Ah hah! Here we are we have reached the insights of Enobaria, Gloss, Cashmere and the gorgeous Finnick Odair! :D
Hope you enjoy reading them as much as I have enjoyed writing for all of them!
61.
Tweed Turner, Male, District 8.
I met the strangest person the other day, my new teacher and she's raving on and on about District 13 to me when I talk to her after to check if she's alright. But there is no District 13, it's gone. In fact it's hardly ever mentioned to such an extent I have to ask my mother about it and she tells me of the rebellious District and how it had been blown to pieces. But my teacher is adamant that the Capitol use the same footage for District 13 on every film we've ever been shown and I realise it's true in the Capitol itself too and all over the Victory Parade I've just come back from. Twill might be off her rocker a little, but I also think she's onto something here. The Capitol is a very strange place and I'm filled with bitterness since winning my games. I clutch the bottle tighter in my hand and as I become slowly inebriated I imagine a thriving District 13 in my mind, and as I do so, I decide I'm going to dig a little deeper into this, perhaps Cecelia can shed some light on it for me.
62.
Enobaria Klien, Female, District 2.
My prep team are making cooing noises of appreciation as I go over the detailed sketches in my hands. They sound like twittering birds and I'd quite like to try my new set of teeth out on them when they are perfected. I wonder if I should make the tips of them gold after all they are very precious to me. I owe my life to my own teeth, they aren't abnormal in any way yet but I'm more than eager to get them 'Capitolised.' The taste of warm blood still rises up the back of my throat at time, I was so riled up. So ready to end the games and walk out as a victor I was ready to do whatever I needed to do, I would have bathed in that last tribute's blood if I'd have had to. He was skilled very skilled and I knew I had to think out of the box. His jugular was in the perfect position for me. Who knows? I might even steal that vampire nickname off that other victor. My heart still races at night, not from any nightmares though, but because a part of me knows I'm never going to get a rush like I did in the games again. I nod my approval at the final designs and settle into the dentists chair and they knock me out into a blissful oblivion. I wander whether victors are allowed to re-volunteer for the games for whatever reason, surely it would be a spectacular game. I might mention it to President Snow during the next event held in my honour.
63.
Gloss Armorie, Male District 1.
I throw a victorious glance back over my shoulder at my sister. Her arms are crossed and her bottom lip is sticking out in anger and irritation as I slowly make my way up the stairs of the Justice Building and stare out over my District all oh whom are cheering me on. Next is the hard part, saying goodbye to our parents, but I'm not frightened we all know I'll be seeing them again soon. My mother hugs me goodbye, she's the only one blinking tears. My father's eyes are shining with pride and Cashmere still has that look of envy on her face. "It was our time." She muttered her eyes darting away from my own as her cascading curls rippled in the sunlight streaming in through the open window. "We were both chosen to go in together, it was our time to dominate and win." Her eyes held a look of genuine upset in them as I enfolded her gently into my arms. She is a strong, strong woman and I smirk slightly back at her as I feel the well earned muscles in her arms under my grip.
"But if we'd both been reaped then we would have been forced to kill each other in the end." I reminded her, silently thanking that other girl from District 1 for volunteering and taking my sister's place. "That is probably the one thing I'll never be able to do."
"Who's to say we couldn't change their mind? It would have been the showdown of the Gods." She said, I gave her a look and she chuckled stepping away, "You've got this Gloss. We know you do and we're backing you all the way." Then she lowered her voice almost dramatically. "Just remember to put in a good word for me next year." She winked and our time was over.
64.
Cashmere Armorie, Female, District 1.
My congratulatory interview after I've won my games is different to any other for one difference. No one has ever had the luck of being mentored by their own brother and no one has ever sat beside him, both victors, both from the same District, heading home together. As I think these thoughts letting Gloss elaborate on the close moments between me and the final careers, we'd both stuck with the career pack as was tradition. Tradition wins for a reason. Then I realise Gloss is clutching my hand tighter than before and his concerned emerald eyes are peering into my own with concern and I realise I'm crying. The whole Capitol falls for it and they begin throwing tissues at the stage and I shake my head trying to put on my charming smile again. Caesar asks me what wrong and I let go of Gloss. "As you all know my name was picked last year and someone volunteered for me. She was only sixteen which is young considering most of us wait before volunteering and I was so angry at her. I wanted to kill her myself for robbing me of my chance then, but then Gloss' name was called and it's only now I understand what Gloss knew all along. That we couldn't possibly be sitting here side my side, united again without that girl's brave sacrifice. It's almost as if she knew what her destiny was and helped my family achieve it. I owe her my life I think and I want her family to know that I'll do the most I can to help them." I finish my monologue believing it to be shallow and vacuous but the Capitol get to it's feet applauding and some are picking up the tissues they've all thrown to me. Gloss is smiling at me nodding and we don't need Caesar to do it for us, we do it ourselves. We stand, our hands clasped together and raise them into the air in a mark of victory to tumultuous applause.
65.
Finnick Odair, Male, District 4.
There are plenty of mentors available to me and plenty of them wouldn't mind having a chance to mentor me, they've all told me they'll try and help me as much as possible, but why I have no idea. I just knew the moment I saw her that she was the one for me, all the others were too keen so to speak. She didn't believe me when I told her my talents, she just quirked an eyebrow in that way I've grown to love and gestured for me to prove it right there on the Capitol train, so I did. I felt as if I had to earn this ageing woman's respect. And slowly I did begin to earn it but I realised that my relationship improved massively with Mags when I finally stopped trying to be anything but myself behind closed doors. It's exhausting and I go to whatever bed is mine that night feeling that desperation for sleep in every bone and sinew of my body. This is all very new to me, I still don't fully understand some of the things they want from me, all I know is they go slack jawed when they see me and then they want nothing more than to run their greedy, polished nails all over me. I tried maintaining my act back home in my District; if they hadn't alienated me enough for winning the games already they certainly did then. They shut me out and I'm still shut out from them. Sometimes I feel the most welcome at the Capitol and that thought makes me run and dive into the sea as quickly as I can. I'm not to sure whether I want to drown myself in the biggest comfort I know, or whether I just want to be somewhere where there are no eyes. Eyes have begun to frighten me now; the eyes of the tributes I heartlessly speared in the arena, the eyes of the Capitolites who beckon towards me with a clawed finger, the judging eyes of the men in my District who don't believe I'm worthy, the ruthless eyes of Snow as he holds my family's life in the palm of his hand. But above all of these things, the eyes of my mentor are what hold me together and keep me from going insane. She cannot communicate with me very well, she won before many of the horrors of the games were properly introduced. But her hardened eyes guide me when I begin to become more like them, and they pull me away from the swirling seas around me that threaten to submerge me beneath them. Right now her eyes are shining with disapproval, regret and disappointment. I want to scream at her at that moment, to tell her it's not my fault. But then the look is replaced by one of tender, sweet care and I can feel my strong form trembling as she holds her arms out to me and ushers me quickly inside her house. I am thankful not just anyone can see us when I run blindly to her house next to my own in the Victors Village and hammer till she hears me. Dreams don't exist for me anymore, only nightmares and I suppose it's odd that an eighteen year old boy who hasn't faced the games in four years runs to his mentor's house rather than to his own parents. I decide as I stare blankly at some re-runs on her TV of the games which have just ended and she catches me doing so, scolding me quickly for watching but it's too late. I see the axe collide with my tribute's chest and watch her fall. As the canon booms she's not quite quick enough to switch off the screen and the camera cuts to my shocked, haunted face as I press my hands against the glass and scream for her to wake up again. The other mentors are shaking their heads at me and Brutus pulls me away, I still remember the words he spoke quietly in my ear, full of mirth and confusion. "She's only a tribute, they'll be two more exactly like them next year Odair, get used to it."
66.
Piece Padron, Female, District 5.
The sky really is a beautiful creation. It's a glorious mixture of colours and hues all mingling together in some fanciful concoction like I'd seen those women in the Capitol chugging down, glass after glass. I tried to follow suit, I knew they had alcohol in them, you could smell it and I'd also heard that it could make you forget even the worst nightmares. So as I slowly bled out on the charred, once earthy ground beneath me I decided I was happy to die with the sun slowly setting before my eyes. The blue turns to purple, which turns to pink, which turns to a startling burnt orange which is far more beautiful and strangely potent than any flame we'd made in the arena. Next to me is the boy tribute from 1 and he's trying to hold off the inevitable, so I reach out to him in those few moments where we are just a girl and a frightened boy, and I take his hand in my own and he bends his terror stricken eyes on me. We are no longer enemies. He's not ready to die and for that I pity him, I'm not either but I've accepted my fate whereas this boy was still fighting. That volcano has been the death of the last thirteen of us, there is no escaping the seething, gaping burns all over our bodies, the blood, or the amount of ash and smoke in our lungs. We can hardly breathe. He's still watching me, his eyes oddly focused and I point at the sky above. He looks up hopefully and for a moment I see the crushing hope in his eyes that makes him think a hovercraft is descending. But he understands after a couple of minutes, coughing as he smiles and his eyes begin to turn glassy and disturbingly vacant, but I don't look at the peace across his face. I just keep looking up at the palette of colours above as a canon booms and a black spec finally hovers towards me.
Oh Finnick you poor poor soul. I have often thought about what exactly it is the mentors/previous victors feel when their tributes don't make it and how they cope with sending them into battle every year, beside doing a Haymitch haha! I hope to god I captured them all to your liking.
Keep on reading and reviewing everyone!
xoxo