Took me an age but here's the second chapter of Ladies First! There are still plenty of open slots so feel free to submit! Info on my profile and feel free to DM me with any and all questions!
Here's three of my Victors! All three prologues will be in the months between the Quell Reading and the Games unless otherwise noted. I freaking loved writing this, let me tell you.
Gavin Booth, Age 35, District 7
One-Hundred-Fifty-Eighth Hunger Games Victor
The smell of coffee and pancakes is what drags me from bed and into some loose shorts and a tank top. I follow the aroma downstairs and around to my kitchen, where a man has his back to me. I smile softly as I sneak across the floor toward him, raising my hand as my eyes focus on his butt.
"Don't even think about it." Dragon doesn't even turn, but I'm not surprised he noticed my presence. I laugh, enveloping him in a hug from behind.
"Good morning, beautiful." I whisper in his ear. He sighs softly, melting into my embrace. I breathe deeply, noting the slight scent of smoke overpowering that of the pancakes. "Something smells amazing."
"I'm glad you think so." He doesn't look at me, but I catch the smile playing across his lips. "They're almost done."
"Oh yeah, them too." I giggle as he pours the last of the mix into the pan, making two more cakes. I stand there, holding him as he cooks, until he's satisfied that they're done.
The dining table in my- our- house is remarkably large, but after fifteen years we still prefer to sit beside each other whenever possible. I scarf down my pancakes while he laughs, barely touching his food. I glance over at him, looking into his eyes. "What?" I ask, indignant at his laughter but with food spilling out of my mouth.
"You." Is all he says.
I'm quick to finish my breakfast, though still my husband eats little. It's been three days since the announcement, and he can't quite get past it.
I scoot closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "You know they won't do it, right? We may be the two most recent, but nobody would ever drag you back there."
"You don't know that." He says. "You never know who might be desperate enough, or might think we still have whatever it was that brought us back the first time. Gavin, I'm scared. We aren't the Victors we used to be; why, we've spent more time as Victors than as regular people. Neither of us would survive in there." He looks away, and I stand up abruptly.
"We're going out!" I declare.
"Out?" He asks in surprise. "Out where?"
"Anywhere at all! Anywhere you want to go." I take his hands, ignoring the unfinished plate of pancakes on the table, and drag him upstairs to the bedroom.
"Gavin, what-"
"We need clothes proper for going out on the town." I tear my shirt off, digging through my drawers for the particular garment I'm looking for. After a moment, the tight pink shirt that somehow still fits after all these years is slipped over my head and black ripped jeans have replaced my shorts. Dragon, bless his heart, is wearing blue jeans, an overlarge tie-dyed shirt and a grey jacket.
"Honey, no…" I groan, looking at him. "The shirt? Really?"
"It's my favorite shirt." He whines, and I step over to him. Kissing him on the cheek, I quickly zip the front of the jacket up and hide the blinding colors.
"Alright, love. Let's go." Taking his hand again, I drag him down the stairs, out the door and into the Spring light.
"Where are we going, again?" He asks as we walk from the Victor's Village. I glance at him, smirking.
"Wherever you want. That's what I said." I squeeze his hand, and his shoulders seem to relax slightly.
"But I don't want to go anywhere." He protests.
"Not yet, but we'll figure something out." I tug on him a bit and we pass the gates, heading into town. It's a little chilly out and I vaguely wish I had brought a jacket, but a little cold never hurt anybody.
There are some shops set up outside the Village, and a large array of smells greet me. Vendors like to set up here, hoping to catch the Victors before they make it to the main shops in town. The scent of fresh pastries dances through the air, mingling with the crisp cold and seared venison. And is that…
"Hot chocolate!" Dragon breaks away from me to sprint up to the vendor, and despite his concerns for the Games I can't help but wonder at how fast he is after all this time. Before I even make it to the vendor, Dragon has a thick insulated cup in his hands, and is sipping gingerly.
"Would you like some, Mister Booth?" The vendor, a slight woman, raises a cup toward me. I glance at Dragon, who smiles as he breathes in the scent of his cocoa.
"No thank you." I say. I've never been a fan, but Dragon lives for the stuff.
It's barely five minutes later when Dragon finishes his cup, tossing it in a rubbish bin and sighing, satisfied. I rub my arms, aware of the chill seeping into my skin despite the shining sun, and suddenly I wish I had accepted a cup.
Dragon embraces me, sloppily planting a kiss on my lips before we continue on. The cold continues to gnaw at me, and I'm shivering slightly as Dragon slips his hand into mine.
He notices. "Babe, you're freezing!" He turns to me, a concerned look on his face.
"No, I'm not!" I argue sheepishly, but he doesn't back down. He never has.
"Don't you start with me." In two quick motions, his jacket is unzipped and freed from his shoulders. He practically shoves it at me, and I take it with reluctance. Slipping it over my arms, I feel immensely warmer, and I turn back to Dragon.
And remember his blindingly bright shirt. I laugh softly, and he glances down, a smile spreading on his face.
"What do you want to do now?" I ask.
"Gavin Booth, can you make no decisions for yourself?" He counters, leaning forward and slipping a hand around my neck.
I grin. "Nope."
He whispers into my ear, his warm breath welcome on my cold skin. "Can we go home then?" He asks.
I nod, and as I note the drab greys and greens of the District, Dragon's bright yellow and purple shirt stands out like the sun hanging in the sky.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
Raize Decker, Age 32, District 11
One-Hundred-Sixtieth Hunger Games Victo
The District is on edge, more so than usual. The Quell announcement has everyone afraid, as the girls ponder who they'd take with them into the Games if they had to, many planning to take strong men they know who could protect them. Many talk about their boyfriends, fathers, older brothers. Some talk about bringing a man in as some kind of revenge for being wronged in some way.
When I pass in the fields during these conversation, eyes turn to me. Whispers break out, as they consider asking their most recent Victor. He made it through. They say, And they'd just bring him back if he died, right? They do that sometimes with the Third Quell Victors, even though they died.
Selfish children. How could they talk like that, like being a Victor means I can be used? In fifteen years, I've never been seen as a person in this District. That first year, sure, I was a savior; nobody starved as the packages came weekly. I was thanked left and right for being the strongest, for being the best.
But even then, they didn't care about me. They cared about the food I had brought, about the year their children wouldn't have to take out tesserae. After that, I became feared, something to not be associated with. A murderer with the blood of twenty-five soaking my soul.
And now they want me again, if only to drag me back to hell.
I hate walking through town. I think as the door to my home in the Village closes behind me. Instantly, a chorus of cries erupts from the playroom upstairs, followed by the thundering of footsteps.
"Daddy!" Adele, my eldest daughter, leaps from the bottom of the stairs and nearly tackles me in her flying hug. She's giggling uncontrollably, and I carefully put her down as my youngest, Demetria, waddles down the stairs. She stumbles, and I dart forward on instinct, but she catches herself. I pluck her from the stairs and embrace her as my wife calls from the kitchen.
"Raize, what took you so long?" She appears in the living room, smiling. "I really need those peppers!"
I laugh, hoisting the grocery bag from where I dropped it on the floor. I walk over, Demi on my other arm and Addie close behind, embracing my wife in a hug that both girls join in on. I kiss her cheek, and the scent of her famous lasagna emanates from the kitchen.
"Sorry" I say, walking in and depositing the food on the dining table. "Had to take the long way around."
Her brow knits in concern, lips pursed, but she nods. We both know what's going on, though we also try our best to ignore it.
Two and a half months.
Two and a half months until the Quell. Then, one way or another, our worries will cease.
Dinner that night is quiet, my wife and I sneaking glances at each other as Adele shivers with excitement.
"So, Faith dear, how has your day been?" I ask conversationally.
"Oh, it's been wonderful!" She gushes, barely holding back a giggle. "Demi and I went shopping at that place Adele likes," Addie perks up, "and I spent a lot of time in the garden. The Spring veggies are really coming in nicely, and I think they'll be ready soon."
"Did you help Mommy with the garden, Demi?" Demetria chuckles, glancing at Addie.
"Yup! I helped a lot!"
"Wonderful. Addie dear, how was school? You learn anything new?"
"It's her birthday!" Demi shouts, and Faith and I break out laughing. Adele blushes slightly, embarrassed and annoyed from our trying to pretend we were ignoring it entirely.
Through the laughter, I grab Demi's hand. I whisper in her ear, and she nods excitedly before running into the pantry. Struggling a little, she pulls out three wrapped packages, pushing them across the floor.
I jump up, laughing as the paper on one parcel tears. My five-year-old daughter harrumphs as I gather the packages, placing them on the table. Faith pulls the cake from the fridge, a simple thing with bright blue lettering reading Happy 11th Birthday!
Faith slides the cake in front of Adele, and her eyes widen. A small lighter starts the candles burning, and I pick up Demetria as my wife breaks into song. Demi and I quickly join, a mismatch of harmonies.
"Happy Birthday to you!
Happy Birthday to you!
Happy Birthday dear Adele!
Happy Birthday to you!"
Addie blows out the candles as Demetria starts to shout, "Cha cha cha! Ooh la-la! Stick your hand in hot lava!" I tune out the rest as I watch the last candle go out, cheering.
In the back of my mind, the countdown begins. One more year. One last year and then she's eligible.
Chip Voltaire, Age 31, District 3
One-Hundred-Sixty-First Hunger Games Victor
Sunday nights are the ones I most look forward to in District Three. It's been almost fourteen years since my Games, and yet every weekend remains the same.
We take turns, week by week. With four living Victors, the rotation isn't super stressful to any one family, and so Sunday Supper is a tradition we all stand by. As the years pass, more family gets brought into the fold as children and grandchildren are born, and by this point supper has to be served on large tables in the middle of the Victor's Village. Sakura has been petitioning the mayor for a large pagoda, but with the past few weeks of stress in preparation for the Games, he hasn't even considered it.
The smell of freshly-baked rolls fills the air as Morgana and I help Sakura and her wife, Lilith, set the tables. Already, children are running around screaming, my son and daughters chasing Voltage's grandchildren up and down the avenue. My eldest, Amelia, chats with Athena's oldest daughter, holding the Victor's newest grandson. Amelia has always loved children.
In all the chaos, I look around at all the smiling faces, forgetting their worries from the week. That was why this tradition originally started, way back before even the Fourth Quell. One of Three's Victors, I believe Echo Morpheum, once came across a book detailing the importance of Sundays all those years ago, researching the cult whose faith the book once delegated to. While it's not quite the same, Sunday has since become a day of renewal and rebirth.
The sun is getting low when we finally sit to eat, kids fidgeting and Volt and Athena, as the elders in the Village, sharing stories of other Districts and their friends over the borders. Morgana and I have always loved these stories, even if we've heard them time and time again.
Volt's family always has the greatest selection of foods, ranging from lobster imported from Four to thick steaks from Ten. Everyone in the Village eagerly awaits the first week of the month when his family serves, and everyone is quick to dive into the meal.
Here, there's no discussion of the Games. The concern lingers, but we all attempt to ignore the darkness in favor of what's happening right now, what's most important. Morgana talks to Sakura and Lilith across the table from us, giving them tips and ideas for the best places in Panem to adopt children from. Our younger two girls, Heavenly and Reyna, came from orphanages in Seven and Six respectively.
Sakura seems almost nervous, understandable as the idea of raising children can be frightening, but Lilith rubs her shoulders soothingly, whispering softly when Sakura starts to shake. Sakura won the Games before I did, and I'm glad she finally found someone who can help keep her calm.
As the sun begins to set, the various families slowly clean up, gathering their children and departing for the night. We all wish them well, and they promise to come again next week. Finally Morgana takes the kids in, leaving the four Victors huddled close around the table, Lilith kissing Sakura's cheek before heading inside. I wave as I watch her go, and I catch the nervous glance she throws our way in the low light. She closes the door to their home, and I catch sight of her shadow against the curtains.
"So." Volt is the first to speak, the Victor of the One-Hundred-Twenty-Eighth Games keeping his voice low. "It's still a long way out, and things may change, but…"
"I won't allow it, Volt. You can't expect me to let you-"
He holds up a hand. "Regardless of what happens, I'm far past done with things here. Juliere has pushed the country over the edge, and I'll help along what I can. I'm not as young as I used to be, but I'm not old either." He looks to Athena. "You have to press on if I fail. She has to be neutralized, and my contacts in Four and Seven seem ready to fight back."
Sakura is shaking again, but her voice doesn't waver. "There has to be another way. There's always-"
"Kira, we've been trying all the other ways for the past nineteen years. You were there the night she took over, you remember how she ignored us despite the promises she had made in the weeks leading to her Presidency." Sakura bows her head, and I imagine her, two years out of the Arena, hiding in the Games Center, desperately hoping that the gunshots wouldn't get closer.
"I remember it vividly." Her face darkens, and I remember watching her in the Games. I was ten.
Athena taps me on the shoulder, gesturing wildly. The mute woman contorts her fingers into various shapes, and we three watch, translating in our heads.
Something has to be done, and we'll be the ones to do it.
"We?" I nearly shout in surprise. "Since when are you in on this, Tina?" Athena, Aunt Tina to her friends and their kids, had her tongue ripped out in the Arena and refused to let the Capitol medics attempt to grow it back. She refused treatment out of spite, so why am I surprised she'd be in on this plan, too?
"We know you don't like it, but it can be done. Tina and I are old news, Chip; we're less conspicuous and quite frankly-" He looks at Tina. "We have little to lose."
"Bull!" I stand, looking down at them. "What about your children? They'd be devastated to lose you! You can't just abandon them!" You can't abandon us.
"This is all for them, Chipper. Even as Victors, we have so much held over our heads each day, and I have every intention to do something about it. I will not have their lives in danger each year because I won a Game fifty years ago." He speaks calmly, and I know he's rehearsed this in his head. He knew what we'd say when he brought it up; he knows us better than we know ourselves.
Tina stands, curtseying slightly and signing good night. I sigh, jumping up and embracing her.
"You stay safe, alright?" She only nods, and I step back as she walks past me to her house.
I turn to Kira and Volt, who are also standing. "We will not discuss this again until after the Games, do you hear me?" I open my mouth to protest, but he holds up his hand again. "You cannot sway me, Chip. I made my decision a long time ago. Good night."
I watch him go, disappearing into his house. Sakura waves to me before turning, and I note her hurried steps. "Good night!" I call after her.
Morgana doesn't ask about the conversation when I join her in bed. She already knows my feelings in this, so she only kisses my head before rolling over and falling fast asleep.
I stare at my ceiling until sunlight filters into my bedroom, bringing with it a new week and a new day.
Here's the list of Mentors from the five Districts we've already heard from. The other eight will be listed as the prologues shake out. Let me know what you think of the chapter, and I will see you next time!
3: Chip Voltaire (161), Sakura Farland (154), Athena Gizmo (133) and Voltage Nickel (128)
6: Greg Lockett (153), Lane Trax (141), Spacia Wills (121) and Kendra Steele (110)
7: Gavin Booth (158), Dragon Parsons (157), Ceres Melon (138) and Amber Zaman (100)
10: Alyxa Reine (152), Leather Hardy (93), Bulla Reese (81), Austin Bean (13)
11: Raize Decker (160), Sour Reaper (146), Daisy Mae Withers (109) and Elizabeth Lilac (3)