A/N
Now my body clock is really confused as I'm updating on a Monday? I guess I'm throwing schedules to the wind!
Well, training is now over and so we move on to the private assessments, and also the revealing of the anticipated scores for our tributes.
Circe Sirona, 18, District Four Female
Minor drug use in this pov.
One of the things Circe could remember was that the sea was cold. Bitterly cold, in fact.
The water, like razors sliced at her skin like a thousand knives, causing her entire body to shiver and convulse as her limbs thrashed in a hopeless attempt to find the surface. Yet whilst externally her skin could freeze and crack like the surface of a frozen lake, inside she had felt a burning sensation, like an untamed fire, scorching the internal walls of her lungs and her throat as she was cut off from the air.
Circe could never forget the feeling of drowning, not even as she sat in a room outside of the training centre, far from the ocean, awaiting the call of her name.
She didn't have to wait that long, not really. Though each second that passed felt like a day, each minute an hour. Circe was aware of how time passed differently in different lives, and how time itself wove between this world and the next. But she was losing her sight; her vision was blurred, her head pounding, as she clenched her fists together in her lap, wishing that the noise would stop.
It didn't.
Circe could hear words passed from mouth to ear, feet tapping against the polished floors. She could hear the biting of nails, the anxious cracking of knuckles, the shaky breaths of her peers. The echoes of footsteps as bodies paced the room, the trickling of water being poured into glasses. Circe could hear everything, and yet she could hear nothing.
Where are you, Madeline?
She was not here, though Circe knew that. The Madeline of this life was back at home, in District Four, waiting for the Games to begin so that she could watch her enemy die. Except, Circe knew that they were not enemies, not truly. It was true that in this life, she and Madeline had fought head-to-head for the volunteering position in the Academy; their years of training had pitted them against each other time and time again. Each of them had bested the other one time or another; that was a foundation to their co-existence, it seemed. For even in the life when they had loved each other, it was jealousy and pride which had led to their demise.
It was an accident, Madeline. I tried to save you.
If only Madeline hadn't pushed Circe, then Circe wouldn't have pushed her back.
But that was in another life, a life which Circe felt herself slipping further away from.
"Cephus Sirona, District Four."
"Oooh that's me!" beside Circe, her twin leapt up, waving their hand enthusiastically in the air above their head. "Did you hear that, sweet angelfish? It's my turn!"
Circe looked up toward Cephus, but all she could see was a blur. Her head felt as though it had been severed from her body, hovering inches above her shoulders. The throbbing in her temples and the sweat that had gathered in her palms reminded her that she was alive, otherwise she would have presumed herself dead.
She felt a hand suddenly take her own.
"I can see you suffering, little dolphin," Cephus whispered in her ear. "This is all I have left for you, but please, take it if you need it."
Cephus withdrew their hands, leaving behind a small object inside Circe's closed fists. With a flamboyant twirl, Cephus skipped across to the door towards the assessment centre, saluting the girl from Three who was leaving the room following her own session. She kept her eyes to the floor as she walked past.
As Circe watched the doors slide shut behind Cephus, she looked down at her hand. Uncurling her fingers she saw a small packet in her palm: the pathway to her other lives.
Discreetly rising to her feet, Circe walked over to the refreshment table, checking that no one was watching her. Once satisfied that no eyes were upon her, she quickly took the drug, almost instantly feeling her shoulders relax as it entered her body. She had not taken any since the morning of the reaping, and had not brought any with her. Was that a conscious decision to wean herself off before the arena, or simply a mistake in a moment of forgetfulness? She was unsure.
But what Circe was sure of, was that Cephus was right. She was suffering. Suffering without being able to truly see the truth; she knew it existed, but she couldn't see it. But soon, soon she would see it again.
She would see Madeline again.
After a short period of time, Circe's name was called and the doors slid open once more.
Walking towards the centre, Circe's eyes widened as she saw her twin leave the room. Cephus was stripped down to their underwear, the whereabouts of their clothing unknown, and a wicked grin was plastered across their face as they strutted out of the centre, blowing kisses behind them. There was no doubt in Circe's mind that Cephus would fill her in later about the details of their performance, and so she asked no questions as she passed her other half, then entering the assessment centre alone.
The room was considerably smaller than the training centre, though there were plenty of objects to fill it. One wall hosted several of each type of weapon available, with a row of varied targets and dummies. A small agility course ran around the circumference of the room, and there were several stations where various survival skills could be displayed.
Circe walked towards the centre of the room, where a glowing circle beckoned her. Standing within the circle, she faced a spherical enclosure made from the force fields she had seen elsewhere in the Capitol. Within the sphere sat a handful of Gamemakers, with the Head Gamemaker taking a central position. She rose when Circe stood before them, nodding towards her politely.
"Circe Sirona," the Head Gamemaker spoke her name elegantly. "I look forward to seeing what you have to offer us today. I sincerely hope that it is more…substantial than the performance we received from your twin. A rather unique individual, are they not?"
Circe nodded.
"But I shall refrain from making assumptions by association," said the Head Gamemaker. "I, for one, know too well the consequences of familial association. Now please, Miss Sirona, kindly show us what you can do. You have fifteen minutes –use them well."
With a second nod, Circe backed away from the circle, which had now faded beneath her feet. She walked across to the weapons station, where her fingers reached out towards a trident. Her hands were shaking, she noticed, as she clasped them around the weapon.
Drawing in a deep breath, Circe lifted the trident from the rack and walked towards the simulation area. Selecting a challenge with a high difficulty level, she stepped onto the raised platform and readied herself.
The first holographic body ran directly towards her from a head-on direction. Stepping a foot behind her, Circe used her core to push her body forwards, plunging the end of her trident into the body. It crumbled into pixels at her feet.
The next opponent came from a side angle, and as Circe swung her trident around, she missed it, causing her to have to switch to the defensive instead.
It's not my fault I'm better at this than you! Circe could hear Madeline shouting across the sound of the storm that was raging around them.
And suddenly, the storm was around Circe.
As she fought enemy after enemy, she could feel her clothes soaking up the rainwater, drenched and clinging to her clammy skin. She could hear the wind whistling down her ears, and the sound of thundering waves crashing together around her. The floor beneath her seemed to move as the sea tossed her boat like a ragdoll, as water gushed over the sides, swirling relentlessly around her feet.
Circe felt herself being flung backwards as Madeline pushed her.
In retaliation, Circe pushed back, but this time instead of slamming her hands into the shoulders of her lover, she pushed the points of her trident cleanly through Madeline's chest. Gasping in horror, Circe watched as Madeline's body simply disintegrated, decimating into thousands of tiny pieces at Circe's feet, which quickly faded into nothing.
Circe fell to her knees.
A buzzer sounded, startling Circe.
Opening her eyes, Circe could see that the storm had vanished, as had the boat and the ocean. She was no longer in that world, she was back in another.
"Thank you for your efforts, Miss Sirona," the Head Gamemaker thanked her a Circe hung up her trident silently.
As she walked towards the exit, Circe did not make eye contact with the Gamemakers, instead focusing on the floor ahead of her.
Outside of the assessment centre, Circe was escorted by a Peacekeeper back to the apartment, where Cephus was anxiously awaiting her, along with her mentor, Risa, and escort, Indira.
"My dashing little pebble!" Cephus ran towards her, taking her hands in their own and pulling her along to the lounge area. "I have been waiting to tell you all about my assessment –are you excited?"
Circe could only manage a small nod, the haze of her encounter still lingering.
"Ok, so take your minds to that room," Cephus instructed. "Now, I have to make a point that the lighting in there was far from ideal, but you make do with what you have. True creativity comes from the heart, after all."
Risa raised an eyebrow, looking towards Indira with a pained expression. Their mentor had surprised Circe; compared with the army of bitter words her mother would direct towards Risa, Circe actually found her to be rather the opposite. Risa Delmare was refined; polite without projecting a sickly sweet aura. She chose her words carefully, and her actions cautiously, yet she never dropped her casual composition. It was as though she had trained for public appearances her entire life, and perhaps she had. Risa was an appropriate role model for Circe to admire, though in her presence Circe was only reminded that she was not, and could never be, what Risa Delmare was.
As Cephus launched into a re-enactment of their musical number, complete with a dizzying number of 'booty-drops' as they termed them, Circe found herself drifting between two worlds.
In one world, she had killed Madeline. In another, the two girls were enemies.
In one world, Circe was a sailor, on an open sea. In another, Circe was a fighter. And in that second world, Circe would do all that she could to prove herself and make up for her past mistakes.
But if her path of retribution would mean the death of Cephus, then Circe did not wish to be forgiven. If Cephus had to die for Circe to live, then she simply would not live. Not in this life. No, she would just start again in another.
Aldo Giotti, 14, District Eight Male
Was Aldo Giotti a bad person?
That was the question that had weighed on his mind since his name had been called at the reaping. Velan had told him that the Games were designed as punishment for those people who deserved it; for bad people. Having been only nine when the Games had been cancelled, Aldo had never watched them to assign the truth to Velan's words himself, so he had simply believed his superior, like he always had. Why would Velan lie? Why would he lie to Aldo?
He wouldn't.
But if Velan hadn't lied to Aldo, then that meant by being reaped for the Games, Aldo was being punished. And therefore, he was bad.
Alternatively, if Velan had lied to Aldo, then he would soon regret not killing him when he had the chance.
Either way, it was a lose-lose situation.
"Angora Winchester, District Eight," Aldo's district partner was called. She stood up gracefully from where she had been sat beside her ally from Ten, and made her way confidently across the room.
Aldo thought very little of Angora Winchester. The way she held herself, from the subtle shaking of her hips and the lingering eye contact she made with everyone she glanced towards, reeked of sin. Angora was a sinner, her hands soaked with blood as red as the lipstick on her pouting lips. The polite words she exchanged with Aldo at the dining table in their apartment were falsities, as were the flutters of her eyelashes towards any male she came across. Aldo would not trust Angora.
He wouldn't trust anyone.
Aldo's wandering eyes fell upon Angora's ally, who was sat with one leg propped up on the bench beside him, his arm leaning on his knee. Now he was certainly a bad person, there was no doubt there. Having killed many other killers, and other unsavoury characters who Velan wished to wipe off the streets of Eight, Aldo was familiar with the hollow look that rested upon the boy from Ten's face. Aldo would not have been surprised if the boy had killed before, and knowing that he had volunteered for the Games only implied that he was eager for more blood.
As for the other remaining tributes who filled the waiting room, Aldo could practically smell the sin oozing from their bodies. The nun –well, the holy ones were never as clean as they presented themselves to be. The large boy from Eleven had too many scars on his arms to have lived a peaceful life. The girl from Ten who sat beside him was clearly drowning in her own guilt by the way her eyes were cast downwards and full of loss. And the two from Twelve had dishonesty written all over their thoughtful faces..
But where did that leave Aldo?
In a room surrounded by the guilty, what was Aldo's role? Was he one of them; to be tossed into the lion's den to earn his retribution or die for his own sins? Or had he simply been placed in the ultimate position in order to take lives and balance the scales of good and bad?
Aldo hoped it was the latter, though he had been doing a lot more thinking since his arrival in the Capitol, and he no longer saw things in black and white –there was colour. So much colour.
And it was blinding.
"Aldo Giotti, District Eight."
Aldo looked up, watching as the doors slid open and Angora emerged. Her posture implied continued confidence as she waved over to her ally on her way out, who replied with a curt nod. Aldo then stood up himself, making delicate steps towards the assessment room. He felt the eyes of the room fall on him as he walked, and so in keeping up with his appearance, he deliberately stumbled, catching himself clumsily before he fell to his knees. A subtle move, but one which would serve to polish his pristine act.
Regardless of his internal moral dilemma, Aldo had at least decided that he would put his all into surviving the arena. He had no trouble with killing; he had lost track of the number of lives he had already taken; and even if Velan had lied and the tributes around him were innocent, then he would still be adhering to his own moral code as he would not be killing for fun, but rather for survival. It was a reasonable and logical conclusion to make, and a neutral one, whilst he figured out the answers to the other questions in his head.
Aldo knew that he was capable of racking up a high kill count in the arena, but he also knew that quenching his bloodthirst would not necessarily be the smartest strategy in a game as rigged as the Hunger Games. No, no, it would require far more expertise than just killing.
Taking a sample from some of his own experiences and tactics employed in his kills back in Eight, Aldo knew that his best strength would be weakness. Ironic, it amused Aldo, how in playing the weak card, he could take the win. Just like in poker, Aldo would lull his opponents into a false sense of security and just when they realised the mistake they had made, it would be too late. Too late for them, anyway. For Aldo, it would be perfectly on time.
And so, Aldo had concealed his true self behind an image of innocence and weakness. He had played the meek child, the feeble boy who struggled to simply lift a sword. He barely spoke, he bit his lip when people looked towards him. He was defeated, hopeless, pathetic.
If only they knew the truth.
Aldo couldn't lie to himself and pretend that his ego wasn't damaged by his actions. With each helpless fumble he made he felt his blood boiling inside, as strike after strike was made against his mentality. But he never broke. Aldo had perfected the art of killing, and he simply regarding the whole affair as preparation for his biggest kill yet. It was that reminder of his true capabilities which tended to the wounds of his ego and kept him sane as the days passed by.
His assessment would be no different. Whilst the tributes would not see the skills he would show, Aldo knew that it wasn't the tributes alone who he must fool. He would need to fool the Gamemakers and the entire Capitol, at least for long enough before he could allow himself to flourish in the arena.
And so, as he stood before the Gamemakers, listening to their greetings, Aldo forced his legs to tremble.
"You may begin."
As Aldo walked across the room, in his peripheral he saw the rows of weapons lined up against the wall. Swords, knives, spears –Aldo could find a use for them all. He missed the sensation of plunging a blade into the soft flesh of another; he missed the sight of first blood as it trickled down the skin.
He sucked in a breath, drawing his eyes away from the weapons.
Aldo approached the survival area, where a number of supplies were laid out. Picking up a handful of objects required to make a small snare, Aldo found himself a clear space and placed them on the floor.
Aldo was familiar with knot-tying, from the many times he had secured his victims, though he was keen to keep even the smallest of skills hidden. So he fumbled with the rope, dropping it a few times, as he slowly built the most basic of snares. As he worked, he flicked his eyes towards the Gamemakers every few moments, just to see their reactions to his remarkably unimpressive performance.
As expected, they did not appear enthralled. The Head Gamemaker kept a fair focus on him, though her companions seemed rather bored as they picked at their nails and swirled the coloured liquids in their glasses.
Allowing himself a small taste of freedom, Aldo played out a small fantasy in his head as he began to build his next trap.
He pictured himself striding towards the weapons rack, taking a machete in each hand and parading over to the Gamemakers, who were undoubtedly sinful creatures. He imagined hacking into their fragile bodies with the heavy blades, not caring whether his swings would slice into their flesh or hack right through. He could feel the heat of the sticky blood splattering against his face, his tongue poking out just to taste the tiniest drop. The sounds of their screams would be tantalising, egging him on to slice until there was nothing left but a puddle of guts and blood.
As the buzzer sounded, Aldo quickly pulled himself back to reality, pushing aside his thoughts of homicide for later.
"Thank you for your time, Aldo," the Head Gamemaker smiled as he resumed his trembling with a shaky bow.
"Th-thank y-ou," he replied meekly, before walking hastily towards the exit.
Oh, they would thank him later. Just wait and see.
Frankie Ellsworth, 14, District One Female
As Frankie stood in the elevator, on her way up to the penthouse where District One's apartment was, she could not help but worry about her assessment. Had she done well enough? Had she let her new allies down? Were the Gamemakers laughing at her, the moment her back had turned?
The fear of the unknown was worse than she could have imagined.
Frankie had tried her best, she really had. She had thrown a handful of darts like she had been practising in the training centre; her aim wasn't perfect, but she'd managed to hit a few targets with a fair level of accuracy. Frankie had also used her time to scale the climbing wall, which she felt she had completed in a decent time despite her trembling hands and pounding heart. Finally, she had thrown in a few survival skills that she could remember; identifying plants with modest success, and setting up a basic snare. It was a varied performance, but Frankie had been desperate to show that she was willing to try everything and that despite the manner in which she had entered the Games, she shouldn't be so easily counted out.
It was an optimistic outlook, she admitted, but optimism was all she had left to fight against the fears within her.
The elevator stopped smoothly, the doors sliding open. The Peacekeeper who had escorted her gestured for her to exit, and she did so, politely thanking him as she doors shut behind her. The elevator led directly into the apartment, with it being on the top floor. As Frankie walked into the centre of the apartment; an open plan design with a sunken lounge area, she saw the rest of the habitants gathered together.
Peach was the first to notice Frankie, and she beckoned her over with a cheerful wave. Frankie smiled back, walking down the steps to join her.
"How did it go, Frankie?" Peach asked her, patting the velvet lounger beside her.
Frankie accepted the gesture, sitting down beside Peach. On the opposite lounger sat Cascade and Hina –Cascade was tucking into a slice of berry pie, a smudge of compote smeared across her lips. Beau was stood a few metres away, leaning against a wall. There was a slight smirk on his face as he held a wrapped sweet above Linden's head, jerking it out of the way each time the young boy jumped up to grab it. Even though Cascade's son was staying with them, Frankie still felt like the youngest in the room.
"It was ok, I think?" Frankie told them honestly. "I showed them as much as I could, like you said Peach. I tried my best."
"I bet you impressed them," Peach pulled her into a hug. "I'm proud of you, Frankie."
"Thank you," Frankie's words were muffled into the soft fabric of Peach's loungewear.
"Well, the scores won't be revealed for a couple more hours," said Cascade, wiping the smudged compote from her lips. "How about we watch a movie?"
"Ooh yes!" Hina seemed pleased with the suggestion. "I have the perfect one –here, let me."
Cascade allowed the escort to move towards the control panel of the holographic television, where she tapped away excitedly at the keyboard. Frankie had seen a few movies from the Capitol; they were fairly common back at home.
"Wanna help choose some movie snacks?" Peach asked Frankie, gesturing for her to follow towards the back of the apartment where an array of foods were laid out.
Frankie nodded, following behind Peach.
"Hmm, well you can't go wrong with popcorn," Peach shrugged, grabbing a bowl and filling it with a few scoops of the popped treat. "Toffee flavoured popcorn, of course, though Beau will argue with me until he's blue in the face that salted is better."
"I prefer salted," admitted Frankie with a smile.
Peach shook her head, soft ringlets of blonde hair brushing against her clothes. "Don't tell Beau that, he'll never let me forget it."
Frankie giggled. "I won't."
"What else should we choose?" asked Peach, her eyes wandering across the multitude of choices before them.
"What about chocolate and marshmallow bombs?" suggested Frankie, having grown rather fond of the dessert during her time in the Capitol.
"Ooh perfect," Peach agreed, loading up a small plate before her expression turned more sombre. "Frankie, whilst it's just the two of us, I just wanted to ask if you were ok? I know you told me about Kazimir and Vel –I, I just wanted to make sure that you were definitely happy with them?"
Frankie bit her lip.
"I don't want you to feel as though you can't be with the Careers," continued Peach. "I promise you that I wouldn't let any of them hurt you. I would keep you safe."
Frankie nodded. "I know."
"Riddle just pretends she's mean so that she can act tough," said Peach. "And Ragnar actually seems quite sweet when you chat to him alone. I can't make any excuses for Cephus, but they're pretty harmless, as is Circe."
Peach sighed. "If you promise me that you feel safe with Kazimir and Vel then that's ok with me. I understand, I promise."
"I do feel safe with them," said Frankie, and that was the truth. The pair from Twelve had shown her nothing but kindness, and she figured that she stood a better chance of survival with them where she wouldn't be worried about outliving her usefulness, which she felt she risked if she remained with the Careers.
"Then I trust you to make your own decision," said Peach with an understanding tone. "You're stronger than you think, Frankie."
Frankie opened her mouth to reply, but she had no chance to speak as Beau shouted across the room.
"Hurry up with those snacks, I'm starving!"
"We're coming!" Peach called back, swiping up two bowls as Frankie took the others. "What are we watching?"
Peach and Frankie placed the bowls onto the glass table in the centre of the lounge. Beau walked over, handing Linden the sweet he had been teasing him with, picking up a piece of popcorn and scowling.
"You know toffee is the worst flavour," he commented to Peach, taking a chocolate bomb instead and flopping himself on the lounger beside her.
Peach playfully pushed her friend, but allowed him to crawl back, resting his head in her lap as he stretched out across the furniture. Frankie sat down between Cascade and Hina, with Linden nestled on the rug in front of them.
"We are watching A Woman's Song," Hina informed them with satisfaction, as she dimmed the lights and the screen began to light up.
"Sounds…thrilling," Beau muttered.
"It is a beautiful story," insisted Hina. "And the soundtrack is just wonderful -have you heard any of Mariposa's songs? She has the most incredible voice."
"Can't say that I have," replied Beau, but he soon quietened down as the movie began.
Hina was right, it was a beautiful story, and Frankie found herself so drawn into the romance that she had almost forgotten where she was. It was only as the movie ended, and the screen flashed up with an announcement that the tribute scores were about to be revealed, that she was hit with a sudden harsh reminder of her dire situation.
"Oh, here we go," said Cascade, leaning forward as the Master of Ceremonies filled the screen.
Ludmila Fontaine was the name of the new Master of Ceremonies, after Caesar Flickerman's retirement following the cancellation of the Games five years prior. Hina told them that in the political outrage that had followed President Aurelia's assassination, Caesar had been cleared of any suspected involvement, though rumours were that he had struggled to gain public work since and was now working as an editor for a gossip blog.
Ludmila was dressed in a deep purple; everything from her hair down to her fingernails was the same rich shade. She sat beside the Head Gamemaker, Selene Castellanos, as they chatted about the Games. Frankie could barely focus on the words that were said as her throat dried and her hands began to tremble in her lap. What if she had messed up? Would Kazimir and Vel kick her out of the alliance? She couldn't go back to the Careers, even with Peach's promises, but she also could not face the arena alone
The wait was agonising.
"And now, without further teasing, I am delighted to reveal the scores for our tributes!" Ludmila announced. "As a reminder, our tributes have been training for three days and they each presented their chosen skills in a private session in front of our Gamemakers earlier today. The Gamemakers have based their decisions on these sessions, as well as their observations throughout the past few days. Tributes will be scored out of twelve and scores will be revealed in order of District."
Frankie held her breath.
"To get the party started, we move firstly to District One," an image of Peach filled half the screen, her beauty radiating. "Peach Bellini –an early favourite of the Capitol already and it's not difficult to understand why! My, she is simply gorgeous, and a Career as well, of course. No doubt she has been training for quite some time, and that is reflected in her impressive score of ten!"
A number ten flashed over Peach's image as everyone turned to face Peach. A beaming smile filled her face as she was pleased with her score, sharing a low whisper with Beau beside her.
"Also from District One, we have Beau Ducreme," continued Ludmila. "My goodness, these two are a stunning pair, don't you think? I heard from the grapevine that they are also the best of friends –isn't that simply delicious? No rivalry between these two friends as Beau has also achieved a wonderful score of ten!"
Frankie saw Beau's shoulder relax as he nodded quietly.
"Amazing job you two!" commended Cascade. "I expected nothing less."
Frankie felt a hand rest upon hers; it was Cascade, who squeezed comfortingly.
"Let us move onto our next pair of Careers, shall we?" said Ludmila, as an image of Riddle appeared.
Frankie felt her heart skip a beat. She look anxiously towards Cascade.
"Don't worry," Cascade assured her. "They'll probably be leaving you until last because you were a late entry. It doesn't mean anything bad, just have to have a little more patience."
Frankie nodded, though her lip was quivering. She was already nervous enough; having to prolong that anxiety made it even worse.
But she managed to hold herself together as the rest of the scores were revealed. Both Riddle and Ragnar also scored tens, with Circe coming closely behind with a nine and Cephus dragging the collective average down with a four, though Frankie was not in the least bit surprised. The new addition to the pack, Matthew from Three, pulled in an impressive nine for a non-Career, as did the scary boy from Ten who sent a shiver down Frankie's spine even with just an image of his face.
The rest of the scores were fair; a large portion of other tributes receiving scores between five and eight. The boy from Seven achieved a lower score of three, though it was Aldo from Eight who stood with the lowest score of two. As the two Twelves both received six, Frankie clenched her fists together, waiting for a number to flash across her own picture.
"And finally, we have our unexpected addition to this cast of tributes, Frankie Ellsworth," said Ludmila. "Now, as a reminder, Frankie is from District One, though she was selected to enter the Games as an additional tribute. We are not permitted to share the reasons with you yet, but perhaps Miss Ellsworth will reveal all in tomorrow night's interview –you can watch me interview each of our tributes live, starting from 7pm on all major channels! But first, it is time to reveal our final score of the evening."
Frankie closed her eyes.
"Frankie has been awarded the score of…"
She clenched her jaw.
"Oh...zero."
The room fell silent.
Unsure whether she had heard right, Frankie's eyes flew open. But she had not misheard. There, in large font for the world to see, stood a rounded zero.
Frankie could do nothing. Inside she wanted to cry, but her eyes produced no tears and her body remained rigid. She felt herself being wrapped in an embrace, Cascade saying reassuring words in her ear, but she could not hear them.
All Frankie could hear was Ludmila's voice repeating over and over again.
Zero.
A/N
Circe is beginning to suffer from withdrawal, but Cephus offers her a final boost to get her through her assessment. How will she cope when she is in the arena; will she lose touch with her past lives? A little more is revealed about Madeline; does she truly love Circe or is it all in her mind? Will Circe be able to keep Cephus alive in the arena, and what would happen if they were to die before her?
Aldo is playing a clever game here; pretending that he is weak, when we all know that he is not. But he is also having an internal crisis -is he a good or a bad person? How will he feel when he enters the arena; will his opinion change? Will he have the chance to get his hands dirty?
Poor Frankie is having a really hard time. Peach accepts that she has allied with Kazimir and Velaris, but just as matters seem resolved, the scores are revealed and Frankie is left with a zero. Why do you think the Gamemakers gave her this score? And where will that leave Frankie now?
As I'm sure you'll be interested, here is a complete list of all the scores (which will be added to the blog when I get the chance!)
Training Scores:
Peach: 10
Beau: 10
Riddle:10
Ragnar:10
Sayuri: 6
Matthew:9
Circe:9
Cephus:4
Zoei/Aida: 5
Phoenix: 6
Moonshine: 5
Accel: 7
Livvy: 5
Cameron: 3
Angora: 6
Aldo: 2
Cathy: 3
Anri: 5
Lunete: 4
Valak: 9
Anise: 6
Logan: 8
Velaris: 6
Kazimir: 6
Frankie: 0
Thank you as always for your continued support! I'd love to know your thoughts on the scores, and pregames so far! Next chapter will be the interviews -who will shine and who will stumble? Will anyone have any surprises up their sleeves?
Until then!
Firefly