Reign Legatus, 18.
District 2 Male.
(trigger warning: mentions of suicide. proceed at your own discretion)
Reign rushed up the stairs, holding tightly onto the railing beneath his hand. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. It couldn't be happening.
No, he couldn't panic, couldn't lose his cool. He had a reputation to uphold. He was Reign Legatus and he couldn't let his people see him like this. But if anything would push him over the edge, it would be this. The words "Imperia's sick, it doesn't look like she'll make it" still rang in his ears, a haunting reminder of what was happening.
Pushing the doors of the house open unceremoniously, Reign couldn't help but notice the smell that came from within. The smell of antiseptic. The smell of sickness. Something you wouldn't expect from such a place. But this was where the Cohort had chosen to set up their makeshift hospital, where they would do their best to bring those who were sick back from the brink of death, from the clutches of the Golden Flames.
The disease that worked in three stages. The first was mild; if one had any symptoms, they'd be nothing more than a cough and a headache. But soon enough, the patient would transition into the second phase. They would develop an extreme fever and and in some cases their eyes would turn a golden colour, hence the name of the disease: Khrusos Ignis, or the Golden Flames. After this came the crucial third stage. For some, the fever would break, and the patient would come back from the brink of death. But for others, the fever would get worse, sending the patient spiralling deep into a coma from which they would never awaken.
According to his second in command, Ajax, Imperia had entered this comatose state. She would never recover, never come back to him. Despite knowing that he could very well catch the disease, he was still here. He had to - no, he needed to see her one more time. Reign had to finish this on his own terms.
Gripping a revolver in one hand and a crushed piece of paper in the other, he turned to the stairs. Reign knew that even if he did encounter any nurses, they would not question his presence. But as he bounded up the next flight of stairs to the upstairs portion of the house, he couldn't help but dread what was to come. Was it really dread though? Reign had resigned himself to many of his actions, many of the horrific things that he'd done, and this would only be another one on the pile. One death was nothing, nothing compared to the number of Peacekeepers he'd killed, the number of people- friends whose misery he had ended.
Imperia would be nothing but another body to burn in the end.
And Reign would not let her suffer. He went into the room she occupied, pausing as he saw her body, pale and small against the white blankets that covered her. Imperia's hands were folded across her stomach, her eyes closed, her skin pale as a ghost save for the bright red blotches on her cheeks from the fever. She looked as if she was already drained of the life she used to be so full of, nothing like the woman Reign knew or loved. Now she looked almost as cold as the stones District 2 was known for, and this was not how he wanted to remember her. Slowly moving towards the bed, he gripped the gun in his hand tightly.
Could he do it?
No. Not like this.
Reign placed the revolver down on the table next to Imperia, picking up one of the pillows laying next to her.
A revolver and a note.
Reign awoke sharply. It was only a dream. Nothing but a dream. It wasn't often he dreamt but when it did happen, it was nothing but bad things, nothing but memories he didn't want to revisit. Usually, by the end of the day, he was too tired to dream but occasionally one crept through the cracks, and they always ended the same way. With a revolver and a note.
Shaking himself out slightly, Reign dragged himself out of bed. This would only be the beginning of the same cycle, the same structured day that he never strayed from. So he would take his same cold shower, dress in the same colourless outfit, and leave his barracks, deep within the Tombs of District 2. Except today would be different, breaking the monotonous routine he'd carved out for himself.
Normally, he would head to the shooting range to get some practice in or make his way to the training academy to do some training, but today would be different. Today he would go and visit Imperia and his grandmother's graves to say one last goodbye. It didn't seem right to leave District 2 without a proper sendoff and Reign didn't want to leave two of his loved ones out.
As Reign made his way through the winding tunnels of the base, eventually finding himself at the front door, he couldn't help but think. Things were not as they once were, but regardless of what humiliation he'd been through, he would hold his head high. He would not give they who took him down the satisfaction of seeing his head hung with shame. No, he was better than shame, above humiliation. They'd captured him only through threatening the lives of those he valued, and there was no shame in giving himself up to keep the few he had left alive.
Reign Legatus would remain proud no matter how hard they tried to tear him down.
Leaving the Tombs was like taking a breath of fresh air. It wasn't because he didn't like the place; in fact he aspired to be a Peacekeeper. It was everywhere he wanted to be, everywhere he aspired to be, but it was not the same as it was formerly. At one point, it was the stronghold he reigned over keeping the neglected citizens of District 2 safe. But it was no longer a place he owned, it was the prison that contained him. Despite him being free - or them telling him he was free - Reign knew this was never true. Even as he walked down the cobblestone road to the street car station nearby, he knew there was someone tailing him, someone following him. He was a king, imprisoned in the palace he had once owned under the false pretenses of freedom.
But he did not choose this life, nor this route. The Capitol abandoned those in District 2, abandoned the weak, the poor those who they deemed unworthy of life. What else was he supposed to do, let his beloved District crumble? Let them all die without consequences? It was a choice with one option. As Reign boarded the near-empty street car, Reign couldn't help but feel the anger which rested deep within him rising in the back of his throat. He had only done what needed to be done, what the Capitol refused to do.
If everyone else couldn't see this, at the very least he knew. At least he knew he'd done something right; despite all of the death which seemed to follow him, Reign had saved lives. And he would be sent to death for it, into the same games which his grandmother had lived through and mother had not before him. But unlike those who had preceded him, there was no hope for his victory. No, this was a death sentence, a death sentence for the man who the Capitol was indebted to. Their golden District would be even worse off than it was without him and they very well knew it.
Sooner than he realized, the street car had arrived at Reign's destination; he'd nearly missed it in his haze of wrath. Reign disembarked the car, quickly making his way up the street, moving further towards the edge of town. It was not a place he had gone often, as most of the Cohort's business was done in the center of town, at the Tombs, or in the Victors Village. Every step he took towards the scraggly cluster of trees, through which he could make the iron fence out in places, the heavier he could feel his heart growing. In a fit of rage following Imperia's death, he had vowed to never visit her grave. Whether the source of that vow was his immense sorrow, rage, or general feeling of inadequacy, Reign wasn't sure if the reasoning mattered. How could he possibly face her after what he'd done to her? She would've understood but could she have forgiven him? Reign would never know. But he knew that Imperia never stood a chance against that damned virus. Reign just ended her suffering.
Pushing the looming gates open, Reign stepped through, his eyes passing over the rows upon rows of multicoloured glass gravestones. This graveyard was not like others in District 2. No, this one was special, reserved only for those who died in what were considered honorable ways. Many of the deceased tributes their District had produced were buried here, as well as all of their deceased Victors. At his own insistence, Imperia had been given a spot as well, as her life and death were just as honorable as any Victor's. She had fought for the abandoned citizens of District 2, and had died for them just the same.
As he walked, he glanced at the gravestones. He didn't recognize any of the names, at least not personally, until his eyes landed on one in particular: a deep purple gravestone with a bundle of flowers laying at its base, inscripted with the name Creed Odinshoot. Reign paused for a moment, laying a hand on the top of the square pane of glass. If there was ever anybody to respect, it was Creed, and he didn't plan on losing such respect any time soon. She'd lived a warrior, and died fighting as one, something Reign strived to have if it came to it.
Reign did not linger much longer, choosing instead to move on forwards. It was all he could do, after all. There was no going back, no turning back time, no getting back those he had failed to save. Reign soon found himself in front of the two graves he'd been looking for: Lavina Legatus and Imperia Venatrix.
On one, he would leave a revolver, and on the other a crumpled note, having every intention to make it back to collect them.
Claudia Bartoszek, 18.
District 2 Female.
Claudia ran the hairbrush through her hair, the familiar swishing of the bristles untangling the unseen knots from her hair, soothing the girl as she gazed at herself in the mirror. She'd already done her makeup for the day- in fact, it was one of the most important parts of her mornings, spending time making everything about her already perfect appearance better.
"Claudia? Vanessa is here," Claudia's mother called from the other room. She set the hairbrush down on the small table in front of her, checking herself over once more in the mirror before grabbing her coat, which was hanging on the back of her chair. Claudia hurried from her room, passing her brother, Erik's room. Curiously, the door was open, which was not something that often happened. Nobody went into his room, not after he'd passed there, from that damned virus. Claudia reached out and grabbed the doorknob, pulling the door closed softly before she continued into the living room.
"I'll see you later, Mom," Claudia said to her mother as she passed her, sitting in the same spot as always in the living room in her chair next to the window. Her mother barely looked up. It was rare that Talisa Bartoszek spoke to her daughter, other than to notify Claudia of her girlfriend's arrival at their door each morning. They had never gotten along well, and Erik's death had only pushed them apart more. Thankfully, Claudia got along swimmingly with her father.
At least she always had him.
The front door swung open, a gust of cool air following it as Claudia stepped onto the small porch. Standing there was her girlfriend, Vanessa, as she always was each morning. Claudia wrapped her arms around her girlfriend's neck in greeting, pulling her in for a tight hug.
"Good morning love," Vanessa said, placing her hands on Claudia's sides as she planted a gentle kiss on Claudia's lips. Claudia was enamoured with Vanessa. Everything with her was soft and sweet, which was completely foreign to Claudia after Kespar. With Kespar, it was nothing but roughness, nothing but anger and harsh words.
Regardless of what had happened, Claudia had the small comfort of knowing she would never have to face that horrible man ever again. She'd made sure of it.
"So what's on the agenda today?" Claudia asked as she took Vanessa's hand, the two making their way down the front steps of the home towards the street.
"Training, no? I know I can't train, but I can watch you at the very least," Vanessa responded, shooting a grin at Claudia. Vanessa had injured her ankle a few months back and was unable to train because of it. Surprisingly she didn't seem to mind that much, as she'd told Claudia that she'd rather be an artist than a volunteer. Claudia didn't exactly understand this mentality. There was nothing more fulfilling in her eyes than winning the Hunger Games, and there was no better way to gain the respect of District 2 than becoming a Victor.
And that was exactly what Claudia intended to become. But she didn't just want to be a Victor; no, she also wanted to be a model in the Capitol. She knew she was pretty, stunning really, and she also knew the only way she'd become anyone of importance was if she could go to the Capitol. And so, she would be named the volunteer. There was no other option.
"Whatcha thinkin' about?" Vanessa asked, nudging Claudia with her elbow, snapping her out of her thoughts.
"Oh, nothing much. Just how beautiful the Capitol will be," Claudia said.
"Not as beautiful as you, obviously," Vanessa replied.
"You know it, I'm the prettiest girl in Panem," Claudia snickered, to which Vanessa nodded in agreement. The pair lapsed into comfortable silence as they continued their trek towards the academy. Claudia had always felt particularly at peace at times like these, but today, in particular, was more soothing than usual. The trials to see who would be picked as the female volunteer were coming up in just a few weeks, sure, but Claudia was feeling quite confident in her abilities. She knew she was going to come out on top of those standings no matter what she had to do.
The pair soon found themselves on the front steps of the academy. Claudia was careful not to step in any puddles, as the heavy blanket of snow which coated District 2 in its coldness for what seemed like forever at that point was finally starting to melt. Together, the girls stepped into the warm front hall. As they made their way past a number of other students, Claudia began to wiggle her fingers to regain feeling in them The atmosphere of the Academy had been strange following their reopenings; with such a large amount of the District's population being wiped out, it meant there were fewer kids eligible to train, making the halls of the Academy feel almost hollow. As they made their way through the crowds, Claudia could pick out a number of kids who had blonde streaks in their hair, the mark of those who had survived the Golden Flames. A reminder, Claudia figured, of what they'd been through.
"Okay, this is where I leave you. I'll be out in a bit though," Claudia said as they arrived at the door of the locker room. Vanessa stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on Claudia's cheek before turning and disappearing into the crowds again, probably heading for one of the areas where she could sit and watch. Claudia turned away, heading into the changing room where she was greeted by a few of her fellow trainees. She had never particularly gotten along with any of them, as Claudia had always been significantly different from the others. Where they had endless amounts of money, Claudia's family struggled to scrape by; while the others had managed to escape the District when things got bad, Claudia and her family were stranded. Had they have been wealthy, had Claudia been someone, maybe she could've gotten them out.
Maybe Erik wouldn't be dead if Claudia was everything she wanted to be.
The District 2 girl quickly changed into clothing more fit for training, and she soon found herself departing the locker room, acutely aware of the staring eyes of her fellow trainees, the whispered rumours about herself. But she didn't listen; she never did. Claudia couldn't afford to. Rather than lowering herself to those vultures' level, she would hold herself to a higher standard.
It didn't take much to be above them, after all.
The training room floor was filled with the sounds of people, a cacophony of talking chatter and training, words clashing against words and metal clashing against metal. Barely anybody noticed Claudia as she made her way towards her assigned training station, towards the middle of the training hall. As she walked, Claudia looked up at the seats which were situated on the floor above them, looking out onto the training floor. Claudia spotted Vanessa, sitting in her usual seat. She waved at her girlfriend, although she didn't get any sort of a response since Vanessa was deeply absorbed in her sketching. A small pang of jealously struck her heart as she lowered her head. Why should Vanessa be drawing anybody but Claudia? There wasn't any reason for her beloved to be looking at any of the other girls, much less drawing them. Why should she sketch anybody imperfect when the perfect specimen was standing right before her?
Tearing her eyes away from her girlfriend, Claudia turned her attention back to the task at hand. She picked up the wooden lance which lay next to her training mat. She'd trained with it for many years, confident that the weapon would eventually take her to the fame she so desperately craved. Feeling the weight of the lance in her hand, Claudia thrust the weapon towards one of the dummies, driven by her determination for success, for fame, for everything she wanted. Claudia would make up for all her family had lost; these Games were just the first step towards all she'd ever dreamed of.
Claudia Bartoszek was meant to be a star, after all.
