Chapter 19: Chariot Rides

I wanted to thank everybody for the wonderful support from all sides! I noticed that a lot of you find many characters neutral. Maybe this will change over the next weeks because everybody has an interesting side in their character you maybe didn't find out yet… There aren't any trigger warnings for this chapter, so enjoy #Chapter 19: Chariot Rides!

Qantuta Hutchinson, 16, District 11 male

If Qantuta had been told three days ago that he was going to the Capitol, he would have been rested with joy. Now he just felt frightened and exhausted. He no longer had the strength to fight against the horrible ideas of the stylists. All he wanted now was to get it across the stage as quickly as possible and then fall asleep in peace. "Remember to throw the capes to the side and not backwards," Ama's stylist explained. She looked as tired as Qantuta felt. I'm sure half of those present didn't want to be here, he thought. The festive gown in which he had been wrapped hung like a shadow of him and fluttered through the strong fans on the sides. Perhaps he would have filled up at home and wore the robes in honor, but now they felt like the noose around his neck that slowly dragged on. There was no escape.

"Start in two minutes, everybody get on your positions," a commanding voice thundered. If he had been in a clear state of mind, Qantuta might have noticed that it was the voice of Artemesia Rutherford that sent him straight to hell. Gone is the devil, who looked down proudly at them and put words in their mouths that they never dared to pronounce. Happy hunger games, he thought bitterly. The audience applauded and cheered, the large wing doors did not dampen a single sound. When they were opened, he was even blinded by the countless lights at the other end of the hall. It was not only the stars who looked down on them in the sky, but every person who lived and was not killed by one of the countless environmental disasters. Panem saw his tributes live for the first time this year.

Qantuta saw the chariots move at half a minute apart. District 1 led the parade, followed by everyone else, until the carriage from District 12 finally came to an end. As they moved, his stomach briefly turned. He had never seen so many people before, and even if they hadn't cared about him. Qantuta Hutchinson was an ordinary boy from the 11th District who owned a family and went to school to give himself a better life. All this was now a thing of the past. Now he was a tribute, a fighter and possibly soon a murderer (Qantuta doubted that, but you never knew what happened to you until you got into the situation). The two received thunderous cheers from District 11 as they moved up the avenue in their shiny green robes. Qantuta felt every bump in the road, every little stone that had not been cleared away. Ama waved beside him and shone brighter than the psychedelic gold costume of the girl from District One. She had to feel comfortable, Qantuta remarked, as he looked over at her. Soon she could be dead.

Ama Carter was a good actress, Qantuta knew that before the reaping. It was noticed for the first time, but it was during the train journey. A compliment there, a compliment there, a request here and perfect had become her new mask. In his dreams, Qantuta sometimes wished he were as adept with people as she was. It seemed as if she always knew what to say to please others. Sad that you only like people if you don't stay true to yourself. Qantuta hoped it would never end like Ama. He did not want to live such a life, even if he was given the greatest wealth of Panem. He did not want to live like a king; Qantuta simply wanted to lie in a lounger in the sun and feel the warmth on his skin while having a conversation with Minty. No more worries, no more fear hovering over his head like a storm cloud. Qantuta Hutchinson just wanted to find peace. Would Minty just watch? Guaranteed, today is compulsory television.

Qantuta caught a lily that had been thrown at him. Waving, he thanked their throwers before Ama bent down to him. "Stop being so shy. Smile and wave, damn it!" she hissed, and turned to the roaring audience again. Once, Qantuta would have enjoyed a conversation with Ama, but now it felt as if she were pouring water into his lungs and he choked on it. She did not condone any rebuttal. With a broad grin, Qantuta waved on until the car slowed down. The other carriages had arranged in a crescent moon, with their car stopping in the last row between the two of District 9 and 12. Under the strict gaze of Ama, Qantuta did not dare to not listen to the President's speech. Curiously, Ama repeated every word. How could she even listen to such a barbarian?

"Welcome, tributes. From today you will be prepared for the exhausting weeks to come until one of you triumphantly wins. The rest," Snow took a dramatic break and took a closer look at each chariots. When he swiped Qantuta's gaze, Qantuta froze. These people would decide who wins. "The rest will be dead. It is a great honor for your district to fight life-and-death in such a sporting, fair and nerve-racking contest. I do not yet know who will be crowned by me in three weeks' time, but I hope that this person, born of ashes and blood, will pay an incredible tribute to our nation. But until the time comes, I can't say anything other than Happy Hunger Games and may the odds always be with you!" Snow finished his speech contentedly. The Capitolites did not seem to notice that it was slightly altered. The applause resumed the moment Snow stepped back from the microphone.

The carriages of the tributes from the first two districts turned and the horses trotted back to the game center on the opposite sides. Gradually, the scramble between the horses dissipated, until District Eleven's chariot gave a push forward and followed that of District 9. The audience was still cheering, and Qantuta had learned from her mentor Chaff that the Capitolites would be celebrating the rest of the night. The lottery shops were also opened today, which meant a huge rush for tomorrow. The most popular tributes were interviewed over the next three days to make the subsequent victory film for after the Games.

Ama was eager to be interviewed. "It's the best way to win sponsors," she said, then put a grape in her mouth. Qantuta didn't really know what to think of these interviews. Wasn't it enough when they were interviewed by Caesar for live television on Sunday? Standing in front of the camera made Qantuta very nervous. He never expected the parade to be so persevered. If something had gone wrong, Ama might have cut his throat that night. Maybe the chariot rides haven't been the worst thing yet, Qantuta decided. The familiar hall of voices made him listen. When Chaff came to them and said it was over, Qantuta jumped off the carriage relieved.

Caesar Flickerman, 45, Headmaster of Ceremonies, Live on Capitol TV

"Now the doors of the game center open and the first car with the tributes from District 1 rolls out!" Claudius proclaimed euphorically next to him, leaning closer to the screen inserted into the table. The hot light of the headlights dazzled Caesar as he looked at the camera. "On the left side of the car you see Lucretia Aurum, enchanted in a costume of long gold threads woven together in a psychedelic braid. In Lucretia's hair, we see a golden crown with single tips, reminiscent of the crown of the famous Statue of Liberty from Panem's long history. A tribute to the old world? Or an inspiration to the winner's crown? We'll ask in the interview," Caesar said, tapping the zoom switch, which showed the individual weighs closer. All those who were not standing on the avenue would watch live on television. Claudius continued. "On the other side of the car you see Wayne Thompson, unusual name for the luxury district, who proudly poses in a similar outfit. He wears a toga that allows us to have a good look at these strong-arm muscles, in the same material as Lucretia's dress. If we go back a little in the history of the past Hunger Games, we see a connection to the costume of his brother, who won the Games five years ago. Both dressed in gold before and after the Games? We'll see."

His colleague took a sip of water and Caesar used the time to announce the car from District 2. "The two tributes from District 2 follow the car of the one. My top favorite for the games is here! Do you see the muscles that Nolan Rhodes is showing? Dressed in tattered armor, inspired by a Roman gladiator, soldier sandals and a pack of pride, it becomes the parade's new main attraction. Today we see many memories of the old world! Does that give us clues to the arena?! I'm going to ask Head Gamemaker Artemesia Rutherford!" said Caesar, looking into the camera smiling. He liked his job, it meant more than his life. Caesar Flickerman lived for the audience and the stage. "Do you see the fur placed around Diana Lane's shoulders? For all viewers who don't know why this is so personal, a brief explanation: Diana Lane owns several cats and in an interview with Katerina she also admitted that her motivation to win is above all animal welfare! A venerable incentive to which Diana owes fourth place in the ranking of the favorites! Like her district partner, she is dressed in a battered armor that has been added to the fur to make up for perhaps the lack of muscle mass compared to Nolan's? We'll see if she gets one of the coveted interview spots with Capitol Vogue! Did you know that Nolan Rhodes will be on the cover? Exciting, the two tributes from District 2!" added Claudius, straightening out his tie.

"Behind them, the car of District 3 is getting ready. We see Dimona Summa, dressed in a tight black leather suit with countless pieces of a keyboard! A nice idea to reassert the district's industry. What fascinates me, however, is this incredible make-up! Her face sparkles and glitters with the skyline of the Capitol! I absolutely need to find out who makes these long eyelashes! These will be the hit in the cosmetics market in the next few days," Claudius said, shoving Caesar's microphone again. "Unlike his district partner, Hal Prescott is not covered with computer keyboards, but with tiny shiny plates that reflect the inside of a device! An original idea that certainly brings district 3 many plus points, which unfortunately were lost during the reaping. Do the threes pick up in the overall classification of the favorites?! Tomorrow we will analyze this in more detail!" announced Caesar, looking around the studio for a moment. Everything was kept in sterile white and each surface was mirror-smooth. Full attention was paid to the moderators.

"Let's move on with the tributes from the fishing district! Here you can see Fen Orta throwing a quiver over his shoulders and shooting arrows into the sky that explode in sparks! Incredibly, as the districts manage to challenge each other again and again to the nominations to the best dressed couple! Like Wayne Thompson, Fen Orta wears a skirt that is styled in the style of a fish skin and shines in a bright blue! His athletic physique is thus well emphasized, but he has much less muscles than the two male tributes of 1 and 2. Is Fen still able to shoot himself into the hearts of the spectators? His love arrow has already hit me!", Claudius giggles amusedly, letting the carriage of the two of them from four from all sides. "Next to him, Shasta Vengari cheerfully waves to the audience and picks up exotic flowers that she and Fen put in her hair! Shasta wears a dress made of fabric that looks similar to Fen's. Her blonde hair, which looks almost white in the bright light of the headlights, was tucked up in a stylish braided hairstyle. I'm sure their followers will often reinterpret this hairstyle during the games. The couple from District 4 completely convinced me! If it enchanted you, then vote in the ranking of tributes for Fen and Shasta published tomorrow, they will thank you!"

Caesar encouraged the audience to participate in the polls, whose turnout has steadily increased since Artemesia Rutherford took over as game director. She did a good job. The arenas were always original and made it into the category of the most popular arenas in history.

"Behind them the tributes from District 5 are coming and this year they're exclusively equipped by Hygenia Heather! A great honor for the smallest district, which in reality is bursting with sparks! Alisha Crowney surprises in a tight-fitting one-piece that looks like a menacing thunderstorm sky. Pay attention to the headpiece of the costume! It sparks and makes thunderous noises, which, however, are a little lost in the volume of the audience. Alisha has often been compared to the young Artemesia Rutherford and I have to say honestly that the similarity is incredible! In Sunday's interview, I'll ask Alisha how she see the compares to the Gamemaker!" said Caesar, handing over again to Claudius, who burned with devotion to the unique costumes. "Her district partner Solomon Canterra, hard to believe that he is 13, right? He embodies a flash! His suit is designed in a radiation-repellent silver that allows him to reflect the light of the headlights. On the faces of the two tributes, if you look closely, you will see individual storm clouds! A brilliant idea to play with the weather! They deserve the applause! Hygenia, my dear, you have surpassed yourself again!" clinched Claudius, raising one hand to his heart. Caesar sounded quiet. I shouldn't have eaten the stew just before the show.

"We're halfway through and now we're seeing the two tributes from District 6! Re-embodying the transport industry every year is really a huge task. We see Brea Greensdale waving cheerfully into the crowd! We are also happy that you are here! Now to her outfit: Brea wears a tight green suit, why are suits so fashionable this year?, and on her feet I recognize silver rollerblades that match the same-colored helmet and schooner! Caesar, can you remember our youth? There were exactly these dividers of the racers! I'm sure the boom will come back in the furious performance from District 6!" announced Claudius, donning his golden wig.

"I remember the Rollerblades well! Rolan Joralemon also wears Rollerblades, but everything that is silver in Brea's look is golden in his. Despite the latex material in the suit, the two seem to feel comfortable in the spotlight! Do you know what makes me so curious about District 6? It is this determination and the mysterious! We still don't know why Rolan volunteered, but just wait, because I'm going to tickle that out of him on Sunday!" said Caesar, turning to the rather failed outfits of the Seventh District.

"The car from District 7 with Ivy and Paul follows him! Both wear the same outfit as the last two tributes. A tribute to Blight Clevar's victory last year?! Let us all be very hopeful that this wish for a double victory will come true! Let's turn to the costumes. Like Wayne and Nolan before, Paul wears a tight-fitting garment that only covers his legs, giving us a good look at the muscles of the tribute! Do you see that pride in Paul's brown eyes? I'm pretty sure we should keep an eye on this boy for a while, because I'm really hoping for him!" said Caesar. He had to tell Artemesia that new outfits were needed for District 7. People were bored at the sight of the tributes. "Even Ivy is reminiscent of a tree. In her long hair, leaves were braided, the arms and legs covered with glued leaves! What fascinates me about Ivy is the feminine strength she exudes. It reminds me of Lyme, who won two years ago. Just as determined as Paul, she waves to the audience and smiles with her bright blue eyes! A nice implementation of the outfit through the tributes, but next time please a little more creativity!" said Claudius critically, zooming on the carriages of District 8s pulled by white horses.

"Do you see how sweet Anya and Aramed are waving into the crowd? Charming! The two are the latest tributes this year, but that's why they shouldn't be forgotten. Anya charms in her pink tulle dress, which ends at her knees. Her shoulders are framed by the delicate tulle fabric of the really enchanting dress! The blonde hair, we have many blonde tributes this year, has been turned into big curls, which are held out of her face with a headband. On their cheeks I can see small candies! Oh, they're sugar-sweet, aren't they, Caesar?" said Claudius, smiling broadly into the camera. "That's true! Really sugar-sweet, our eights! Aramed wears a pastel blue suit and holds Anya's hand as he picks up a flower. His edgy face was made even more shiny with a beautiful bronze tone. Absolutely stunning, District 8, ladies and gentlemen!" cried Caesar into the microphone. Although he did not put his money on either of the two tributes, he found that they were really a complement to the otherwise brutal squad. Anya almost reminded him of his little sister, who this year was the escort for District 3.

"The carriage with probably the weirdest couple of the evening, the tributes from District 9, Amber and Ceren! Ceren wears a beautiful linen shirt in a soft yellow tone, along with a sturdy field worker's trousers with large pockets, from which ears hang. In his left hand, he bravely holds a scythe. Ceren doesn't really look pleased with his accessory, but he tries to hide it with moderate success. In spite of everything, he waves a little and smiles kindly, albeit shyly, into the crowd," Claudius said, pushing a small piece of paper to Caesar invisibly for the audience. The note said that Amber Henthrow wanted to apologize for her unflattering, insulting words against the Capitol, but couldn't do it in person before the interview. Claudius nodded slightly to Caesar before he began to moderate again. "Besides Ceren Dolan, you'll see Amber Henthrow, who wears a dress made of sturdy material, probably a kind of crack-resistant linen, and a crown of braids. I now have an important message for all the spectators, because this young lady who is taking part in the parade would like to officially apologize for her unsightly and lying words towards the wonderful Capitol. I quote Amber Henthrow: "I want to apologize for everything I have said. In that moment it was impossible for me to hide my grief and fear and I had to let off steam from my anger. I'm so sorry.' A really touching apology, don't you think so, Claudius?" asked Caesar, and time stopped briefly. It had been Artemesia's personal mission to broadcast the apology live, so that district 9 would be sponsored a little. Scyon Dolan would otherwise stand on the mat here tomorrow morning and break the girl's neck if he saw her.

"A really touching apology. Probably a tornado of feelings was in her, looking for indulgence. Now we come to the car of District 10, which is by far the most beautiful of all, if you look for the decoration. See these cute daisies at Horizon. A reminder of the many pastures of the cattle breeding district and what would a pasture be without its inhabitants?! Horizon and Jeddison are both dressed in costumes with big black spots and in fact, they even thought of the udders!" cried Claudius, playfully banging on the table. Caesar smiled at his friend's reaction and turned to the striking make-up of the tributes. "Because both have Mexican roots, the red lipstick on Horizon's lips and the elegant eyeliner at Jeddison are excellent! They are truly the best advertisement the tourist offices can imagine for the rather unknown holiday fun in District 10. I went on holiday there a few months ago and this climate is truly a dream! Forget District 4 and come to 10!" cried Caesar amused at the ridiculous depiction of the tributes. If the stylists had only had a spark of reason, they would at least have presented the boy decently. Jeddison was definitely well built and might even take one of the outsider posts in the career's alliance, so why didn't they sell him that way?

The stylists had done it quite differently with the tributes from District 11. The pair seemed to whisper to each other but smiled and waved that their hands were already hurting. Claudius continued to moderate. "Here you can see Qantuta Hutchinson, who has flown under the radar so far, but is now really rising to the showman! Interesting what the costumes can do with you. The large curly head scurries around its wreath of pears and apples, while its glittering green robe is blown away by the headwinds. He's just catching a lily, how stunning!"

"Do you see the pretty lady next to him? This is Ama Carter, probably the most popular outsider of the year. She also enchants in the airy light robe. The fine features of her body have been really made to shine with Highlighter. In my opinion, she could be a potential candidate to win! Is District 11 finally succeeding again and recording another win in his pocket? If Ama and Qantuta will feel as comfortable in the arena as they are in their great costumes, then I guarantee for happy hunger games!" said Caesar. In fact, Caesar had privately bet on several candidates, including the pair from District 11. If the others slammed their heads, someone who proved their heads and skill could win, couldn't they? He hoped that it was not a misjudgment, otherwise he would have to endure the torments of Claudius, who had bet on Blight last year, once again.

"Now we are coming to the end of the parade. On the coal black car of the Twelfth District are Conan Bruce, who admittedly seems a little embarrassed about his outfit, and a cheerfully waving Misty Boulevard, who seems to have quickly befriended the fact that she was wearing nothing but underwear and coal dust! Stop being so shy, Conan! Misty smiles more radiantly than the sun despite the outfit! Is this outfit a small dampener for the team from District 12, after the furious start of Misty, who volunteered to remember? Let us know your opinion and send us a message to the e-mail address below or vote live with your smart TV! Every single one of you will thank you!" announced Claudius, waiting for Caesar to speak the final word.

"We thank you for watching and wish you happy hunger games and may be happy with your favorites! Greetings from the Capitol and celebrate the night!" Caesar said, and the spotlight went out immediately. Behind the scenes, a camera assistant shouted that everything was finished and that everybody could go partying now. Exhausted, Caesar got up and made his way to his next stop: the celebration mile.

Atticus Snow, 25, only heir of President Snow and Consulted Assistant of the Head Gamemaker

Atticus could not understand why the parade was one of the favorite days of the games. The tributes were drawn across the main street of the Capitol in mostly ridiculous costumes. What was so special about it? They didn't talk to the audience like they did in the interviews or showed strengths like in training. Next to him, Rabastan drank his beer empty. "You know we'll have a meeting tomorrow morning, don't you? You can't really plan to go through the whole night," Atticus said, looking disgusted at the beer can. The corrosive smell of yeast rose into his nose. If he drank alcohol, it was just something where he didn't taste it directly. "When was the last time you really celebrated a night? Hmm?" asked Rabastan. "You sound like my mother. She also wants me to sit down in bars and finally hitting on the right one," Atticus said, jumping up. Although it was already late at night, the right celebrations and parties only started. Atticus wasn't a reserved person, but he didn't like the feeling of standing drunk on a crowded dance floor talking to women who spoke to him anyway only because of his name. Never in life did Atticus expect him to really do something... real in his life wanted. He did not know the feeling of genuine love; his father was only functionally married to his mother and had never made a secret of the fact that he liked his power rather than the family. Atticus was raised by his mother. If he wasn't with her, it was only with proper playmates, of which there was enough here in the Capitol. His child shouldn't grow up like that. Atticus wanted his child to run around in a meadow and choose his friends and later partners.

"Sorry if I got too close to you," Rabastan muttered with a grin, before heading to the meeting room below. 'I just don't understand it. I'm 25, can't I have any rights?" Asked Atticus his older cousin, who glanced through the glass panes down to the tributes. "You probably have more rights than those down there, so don't complain," Rabastan replied, pulling him to the meeting room.

Artemesia was already sitting at the table, scrolling through some documents, while Hygenia sat next to her and told of her new experiences as a stylist. "Don't you experience this first-class feeling every year, Hygenia?" asked Atticus mockingly, unable to pinch his grin. The Control Council of the Hunger Games was a crazy lump. "Have you seen Azrael?" asked Artemesia and stood up to put a jug of tea on the table. "Azrael only hears and sees you when he wants to. He's going to come," Rabastan said, dropping on a chair. Hygenia nodded in agreement before sipping on her cocktail. "Artemesia, you really have nothing stronger there? That's what my dogs drink," Hygenia said, tapping against the glass.

"I'm sorry if you can't stay dry during a small announcement. But don't worry, tomorrow there will only be water in my conference room. If you don't want to, your dogs would certainly like to drink it," she replied teasingly. Rabastan smiled quietly. "No discipline, Hygenia? And you want to call yourself a stylist?" he teased the blue-haired woman, who playfully slapped him on the arm. "No respect, Rabastan? I thought you were a military officer," Hygenia argued with victory, and the door opened again. Azrael Shadowsinger floated in and landed elegantly next to Artemesia. If Atticus had not known how much power the man had, he would have asked him what he had to look for here in the first place. His black hair fell stranded in his face and covered his right eye. He hid the caramel-colored skin under wide-cut clothes that swelled behind him like a wedding dress.

"You were right," he said only to Artemesia, who nodded knowingly. Rabastan's face also got serious. "You mean..." he asked anxiously. Artemesia was very pale in her face when she pulled out a file and pushed her over Atticus and Hygenia. "If you three don't finally tell me what happened now, then... oh.' Hygenias voice became quieter and quieter as she looked at the picture. Atticus swallowed heavily. He had known about it but could not imagine the scale of the disaster. "Do you know how many mutations there are?" he asked anxiously. Azrael's calm voice enveloped him like an intimate hug as the Capitol's master spy responded. "So far, at least 5 to 10 copies are expected. Authorities in Districts 2 and 7 are on alert and are now preparing for a wide-ranging search operation." Artemesia sat down. "It is very important that no word leaves this room. So far, only the most necessarily know about it, and your father wants to prevent it from triggering a mass panic in the districts," she said, and Atticus thought she was shaking. "Why should it cause panic in the other districts?" asked Hygenia, confused, before slamming the file. "Only someone has been killed in District 7, and so far the mutations have only affected people who have been behind the official barrier," he said. The realization hit Atticus like a well-targeted blow to the pit of the stomach. "There are several mutations?" Rabastan cursed quietly. Azrael folded his hands. Hygenia slapped her hand in front of her mouth when she saw Artemesia's approving nod.

"There are other mutations near 12 and some have been seen in the waters of 4. So far, these are the only other groups, but McCollins is believed to have not captured or killed the mutations in his six years as a Gamemaker, even after the arenas were dismantled," Artemesia said. "What is this about us now? We have placed the arena in a different area and have always disposed of the mutations properly in recent years," Hygenia said, slapping her leopard coat tighter. Artemesia looked at Rabastan, who struggled to find the right words. "What Rabastan wants to tell you is that there are three tributes that know about these mutations. These would be the two from District 7 and the boy from three. The boy of three, Hal Prescott, even noticed the attack of a mutation on a group of peacekeepers. Rabastan did his best to silence him, but the boy is curious," Artemesia said, adding another file. "That's why this is our problem now," she said, addressing Hygenia, brushing her friend's arm. "In his homeland, Prescott has tried his hand as a detective and also says that he wants to make his money later on as such," Azrael said in a calm voice. "The boy is dangerous. So what should we do to make sure he keeps his mouth?" asked Atticus, leaning over the table to Artemesia. The scent of her fruity perfume now hung heavy in the air. He knew Artemesia; she always had a Plan B.

"We're waiting. I've put a doctor under his preparation team and the boy's vital values aren't as good as those of the other tributes. In my opinion, it would be a miracle if he could get it out of the carnage at the beginning without being hurt or killed," she said, but it didn't sound so convincing. "In an emergency, we can still push a mutation on his neck," Rabastan muttered angrily. Atticus looked at his cousin anxiously. Rabastan was hardened by his profession as a chief officer, but it didn't seem to get out of his mind that he hadn't managed to scare a 16-year-old enough. Now he was not allowed to dwell on his wounded pride. The group remained silent until Artemesia finally threw them out of the room.

"Atticus, I still wanted to talk to you. Stay there for a moment," she said, going to the drinks vending machine. Confused, the man closed the door. What did Artemesia want to talk about that others were not allowed to hear? It could only be a subject. "It's about your friend, isn't it?" Artemesia nodded approvingly. She hit the vending machine and a cola can slipped out. With one movement, she opened the can. It hissed quietly before she dared to look him in the eye. 'I don't know what you've seen or heard. But I beg you, keep it for you," she pleaded, throwing him a bag of gummy bears. "That's your bribe? A bag of gummy bears?" he asked with his eyes pulled up. "I honestly expected more from you."

Completely finished, Artemesia let himself sink into a chair. "It's not funny, Att," she whispered, holding her head. It had to be very serious when she called him by his nickname. The last time she called him that was an eternity ago. "My parents' got wind of it and now they want to marry me to the best recruiter," Artemesia said, and a tear made its way to the ground. The 25-year-old got up and hugged his girlfriend. "I'm sorry, honestly," he whispered softly, brushing the increasingly violent crying Artemesia over his black hair. "Have they ever considered anyone?" he asked. Artemesia pulled lightly on his suit jacket until Atticus understood the gesture. She meant him. "I didn't know anything about it, Mesia," he said softly, continuing to cradle his crying girlfriend. "Well, I didn't expect you to know," she sobbed, swiping her cheeks smeared with mascara.

"I really don't ask you often for a favor, but could you imagine playing until I can convince my parents of him? So really only for the public?" she said, looking at him with big eyes. Atticus wanted to condemn himself for it when he realized how he became weak at Artemesia's sight. Didn't he want to get her out of it a few days ago? Didn't he want to tease her any more with her little games? Now she expected him to take a swarm with her. His parents were thrilled, Atticus thought. Artemesia would certainly be a suitable daughter-in-law.

"Why me? Why not Azrael or Rabastan? My mother won't buy me that. She knows we're like cat and mouse," Atticus said, sitting on a chair. "From my father's point of view, Azrael is a district citizen, not from the Capitol. Rabastan, oh, I don't think our Rabastan could withstand such a spectacle," she said, trying to smile. "And I can withstand such a spectacle?" asked Atticus angrily. Did Artemesia really expect him to be so heartless just to play along like that? They would have physical contact and spend every minute together in which they did not sleep. 'I can understand that it makes you angry and confused. But I ask you, Att, as a friend and not as a rival, help me. I don't want to spend my whole life with a disrespectful idiotic guy," she whispered, gently brushing his cheek. "Please," she said. The sound of her voice made his ears ring. Was he really ready for something like that? Wasn't it fundamentally wrong?

"I help you, but only on one condition." A hint of hope filled Artemesia's green eyes. "No matter what you want," she said softly, sitting on the table. Atticus got up and went to the door. "Imagine your friend, Artemesia. I don't want more than that. If he really takes care of you so well, then I'll help you," he said, and left.