A/N
Checks calendar -aha, happy Sunday (or whatever day it is by the time you are reading this)! Continuing with our tribute introductions, I have a delightful bunch of tributes to share with you today. A warm welcome to Cathy (submitted by Platrium), Cephus (submitted by ladyqueerfoot) and Valak (sumitted by Rune Whisperer) and a thank you to their submitters for yet more amazing characters to get stuck into!
Cathedrite 'Cathy' Zhuang, 18, District Nine Female
A warmth enveloped Cathedrite Zhuang as she stood before the small gathering of people, her mouth open to allow melodic words to pour from her lungs and fill the small stone interior with a sweet and idyllic song. Such a rich sense of freedom came with music, Cathy believed. The ability to express one's emotions with an incredible artistry unique to each individual soul was something so precious to her. Just as no person was the same, neither was their song; and Cathy's song was a song of gaiety.
As her cheerful tone to an otherwise sorrowful tune continued to dance around the hallowed halls, Cathy's eyes rested upon the faces of those sat before her. There was a sadness to the aura which outlined each member of the congregation. Despite their appreciation of the music, Cathy noticed that their knuckles were white as they clasped their hands just a little tighter; and their jaws more rigid as the tension settled in their muscles. There was a great sense of anxiety within the holy place of worship, which troubled Cathy's heart.
Bringing her song to a close, Cathy bowed her head and stepped to the side of the room, allowing for Sister Marissa to stand in a central position to deliver the final blessings of the service. As Cathy closed her eyes, listening to the calming voice of her elder, she found herself wondering how she could ease the worries of those before her. She could take an educated guess at the source of their concerns –the return of the Hunger Games were merely days away –though she did not know what she could do to lessen their woes.
And yet, she would still try, for God loved a trier.
The service drew to a close, and in her usual routine, Cathy stood herself in the open doorway to bid farewell to the congregation. Their numbers had increased in recent years; undoubtedly as people became desperate for a route to escape the troubles that had befallen Panem. As a sister herself, Cathy held no political beliefs, though she could not live her life entirely oblivious to the occurrences outside her convent. Simply walking to the market or visiting the district's orphanages were enough to bring the disasters into plain view.
District Nine had fared particularly poorly during the last five years. Without the Games, there had been no need for tesserae, and so demand for grain had suffered a steep decline. Supply had soon outweighed demand, causing severe reductions in the grain's value, which in turn plunged the district into a near economic collapse.
Cathy's parents had died during the immediate years following the eighty sixth Hunger Games, when the panic was so rife that it was as though they were living in a constant warzone. She often found herself thinking about her parents and their deaths. But she did not think about their deaths with resentment, as her God would not have taken them from her if not for a reason. Living afterward with her Aunt had not been a pleasurable time of her life, though eventually Cathy had found the convent and with it, she had found herself. Her parents were not dead; they were the ones who had guided Cathy to where she was now, and so they were always beside her whether she could see them or not.
"There is always hope in the darkness," Cathy spoke with never-ending optimism as she squeezed the hands of a young mother. "Have faith that our God knows you are good."
Passing similar messages to the other people who exited the small holy building, Cathy felt her heart lightening with each word she spoke. Once the stone building was empty, with the exception of the handful of her sisters, Cathy then told Sister Marissa that she would tend to the garden, as she so loved to do.
The garden around the convent was modest, though in its small vicinity it was full with vibrant plants that surrounded the gravestones placed in the soft earth. Cathy had developed quite the green thumb, finding great peace with the pocket of nature around her.
As she bent beside a gravestone, digging her hands under the soft soil to remove a weed that had begun to climb across the stone surface, she felt a gentle breeze behind her.
"Aye, that will do nicely, thanks Sister Cathy."
"You're most welcome, Mr Grinden," returned Cathy, brushing over loose clumps of soil where she had removed the weed to even out the area. "How would you feel about some zinnias? They look wonderful this time of year."
"Aye, you know best," replied Mr Grinden with satisfaction. "You do a wonderful job of the garden. Makes me proud to be buried here."
Cathy felt her cheeks blushing from the compliment. "Oh thank you, I do try my best."
Turning around, Cathy looked at Mr Grinden, who in his ghostly form had perched himself atop the gravestone that stood in front of his own.
"I don't think Mrs Faulkner would appreciate you sitting there," Cathy pointed out.
"Even more the reason to keep my bottom firmly glued here, wouldn't you say?" replied Mr Grinden with a mischievous grin.
Cathy's lips curved into a smirk.
"Well-"
"Cathy!"
There was a call that turned Cathy's attention away from the cheeky ghost and as she looked across the front of the garden, she spotted her dearest friend, Sister Valeciana, waving towards her. Valeciana was ten years Cathy's senior, though they were almost joined at the hip, ever since Valeciana had introduced Cathy to the convent to begin with.
Standing up straight and shaking out her long skirt, Cathy apologised to Mr Grinden before making her way towards the front of the convent.
"Oh Cathy, would you come to the market with me, please?" asked Valeciana, who had two baskets in her hands. "Sister Marissa has sent me out for some shopping, but you know she doesn't like any of us going alone."
Following an incident where one of the sisters was mugged and badly beaten, the head of the convent had insisted on no sister wandering the district alone.
"Of course," agreed Cathy. "Here, let me take one of those baskets."
Valeciana held out one of the two baskets, before noticing Cathy's dirt covered hands and gasping.
"Oh Cathy, your hands! They're absolutely filthy!"
Cathy looked down at her open palms, turning her hands over to see a thin layer of soil that had embedded itself beneath her nails.
There was a small water pump beside the garden, which Cathy often used to gather water to sprinkle over the flowers. Walking up to it, she pumped some cool water over her hands, wiping away the dirt and then dabbing them dry on the dark material of her skirt.
Returning to her friend with clean hands, Cathy then took the basket and linked arms with Valeciana as they walked from the convent towards the marketplace.
The walk would normally take around twenty minutes to reach the market, though it took nearly an hour as the two girls had made several stops along the way, helping those who looked in need. Donations made to the convent were often re-gifted to those in need, such as the homeless who sat in the streets, or struggling families whose livelihoods had been damaged during the darker years.
In the centre of the most inhabited part of the district, away from the expanse of open fields, Cathy and Valeciana drifted between stalls, filling their baskets with various loaves of bread, selections of rustic vegetables and a few jars of delicious looking homemade jam. No meat passed by their hands for their diets were strictly meat-free, instead being enriched by the labours of the earth.
But as Cathy engaged in light conversation with the people of District Nine, and observed those around her, she could not help but feel her heart aching for each and every one of them. There was a sense that the economy was growing, as the return of the Games brought with it the return of tesserae. But at what cost?
Though the thought was becoming overwhelming to Cathy as she returned to the convent, she could not numb herself from the collective pain she knew was about to come.
Cephus Sirona, 18, District Four Male
"Hit it, sugar-muffin!
As the room became filled with a hypnotic beat that echoed alongside heartbeats and traced along the veins that surrounded flesh and bones, Cephus Sirona felt as though they were on fire.
The heat singed the tiny hairs that coated their skin; the stench of smoke rose into their nostrils; a blaze of orange roared as they basked in their glory-
"Oh fuck, ouch!"
As it turned out, Cephus didn't just feel as though they were on fire in a wonderful, flamboyant and metaphorical sense; no, they were actually, painfully and quite literally on fire.
The spilt drizzles of alcohol that decorated the sleeve of Cephus' hot pink blazer seemed to have attracted the naked flame from the lighter which Disco Biscuit was dipping the tip of a joint into. In a matter of milliseconds, or whatever a super speedy time measurement was, Cephus' jacket had burst into flames, and they were now unsure about how to get rid of it. How did one put out a fire? Was it perhaps water? No of course not, Cephus did not wish to drown. It could have been wood, but then again, Cephus had a hazy memory of wood being used on bonfires which burned quite well from what they could recall.
Cephus' glazed eyes searched the room frantically, eager to prevent even more of their exquisite jacket from crisping to a miserable grey. Oh the heavens above, sometimes Cephus wished that the ecstasy wouldn't prevent them from remembering important survival tips. It could be quite bothersome on the rare (or not so rare, if they were being entirely honest) occasion that they found themselves battling with the dragon named danger.
Aha! That was it! Trifle.
Striding with enthusiasm across to the table at the edge of the room where a large trifle sat in a sparkling glass bowl, Cephus took the dessert in their hands with gusto before tipping the bowl's contents directly onto their fiery arm. Cephus watched with intense fascination as the gloopy mixture fell with a squelch onto the flames, dowsing them almost instantly, before dripping off the edge of the burnt material and landing in a soggy mess on the floor below.
"Crisis averted!" announced Cephus with satisfaction, licking off the stray dollops of cream from their hand.
"B-but, your jacket!" gasped one of their comrades, the mildly unintelligent but ghastly handsome Special K (whom Cephus could graphically recall having been blown by just the day before. Or had it been merely hours ago? Time was a difficult concept, for the most part).
"Oh, this old thing?" returned Cephus with a twirl. Taking the top of the arm of the pink blazer, just where the flames had reached, Cephus pulled with an enormous effort, tearing the entire sleeve off in one swoop.
"Now this," Cephus gestured to their now one-sleeved jacket. "This is what they in the Capitol call fashioooon!"
Striding over towards the centre of the room where Purple Haze and Mary-Jane were engaged in a steamy pile of sexiness beneath a table, their limbs entwined as they practically ate each other's faces, Cephus sent the pointed tip of their boot into the general vicinity of Purple Haze's arse.
"Get out of the way, bitches!" they demanded. "You are blocking my stage!"
"Do you mind?" retorted Mary-Jane, her eyes half shut as her head almost rolled off her shoulders. "We're kinda busy here."
Cephus huffed with all the sass they could muster. "You're busy? Glitterpie, at best you are swallowing a mouthful of recycled saliva, which most likely has droplets from everyone else in the room –oh Purple Haze you naughty boy. I'd slap you myself if I didn't want to get my hands so dirty!"
The two late teens stared up at Cephus, utterly bemused by their ramblings.
Realising they had absolutely no idea what they had been intending to say, Cephus waved their hand towards their friends.
"The point is, you need to move, now."
With reluctant sighs, the two of them shifted out of Cephus' way.
Clearing their throat at they stretched their groin in an attempt to climb onto the table in heeled boots, Cephus addressed the room.
There was a mumble from below.
"Shut up ones, a ten is speaking!" shouted Cephus, tossing their effortlessly waved dark hair behind their shoulders. "Ahem."
As Cephus opened their mouth to continue their speech of high importance, they felt the table beneath them begin to quake, before losing their balance and tumbling to the floor. Luckily, in their drug-fuelled state it felt as though they were landing on a field of fluffy bunnies.
Beside them, Purple Haze and Mary-Jane were giggling rather hysterically.
"Oh bite me," hissed Cephus, lying on their back and not bothering to move. "You know, I once fought a crab –and won. You're but tiny crabs to me, snap snap!"
"We all know that your sister is the real fighter," commented what sounded to be Disco Biscuit, though Cephus couldn't be too sure from the headache that was pounding in their temples. "Hasn't Circe been chosen to volunteer for the Games?"
At hearing the name of their sister, Cephus sat bolt upright.
"My little seahorse!" they croaked.
How could Circe, the precious pearl inside the empty clamshell of their life, have been chosen for such a fate? Circe, their beloved, with whom they so graciously shared the womb with. Why? When her training so clearly made her miserable, why?
It was a trap. It must have been.
Leaping to their feet in an unbalanced but somehow acceptably elegant manner, Cephus clasped a hand to their heart.
"We must rescue my poor sister from a fate which is not her own!"
There were nods of agreement as Cephus paraded towards the door of their hideout.
"Fellow knights, will you join me in my heroic quest?" they barely waited for a response before bursting out of the room. "Let us ride with the wind in our sails –destiny awaits!"
Cephus then galloped like the sexy steed they were in the direction of District Four's training Academy: the dark castle of pain and lies where their sister had been imprisoned against her will.
Upon arrival at the Academy, Cephus found the doors to be open as the summer heat relentlessly beat down on the district. Meeting no resistance, Cephus simply strolled straight into the Academy, knowing where to find the main training hall from the years they had previously spent within it.
Circe was easy to find as well, in the centre of the room sparring with a trainer whose sun-kissed skin looked simply delicious.
No, Cephus. Do not be tempted by the supple flesh of that captor. You can find a juicier ass that is not tainted by treachery.
"Sweet sister! Cephus called out, rushing down the stairs with their jacket flapping out like a cloak. "My gentle dolphin, are you ok?"
"Excuse me," the handsome trainer approached, frowning at Cephus with a look that sent sensual shivers down their spine. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave, Cephus. You've made it clear that you don't want to train here anymore, but your sister has a lot of preparation to get through."
"Be gone, foul beast!" commanded Cephus, placing their hands firmly on their hips. "Release my sister at once!"
Circe stepped towards the trainer, holding her trident low beside her. "Let me talk to him, Garcia."
Sticking out their tongue towards Garcia, with a little wiggle, Cephus followed Circe to the side of the training hall. Her eyes appeared heavy as she looked up towards them, as though the ocean itself was trapped within her irises. Her lips were pulled tightly together, set against the blank canvas of her emotionless face.
"My precious pearl, I have come to rescue you," Cephus told her gladly. "I know how this place upsets you."
Circe shook her head. "I'm not leaving, Cephus."
"But they told me you were chosen," said Cephus, concern contorting their face. "That isn't what you want, is it?"
"I must," was their sister's simple answer.
"But this makes you miserable, sister, I can see that every day," replied Cephus. "Why would you do something that makes you miserable? Why don't you run away? We can go together –just you and me, yes? Excellent, I'll find us a boat and we'll-"
"Cephus," a hand touched the side of their face. "Please, no. You need to leave me now."
A firm hand settled on their shoulder, as Cephus turned to see that the handsome trainer had returned. He jerked his head towards the exit.
As Cephus shrugged the hand off their shoulder and began to slowly back away, as their sister had so wished, they called out across the room.
"This is not the last you'll be hearing from this hot mess, motherfuckers!"
And as the doors of the Academy shut behind them and Cephus was left like a fish on a deck, exposed to the unforgiving sun on the stone slabs outside, they reached into their pocket and fished out a handful of colourful pills.
With a heavy sigh, Cephus tipped the cocktail of pills into their mouth, eagerly awaiting the feeling of numbness to overcome them once more.
Valak Vatican, 18, District Ten Male
Even to himself, Valak Vatican was a mystery.
Who was he? What was he?
Why was he placed on this blood-soaked earth; abandoned without a map to guide him, or a soul to tether him to its plains? His adoptive parents had taught him that God has a plan for everyone; each individual has their own purpose.
But God had simply forgotten about Valak. Just like everyone else.
The hollow cavern behind Valak's ribs was vast, and it required feeding to keep it from consuming itself in its apathetic hunger. And so Valak would feed it, and he would feed it with hate and anger and greed. Rage was his medication, and the doses were high. Valak was self-diagnosed and his prognosis was terminal.
He would die just as he had lived; bitter, void and entirely alone.
Infuriated, Valak slammed his fist down on top of the wooden crate, sending his clenched hand through the unstable wood. Lashes of pain ran down his hand as his skin opened, but the feeling did not bother him. He simply pulled out his hand, which was still held in a tight fist, and stared at the blood that dripped drop by drop onto the dusty floorboards of the old barn.
But after a fleeting moment of distraction, the hollowness returned. The rush of adrenalin and anger had temporarily patched over his internal wounds, but as with all lashes of rage, it had subsided too soon.
Allowing his head to tilt backwards and his eyelids fall shut, Valak inhaled deeply.
He needed more.
The sound of rusted hinges creaking drew Valak's eyes open.
"Valak, you here?" the sound of his only real friend, Hunter, echoed below.
"Yeah," Valak responded, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm coming down."
Valak walked over to the edge of the second level of the barn, where a ladder linked the two floors. Stepping onto the first rung, Valak made his way down the ladder, jumping off just a few rungs before the bottom and landing lightly on his feet.
"What happened to your hand?" asked Hunter, pointing towards Valak's bloodied fist that hung by his side, still dripping blood which now leaked into the stray pieces of straw that lined the emptied barn.
Valak shrugged.
"Fucking emo boy," laughed Hunter, running a hand through his short hair.
"I'm not a fucking emo boy," snapped Valak, glaring at his friend through narrowed eyes. "It was just an accident."
Hunter smirked. "Sure it was."
"Shut the fuck up, man."
"Make me."
Valak gained a matching pair as his other fist collided with the side of Hunter's jaw, sending him stumbling backwards. Spitting blood onto the floor beside his feet, Hunter grinned as he held up his fists.
"You wanna go again?" he taunted, stepping between his feet.
Whilst Valak wanted to punch something, he knew he didn't really want to punch the only person he considered a friend. That wasn't out of any affection towards Hunter, but rather that it simply meant nothing and Valak wanted to feel something.
"Yeah, but not with you," replied Valak, wiping his brow which had begun to gather sweat in his hairline. "Where're the others?"
Hunter glanced towards the doors. "Should be here any second."
"Good," said Valak, heading towards the door. "Let's go."
As the two boys left the barn, Valak spotted the remaining group of delinquents heading towards them, scuffing their shoes against the dirt trodden pathway with their hands thrust into their pockets or folded casually across their chests.
The Marquis of Snakes, or so they referred to themselves as.
"Turn around shitheads," Valak ordered, pointing back towards the rest of the district. "We got shit to do."
"Where we goin' tonight, Val?" one of the lads asked, falling into step with Valak.
"Bryce Milton has refused our terms," Valak informed the group. "We're going to show him what the consequences of that are."
A smirk formed on the lad's face as he nodded along with Valak. Each of the members of the Marquis had a troubled past; some reason for resentment now ruling their actions. It worked in Valak's favour as they had become so malleable that he could puppeteer them in almost any way he deemed useful. The teenagers simply wanted a way to release their inner anguish and Valak provided them with the opportunities to do so. He would then leech off the power that gave to him.
Hunter was the only one who was a little more resistant to Valak's control, which is why the two had fought so much over the handful of years of friendship between them. Though their knuckles had more than likely collided with each other's jaws more so than anyone else combined, Valak knew that Hunter would always have his back, and he his. Whilst that was somewhat of a shred of personality, having established a bond no matter how tentative, it was still not enough to convince Valak of his humanity.
At this point of his life, Valak saw no likelihood of ever finding a reason to live other than for his own stubbornness and persistence to carry on for the sake of absolutely nothing at all.
And so he simply drifted from distraction to distraction, seeking ways to satisfy his megalomania.
Bryce Milton was a boy Valak had come across on the streets a few times. Coming from a slightly wealthier background, Bryce had wrongfully believed that he was untouchable.
But money didn't protect you from everything.
"Right, you two take the back," ordered Valak, pointing at two of the Snakes. "You two are on watch, and Hunter, you're with me. We want our message to be clear, so no holding back. Only rule is that we don't actually kill anyone, but hey, people can withstand a lot before death."
Finishing with a small smirk, Valak nodded for the group to move into position. Following his orders like true soldiers to a general, the Snakes spread out.
Valak, with Hunter on his heels, snuck towards the front door of Bryce Milton's home. The boy's parents were supposedly away, or so Valak had overheard, and the house did seem rather quiet as he pressed his ear against the door.
"Ready?" Valak turned to Hunter, who nodded eagerly.
In perfect unison, the two boys then turned their attention to the front door, taking it off its hinges in just a few strikes. Falling to the ground with a hefty thud, Valak and Hunter ran along the top of the door and into the house.
Hunter immediately began to smash everything in his sight; sending photographs and ornaments crashing to the floor. The coffee table was caved in as he brought his hammer down on it with multiple strikes, and legs were torn from the bottom of chairs to be tossed into the open fireplace.
Valak, meanwhile, resisted the urge to break the furniture as his mind was preoccupied with another goal. Finding the stairs, Valak unhooked two karambits from his belt, tightening his hands around their small, curved handles as he crept upstairs.
The sounds from the havoc downstairs had alerted Bryce as he stood in the landing, just outside of his bedroom as he blinked at Valak. Sleep gathered in the corner of his eyes as they widened in fear, realising what was unfolding.
"V-Valak, I'm sorry!" gasped the defenceless teen, stumbling backwards. "I didn't mean to disobey you! I-I-I'll make it up you –I s-swear!"
Valak turned his wrist slowly, the curved blade of his karambit catching the glimpses of light that shone through from Bryce's bedroom.
"Unfortunately, I don't give second chances."
"Valak please!" cried out Bryce Milton, making a sudden dash for his bedroom where he slammed the door shut.
Behind the door, Valak could hear the boy sobbing.
Valak brought his hand up to the door, knocking against the wood three times.
"Knock knock," he whispered with venom on his tongue. "Who's there?"
With a sudden forceful kick, Valak slammed the sole of his boot against the door, ripping it from one side of the doorframe so that it swung open and cleared Valak's pathway.
With a terrified cry, Bryce scuttled across the room, cowering in the corner with his hands in front of his face. His body trembled with fear as Valak's shadow engulfed him.
Standing above the boy, Valak licked his lips as he ran the edges of the karambits against each other. They were a weapon he had been taught to use, in the circumstances that he may defend himself if necessary, or should the time present itself to fight in a rebellion against the crushing enforcement of the Capitol. Only Valak had learned to use the claw-like knives for a better purpose: to create fear.
The karambits had served him well, and as Valak used them to draw the fear out of his victim, he opened his mouth to drink the power that flowed openly from his pores.
It was enough to numb the other feelings inside of him for a short period, but Valak knew that in time as his restlessness grew, he would need a lot more than that. The only question was where would he find it?
A/N
Yet again, three very different tributes tied together with a loose theme. The range of emotions I went through whilst writing this chapter was enough to make me question my sanity by the end of it, I tell you!
Cathy is a sweet girl, who seems incapable of harming even a fly. Her selflessness shines through everything she does and her strong religious affiliations are an essential foundation to her life. It is known that she had some unfortunate events in her childhood, but that doesn't seem to affect her now as she believes that whatever happened in the past has led her to the happy life she now lives. How will the Games affect her; will her pacifism stand as a barrier to her survival or will she be forced to change who she is as a person in order to survive?
I have very few words for Cephus at this moment as honestly, that was the most ridiculous POV I have ever written (in every positive way, of course! I absolutely loved it!). Like Circe, whose intro we saw earlier in the story, Cephus is heavily reliant on drugs, though where Circe finds herself entering a quiet haze, Cephus is all but quiet. Another difference between the twins is that Circe remains in training for the Games, but Cephus has walked away from that life. How will they end up in the Games, and how will both of the twins feel knowing that not both of them will be able to survive? (also for those who have read CoT, did you spot a familiar face in this POV?)
Finally, a much darker end to this chapter. Valak clearly has a lot troubling his mind. He feels abandoned, and at a loss as to his purpose in life. His past has been difficult to the point where all that is left appears to be rage, and a desperate desire for power. He relishes the feeling of control as he commands the Marquis of Snakes, and creates fear from the victims he pursues. But to what end goal? Will the Games simply allow him to feast on more power, or will he at last find his purpose? If so, what is his purpose?
Thank you as always to everyone for their reviews, comments and love! Intros, whilst very enjoyable, can be quite exhausting and you have all kept my energy up throughout! We only have one more intro chapter to come, with our final three tributes: Peach, Sayuri and Accel. I wonder what these three will bring to finalise our cast?
Until next time!
Firefly.