to be alright, because she's dead now… and if I wasn't asleep I could've saved her.

Cressida continues, "She was my hero, and I really liked it when she'd show me her old movies, because then I'd point to the screen and tell her that I see her and she'd just smile at me and I'd be happy. But now… I just don't think I can watch any more movies."

It's true, Crista's tried to show her daughter some old classics to cheer her up yet it didn't work, because she was clearly still hurting and she didn't know how to help her when she felt just as broken herself.

"And I miss her so much, because she would tuck me in before I slept and she would read me stories, and sometimes I would sing, and then she would come and play the piano to my music. She made me feel very supported, because she was a very good mother, and I love her very much, since she's so caring to me and… I," Cressida reaches for a box of tissues and blots her eyes, "I just… reeeeaalllly miss her, and," More with the tissues, "I don't want to accept that she's gone, so mom if you're out there, just know, Mommy and I would appreciate it if you came back to us."

She runs off the platform and into Crista's arms, the two of them standing and sobbing for a minute before Cressida lets go and asks, "Do you think she would have liked me saying that?"

Through tears, Crista answers, "She would have loved it. She would have been so proud of you, because I am too," and then she realizes that everybody in the audience is looking at her, which means… I can't do this. How ridiculous is it that my seven year old daughter could give a speech in front of everybody yet I can't? Why did Sapphira like me anyways when I'm this fucking useless?

Crista exhales and approaches the same podium Cressida spoke from, coughing twice before beginning her speech, "Hello, my name is Crista Cray, soon to be legally Crista Starlett, and Sapphira was the love of my life."

The audience's expressions are blank, none of them matching Crista and Cressida's tearfulness and instead just flashing light after light at them, like they're actors on a set and none of it's real, And I wish they were right…

"Before I met Sapphira Starlett, I was in the worst place I'd ever been in my entire life," Crista speaks slowly, letting each word, each syllable that leaves her mouth have ample impact, "As most of you know, I won the 27th Hunger Games and met Sapphira when she was filming a documentary back in my home of District Four about the cult that I'd escaped and eventually reformed. It was hard back then, since the wounds were still fresh and talking about it made me upset, but Sapphira was always there to help me and make sure I was alright, stopping filming for the day if I wasn't."

"I'm not alright now, by the way," She takes a break to cry, the tissue rough against her face, "Because even if she didn't see it, Sapphira meant… so much to people, I know she meant so much to me, and so much to my daughter, and she had fans who loved her so much, and they cared about her so much, because… she was just so caring even if she didn't think she was."

Whenever she inhales, Crista gets flashbacks to Sapphira's spiraling, the way she'd scream, "Nobody loves me and nobody cares, why do I even bother?" and she wishes she could have done something more to show her how loved she was. She wishes Sapphira could see how many people came to watch her be put to rest, even if they were being obnoxious they still had to care enough to some degree, right?

"And she would always tell me how I was so good to her, and sometimes she would doubt she deserved me, which is the funniest thing in the world to me, because actually, I was always doubting whether or not I deserved her," She doesn't care if her words are incomprehensible through bouts of crying, because Crista knows that Sapphira's watching her somehow, and she knows how proud she is too, and how proud she is of Cressida. She raises her hand as if she's holding a glass, "She was so loved, and she's still so loved today… so I'd like to make a toast to the stars, a toast to Sapphira Starlett."

The audience members gesture her movement, and for the first time all day, Crista feels just the slightest bit less alone.

While Crista didn't personally mind being told she had to move back to Four because she no longer was married to a girl from one, Cressida was less than thrilled about it.

A month after their arrival to the District, she still refuses to admit that they'll be living there forever and this isn't a vacation, pouting, "I don't want to go to the beach with you, mommy," whenever Crista tried to go back to the rocky shores where everything began, where her whole world as she knew it began so that she could get some metal clarity about everything.

She's too afraid to leave Cressida alone, which means she's yet to go back to the beach until Mags Flannagan offers to watch the child for a bit, saying "It's the least I can do." Crista's never been too close with the victor, but she appreciates her kindness, especially now that everything's falling apart.

The first thing she notices when she returns to the area where she first met Lana Lotus is how utterly different the place has become. Before she left Four to move in with Sapphira permanently, Crista already saw new buildings going up, but in the five years since she was last in this exact spot, it's somehow even more different.

Teenagers are bustling in and out of bars, and there's a pier labeled "Welcome To Havenside," which blocks off some of the rocks Crista once called home. The kids sort of point fingers at her when she passes by them to reach the sands, and she knows they're not trainee's at the Academy, the one she founded with the Collective's remains and handed over to Shane Odeen before she left because they're too unruly and she knows that Shane trains the kids well since they're always such a pleasure to work with in the Games.

When she reaches the shore, Crista perches by the rocks and watches as a girl with long black hair dances along the waves, for a moment, she thinks, What's Lana doing here? But the girl get's closer to her and Crista realizes her skin's less pale and her eyes more wide than Lana's, and that mean's she's safe.

Or… safe enough, as she watches the sun set and thoughts of Sapphira run back in to her head. Crista remembers her love standing tall on these exact same rocks before getting down on one knee and extending a ring, saying, "Will you be mine for the rest of my life?"

Without much hesitation, Crista had nodded her head and said yes, but of course she didn't realize that when Sapphira said the rest of her life, she meant just over twenty years. When Crista first slipped that ring on her finger, it was under the assumption that she would grow old with Sapphira, have grandkids eventually, and be overall happy for eternity, but now Crista realizes that her wife could never truly be happy, which saddens her, because she wishes there was something more she could have done that would ensure she's enough.

She watches for a while, imagining her life with Lana and then her's with Sapphira and how much better the latter was, yet how little it matters since they both ended the same way, with her heartbroken along the shore.

When a man approaches her, it doesn't take Crista too long to recognize him, "What do you want?" she says through gritted teeth.

"I just wanted to welcome you home," Shane Odeen smiles and tries to open his arms into a hug that she refuses, "Is everything okay?"

"Why would it be?" While Crista felt fine giving him the Academy back before she left with Sapphira, she's began to regret that decision, especially as she realizes how awful he was to her for so many years, the way he ingrained false hope into her mind for no good reason, and she resents the man on the annual occasions where he sees him, "You know what happened."

He nods, "I do, and I'm sorry for your loss, I really am," and then leans against the rocks just like Crista, which fills her once more with doubt towards his intentions. She's pretty sure that the Collective was dead when she left, yet there's been suspicion looming over her ever since Caspian Zale, Four's victor from the 49th Games spoke of white whales and had a vial of salt water as his token. Crista had tried to shake it off, yet everything Caspian did felt so familiar, and what's worse was the fact that the four kids from the Quell seemed to worship him in a sickeningly familiar way. Even Saia from the 51st had said he was a fan of Caspian's.

It just felt… too close to home, and the girl who'd been dancing along the shores seems too close to Lana.

"What's really going on?" She asks him, trying to see through his lies and poor intentions, "I know that Caspian knows about the Collective, how many others do?"

"I guess I'll just be honest with you because I know we have history," Shane sighs, "Well we're almost ready for our comeback, and even if she doesn't know it yet, Lana's second coming's ready too."

For fucks sake…

"Are you out of your mind?" Crista questions him, negative memories flooding her brain, "How could you even say that the Collective was good for anybody? I know you brainwashed Lana, inflicted her with your venom, please tell me you're not doing the same to somebody else, Shane."

"You saw her earlier today," He chuckles, seemingly oblivious to Crista's despair, "Atlantis Seasbane. Doesn't know what's going on just yet with the Collective, but she'll be as willing as Lana, if not more. It's just a matter of her finding out."

"You're sick," Crista spits at the ground in disgust, "I hope you know, Shane, you're a horrible person."

He leaves and she's consumed with guilt, with regret for ever leaving Four, ever entrusting Shane Odeen with her Academy, because shit, Crista should have known better, she should have known better than any of this. And she can't even change anything which is the worst part of all of this, she can't change anything even if she wanted too because it's too late now, he's already on the road to converting another innocent girl to his madness, and Crista just feels so helpless.

But she knows she has to do something. If she couldn't save Lana, and she couldn't save Sapphira, then Crista's going to do everything it takes to heal Atlantis of the wounds Shane's bound to leave on her.

It's just a matter of getting to her before her own grief destroys her.

Hooooooo boy! A lot happened there, don't you think?

If this is your first fic of mine, I don't even know how to explain all of this to you, so go back and read the District Four Introductions of A Perfect Union, and then probably Days 8 and 9 of the arena because that explains what the Collective is. You should also probably read the final Domestic Tranquility Epilogue, or really all of Sapphira's POVs in that story if you want to understand that as well. If you don't, that's cool too, I support you!

But anyways, THEY'RE BACK! Yes ladies and gents and other noble friends, the white whale has risen once more, as they fucking should! I missed them far too much for my own good, LOL, so I hope you have fun with all their fun, because geez… there is a lot of fun they will be having.

Also, because I'm finished with Domestic Tranquility, it's finally time to get this show on the road, so submit if you'd like by June 30th and we'll be rocking out soon after that! I've loved many of the submissions I've received thus far, but keep them coming if you so desire.

As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter whether it's in a review or a Discord message, and hopefully Prologue 3 of 5 where we'll be united with our dearest Ludovicus Jornmark once more and he will cause us pain. Thank you Ludo, very cool. Anyways… that is all I have to say at this time.

Fuck this shit, whales are in and I'm out,

Linds