Yay! Finally finished. So, as I come to the end to the prologue of the actual SYOT story, I have a few things I would like to get out.
First and foremost. Thank you to all of my reviewers! I know I take forever to update these stories, so thanks for sticking with me anyways. You all help inspire me to write more. ^.^
Second. To everyone who submitted a character: Thank you so much! I have some great characters that are going to be loads of fun to write in the games. There would be not SYOT without yall!
Thirdly: There is a poll on my profile, so go vote for your favorite of our three Capitolites in this story!
And finally: Information about the SYOT story. In order to make finding it as easy as possible, I will include a date for the publishing. So, you ready for this?
January 1st 2014
Yes, I am not posting until 2014. This gives me, like, three or four weeks to write the chapter, and continue to get my head start on the readings(I'm almost halfway through them.) Now the story will be called: A White Rose: The Fourth Quarter Quell, and the summary will include the poem a the end of this chapter.
Hope this will help, and I'll see you all again next year! ;)
Oh yes! One more thing. This story is riddled with hints on what the Quarter Quell twist will be. (P.S To celebrate 100 years, the Quell will include twists from the other three quell, but that is not the actual Quarter Quell twist) Now, if you can figure it out or already have then PM it to me(This is to prevent the possibility of someone stealing it since they can see it in a review.) Anyone who can get it right will receive bloodbath immunity for one character of their choice. Only 1!
I own only what I create, and don't forget to review!
~District 12~
By the time they reached District 12, tensions were beyond high. It was as thought someone had shaken a bottle filled with carbonated liquid. Any moment, someone could flip off the cap, and everything would explode into a sticky mess.
Kat and Slader's bickering had transformed into daily shouting matches, which drove Corda completely up the wall.
"It's simply childish! You two should know better!" She chided grumpily one morning, after being awoken by their loud arguing.
Maybe they were being childish, but it was Slader's fault, Kat thought. It was always Slader's fault. He was obnoxious, and arrogant, and moody all the time. He constantly made fun of her, and...and...
And what?
Try as she might, Kat simply could not come up with a fact about Slader that was more than opinion, and as horrible as what he had on her.
A fake!
She wasn't a fake. She was just a girl who was torn between the world she had been born into, and the one that she wanted to be a part of.
But why? Why did she want to live every day in poverty? Sometimes unsure where you're next meal will come from. Spending every year worried that you'll be the next victim of a victorless game. Why would anyone want to trade her life of the highest form of luxury for that?
Kat didn't have an answer. She just knew that she did.
"Hey!" Are you even paying attention to me?" Slader clapped his hands irritably in front of her face, frowning.
"What?" She snapped irritably, eyes turning into chips of ice.
Slader's eyes hardened, like hard packed dirt, and he growled, "We're here." Then he turned and disappeared without another word, only a slam of the door that informed her how angry he really was.
Whatever, she thought, dismissing him from her thoughts as she stood. She had more important things to concern herself with than that boy's feelings.
Almost no one bothered to show up in welcome, but what was to be expected? District 12 was mostly poor anyways, and only the richest managed to get in for something like this. At any rate, it didn't bother her. The less people blocking her from the exit the better.
Now what to do? There wasn't much to explore in Twelve. If she tried to get close to the mines her mother would go berserk, and there were only two victors in town, one of whom was likely drunk. He was nine of of ten times that he came to the Capitol.
And Kat had no desire to try and have a conversation with a drunk.
So she finally decided on the Mayor's home. Mayor Undersee, the first woman to take the office of mayor District 12, was the the same age as the youngest of the District 12 victors. Apparently, it had been a good generation.
The mayor's home was easy enough to find, stationed at the very outer edge of the market, south of the Justice Building.
When she knocked at the door a young voice announced, "I'll get it!"
The door opened, and in it's place was a very small girl, with long, chocolate colored hair, and wide brown eyes, which she used o peer up curiously at Kat. She looked like what most knew as a Seam child, or a low-class child in District 12, but her neat white dress, and matching shoes told a completely different story.
"Hello." the little girl smiled up at her. "Are you a Capitolite? We're learning about the Capitol in school, you know? Although, I already knew all about it. My mom goes every year...because she's a victor."
"Dash..." Someone called from inside the house. "Dash, what are you doing? Who's at the door?"
A head popped into the doorway. A boy, with the same dark features as the young girl. When his dark eyes fell on Kat, they widened. "Mom!" He called excitedly. "Mom! Mom! It's Katalina Snow!
"Peeta, you shouldn't tell stories," someone scolded from inside the house. "You know what happens to people who cry wolf."
"But I ain't cryin' wolf, Mom!" Peeta stamped his foot. "Come look if you don't believe me!"
"'Ain't' isn't a word, Pea-brain," a new voice snapped haughtily, as the owner shoved him aside and made an appearance in the doorway. Her eyes widened at the sight of Kat. "Mom! He wasn't lying! It rally is Kat Snow!"
Kat shifted uncomfortably as, moments later, she appeared in the doorway. Katniss Everdeen herself, with her long braid and intelligent eyes. She raised an eyebrow at the young Captolite. "Well, what brings you out here?"
She tried for a smile. The two District 12 victors had never been the friendliest, or, at least, not to Kat, even though she'd heard that Katniss was rather kind to her tributes. Especially the younger ones.
"School project. I wanted to interview Mayor Undersee, but since she has company," Kat said, backing up to leave.
"That's fine," Katniss replied harshly. "We were just leaving."
"Bye Miss Snow!" The youngest called cheerfully as her mother pushed her thought the door. "She was real nice, Mama! Why can't we talk to her?" Kat could hear the girl chattering all the way down the street.
"I hope you won't hold her curtness against her."
Kat whipped her head back around, which made her slightly dizzy. Mayor Undersee was in the doorway, leaned against the frame,, wearing a white dress with her blond hair braided over one shoulder.
The young Capitolite shook her head. "Nah, I'm afraid I'm rather used to it."
The mayor smiled. "I guess you would be, wouldn't you? Would you like to come in?"
~District 12~
"Why do you think Mama didn't want me to talk to that girl?"
Mama had bought them straight home after the strange-looking girl had shown up at Mayor Undersee's home. She'd called over their godfather and said she needed to clear her head. Rue said that was code for going hunting, but Dash though she was just saying things. After all, hunting was illegal.
Now, Dash was sitting on the couch, her dress fanned out around her for the sake of being comfortable, and braiding the strings that hung from the seams of the couch pillows. Her godfather was in the chair in the corner, chewing at a piece of bread mildly.
"You're mom has a grudge against Capitolites is all, and she has a good reason for it. They've killed a lot of good people."
"What's a grudge?"
Her godfather chuckled. Lots of people were afraid of Mr. Haymitch. Kids at school called him a drunk, whatever that meant, and said he was a bad man. Even Rue and Peeta turned up there noses at him, just like today. The moment he had arrived, they had hidden themselves away in their rooms. Dash had no idea why. Sure, Mr. Haymitch got mad sometimes, and wasn't a morning person, and he always smelled funny, but that didn't make him bad. Bad people killed, or stole, or hurt people. Mr. Haymitch wasn't like that. He was always nice to her, and really...wasn't patient the word her mama had used?
"It's like being mad a someone for something they did in the past, except, a little different," Mr. Haymitch replied, staring at his bread absently.
"How?" Dash pressed, dropping a finished braid, and picking up a new bunch.
"I don't know how to explain it, Sweetheart, it just it."
Dash sighed. "Well, I think it sounds silly."
"Do you?" the man wondered with another chuckle.
"Um hm. The Capitol has made our life real nice, so why hate them?" Dash shrugged. "Doesn't really make sense to me."
"It's not that simple," Mr. Haymitch told her.
"That's what you always say." Dash blew violently at the hair that had fallen out of her braid and into her eyes. It flew up, stood straight, then floated back down lazily. "Nothing's ever simple."
"You're right. It's never simple."
"Why not?"
"The question of humanity." Mr. Haymitch chuckled again.
Dash opened her mouth to respond, but she was interrupted by a knock at the door. Dash's head snapped towards the sound, then turned back to Mr. Haymitch, who raised an eyebrow. "Who's that?"
Dash shrugged. "It's not for me."
Mr. Haymitch nodded his head, climbing with a groan to her feet. "Rue! Peeta! Are either of you expecting company?"
"No!"
"Not that I'm aware of!"
Dash stood, nearly tripping over the pillow as it fell from the couch and under her feet, and raced after Mr. Haymith. She stopped at the doorway into the entrance hall, and watched from around it as Mr. Haymitch reached the door, pausing to look back with raised eyebrows at her. Dash shrugged, so he turned back to the door, and pulled it open.
"Oh, it's you."
"Nice to see you, too."
"Who is it!" Dash demanded, knowing that her godfather's not-so-pleasent greeting meant that he at least knew the visitor, and recognizing of the visitor the accent as what her family call the Capitol accent.
"It's no one, Dash. Go play or something," Mr. Haymitch ordered, trying to wave her away, but he was already to late. Dash's interest was peaked. She raced down the hallway, slipping past him easily, and nearly ran into their guest.
"Hi!" She smiled at the taller boy, with his coal colored hair, decorated with colors that reminded her of the flames that her mother's friend Cinna found a new way to replicate every year for the two kids who got to go see the Capitol for themselves. He was a Capitolite, no doubt, and not one that Mr. Haymitch liked.
"Hey." The boy returned the gesture as Dash wondered why Mr. Haymitch disliked him. He didn't even look older than Rue, which Mr. Haymitch dubbed the "innocent stage", and he was very nice.
Well, whatever the reason, Dash was going to get to the bottom of it. "I'm Dash! What's yours?"
"Slader."
Dash frowned. "That's a funny name."
"And Dash isn't?" The boy nudged her playfully, earning an unpleasant," grunt from Mr. Haymitch, but he didn't seem to care, and neither did Dash.
"Well, at the very least, dash is actually a word," she argued.
"Names don't have to be actual words, kid. That's what makes them unique," Slader returned easily.
Dash squinted, trying to decide on a decent come back, but coming up short. Peeta would know, if it were him.
"So, any reason you're here with Junior rather than at you're own house, Abernathy?"
"Any reason you're in District 12 period?" Mr. Haymitch snapped back, causing the boy to raise an eyebrow.
"A little touchy, aren't we?"
"Well, at least I'm not threatening you," Mr. Haymitch retorted.
"Sure, not verbally, but you're thinking about it," Slader countered, and his attack stumped Mr. Haymitch, a feat that Dash had never before seen. She grinned, eyes sparkling. Now she really had to get to know this boy.
"Mr. Haymitch! Can I go to the bakery? Mr. Mellarks putting out a brand new batch of cakes today!"
Mr. Haymitch bite his lip thoughtfully. "I don't know, kid. You know your mom don't like you roaming around town on your own, and I can't go with you."
"That's okay!" Dash squeaked, completely ignoring the more logical question of why he couldn't take her. Mr. Haymitch didn't exactly like getting out much. "He can take me!"
Slader blinked in surprise a moment, then a grin spread across his face. "Yeah, Abernathy! I can take her if she really wants to go. I mean, cake is a big deal."
"Not to someone who has it at their fingertips at every waking moment." Mr. Haymitch's displeased face, with daggers shooting at the Capitol boy, looked rather funny, and it made Dash giggle.
She didn't miss how it softened for a split second, before the boy's words hardened it again. "Oh, on the contrary. Cake is a big deal no matter how often you have it. Right, kid?"
"Yeah!" Dash squealed enthusiastically.
"Why should I trust you with a seven-year-old? You can't even keep yourself out of trouble." Mr. Haymitch pointed out.
Dash looked back to the boy, who had cracked into a grin. She couldn't imagine why. He was loosing.
"Just think of it this way, Abernathy," he said. "So long as she's with me, nothing will happen. Nobody in their right mind would attack a Capitolite, especially one with my connections, and if they are crazy enough to do it, the wrath of the Capitol would be on them in a matter of hours. She can't get any safer than that."
Dash whirled to look at her godfather's reaction, and to her pleasure, his brow was furrowed, and he was muttering very softly. The Capitol boy had won.
"To the bakery and right back," he warned, looking down at Dash, rather than at the boy. "If you get yourself into trouble my tree'll be the one your mother goes barking up."
"Thank you!" She hugged briefly, snatched money from the jar that her mother kept on small table by the door, and shut it behind her, grinning up at Slader. "That was so cool! Will you teach me how to outsmart people like that?"
"It can't exactly be taught, kid." Slader laughed. "You're mom just lets you steal money like that?"
"It's everyone's money," Dash replied. "Mommy says we have more money than we really need anyways, so we might as well use it."
Slader grinned. "Wish my dad saw it that way." Dash smiled at him, but didn't reply, so he went on. "So, you gonna show me how to get to this bakery?"
Dash nodded, and raced ahead, waving for him to follow.
~District 12~
When they reached the square, Dash finally slowed down, and fell in step beside Slader. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Why not?" Slader shrugged, and looked down at the little girl, with her wide, curious brown eyes. "I don't really have anything to hide."
"Why doesn't Mr. Haymitch like you?"
Slader gave a snort. "Haymitch Abernathy rarely likes us Capitolites. In fact, I think the only one he actually likes is Effie Trinket, and that's only because they've been working together for over thirty years."
"How'd you know that?" Dash wondered hopping into a skip.
Slader shook his head. "I spend a lot of time at the Presidential Mansion, and President Snow's great-granddaughter pays way to much attention at school."
"That's not bad," Dash told him, running a hand over the wall of the butcher's shop as they passed. "I mean, I love school."
"Do you?" Slader didn't look over at her, he was winking at a passing market girl, carrying a basket of fruits. The girl rolled her eyes at him.
"Yeah, I do. I like Panem history the best. What's your favorite subject?"
"Gym," Slader replied absently.
"I meant academic, silly." Dash giggled, and waved at a vendor as they passed.
"I don't like academics. They bore me," Slader told her.
"Well, which do you like better than the rest?"
Slader shrugged, but when he glanced over at Dash, she was still giving him an expectant look, so he answered, "Um, basic technologies, I guess. It's the only practical one, really."
"What's basic technologies?" Dash frowned and furrowed her brow. "I've never heard of it."
He shrugged slightly. "They don't really teach it in the districts, except maybe Three."
"Why not?" Dash pressed.
"Well, you don't really need it here. I mean, most people in Twelve either become Miners or house wives, and those that don't become apothecaries, or bakers, or other basic stuff. None of that requires technology, so you're not taught it."
"Well, what does basic technologies teach you?"
"It's sort of self-explanatory, kid." Slader laughed. "I mean, we pretty much learn the basics of technology. Then, people decide from there if they want to take advanced technical classes at high school lever. Most of the kids who do that end up being game makers."
"Does that mean you want to be a game maker?" Dash wondered.
"Yeah, it does," Slader answered.
"How come?" Dash's voice became harsher as she came to a stop, hand on the handle of the door behind her. "The game makers just want to kill twenty-three kids every year!"
"Kid." Slader paused, chewing on his cheek. "Look, kid, it's like this. Life isn't always black and white. Not everyone does something for one reason alone. I don't want to kill twenty-three kids every year, but I do want to make a point. I want to prove something, to myself, and to my father. Haven't you ever wanted to prove something, and been willing to bend morals to get it."
"I don't know what morals are." The little girl admitted.
Slader laughed. "Let me try a different approach. Does your mom ever tell you that killing is bad?"
"All the time."
"Okay, well, when your mom was younger, she wanted to save her sister, and in order to do that, she had to put herself up for the games. Then, she wanted to get home to her sister and mom, and to do that, she had to kill, despite the fact that she thought it was wrong. Sometimes, in order to get what you want, you have to do what you don't want. You have to decide what's more important to you."
"What is it that you have to prove? That's more important than staying out of killing people?" Dash wondered, eyes wide with fascination.
Slader looked at his feet. "I have to prove my dad wrong. I have to prove that every time he says he can't be Head Game maker and spend time with me, he's lying. Otherwise, I'll just be a sad, lonely boy for the rest of my life." He offered his most contagious grin, in the hopes of lightening the mood, but Dash was too deep in. She was staring thoughtfully at her own reflection.
"Well," she said at last, turning to look at him. "For what it's worth, I believe you can prove him wrong." She offered a smile that seemed to hold all the innocence in the world, and for once, the smile that crossed Slader's was not flirtatious, or mischievous as everyone normally associated with him. It was genuine, filled with what a smile was made to be filled with.
"It's worth a lot more than you know, kid," he told her. He mussed her hair, producing an indignant squeal from the little one, and said, "Now, I thought we were going to get cake."
"Yeah!" Dash squealed excitedly, yanking open the door, and racing into the shop.
The smile was still lingering on Slader's features, when an all-to familiar voice announced the presence of its undoing. "What are you doing? You look like a complete weirdo."
He suppressed a growl as the smile wiped clear and he whipped his head around to face the advancing "Capitol's Sweetheart". "It's a big District, Snow. Can't you find somewhere else to harass its inhabitants?"
"You're one to talk." Kat glanced at the bakery door. "I guess you finally got the message then? That no one here wants anything to do with you? Or is staring at your reflection becoming a normal thing for you?"
"Maybe you should stare at your reflection some," Slader countered. "Maybe then you'll figure out what you want in life."
He saw the impact of his words written all over her face, despite the fact that she tried to hide it with her biting response, "I know what I want. Do you?"
It was an easy counter, the comeback in itself was a weak one, but Dash had chosen that moment to come back outside, and like children do, she butted in. "Of course he does. He wants to be a game maker."
Slader's face contorted into that of horror, and his head whipped around to look at Kat, who's mouth was working silently. Finally, she managed, "A game maker, huh?" She began to nod, as he tried to speak up and explain himself. "No, Slader. That's really great. Glad I know that now...I have to go."
"Kat! Wait!" Slader tried to grab her arm and pull her back, but she jerked away, and took off at a run down the street. Pedestrians paused, and stared after her, sometimes glancing questioningly at companions, as though they held some sort of answer.
"Uh oh..." Dash looked uncertainly at him. He had come over to where he was standing and was tugging at his shirt. "Did I do that?" She whispered worriedly.
Slader looked down at her, shaking his head. "Nah, kid. You didn't do anything. I'll talk to her later, let's get you that cake and get you home before Abernathy starts to worry."
~District 12~
She couldn't say with any amount of certainty why the fact upset her so much. He should have been overjoyed. Slader wanted to be a game maker? It was exactly the ammunition she'd been needing all along.
But instead, it was as though he had dug a knife into her back. Sharp pain resonating through her body. It wasn't fair. Why was it that even in being wrong he could cause her so much pain?
Now, because of him, she was huddled in her room on the train. The avoxes had all given her a curious stares when she's returned so early in the day, but hadn't bothered her. Maybe that was because she had snapped at them not to. She was on the bed, with her legs covered by the blankets, and pulled close to her chest, and her her knees tucked up under her chin, and her face was stained with messy tears.
She heard the door slide open, and turned her head away, snapping at the intruder, "I though I said for no one to disturb me!"
"Nice try, Snow, but you're not quite the boss of me yet." The attempt at humor was weak.
"Slader." His name came from her throat in a growl, and she was relieved. She's been half-afraid of it coming out as a choked of whimper. "What are you doing here?"
"To be honest? I came to try and fix things. I never did like the idea of making a girl cry." this time, there was no hint of a joke, which made Kat's temper flare even worse.
"Really? You don't? What a surprise you've certainly been working hard at it lately.
She felt her bed shift slightly as Slader made an unconcerned noise. "You're tough, Snow. You can handle a few angry insults."
"How do you know?"
He hesitated. "How does anyone know anything, really? I guess you just assume, and hope you're right."
Kat turned to him, wiping tears violently from her face. "That's such a stupid theory."
Slader shrugged. "It's all I've got, really."
Kat rolled her eyes. "You're so stupid."
"But that's why you love me. Deep down inside." He flashed her his grin. Kat looked down at her feet, and played traced the design on the blanket covering them with a finger. When Slader spoke again, his voice had an edge of disappointment. "Too soon?"
"You want to be a game maker?" The question had been bubbling below the surface for a while. She realized she needed to hear I from him.
She heard Slader shift uncomfortably. "Yeah, I do, but not for the reason you think. I don't like the games, or the idea of killing twenty-three kids every year, but I have to prove that it's possible to be Head Game Maker and a good dad. I mean, don't you want to be president? So you can prove your grandpa wrong? Prove that we don't need the games for peace, or that it's possible to keep everyone well fed, and not just the Capitolites."
"That's not the same, by taking my grandfather's job, I can stop death. You? You'll be causing it."
"Sure, the path's not the same, but our intentions are." He tugged at his finger. "Kat, this game maker business, and what I said about you a couple weeks ago, they're not that different. You're torn between the world you were born into, and the world you want to fix, and someday you're going to have to decide. Me? I'm torn between what I believe and what I have to do in order to prove whether or not my dad is a bad father. I'm no sure which I want him to be, but I have to prove to myself which he is. The only difference between our situation, Snow, is that I've made a decision, and you haven't. Maybe that's not a bad thing. I guess you don't have to decide right now, but you will have too one day."
Kat looked over at him. "You're wrong, Slader."
"Excuse me?"
"You're wrong. The decision isn't between the Capitol and the Districts. It's between my family and a better life for everyone, and I've made my decision."
Slader stared at her in amazement. "And what's that?"
Kat offered a sly smile. "What do you think?"
He returned it. "I think you made the right choice."
On some sort of blind impulse, she pulled him into a hug, and held on, as if for life itself. "Thanks, Slader. I guess you're not as bad as I thought after all."
"Uh, Thanks?"
"Hello? Kat? Slader? I heard the two of you had come back, so I came to see what's wrong." Corda was calling from the hallway.
"We'd better go reassure her, huh?" Kat pulled away, and threw off her blankets, hopping out of bed. "Come on, last one there has to help her pack up her shoes on the ride home."
Slader jumped up as she disappeared through the doorway. As he did, something hit the floor with a soft thump!. He bent to collect it quickly, and his finger pressed down on one of the buttons of Kat's recorder. Static began to fill the room. Slader cursed, and turned the thing over. "How do I turn you off? Ah ha! Stop."
His finger froze on the button as Kat's voice came from the recorder, in a steady rhythm, reciting something. It wasn't anything, however, that he'd heard in school. This was new, different, and for some reason, it left Slader with a feeling of worming anticipation. There was a not to her voice. Something was going to happen, and soon.
Kat's plan to change everything was going to take action soon. He could feel it.
Roses are red,
Or so they say,
Like the Districts are fed,
And the games are a form of pay
But this rose is white,
this I know,
And children fight,
for the vengeance of President Snow