Prologue III

Jasper Westwood | 18 years
District Nine Male
Victor of the 169th Hunger Games

It still doesn't make complete sense.

For all its worth they've made him comfortable in his own skin again, after what felt like forty years. But they did it, slow as the process was. Is. It still is difficult. A year later and some things he can't help but remember. They still haunt him at night around certain corners and in a certain light. Sometimes it doesn't feel like those will ever go away, no peace, no quiet, definitely no freedom.

That's why everyone has decided to take up as much space on Nine's floor as possible.

Tinam has to fold herself over her knees on the couch to avoid a flying foot coming her way. A grumble sounds from her, muffled and wheezed, and she presses sideways into Khalan who wriggles the slightest bit. It's like a domino effect, only without the complete toppling over. That was waiting for the two wrestling on the occupied floor in the middle of the room. Khalan shifts over to make room for Tinam's encroaching occupation of the couch, elbows digging into Jasper's side, all the while being squished further against the armrest. A few joints digging into his ribs aren't feeling any better than possibly getting kicked in the gut at this point.

The Twos are sitting across from them, watching the scene unfold contently. They have plenty of room over there. Adelae's foot hooks under the coffee table that once sat perfectly between the couches but now is about as askew as the brawlers' hair, dragging it screeching towards her. She pulls her feet under her and the table tight against the cushions, Sascha remains still. Jasper's convinced as he watches Adelae swipe the last of the cheese off the plate that she was more concerned about it not getting flattened under someone's heel then truly caring for someone's head.

There's no sound coming from the kitchen anymore, which is slightly worrying. Jasper's head cranks back as much as it can at his awkward angle to peer into the spotless kitchen. Sorrell, bless his soul, is wobbling precariously around the island balancing what looks like a full pot of something, three heaped plates, and a heat mat between his teeth. He's focused though, eyes dead set on the dining table.

If it weren't for him and Penelope, Jasper would have forgotten the taste of home-cooked meals from all his time in the Capitol. The sense of home that doesn't really exist anymore, not like it used to. The first time he set eyes on a Capitol meal he almost didn't want to eat it it was presented so perfectly. And it still never tastes right.

That's what he hated about this place, on top of all the other reasons you could hate it. Nothing ever felt right. Everything was all a little too pristine, too enchanting, too welcoming to someone like him who'd never seen a bathroom mirror so clean before stepping on that train.

"What'd I say about yanking hair!" Marcello shouts. One of the culprits in the new arrangement in furniture. His head is tugged sharply at a ninety-degree angle by Telilah's fingers buried into his hair. She has a fist clamped in it, not letting go anytime soon like a toddler and their rattle.

"Not to pull it," she hisses. She's pinned effectively under Marcello, his knee pressed into her thigh while his other footholds her other leg to the ground. If she could she'd likely try wildly kicking to get him off, it worked the first time, but he was solid. The longer she has the strands in her grasp the more she manages to pull his head towards her. She looks like she can't decide between snickering or scowling at Marco. He, on the other hand, isn't holding one back.

No one ever expected Telilah to have much power stored in her little body, crawling from the edges of Eleven as she claimed, and resembles a small dog trying to fit the fur of a mastiff or shepherd. That was why she won in the first place and continues to win her tussles. Marcello's hair came loose, his head jerking back with the loosened tension. Just enough to lift the rest of him. She hooks the same hand through his arm, around his shoulder and locks her fingers into the back of his head. Jasper winces as she gets her leg under his stomach and shoves into him. The pair go rolling to the side.

Everything goes black. A warm black, letting the barest cracks of light through.

When she lets her hands fall to his cheeks giving him his vision back, Marcello is laying over top of Telilah. Squishing her to the floor with his weight.

"You look like you're trying to arrest her," Livia deadpans.

"Succeeding," Marcello huffs, his forearms press over Telilah's.

Livia leans into Jasper's ear to murmur not so subtly, "Must be for that record she was talking about earlier."

"Seven… eight… nine… " Valor's voice counts off. Everyone sharing Jasper's couch shoots a glance at him. Everyone that can hear that is, Sorrell keeps doing his own thing in the kitchen with his music. When did he even come in?

Valor's waiting at Marco's outstretched feet with his fist on his hips. He watches the scene for another second before he moves.

Valor's hands bunch into the back of Marco's jacket and he hauls him off Telilah's back in one motion. Telilah doesn't seem ready to give up her game though, fingers latched to the front of the Four's shirt and being dragged up along with him. Having someone else intervene and pull away her troubles wasn't a way she'd accept victory.

Jasper taps Livia's hands still resting on his cheeks, tipping his head back against the couch to look up at her. He gets a view of her chin before she meets his eyes, pulled away from the tussle of now three of his 'guests'. She pushes her hands against his cheeks as he opens his mouth, making him look like a fish. She giggles before letting go.

"What?" she hummed. Her hair fell from behind her ears, curtaining her eyes, away from the people at his side. She watches him for a second before her eyes fall shut and she pats his face. "Alright, come on then."

He hides the smile that crosses his face by pulling himself out of the fray of limbs and pointy joints. He tiptoed his way around the three still wrestling on the floor like the floor was lava, slinging his arm over Livia's shoulders when he met her on the other side. Passing through the kitchen he sneaks a full glass set out on the table in each hand and hands one to her. Sorrell doesn't notice as they step onto the small glass balcony. Warm summer air fills his lungs with a deep breath.

"Got everything packed up?"

"Not in the slightest. I'm leaving it here for when we come back." They weren't going to be gone for that long. Three weeks and then it was the Reaping and they'd be bundled right back onto the trains bound for the Capitol. There wasn't a point in having all of his things stored away and have to unpack, repack, then unpack again. He wasn't the only one either.

Livia didn't look too impressed either way. It doesn't look like she's going to fight him on it though thankfully and glances back to the gathered victors in the living room.

"I hate that this is one of the only places we can all be together," she huffs into her drink. Staring into it at her reflection. He nods.

She didn't just mean it as one place. It was the Capitol altogether. She had told him how she felt her breaths getting shorter and shorter the longer she breathed its air. The longer they were stuck in these walls her skin crawled. He was too busy trying to stave off the shadows of his own mind to even begin to understand what she meant at first.

They were the safest citizens in the Capitol. With a knife still at their throats nonetheless.

"You really don't need to do this this year. No matter what everyone else says, you don't. Shamus said he'd come back this year so you could breathe," she says gravely. A weight falls over him and he knows it's her eyes staring him down. The blinking lights of the city keep his gaze instead. Thousands of them stretched out at all angles, like the stars in Nine. When he could lay hidden away in the fields and know he was safe, think that he would never forget the feeling of safety.

"I want to," he admits finally. "If I don't now then I won't want to next year, or the year after that, or after that. It will get harder to come back by my own choice."

Everyone took it differently, not one of them the same as the others before them. At least that's what Livia told him. She'd only seen him come out of the arena, but he was inclined to believe her. He could hear the rest of their voices behind hers, the other victors. Like a symphony of reminders and lifesavers.

A full year hasn't passed yet from his Reaping day and usually they were given a grace period of a year before they were expected to let one of their mentors retire, to step away from that life fully and completely. But he wasn't taking it. Couldn't. Not when he felt mostly put back together. He didn't know whether it would be scarier sitting up on that stage and watching the terrified faces of the kids he used to go to school withstand in front of him, or listening to their names broadcasted over the television and knowing that the last they'd seen of him was ripping someone's throat open when it could be the last friendly face they see, if they're unlucky.

Luck wasn't on their side for them to end up there in the first place.

She looks like she's reading his mind. "Luck's on our side sometimes. Lucky that I thought the same thing last year. What would you of done if you didn't meet me?" She chimes. She must have seen it in him, or heard it in his voice. For everything that she'd convinced him of, she wasn't swaying him from this.

"Glad we didn't have to find out."

I know some of you just skipped right here.

Say hi to the newest victor and a bunch more of my own victors I'm already way too attached to for my own good. So humour me for this chapter at least as I indulge. If you haven't found it yet, there's a blog link for all of them since the 75th on my profile to peruse through for your enjoyment and my own organization.

So here we are! End of the prologues and about to meet all the kiddies. Thank to everyone who submitted, means a lot to have interest in my first go at this and I really enjoyed reading through all the applications. I changed a few things around and I appreciate everyone who worked with me through it.

Without further ado, go check out the blog listed on my profile.

And as a heads up, as far as I can tell right now it will likely be two weeks until the next chapter because I'm travelling again for my last-ish tournament of the season. But we can see if I get lucky and have the time to upload it this Monday.