A/N
Pregames are continuing, and as the trains safely arrive in the Capitol, our tributes are now whisked away to the starting event: the parade! Enjoy!
Cascade Nepeta, Mentor for District One
Cascade could feel her pulse throbbing in the thin veins that ran alongside her temples as she left the penthouse, allowing her eyelids to flutter shut as the glass elevator made its swift descent. Despite the years that had passed, in some ways it felt like only yesterday that she was stepping into that elevator, ready to begin her first year as a mentor.
And yet, at the same time, it felt like another life altogether.
Cascade had changed, she knew that. Once upon a time she had cared for the material part of life, or rather she thought she had cared for it. It was no lie that in the year following her Victory she had enjoyed the attention she had received, and excited butterflies fluttered in her stomach every time she turned a corner and saw her face lighting up the side of a building. But the one thing that she had enjoyed the most in that year of ignorant bliss was the one thing she had not expected to find.
Love.
The tough exterior of Cascade Nepeta had told her inner self that she had never loved Ivo Castellanos; that their relationship had simply been a fling, a passive romantic affair. But she frequently lied to herself, and that was another lie to add to the never-ending list. Cascade had loved Ivo, regardless of his flaws and the manner in which their relationship had ended. And it was that reminder as she made her way to the Presidential Manor that made the sweat leak from the creases in her palms.
The Capitol was full of vibrancy as the sun hung low in the clear summer sky. Celebrations burst from every space; flooding the city with an anticipation so intense that Cascade could not help but sympathise for the tributes who were about to be displayed like trophies to a society so parched for blood that the sight of the teenagers may send them into an uncontrollable frenzy.
It was the tribute parade in a few hours, which was to be held by the river this year instead of the usual central location. The new setting allowed for an even larger tangible crowd, and Cascade had even heard rumours that the chariots had been ditched in favour of boats, which would glide across the dark surface of the water in front of a backdrop of pyrotechnics and fireworks. It certainly seemed a little flash for Ivo's taste, but Cascade supposed that he was a master of illusion, having played the game of politics for so long in a world he did not belong to.
The parade was due to begin in several hours, with the tributes already on their way for styling, though as Cascade made her way across the city, she found herself battling against a current of crowds heading towards the riverside. Luckily, she was able to avoid recognition, thanks to the hooded cloak she had borrowed from Hina, and she managed to reach the grand gates of the manor without hearing her name leave the lips of a single Capitolite.
Unsurprisingly, Cascade was met by a handful of Peacekeepers outside the manor, who instantly aimed their firearms towards her. Delicately removing her hood, Cascade informed them that she was here to speak with the President about a matter which required urgent attention. It was enough to allow passage, to which Cascade was both thankful and unnerved. Even after the time that had passed, her status and her aesthetic influence seemed to remain unblemished.
Not having been too familiar with the manor, with her previous attendances being for social events rather than those of business, Cascade was escorted to the President's main office, where she held a breath as her knuckles tapped against the mahogany door.
She heard a muffled sound from behind the door, but choosing to accept it as an invitation with her current time restraints, Cascade pushed the door open and stepped inside.
A surprising humidity cloaked Cascade as she entered the office, but what was even more surprising was that it was not Ivo who sat upon the large leather chair behind the colossal desk.
It was a woman.
A silk gown of a rich golden thread hung from the narrow frame of the woman as she extended her slender body across the furniture; a bare leg delicately rested upon the surface of the desk, daring to demand attention. Behind the woman, a young male barely dressed dug his fingers deeply into her shoulders, whilst a girl of a similar age planted kisses across the smooth skin of the other leg, which dangled from the edge of the leather chair.
Cascade found her eyes skirting away from the loose material and bare flesh that was so prominently displayed before her, instantly stepping back towards the door.
"Cascade," spoke a voice like liquid gold. "I assume you were seeking the President?"
"Err, yes," Cascade replied, unsure where to place her gaze and deciding that the floor below her feet was the safest option. "But I can see I have interrupted something, so I'll just be going now…"
"You aren't interrupting at all," insisted the woman. "We'd barely started. You can join us, if you like? I heard that you weren't particular with your choice of body."
Gossip travelled fast, Cascade thought to herself. Then again, it always had in the Capitol, and it would be naive to think that even with the assassination of a President and the chaos that followed that the habits of its people would change.
Feeling a gentle heat tickle her cheeks, Cascade found her eyes flickering upwards where she saw that the woman had straightened in her seat, a sultry smile on her thin lips. She appeared older than Cascade, though remnants of youth still remained in her angular cheeks.
"No thank you," Cascade declined politely, turning towards the door. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you."
Her hand reached for the door handle.
"You won't find Ivo in the manor."
Cascade stopped.
"He rarely spends time in this building," continued the woman, drawing Cascade's attention. "I don't believe he has ever slept in the Presidential quarters, or feasted at one of the many dining tables here. He certainly doesn't ever conduct any business from this office."
Cascade said nothing.
"I suppose he still believes this place to belong to Aurelia Snow," she spoke on. "Even after five years, it's as though he finds this manor to be… haunted. A shame really, it really is quite an exquisite building, don't you think?"
Cascade shrugged. "So, where is Ivo –President Castellanos? Do you know?"
"Who ever knows where my cousin is?" the woman rolled her eyes. "I don't believe he even knows himself."
"Cousin?" Cascade couldn't help but speak her thoughts aloud.
"Yes, I am Ivo's cousin," she replied. "Selene Castellanos. I suppose he did not mention me during your time together?"
Cascade shook her head. "He didn't mention any of his family."
Selene laughed lightly. "That doesn't surprise me at all. Not that there is much to say anyway. His brother is dead, his father is hiding himself away who knows where, and the rest of the family, well let's say that they're keeping dearest Ander company in Hell."
Cascade had never known that Ivo had once had a brother, and she was somewhat saddened that he had never shared that with her. Though she could see why he had chosen to exclude Selene from any topic of conversation; the stench of arrogance that poured from her existence was putrid.
"What did you wish to speak to my cousin about, anyway?" asked Selene, whispering to her silent company, who then promptly left the room, with just a handful of clothing between them. "Perhaps I could be of assistance in his absence?"
"It's just about the Games," said Cascade, shaking her head. "I think it's best to speak with him."
"On the contrary," disagreed Selene. "I think you will find that I am in fact the better person with whom to speak."
Cascade raised an eyebrow.
"I'm the new Head Gamemaker," said Selene with a smug flourish. "So anything about the Games is also about me. Now, what can I help you with?"
Cascade resisted the urge to scoff. Ivo had appointed his cousin to be Head Gamemaker? Cascade knew that Ivo had become paranoid about having allies, but what did Selene know about running the Games?
Though what had Ivo known?
With a reluctant acceptance, Cascade addressed the reason she had come to the manor in the first place.
"What do you know about Frankie Ellsworth?" she asked Selene, folding her arms across her chest.
"I know enough," answered the new Head Gamemaker. "I know that her parents made the reaping slips and then removed those with Frankie's name on. I know that their deceit was discovered and as punishment Frankie was taken from her home and entered into the Games. I know that you are standing here because you disagree with that decision and want her sent home. Do tell me if there is anything I have missed."
Cascade was a little taken aback by Selene's words, but for the sake of her own dignity and the interests of Frankie, she stood her ground.
"You have missed the part where there was no authority to taint the Games like that," Cascade spoke firmly. "You cannot simply throw an extra child into the arena purely because her parents made a mistake."
"Dishonesty is no mistake," Selene responded with sincerity. "It is a deliberate obstruction of the truth, and from it stems a thousand more lies. Those lies then seek to corrupt, and well, we all know where corruption leads."
"You're sounding an awful lot like The Candid," Cascade scowled.
"So what if I am?" Selene shrugged, the top of her gown sliding off her left shoulder, exposing more skin. "If you recall, it was The Candid who saved my cousin from execution and supported his Presidency. You should be grateful for them."
Cascade new from Farley that The Candid often walked a shaded path, and even without his intel, she would have regarded them with great suspicion. It didn't take an experienced politician to notice a hidden agenda, though what exactly their agenda entailed was something not quite yet brought to light.
"I'm not here to talk politics," Cascade returned to the original conversation. "I'm here to send an innocent young girl back home to her family."
Selene chuckled.
"Have I missed the joke?" Cascade scorned her.
"How blind you have become, Cascade," said Selene. "Are the children we send to the arena not all innocent? What makes Frankie any different to them?"
Cascade could not find an answer.
"Peace is a fragile creature. We must make sacrifices if we wish to keep it alive," Selene looked at Cascade with a neutral expression. "We have been making such for many years; Frankie Ellsworth is simply one of those sacrifices."
With a slow, drawn-in breath, Cascade turned back towards the door, her fingers resting upon its handle as she considered Selene's words.
"Politics isn't your game, Cascade. Why are you still playing?"
Logan Brightberd, 17, District Eleven Male
"Ok then handsome, shirt off."
Logan froze, his hands curled in sweaty loose fists by his side. Since arriving in the Capitol he had felt like a fish out of water; unable to process one wonder before being rushed off to the next. Attention he was used to, but that attention usually involved bloody knuckles and handcuffs; not expensive fabrics and flashing lights.
He had spent the last however long sitting in a chair, his feet nervously tapping on the marbled flooring as an ensemble of Capitolites brushed powder onto his cheeks and spritzed scented liquids into his hair. Having previously been scrubbed from head to toe, every tiny particle of dirt having been wiped from existence, Logan felt violated. And now he wasn't even allowed to dress himself?
"No time to get shy on me now, Logan," muttered the stylist, who held a long garment in his hand. "The parade begins in thirty minutes and you're not even dressed yet."
"I can, erm, get dressed myself," Logan said, swallowing through his dry throat.
His stylist rolled his eyes. "Look, I have seen hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of naked bodies. I won't even be paying attention. Now hurry up, we're already running late after Anise's hissy fit in the dressing room."
Logan's eyes drifted to the curtain that separated his dressing area from his district partner's. He had barely spoken a word to Anise since the reaping, which had been entirely her own choice. For the majority of the train ride to the Capitol she had locked herself away in a separate carriage, and when she did show her face it was as though Logan didn't exist at all. It didn't hurt him; he understood, at least a little. After all, he wasn't feeling too great about having been reaped either. But with Anise it was almost personal, as though her name being pulled from the reaping bowl was a deliberate attack against her. Logan doubted it, but he could not deny that there was something different about Anise. From the dress she had worn to the Reaping, to the way she brushed aside the luxuries around them, it was as though being in the Capitol was nothing new to her.
Anise Montague intrigued Logan, but he knew what happened when you played with fire.
With a sigh, Logan reluctantly lifted his shirt over his head, allowing the stylist to replace his clothes with a bespoke outfit made especially for the parade. It seemed surprisingly bland for a parade costume; a long, loose robe that fell elegantly from his broad shoulders and swept past his ankles, gathering in a neat pile on the floor behind him. The material was a deep green, reminding Logan of the lush fields in the summer when the leafy crops were beginning to flourish before the autumn harvest. But other than the golden trim that outlined the trim like a halo, the costume was a little underwhelming.
That was, until Logan began to walk.
Taking a few steps, something in the large mirror beside him caught Logan's attention. With a frown, he stared into the reflective surface as he took a few more steps forwards; his frown turning into a gawp as sunflowers began to sprout from the floor behind him.
His eyes wide, Logan turned around, staring at the large golden flowers that were growing to his own height. He reached his hand out towards them, startled as his hand wafted through an empty space.
"They're illusions," the stylist told him. "Movement of the fabric triggers holographic sunflowers to appear in the surrounding area. Pretty impressive, am I right?"
"I've never seen anything like it," said Logan, amazed, swishing the fabric to create more of the illusive flowers.
"Neither will the rest of Panem," the stylist commented. "So ensure to do plenty of swishing whilst you're on the boat or else you won't draw attention to yourself. And trust me Logan, you want attention."
"…boat?" questioned Logan.
The stylist nodded. "You really are quite slow, aren't you? The new Head Gamemaker has decided to spice things up a little. Chariots are so last decade anyway."
"Oh," Logan nodded slowly. "I see."
"Yes," the stylist checked the time. "Well, we're heading to the boats in fifteen, so have a few minutes to yourself to calm your nerves or whatever."
And with that, the stylist swiftly exited the dressing room, leaving Logan to himself for the first time since he had arrived in the Capitol.
Turning back to the mirror, Logan took in his appearance. He could barely recognise himself. His skin had never seemed so clear, his jawline never so noticeably defined. Even his tall and stocky figure was complimented by the expensive feeling fabric that covered his body. But even with all the enhancements, Logan would have traded it all for his muddy boots, torn trousers and scruffy off-white shirt.
He missed home. He missed his girlfriend Sif, his friend Basil, his brother Thane. Logan even missed his parents, with whom he shared a pretty distant relationship with. He missed every detail, no matter how minor or bleak, about his home. But he also knew what it would take to get back.
What lines would Logan cross to survive?
A sudden crash pulled Logan's attention away from his reflection and towards the dressing room beside his. He noticed a heeled shoe lying beside a table, where it had knocked off a bottle of perfume that now lay in several pieces on the floor, an overwhelming scent seeping into the room.
Retrieving the shoe, Logan took hold of the edge of the curtain and cleared his throat.
"Erm, Anise?" he called softly. "Everything alright?"
There was no response.
"Anise?"
The continued silence was of concern, and Logan's natural instincts drew him to pull open the curtain to check that the girl hadn't injured herself. The room appeared vacant at first, until a corner of material the same shade as Logan's robe caught his eye.
Walking around the side of a golden screen, Logan saw that Anise was on the floor, her back leant against the wall behind her and her hands buried in the gathered material of her green dress. By the smudged makeup beneath her eyes it was obvious that she had been crying, though upon seeing Logan she quickly tried to mask her emotions by returning her face to the spoiled pout she'd displayed earlier.
"It's rude to walk into a lady's dressing room without permission," she hissed, her eyes narrowing in Logan's direction.
Logan laughed, holding up the shoe in his hand. "It's rude to throw shoes at people without permission."
Anise's scowl dropped. "It didn't hit you, did it?"
"Nah," Logan shook his head. "I've survived worse than a heeled shoe anyway."
Anise muttered something under her breath which Logan failed to hear.
"Erm, you want this back?" Logan held out the shoe to Anise, who reached out to take it. As her fingertips brushed the side of the shoe, Logan noticed that Anise's hand was trembling.
"Hey, you alright?" he asked with natural concern.
Anise's eyes darted to her hand before quickly withdrawing it. "Yes, I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" said Logan. "I know this whole situation is pretty fucking terrifying, but it can be good to talk?"
"I said I'm ok!" Anise retorted, rising to her feet sharply. But as she stood up, something fell from her dress, landing with a clatter at Logan's feet.
Bending down, Logan's hands wrapped around a small silver hipflask.
"Give that to me," demanded Anise. "It's mine."
"Anise…" Logan turned over the hipflask in his hand.
She suddenly lurched forwards, her slender hand making a desperate swipe for the hipflask. Logan's reactions were quicker, however, and he stepped backwards, watching as Anise fumbled.
"Hey, hey," Logan said softly, reaching out to catch Anise as her one-shoed foot wobbled. She landed somewhat elegantly in his arms, her flowing curled hair tickling his bare wrists.
"It's alright," he spoke in a low voice, rubbing the side of her arms comfortingly. "You've got this. Just stay strong, I'll be right beside you the whole time."
Lifting her head, Anise looked up towards Logan's face, her dark eyes filled with a vulnerability he had not expected from the boisterous girl. He offered her a friendly smile, ready to steady her on her own two feet, however Anise continued to look towards him, her eyes drinking in his appearance. Logan felt Anise stretch onto her toes as she fluttered her eyes shut, her plump lips pouting and reaching towards his own.
"Oh, erm," Logan turned his head, gently pushing Anise away. "I'm sorry if I gave any mixed signals there. I have a girlfriend –I was, just erm, trying to help…as a friend."
"Well I didn't ask for any help," Anise jumped to the defensive. "Get out of my dressing room. Now."
Logan backed away, placing the hipflask carefully on the closest table.
"I'm sorry, Anise," he apologised. "I was just trying-"
"Get out!"
Doing as he was told, Logan quickly walked out of the dressing area, a trail of sunflowers following in his path. A small gasp made him look around, noticing a pair of wide doe-like eyes staring at him. Realising she had been seen, the girl ducked behind a large plant.
"Hey, who's there?" Logan took a careful step towards the plant, where he could see the dark wisps of hair poking out from behind the large, flat leaves. "Can I help you?"
He took another step. The leaves then rustled, fast and light footsteps echoing as the girl sprinted away too quickly for Logan to chase after her.
Sighing, Logan pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Logan!" the commanding voice of his stylist shouted towards him. "It's time to head to the boats, come on!"
With a shrug, Logan followed his stylist's beckons, glancing over his shoulder as Anise slipped out from the dressing room, a sudden beaming smile glowing on her face as she greeted the stylist.
Anise Montague was an enigma; of that, Logan was certain.
He was also certain that he had never felt more nervous in his entire life.
Cephus Sirona, 18, District Four Male
TW: Drug references
"Don't you have anything a little more…pink?" Cephus complained. "Pink really is my colour, you know. It brings out all my best qualities –which is everything, of course."
"Well pink is not very District Four," replied one of the stylists whose name Cephus did not care to learn. "This is a time to be proud of your district."
"Pfft," Cephus scoffed. "What is there to be proud of? I am the greatest asset of District Four –the district should be celebrating me! Not me celebrating it!"
"District Four is a greatly respected district," insisted the stylist. "You even have the most recent Victor –now that means that a lot of eyes will be upon you and your sister, even more so with you being twins."
Cephus rolled their eyes. "No, you silly prawn, they'll be looking at me because I'm fabulous!"
And with a grand flourish, Cephus broke free from the team of stylists, dashing away from them as quickly as their long, skinny legs would take them. A gentle breeze tickled Cephus' legs as they made their escape, making them realise that they were in fact not wearing any pants other than their underwear. But did Cephus care? Of course they didn't. Let the people enjoy the naked flesh of Cephus Sirona –now that was a motto to live by.
"Cephus!" a desperate cry called behind them, but they acted blissfully ignorant as they swept through to the other half of the dressing room, their foot getting tangled in the draping curtain as they felt themselves tumbling towards the carpeted floor.
Ouch!
"Cephus?" Circe's quiet, but concerned voice drifted towards them. She walked towards them, crouching down and holding out a hand to help them up. Her eyes were glazed, as they always were, but the dazzling cerulean makeup that glittered against her skin made her look far less miserable than usual.
"My radiant rainbowfish!" Cephus exclaimed, taking Circe's hand and clambering to their feet. "Isn't it wonderful?"
They spun their sister around wildly, giggling as the world blurred into a mirage of colour around them.
"Ooh ooh, let's take things down a notch," Cephus responded to the growing nausea in their stomach and the dizziness in their head. "I can't be throwing vomit all over this distinctly not-pink outfit, can I?"
Cephus reconsidered.
"Or can I…"
"Cephus," Circe's cold hands cupped the side of their cheeks, but she spoke no further words.
Cephus nodded slowly. "I suppose you are right, my tiny tunafish. I do look spectacular in whatever I wear. Thank you for the never-ending support."
Trotting across to one of the mirrors, Cephus struck a sharp pose, jutting out their narrow hips to exaggerate their fine ass.
"Mm mm mm," Cephus licked the tip of their finger, making a sizzling sound as they lay it onto their butt cheek. "This is some hot ass if I don't say so myself."
"It will look even hotter if you put on these very stylish pants," said a gentle voice.
Cephus saw the reflection of their mentor, Risa Delmare, approaching from behind them.
"Here," she held out the second half of Cephus' outfit. "Blue is definitely your colour too."
Cephus threw out their bottom lip, sucking in a sharp breath through their nostrils before snatching up the clothes.
"Well of course it is," agreed Cephus, shimmying into the pants. "Hm, I suppose these are rather stylish. Now tell me, does my chariot await me?"
"Actually," said Risa. "There are no chariots this year. There will instead be boats that will make their way down the river."
Boats.
Why was Cephus suddenly met with a crashing wave of nausea?
Circe.
Realising that their sister was no longer in the room, Cephus ran towards the exit, ignoring the pleas of the stylist team behind them.
Once outside of the dressing room, Cephus found themselves in a large circular space. The edges of the area were lined with labelled rooms from one to twelve, and at the front of the room stood large double doors which were pushed open. Squinting, Cephus could see that beyond the door was a jetty, with a host of small boats floating on the still water. A few tributes were gathering beside the boats in an impressive array of colourful costumes, but it was not them who Cephus was in search of.
They soon found their sister, sat on the floor with her knees drawn up to her chest, tucked behind a statue with impeccable pectorals.
"Peek-a-boo, I found you!" Cephus dropped themselves down beside Circe. "You know the parade isn't happening on the floor. Although, if it were, I'd bust out some astonishing breakdancing."
Circe remained silent.
"Hey, it's just a little boat," Cephus tried to reassure her. "You're a badass, sister, you can ride that boat like a filthy whore with splendid stamina."
Cephus' hand snaked between Circe's, gripping it tightly. They could feel that her skin was clammy; cold, and yet slick with sweat. The rapid rise and fall of her chest showed that she had entered a phase of panic, which Cephus was all too familiar with, though admittedly for different reasons.
"We're not kids anymore, Circe," said Cephus. "We are incredibly good looking and talented young adults. And you know something? I'm even going to allow you to share the spotlight with me, because that's how much I love you, my tender turtle."
Circe said nothing, but she allowed her head to fall onto Cephus' shoulder, the two of them remaining as so until their stylist team found them and ushered them towards the boats.
"Wait until you are told to board your boat," one of the stylists told the two of them. "Cephus, try not to cause any more trouble, please?"
"Me, troublesome?" Cephus gasped dramatically. "Never! I shall be on my finest behaviour, servant."
The stylist opened her mouth in angry protest, but quick to keep the peace, Risa whispered in her ear and convinced her to leave the twins without starting an argument she couldn't possibly win. Triumphant, Cephus waved them off before turning back to Circe, who was anxiously looking towards the water.
"Don't think about it," Cephus whispered to her. "Let's go and put everyone else's outfits to shame!"
Linking their arm around Circe's, Cephus pulled her alongside as they swished their way around the jetty, enjoying the way the shimmering blue scales of their costume caught the many rays of light around them.
Cephus' eyes wandered around the collection of tributes who filled the jetty who were anxiously waiting for the parade to begin so that it may soon be over. Many of them appeared visibly nervous, which Cephus could hardly blame them when they would be standing in the shadow of Cephus Sirona.
"Cephus, Circe!" a pretty voice called them over as an equally pretty girl waved towards them. An almost transparent gown hugged her toned figure, decorated with glittered strips that wove around her body to cover her modesties and gatherings of shined pearls that spilled out from her low neckline like sprouts from a water feature. It was a rather exquisite gown, though of course she paled in comparison to Cephus' brilliance.
She must be from One, Cephus thought as they walked towards her. Cephus had been sleeping off an ugly come-down on the train and had missed the reaping recaps, so all the faces around them were entirely new.
"Wow, you both look amazing!" complimented the girl, who Cephus could now see was standing beside a dark haired boy with pants that matched the same design as the dress. In a pleasing manner, the boy was not wearing a matching shirt, simply adorning a harness which allowed for his sculpted abs to catch the wandering eye. And my, did they catch Cephus'.
Strangely, Cephus also noticed a younger girl tucked between the two of them. Her dress was of a similar design to Peach's, only far less revealing and much more suited to a girl of her age. She seemed anxious as she smiled towards the twins.
"Oh I know," agreed Cephus, tossing their wavy hair effortlessly. "You look delicious, though you will simply be side dishes. I am, of course, the main meal of the evening."
The dark haired boy raised an eyebrow.
"Well it's lovely to meet you both," smiled the girl, seemingly accepting Cephus' truth. "I'm Peach, this is Beau, and Frankie. We're from District One, so perhaps this makes us allies?"
"I suppose it does, for the time being," returned Cephus, noting with confusion the sight of three tributes from One. Was that normal? Or was their attempt at sobering up before the Games messing with their mind?
Cephus had planned to ally with the other Careers, at least for the early parts of the Games. Though as soon as any drama arose, Cephus would be out of that pack with Circe quicker than they could snort an illegal substance up their nose (which was pretty quick; Cephus swore they'd set a record.)
An announcement indicated that it was time to board the boats.
"I guess we'll have more time to catch up later?" said Peach. "We haven't spoken to Ragnar and Riddle from Two yet, but Cascade told us that there's a welcome party after the parade so we'll all have to meet up then! Have fun at the parade!"
With a perfect smile, Peach took the hands of Beau and Frankie, leading them towards the boat at the front of the line. As Cephus began to stride forwards, they felt a tug on their arm as Circe remained still.
"Come on, dearest sister," Cephus encouraged her. "Our spotlight awaits us. You have nothing to fear. It is just you and I, sailing away on our own little adventure like we always talked about."
Closing her eyes for a brief moment, Circe allowed Cephus to walk her up to the boat, where an assistant helped them to board. At the feeling of the water beneath them, Circe's nails dug into Cephus' palms, her eyes stricken with terror as the boat began to edge forwards.
"Don't think about it," Cephus whispered through the sound of the Capitol anthem, as an array of fireworks lit up the dark sky above them. "Live in the moment."
As the boat made its way slowly down the river, Cephus really began to live in the moment themselves. Bursts of flames, shifting colours from a fiery red to a sensual purple, lined the banks of the river as endless rows of towering crowds cheered in delight at the twelve boats that graced the water's surface.
"Oh look, Circe!" Cephus gasped, pointing at a large screen which displayed their face in its full glory. "I look incredible! I mean, look at those cheekbones!"
Gulping down the attention as though they were parched, Cephus dropped Circe's hands, thrusting their own arms up into the air, releasing a waterfall like a cloak behind them. With an excited gasp, Cephus began to wave their arms in a majestic dance, sending ribbons of water from their hands across the river as though they were a powerful sorcerer.
No, not a sorcerer. A god.
Tonight Cephus Sirona was a god, and those motherfuckers had better worship the sexy piece of divine ass they were.
A/N
Three very different POVs there, but I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. Despite the day delay (it was bank holiday and I was slacking, what can I say?), I found this chapter very easy to write and enjoyed every second of it.
Firstly, after meeting Frankie last chapter, we saw Cascade attempting to confront Ivo in order to release Frankie. However, it was not Ivo who was waiting for her... We've briefly met Selene before, but now we know that we'll be seeing a lot more of her as she revealed that she is the new Head Gamemaker. What will Selene bring to these Games, and what is her relationship with her cousin like now? The last time we saw her was the day of Ivo's execution; have the two grown closer in the years of Ivo's presidency? Cascade held her own as much as she could, but was stumped when Selene made the comment that Frankie is no different to any other tribute. Is this true? What will other people in Panem think about The Candid's decision to enter Frankie into the Games, and will Cascade be able to do anything to stop it?
Moving back to our tributes, and Logan was feeling rather uncomfortable in the Capitol, which is to be expected for a boy from Eleven. Though he was intrigued by the holographic outfit. After being interrupted by a shoe, Logan went to speak with Anise and it was clear that Anise was having some personal struggles. After helping her out, Anise made a romantic move towards Logan which was rejected, sending Anise into a defensive mode. But then she emerged as though nothing had ever happened. Will Logan figure out where Anise is really from? And who do you think was watching Logan?
Finally, we returned to the mess that is Cephus Sirona. They caused havoc, as expected, but Risa was able to somewhat keep them contained, at least enough to convince them to get dressed. Is Risa adjusting to her role as mentor, and will she be able to help out the chaotic pair? At the mention of boats, however, Circe seemed to panic, and there was a wholesome moment between the two twins. It is clear that they both care for each other deeply, so how will this play out in the arena? Cephus and Circe also met Peach, Beau and Frankie for the first time. The Career pack is yet to be seen all together; how well do you see them getting along during training?
Pregames are truly on the way, and I am really enjoying it so far. Thank you to everyone for taking the time to read and review; I'm glad you're all enjoying it too! Next chapter will be a little different in terms of general pregames structure, as we will be heading to the exclusive welcome party for the tributes! I hope for it to be a fun chapter, as tributes will be interacting in a slightly more light-hearted environment than a training centre.
As a note regarding the poll, I will likely close it this week and post up the results in the next chapter's a/n. If you haven't had a chance to vote yet then please do, or if you know anyone who is catching up on intros who would still like to vote then let me know and I'll keep it open a little longer. There is a clear top three, any guesses who?
Until next time!
Firefly