XXVI. The Devil And I

Verily some there are that fear a hurt,
And keep close to the shepherd; but so few,
That little cloth doth furnish forth their hoods.

Bud's been shockingly good company for the past half hour. He hasn't said much or asked any questions; instead he's just been sat beside Fennella, rummaging around in his bags in an attempt at organization.

It's better than being alone, Fenn figures as she watches the boy neatly pack a loaf of bread back into the bag. Dried tears still stain her face and the image of Noel being cut down by the girl from Six repays in her head like a broken tape. It was just… so sudden; so much so that if she'd only blinked once or twice, she wouldn't have seen it happen. She should've yelled louder for him, done more to get his attention when she saw Six, yet her voice was caught in her throat and her knees were locked into a nervous stance.

She sighs. Should've, could've, would've. It's all pointless now. Noel is gone, just like he said he would be, and all she has for comfort is a twelve year old boy who's on the brink of fully association. But at least he's from home, even if "home" is where Fenn was ostracized for existing, forced to be on the run 'cause of a crime she didn't commit. And ironically Bud's father definitely had a part in that and is almost certainly shitting himself at home as he watches his son willingly help a "criminal," but Fenn truly couldn't have hurt him if she tried.

"I don't know if we should stay here forever," Fenella says to him, noting that they haven't moved more than twenty yards from the Cornucopia, still sheltered by the cathedral walls. "It's just… a bit morbid, don't you think?"

Eight corpses lay on the ground, the roof above her preventing them from being airlifted from the arena. That's a bit of a flaw on the Gamemakers' part, she muses. Unless it's on purpose. Disgusting. Dying's bad enough, but rotting and not even being able to go home until the slaughter's over? That's even worse.

Bud shrugs. "I don't really mind them to be honest." He stands up, stretching his hands over his head and then he walks a bit closer towards the Cornucopia. Stopping at Noel's body, he says, "Oh. Does it bother you… seeing your ally like that?"

No fucking shit it does! Fenn considers snapping at him, but she knows he's just a kid and doesn't really know how to handle a conversation like this. It's just… Noel was possibly her only chance at survival, and now all she has is Bud. Sure, he's from home and isn't entirely incompetent, but he's also just… off.

"Yes," Fennella admits, tilting her head downwards.

Bud glances at Noel, and then back to Fenn, "If you want I could move him."

She blinks rapidly. He's gonna what now?

"What do you mean?" Fenn questions him, though she's not sure she wants to know the answer.

He lifts Noel's right arm and reaches under his armpit. He does the same with his left and then hoists him slightly off the ground, arms swung over Bud's shoulders. With a laugh, he says, "Exactly what I said. I can move him outside, if you'd like. Because you don't want to look at him."

Shellshocked, Fenn simply nods as Bud begins dragging Noel's body outside of the cathedral. "Why do you look afraid?" He stops in his tracks to ask her as he gets closer to the exit.

Why do I look afraid? Well… because you're twelve years old and you're dragging a cadaver around like it's no big deal. Why wouldn't I look afraid. But Fenn doesn't say that. Instead she says, "I've just never seen somebody be so nonchalant about moving a dead person's body."

"There's a lot of things you've never seen." Bud then returns to his task at hand, his petite figure getting smaller and smaller as he leaves the building. Not even a minute later, he's standing in the doorway with a somewhat satisfied look on his face. "See? That wasn't a big deal."

Fennella blinks. Wasn't a big deal? Yeah, this kid definitely creeps her out. But not in a way where she's afraid he's going to harm him. No; he's just deeply unnerving even if he's not trying to be.

"Thank you," she finally says to him. As he begins walking closer to her, Fenn decides she has to just ask him. "How exactly did you learn to do that?"

Bud laughs in confusion. "My father taught me how to walk, why?"

"No, I didn't mean walking," Fenn attempts to clarify. "How did you learn to do what you did just now?"

"With the body?" He quirks one of his eyebrows upwards.

She nods.

Bud sits down in front of her, his legs crossed like he's in elementary school. He puts his left hand under his chin and sighs. "I'm not sure I can tell you that."

An uneasy expression paints itself on Fennella's face. What the hell? She's starting to think that she'll never understand him. She's not sure she wants to though. Even the deepest depths of her morbid curiosity tell her that she doesn't want to know the secrets behind Bud Bancroft. Yet, in spite of herself, she presses further. "Why can't you tell me?"

"Mr. Avion said I couldn't," Bud says as if it's completely obvious. "I didn't like the guy much, but I know better then to disobey him."

Avion. That name rings a bell. She thinks back to her time in Nine's Capitol and tries to remember where she's heard that name before. It hits her. Oriole Avion, the leader of a rebel cellar on the outskirts of Nine. There were several instances where Fenn would take notes while Triticale called Peacekeepers to investigate whatever the hell Oriole's doing. But that doesn't explain how Bud would know him, unless he heard his father talking. Or…

"Did this 'Mr. Avion' ever do something to hurt you?" she asks, furrowing her brows.

Bud sighs. His eyes dart back and forth like he's looking for something, someone, before he speaks. "I was in the front yard of my house when I saw him. He put a bag on my head and… I only remember bits and pieces about what happened after that."

The pieces begin to click together in Fennella's mind. While she never directly spoken to Bud's father, she does remember him being quite concerned for his son. Hopper Bancroft talked about him though as if he was still alive, though he did mention a growing paranoia that someday the rebels would do something to get back at him.

Oriole Avion kidnapped Bud and turned him into this. And Fennella has the audacity to occasionally refer to herself as a rebel. She's nothing compared to how sick in the head Oriole has to be to… She looks at Bud, who seems to be awaiting a response to his confession. With a weary sigh, she says "I'm sorry that happened Bud. I assume Mr. Avion was the one who taught you that."

He nods. "He taught me a lot of things. The only thing he didn't teach me was how to run."

"What do you mean?" Fenn isn't sure why she hasn't given up on asking him questions at this point. She does want to know as much as she can so that she can help. That's all.

"I'm here now, aren't I?" Bud chuckles. "You really think Mr. Avion would just let me go? How do you know him, anyway?"

"I never said I did," Fenn says, attempting to trace her steps backwards. "I just asked if he taught you how to move bodies and you assumed I knew him. I will say, I've heard his name before, at work."

"Before you left because you killed the mayor, but you didn't actually do that?" He raises his eyebrow in suspicion. "What did they say about him?"

What didn't they say about Oriole Avion? Fennella sighs. That he's brutal, cruel, and vengeful. That he hurts people for the sake of hurting them. That him and his crew were preparing some sort of an attack, and really they should've expected he'd take one of their own.

"Nothing good," she decides to say instead of getting into the gritty details. "They said he's not a very good person, and he likes to hurt people."

"Well, that's definitely true!" Bud then returns to rummaging through his bags inconspicuously.

It's then that Fenn fully decides he deserves better. Sure, she herself was rigged into the Games, and sure homelessness was awful to her. But at least it gave her Karim, and here's Bud Bancroft with literally nothing. Based on everything she's been told both by him and people back in Nine, the young boy deserves to be protected.

She's not sure how long she can do it for, but it's worth a shot.

"Why the hell are you listening to them?" Atlantis murmurs from the balcony overlooking the rest of the cathedral. Icarus has been leaning intently over the railing at the pair from District Nine for the past half hour, ducking whenever the look around in his direction.

Icarus turns around, a wicked grin on his face. "You should hear what they're saying. The little one's saying he was abducted by some weird gang of sorts. Outer Districts sure are crazy."

Inner Districts too, Atlantis adds on in her head. She told herself after she ran away with Icarus that she wouldn't think about Shane Odeen and the Collective while she was in the arena, but such a task has proven itself difficult when random things seem to remind her of him. Like Calsin, who Atlantis saw slaughter the boy from Five from her viewpoint. The distinct anger in his eyes reminded her of the way he looked when he'd yell at her. He probably was pretending to be killing me. I mean… I probably deserve to be killed by him. But not now. Atlantis equally deserves to have an open conversation with him first. She doesn't know if she deserves the chance to understand him, but if she's going to die, she'd prefer it be without Calsin Verrillo loathing her for things she can't control.

But as badly as she wants to find him, Atlantis knows she can't. Icarus will make some sort of a boisterous claim that she's not really loyal to him, and while she is, it's only to a certain extent. The only person she'll ever be solely loyal to is herself.

And Alithiya. She finds herself thinking of the girl she left at home once more. The girl who's probably rooting for her downfall, laughing with her friends at The Hove, laughing with Talquin at The Hove with alcohol in their veins 'cause "Atlantis Seasbane is finally on her way to dying."

A shame that she can never give anybody what they want, even when what they want is her face in the sky and her body in a wooden box that they'll turn to ash and throw out. It's no difference from the way she turned their mindsets into rotten pieces of food being chucked down the sewer.

She's a pariah walking through the liminal space between life and death, and she's unsure which infinity she'll choose.

Atlantis misses how it used to be. She misses kissing Ali in the ocean as the stars tell stories in the skies, Talquin teasing them from ashore. She misses long walks at dawn with her brother and her lover, two people who deserve far better than being stuck with her.

The whole world deserves better than being stuck with Atlantis Seasbane, yet for some reason she's still here.

Might as well make the most of it.

She turns to Icarus and whispers, "Isn't everyone a bit crazy?" There's a manic look in his eyes, like the gears that run his brain are turning so fast, Atlantis wouldn't be surprised if sparks flew out of his ears.

"I don't know what you mean," he teases. "You and I are two completely normal people."

"Right." Atlantis laughs then nods. "Two normal people who definitely aren't planning a murder." She glances at the Nine boy, only twelve years old yet clearly so broken. He clearly doesn't deserve to die, nor does his District partner who Atlantis remembers protesting at her interview and saying that she was rigged into these Games. In a way, even if she says she wants to be here time and time again, she never really had a choice. If she ever had any doubts about volunteering back at home, Shane would've been a bit too quick to reassure her. 'Cause all that bastard cares about is himself. How silly was she to ever think somebody could actually care about her.

Icarus smirks. "How straightforward of you."

Right. Because he wasn't the one who suggested we skip out on the bloodbath and watch people scramble from above. He'd irritate her if she wasn't on his good side and he wasn't always so right.

"You know it," Atlantis says with a chuckle.

He reaches down to the floor, trying to find something he can throw at the Nines. Settling on a medium sized rock, he takes her hand in his and declares, "Let's get down to business then."

With a clink, Icarus throws the rock off the balcony and onto the ground, hoping to get their attention. It's only somewhat successful though. The girl turns her head ever so slightly, Icarus and Atlantis ducking out of instinct, but she then returns to talking with her partner. "We have to go down there, I think."

Well then what was the point of coming up here? Just, for the drama? Eh. Makes sense. Atlantis knows that her ally loves nothing more than putting on a show, and in the bloodbath he wouldn't get such attention. Now though? The carnage has practically cleared and the two of them can step in the spotlight.

She starts to walk towards the archway by the stairs they took to get up to the second floor. As they begin traveling downwards however, she realizes, "We don't have weapons." He keeps walking so she's forced to repeat herself. "Icarus. Stop. We're unarmed."

There's nothing she loathes less than being ignored. He should know that by now. It'll be a conversation for later though; right now they have to raise hell.

Icarus runs his finger along one of the stained glass windows. "Oh I know." He buts his elbow at the window, glass shattering onto the ground instantaneously. He grabs a large green shard and hands a blue one of similar size to Atlantis. "We'll get real weapons after we get rid of the Nines. This should be fine for now."

Atlantis nods. "Fair enough."

With the glass shard in her hand, she prepares to strike. Only, it's suddenly a lot harder than it looks. The Nines are on the other side of the Cornucopia, but that doesn't change the fact that as soon as they see her, it'll be a matter of minutes before she has to kill them. Therefore, she decides it's best that she doesn't full on charge at them straight out of the gate.

"Watch this." She motions to Icarus and then proceeds to sneak around the back of the Cornucopia. She walks on the tips of her toes, refusing to make more noise than necessary.

He follows behind her and whispers, "I like the way you think."

Of course you do; we're one and the same. We're both… monsters. Nope. Not now. No self-loathing now, lord why do you ruin everything with your feelings, Atlantis.

She continues her trek until she's right behind the girl's shoulder. Because he's sitting next to her, neither her nor her District partner notice. Not until…

Atlantis drives the glass shard into her back. "Surprise!"

The girl screams, blood running down her clavicles and staining her shirt. Her ally jolts his head to the side and starts breathing rapidly. She shouts at him, "Run!"

Icarus presses his shard into her other shoulder, gritting his teeth and smirking. He uses his other hand to push her onto the ground. He tilts his head to Atlantis. "I'll finish her off; you get the boy."

Atlantis nods and then carefully walks around Icarus, trying to find the Nine boy. The only problem is… she can't. She could've sworn he was still with his partner when she began chasing him, but now he's nowhere to be seen. She runs outside of the cathedral, hoping she'll find him there, yet… nothing.

Probably for the better, Atlantis thinks. She isn't sure if she could morally bring herself to kill somebody so young and vulnerable. But then again, she shouldn't have brought herself to do all that she did back in Four.

She takes a moment to catch her breath before returning inside. She sees Icarus, still pinning the girl onto the ground and still smiling through it. He turns his head at Atlantis. "You're finished already? I didn't hear a cannon."

"He ran away." She's given no choice but to admit. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Icarus grunts. "Don't apologize. If we don't get him, I'm sure somebody else will. Get over here and help me."

Atlantis can't help but notice the smile on Nine's face as she approaches. Weird to be happy in the face of death. That's something even she's not sure she can do.

She stands on the girl's ankles and exhales. Closing her eyes, Atlantis aims her shard towards the side of her ribs and hopes for the best. The warm feeling of blood spraying onto her palms assures her as such. Atlantis opens her eyes to examine the utter mess she's created while jamming the shard even deeper into Nine's flesh. She looks to see Icarus' fingers inside one of the wound's in her back, pulling back her skin to create an ever larger pool of crimson than before.

He licks his lips then thrusts his shard into the hole he's made. Must be going for her spine. Smart.

Still, even with her face planted into the ground, all Nine can do is smile. Atlantis removes her shard from the wound and secures her hands around the girl's side, squeezing at her skin so that she'll only bleed more. As she applies pressure, Nine mutters her last words. "District Nine, maybe now you'll believe me."

Another thrust to her spine and another squeeze on her hips. That's all it takes for the cannon to finally sing and for the two of them to let go.

Atlantis examines the bloodstains on Icarus' shirt. "Not bad, I must admit."

"Same with you." He does the same to her, crunching the fabric in his hands.

She looks past Nine's body, her eyes fixated on the supplies behind it. "I think we've hit the goldmine."

It's true. They have.

Sure, Atlantis Seasbane's fully deemed herself to be a sinner, but her and the devil have always been close friends.

Verdigris paces back and forth as Hedy begins unpacking their first backpack. While there's clouds beneath her feet, she's comfortable in the fact she won't be sinking through them. After traveling through caves of ice for lord knows how long, it's nice to be somewhere dry where they ideally won't freeze to death. Hedy's come so far now, it would truly be a shame for her to die from fucking frostbite.

But that's not a worry anymore. They've made their way to a nice campsite, a tent nestled on one of the edges and sticks piled together in the center. Somebody less intelligent than her would use the sticks to start a fire, but Hedy knows better. The flames would just give away their locations, and she's come too far to die from a stupid mistake. Hedy refuses to let her sixteen years come to an end because she was idiotic or careless.

That doesn't mean she's still not nervous. While her and Verdigris did make small talk as they walked through the ice, the elephant in the room, or rather the dead father in District Three failed to be brought up. Is there a chance Verdigris just didn't hear her?

Hedy pulls black ballpoint pen from the bag and stands up to hand it to her ally. "This is for you."

"Thank you." Verdigris grabs the pen and from her hands and then reaches into their left pocket to retrieve the notepad they'd been taking notes on during training, per Hedy's request. They tap the pen on their chin with one hand, the notebook nestled in the crease of their elbow, and they use the other to attempt counting.

"Nine," they whisper to themself, their voice consumed by uncertainty. They take a deep breath and then repeat "Yeah! Nine." This time, they sound far more self assured.

It takes Hedy a second to realize what Verdigris is referring to. Right, I had them keep track of the bloodbath. She's a bit shocked that they actually remembered to count the cannons. Hedy had instructed them to do so at the beginning of training, knowing she'd get flustered at the very beginning when people were dying left and right. She decides to press their knowledge more. "Any specifics?"

"Well, eight in the bloodbath and one while we were in the caves about an hour ago. However, I assume you're asking if I noted any specific kills." Hedy nods in response. "I did, actually! The first kill of the Games went to Lethia from One. Quick strike with a staff to Sedona's throat." They scribble vigorously at the notepad.

"That's rather odd of Lethia, don't you think?" Hedy asks, remembering that Lethia came into the Games recovering from an injury, as she'd had Verdigris note. "What did her hand look like?"

"Still bandaged," they report. "She did look like she was straining herself a bit, though. I'll warn you in advance, I didn't exactly see the next kill. I was sort of looking at you."

"Why's that?" She's confused.

Verdigris chuckles. "I was worried one of the Careers would get you. You were pretty close to them, and well you dying isn't exactly part of our plan now is it?" Before Hedy can respond, they continue. "But I did see the Two boy—"

"Beowulf." Hedy cuts in. She's been trying to get Verdigris to remember the names of all their competitors. A recent study of the Games taught her that Tributes are less likely to kill people who they know the name of, and Hedy doesn't need Verdigris killing anybody until she decides its time.

"Right! Beowulf!" Verdigris corrects themself and then returns to the notepad. "He was standing over Ceylon's body when that cannon fired, so I can assume that he was responsible for that."

Hedy licks the back of her lips from the inside of her mouth. Even she's surprised that Verdigris is willing to disclose so many of their observations, especially when— Yeah, I really need to address that. She notices them staring at her lifelessly so she says, "Only three died before we left, assuming I heard the cannons right. Correct?"

"Yes." They nod, flipping to a new page. "I saw Vancouver kill Ceylon's partner Caprice. Pretty brutal with it too. If I didn't know better, I'd assume that she was trained. We left after that, but I did see Nikolai chasing after Calsin, and I don't think that would have ended well for the former."

Hedy stands up to get a look at the notebook herself. "Three out of nine isn't bad considering we left early. Possibly four."

Verdigris closes the notebook and returns it to their pocket. After a moment or two of silence, they ask "What was the point of that? Aren't we going to see who died later tonight?"

They make a good point… Luckily Hedy's thought this through. "Well, yes. But that's not why I had you keep track of all that. As soon as people are dead, they no longer matter in here. What does matter however, is who's capable of murder."

Verdigris is a bit too quick to interject. "Oh, like how I didn't think you were but then—"

And there it is. Hedy's entire body freezes, anxiety rippling up her spine and rendering her unable to move. This is where I die? Isn't it? Her breathing grows quicker. They're about to kill me, aren't they? Lord, I should've seen this coming. Why did I do that at my interview? Why did I do anything? I'm just like him, aren't I?

They notice her sudden change in expression and posture. "Sorry. Should I not talk about it?"

Hedy tries to calm her breaths. They're not killing me. At least not now; they're not killing me now. She sits back down and gestures to the space beside her. "No actually, I think we should talk about it."

Verdigris nods and then sits next to Hedy. They let out a small sigh and then admit, "I've been wanting to talk about this too, I just wasn't sure if you wanted to leave it in the past."

"I can't exactly leave things in the past in a contest where I'm supposed to trust you not to kill me. But at the same time, I lied to you." She does her best to explain without completely embarrassing herself. "So I imagine you're more afraid of me than I should be of you."

"I was upset at first, I'll admit that." Verdigris leans down onto their palms, looking up at Hedy's eyes. "But I did some reflecting last night, and think I understand why you did it. Don't get me wrong, it was an awful thing, but I understand. Please don't be afraid of me."

Holy fuck; why is this actually going well? Crocodile tears begin to form in Hedy's eyes. This is her chance to get Verdigris even further under her thumb. "I'll try my best. It just wasn't nice of me to try to relate to you about our alcoholic fathers, when I literally killed mine. I was just… if I said that right away, I bet you wouldn't have allied with me. And well, I didn't want to be alone in here. I just didn't pick the best way to tell you."

"At least you're telling the truth now," they offer. They stare into the distance and blink rapidly. "I mean, maybe it wasn't great of you to tell the whole world what you did since that does put a target on our backs. But the killing your dad thing is fine. I understand; there's no need for you to worry. I promise that I'm not afraid of you."

Well, that's a major oversight. Hedy hadn't even considered that they'd be targeted now, even if it makes a ridiculous amount of sense. She's never been the best at understanding the unknown variables of the way the human mind works. However, she's quick to come up with a solution.

"That's a really good point, Verdigris, and I understand why that would be alarming." She digs through one of their bags until she finds two bottles of poison, one with a silver chain attached and the other without. Careful not to let her ally see, Hedy flicks the chainless bottle up her sleeve and holds the other one out to them. "Here, wear this around your neck."

"What is it?" Verdigris asks, unfastening the metal clasp to hang their vial around their neck.

Hedy smiles. "That's a good question, actually. It looks like it's botulinum"

"Yeah, I don't know what that means…" Their eyes rapidly blink in confusion.

"I don't expect you to." She walks behind her ally, securing the two stands of the chain together. "It's a deadly poison. Just one drop is enough to be deadly. If anybody comes targeting us, you can have enough of this to kill them, or you can kill me first if you think that's safer."

They examine the bottle in their fingertips. "Why would you want me to kill you? And why don't you carry it?"

"I mean, I don't want you to kill me." Hedy clarifies. "But if my carelessness leads to us being targeted, you might have to. You're carrying it just as proof that I trust you not to randomly kill me, and you should trust me not to randomly kill you. Does that sound fair?"

"It does."

Little does Verdigris know, they'll never get the chance to even release a drop a poison as long as Hedy's plan goes accordingly.

Calsin leans against a tree, looking up at the large kingdom behind him. The walls are constructed from marble bricks and contrasting pitch-black windows. Just looking at it makes him uneasy, like he shouldn't be there.

Then again, he shouldn't be here in the Games either.

"You've spent a long time looking at that castle, Sinny," Ellie points out the obvious, considering he's been looking at it for two hour as they unpacked their goods from the bloodbath. "Are we going inside or not?"

He sighs. Might as well… Calsin hasn't made a habit of watching the Games, even if he's secretly just as barbaric as they are. But from what he does know, it's better to not go into giant buildings 'cause they're probably riddled with mutts and all sorts of wonky shit he doesn't want to bother with. But the 'makers don't usually fuck around with that stuff on day one. Everyone in Panem's still shitting themselves from the bloodbath after all. T'would be a waste of money to deploy the mutts this early.

They wouldn't have placed the castle so close to the Cornucopia if they didn't want people exploring it on the first day either. He nods his head in finality. "I think it's safe."

Calsin shoves his bloodbath goods, sorry— their bloodbath goods, back into their bags and swings one over his shoulders. He assists Ellie with the other, then walks towards the giant palace doors. She follows behind him, quickly running with a beaming smile on her face. She's a bit too cheery for two hours after eight, no, nine people died, especially since one of the isn't Atlantis Seasbane.

Or at least Calsin hopes Atlantis isn't dead. He'd hate for anybody else to have the honors of killing her.

He takes a pause once he's directly under the entrance. Maybe this isn't a good idea after all. Nothing's happened to lead him to that thought, he's just too nervous for his own good. Far more than he should be, considering he's a fighter. Calsin Verrillo's far too vicious to get afraid at the gates of a castle. The whole world's supposed to be his kingdom after all.

"Are you going to go inside?" He can't help but feel like Ellie's rushing him, even if it's not on purpose. Despite the fact he has the temperament of a tsunami, Calsin can't be so capricious here. He's at the beginning of a dance between life and death, and he refuses for his journey to be cut short. Calsin refuses to die without at least getting a few physical digs in at Atlantis' flesh.

Even though he can't forget their interaction this morning. She had tried to talk to him, but he brushed her off and screamed in her face. Whatever it is that she wanted to say can wait until his spears in her throat and it's time for her last words.

Calsin shouldn't be, but he's oddly curious still what it is that she wanted to say. Eh, who's he kidding? It probably wasn't anything nice.

Anyway, Atlantis would surely make fun of him if he acted even slightly afraid in her presence. He pushes on the door and watches as it squeaks open. Inside, he can see an array of fancy furniture fit for a king and extravagant lighting fixtures hung from the ceiling. Calsin never thought he'd enter a building more grandiose than the wretched mansion he was forced to grow up in, yet this palace has already revealed itself to be on par, if not better.

Funny how both of these places were designed to kill me. Okay, maybe that's a bit dramatic, but truly Calsin didn't think he'd actually survive living under the roof of Kyros and Julisa Verrillo. He was born to cause a storm, and all they wanted was for him to drizzle and fade. The Games are the same, and Calsin wouldn't be forced to die here if it weren't for their sycophant-looking headasses.

If he's lucky enough to make it out of here, it'll be a miracle if their heads don't wind up on platters.

"Get over here, Sinny!" He turns his head to notice Ellie jumping on one of the sofas. "See how fun this is?"

Ugh. He rolls his eyes, quick enough that she doesn't see. As much as he had a great fuckin' time with Ellie when they were in the Capitol, that was then and this is now. There wasn't much in the Capitol that would actually benefit him, so he was more than fine letting loose for a bit. Now that his life is on the line though? He can't afford too much tomfoolery. Ellie seems to be a strong contributor such things though.

But hey, what can he do about it? He can't abandon her and he certainly can't kill her either. That'll just put him on equal footing with fuckin' Atlantis. Calsin decides then and there that he'll stick by her side, at least for now. And so, he takes a deep breath and runs over to the couch. He leaps on the cushions, trying his best to smile. "Yeah! This is fun!"

Ellie grabs a pillow and playfully hits Calsin in the side. It admittedly brings him back to his youth, when he and Sevilin would have pillow fights in the living room when their parents had important guests over. It was their tiny way of rebelling against the oppression that comes hand in hand with being too chaotic to be a Verrillo, and good lord was it fun.

Everything was better then, but now everything is basically over. Calsin's childhood ended the day Sevilin left. No matter what he does, no matter how reckless he acts, he'll never truly be that kid again. In a way, he admires Ellie for continuing to be herself, even after her sister left. That's just inexplicably not him.

Even when Calsin sits down, Ellie continues to bounce. Eventually he just has to ask her, "How the fuck do you have so much energy?"

"Oh, I took acid, silly!" She rolls her eyes as if she's the most sensible person of all time. "Remember that cool puzzle I showed you that I brought from home? The pieces were LSD tabs! I figured it would be a fun morning of the Games activity."

Good lord she's off her rocker. Perhaps in another life they'd be able to maintain their epic friendship for all of eternity, but he needs to be focused for now. Calsin knows the saying, "a little party never hurt nobody," but that's not the case in the Hunger Games.

As hardcore as he acts, he's never done any drug harder than weed. He may be a sardonic little asshole, but he doesn't need brain damage and hallucinations on top of that. Okay… maybe there was that one time where he wanted to take some disco pills, but Adrian put his hand on his and told him not to. The sensation Calsin got from his touch was capable of getting him much higher than molly anyway.

Not that he'd ever admit that.

He stares into space, waiting for Ellie to eventually return to a seated position. Once she does, she looks in Calsin's eyes with confusion. "Sorry are you mad at me? I should've saved you a tab, you're right. I just thought it would be funny to leave them on my nightstand; see if my escort wants in. Ooh! Or Ludo! That guy's so stressed out, he'd probably benefit from—"

"I don't give a fuck about your stupid drugs!" Calsin snaps, cutting her off. "Listen, our little bender in the Capitol was fun, Ellie. But we have to be serious now. You need to be serious now."

The tears that form in her eyes instantly make Calsin regret he ever said anything. They're the same tears that Atlantis would shed from every girl in Four, but unlike her, seeing somebody cry because of him makes him feel like the worst person in the world. "I'm sorry Ellie. I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, you're right." Ellie puts a hand to her eyes in an attempt to seize her crying. "If I want to go far… I have to think better. I can't be so… stupid."

"You're not stupid!" Calsin quickly corrects her, even if he's not sure he's being truthful. Hey, being stupid is fun sometimes. But Ellie isn't stupid, I know she's not stupid.

(If that's true, why does he want to keep his plans from her?)

"Well you deserve a better ally anyway, one who isn't so crazy." She tries to get up but he grabs her hand to stop her. "Hey! Let me go; I'm just doing you a favor."

"No. You're staying here," he says, his voice firm.

What comes out of Calsin's mouth next isn't something he was expecting to say. "I'd rather die having fun with you than being ridiculed by Atlantis."

While it makes Ellie smile, deep inside he knows he's not telling the truth. He's lying, just like how she does. And his brain is scorning him for not just cutting her off. It would've been easier to let her go than to just… lie.

But what's done is done and he can't go back now. If he does, Calsin's just proving that all the horrible things Atlantis said to him were true and he's the real villain.

There can only be one demon from District Four in the 52nd Games, and it won't be the one who was forced to be here. As long as he has control of himself, Calsin Verrillo will never be like her.

16th Place: Fennella Farro, District Nine - killed by Icarus St. Augustine and Atlantis Seasbane

"Every Tribute will have one POV before they die!" Okay well Fennella did have a POV and then she died. She died in the POV afterwards, but like don't bully me. "I'm not saying how long you'll be safe for, but it will be a period of time." The period of time was one POV. That's still a period of time. I did not lie to anyone. It's my story and I make the rules. Ben, if you're reading this, well I'm so sorry that I killed her early on. Just know that I did love writing for her, and I'm sad to see her go.

I'll post her eulogy and update the blog within twenty-four hours, but for now I hope you enjoyed your super special christmas eve gift. Things sure are heating up in this bitch! Bud has had a realizashun, Atlantis and Icarus are evil, Hedy and Verdi have trust issues, and Sin is ready to not be a stoner drunk and actually take accountability for his life!

Wow so fun, so fun! Next chapter will come when it does, but for now I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter! How do we feel about abolishing POV headers for the Games?

Fuck this shit, I'm out,
Linds

The Leaderboard
Lethia Aphelion: I
Icarus St. Augustine: I
Beowulf Haleot: I
Atlantis Seasbane: I
Calsin Verrillo: I
Mozi Hongqi: II
Malin Mardari: I
Vancouver Easton: II