Coral made it through the first day of televised fanfare by sheer force of will. Every recap of Four's chosen victors began and ended with Aveline's volunteering, with Caesar Flickerman and guests trying to pin down the nature of Aveline's relationship to Coral. They mused on motivations from glory hog to love struck fool and everywhere in between. At one point, she'd looked away from the screen near the market to see Mr. Wyndham hovering nearby, his face anguished as he watched her.
He had fled.
She had tried to give chase, abandoning her place at the stall in favour of pushing her way through dense crowds and peacekeepers in equal turn. The right thing for her to do would've been to just go down to the Wyndham's place with everything she owned as an offering. Except to do so would've been as good as admitting that she didn't think Aveline would come back.
With morning, the hope in her gut had dimmed but even so it wouldn't allow her to just give in.
Even so, each time the anthem played on the screens, Coral near took her own fingers off with the knives in the stall. School was postponed for the games, as was always the case. Education was far less important than televised murder as far the Captiol was concerned. So they turned it into a holiday. More time to sit around. To watch the debates and excitement as it all unfolded.
Vendor's were encouraged to slash their prices. All fishing excursions would be postponed until it was over. This was what the stored supplies were for, though it always seemed funny to Coral that Four saw little of the apparent fish stocks that were kept for these occasions. With all the pushes towards a celebratory atmosphere, it was still the districts that suffered for it. Those that recognised it irked her less than those who didn't. Children sporting headbands with imagery of their favourite victors. Adults wearing little silver tridents in memory of their last exemplary victory at the hands of Finnick.
When the market finally came to a halt for the day, it was her mother that told her not to work the following day. Perhaps not even the following week. She'd demanded it out of a desire to keep Coral's hands intact, a point that may have held some weight in it when Coral finally took in the day's damage. Nicks and cuts marked her like badges of distraction, red and raw where the most recent ones were.
If she was like this one day one, her mother pleaded, she'd have no hands at all by the time the games themselves started.
By the second day, Coral had to admit defeat. She couldn't work with the screens overhead. Couldn't face the lingering looks from every denizen of Four who passed her by on the streets. It was an easy matter to gather a few of her effects, make her excuses and move into Mag's place until everything was over. Tasked with keeping the place clean and ready for the woman's return as it was, it was easy to claim one of the beds and unoccupied rooms.
Mags, thankfully, wouldn't mind.
The victors village held their own screens for the three weeks of the games, allowing kids to watch their parents give interviews and guide other tributes through the ensuing chaos. In Four, the only others watching at the village were Medea's kids and husband. Medea herself had apparently stepped down as mentor to allow Mags and Finnick take point in Aveline's survival. Stepping down as mentor didn't allow for any holiday from the Capitol with the four most recent victors always required to show face for the games. To sell their districts, to celebrate with the citizens of Panem's finest. Since Finnick was the fourth, it meant each year Mags, Medea, Cove and Finnick had no choice but to attend.
If – when - Aveline won, she would replace Mags in the line-up.
Coral's hopes slowly grew in the days before the interviews. Finnick, to his credit and Coral's bafflement, spoke constantly of underdogs and underestimations. From the side of some new floozy, gold accents swept across his eyelids – he told the Captiol to watch this space. From Mag's house, Coral's world narrowed down to sleep and the screens. To Aveline and Finnick. Aveline scored well in the rankings. Gained notice for her striking looks. For the pop of red on her lips as she'd volunteered.
By the day of the interview, even Flickerman was bowing at Aveline's feet. Hair a horrid shade of lime green that Coral couldn't take her eyes off of, he complimented the way her teal dress contrasted her dark skin. Aveline was beautiful. More so even than District One's girl, all luminosity and false laughter.
Aveline was the sea during a wild storm at midnight. She was radiant. Coral wept as Aveline told Flickerman how her stylist had agreed to allowed Aveline herself to do her own makeup. Promised to share the secrets with the Captiol if they'd have her back. It was twisted and sincere and confusing all at once.
This wasn't her Aveline. Her Aveline swore like a sailor, gave little care to what others thought of her. She wouldn't have ended up as Coral's friend otherwise. In the last few seconds, Flickerman asked why she'd volunteered. What her connection was to the Swan girl that had been called.
"Love Caesar, we all do such foolish things for love don't we? But if we didn't, then we wouldn't be human."
"Do you regret it?"
"Not even for a second."
The lights dimmed and then Aveline was gone. Coral's heart was in her mouth. She couldn't breathe. Could hardly function. It was despicable, but she didn't even recall the name or face of the boy that followed. All that mattered was Aveline.
That night the screens were given a rest and the world faded down to Coral and a too big bed. Knowing that nightmares would follow sleep, she drowned her sorrows in a bottle of spirits unearthed from Mag's bedroom.
By the time she passed out, Coral dreamed of victories and luck and faith and love and Aveline. Always Aveline.
The arena was a savanna. Sands interspersed with tall grasses and the occasional trees. Rife with hidden terrors. Eleven died in the initial bloodbath at the cornucopia. Aveline was not one of them. Four more died crossing a pack of mutts during their escape. Creatures that looked like striped horses, black and white. Whose teeth glowed in the half light of the morning as they ripped the kids apart.
Aveline trekked to the edge of the arena and back in her first day as she sought water. Food sources. Used wildflowers and mud to create her own camouflage that kept her out of sight of the careers. It couldn't mask her scent. The coverage thrilled in the chase as some kind of wild cat followed her. As Aveline moved unawares into her first night trying to find herself tools for survival.
There was one sponsor gift in the fading light of the day. A cannister of some foul looking paste that she rubbed onto her skin and seemed to repel the cat. Coral breathed a sigh of relief. Prayed the luck would last.
No sleep came the first night.
Coral watched as Aveline pulled herself awkwardly into a tree. Ignored all footage of the others unless they posed immediate threat. Moonlight was sparce in the arena but it was enough to let her see her best friend twist a silver shape between her fingertips. A small charm bracelet that had to have been received in the Capitol. A piece of Coral.
Medea's husband came out somewhere around three to drape a blanket across her shoulders. He didn't try to move her. To urge sleep. Coral wondered if he had been in love with Medea before she'd entered the arena. If he'd felt the same things that now consumed her. Fickle hope. Fragile sanity. Clawing fear.
Coral sat watch over Aveline from miles away, fingers clasped in prayers to who knew what.
Bring her home to me.
Bring her back.
It was with the dawn that the cannon came. That Coral startled out of her doze. Footage switched between the remaining career pack around the cornucopia. Around the two tributes from district three who were sleeping back to back. To elevens boy curled into a hole in a tree. To sevens girl as she hunkered low in the grasses, not moving an inch. It was a lifetime before the camera zoomed in on Aveline's face and the brightly coloured spider that had left its bite at her cheek.
To the slackness of her body and the wrist hanging over the branch of her final resting place, silver coral glinting against the sunrise.