Constancy:
Author's note: Yup, this is a quick turnaround. You're welcome . . . or I'm sorry (not sure which)
Reminder to send me ideas for the upcoming feast, (NEXT CHAPTER!) especially if your tribute (s) or your favorites are still in play. Your suggestions very well might impact the turn of the tide.
Also, I will be posting another poll after this chapter is posted. Who you would like to see in the final 3. Just wanna see if this is different than who people think will make it to the final 3. This will be changed to a similar poll with the victor following the posting of the next chapter 1st who you would like to see as the victor. And then with the next one who you think will end up as the victor.
Finally, these deaths are getting harder and harder, so once again, thanks to everyone whose tributes are still alive and to those who have perished. Some of my favorites went early, while some are still with us, but only one will make it out alive.
Disclaimer: I still do not own the Hunger Games. Now, without further ado, the final 8 (complete with interviews.)
Abi Thermes - Bailey's aunt District 7
Deja vu was a bittersweet thing. All of the lights, the cameras the questions would be so familiar from years gone by, Abi thought, trying to prep herself for the knock on the door that she knew was coming. The final 8. Bailey was still alive, but at what cost? Abi couldn't believe what she had just seen on the screen, her brother's sweet little girl turning into a monster. And she hadn't just killed; she had killed an ally, a friend, someone who, just a night before, minutes before, even, had seemed like family to her.
Of course she couldn't tell the interviewer just how terrible she thought this was, that would kill any chance Bailey still had. Even if the Capitolites liked her and wanted to sponsor her, Abi's words had the ability to destroy any affection they held for her. She had to remember that, just as she had with Sterling when he had been in the final 8, only to be killed just before the finale.
The knock came and Abi breathed in deeply before turning to answer it. It was showtime.
The cameramen entered, all smiles and congratulations. Just one more time, Abi thought, and, whatever happened to Bailey, she would never have to go through this again.
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen," Abi beamed, knowing she was already being filmed despite the pretense of the interviewer setting up.
"Hello Abi Thermes. It's a pleasure to be here again," Valerie Yorick gushed. She was the same interviewer who had heralded Sterling's entrance into the finale 8.
"It's been a couple of years, but it looks as though the place hasn't changed," she observed.
"Not much, no. It's a bit quieter with Bailey out of the house, of course, but I'm getting by."
"And so is she, I would say. Let's reflect on her games so far. Does she remind you of either of her parents at all?"
"Well, yes. Her father at least," Abi said. It was almost as though she could feel Sterling beaming down on her from whatever mystical afterlife he inhabited. "Her father stuck with his allies and was very protective of them."
"Now as I recall, he died because of one of them, right?"
"That's correct," Abi answered, forcing a smile even though she worried she knew where this was headed.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but it seems like Bailey just did the opposite. She just killed the boy from 10."
"Mobie." Abi said simply. He had been Bailey's ally, he deserved a name. "She was angry. Believing he'd killed Raivel must have destroyed her, so she lashed out the only way she knew how."
"How do you think she'll behave once she finds out Raivel's alive?"
"I'm not sure she's going to find out," Abi said honestly. "She's been in hiding since it happened; you can barely even find her on the screens, trust me, I've looked. If she were still in the sanctuary, that little area that was just theirs, she would have found him by now. She believes he's dead and nothing will convince her otherwise. I don't think their paths will cross again."
Bailey Thermes – District 7
She had to get away! She'd been running since the horrible night and now it was nearly dawn. Raivel and Mobie both dead within minutes of each other was too much to bear. How could Mobie have killed him?! Even if he'd been scared, he must have known Raivel was the only tribute it could have been. Her fury still boiled within her, but had nowhere to go. Mobie was dead, at her hands. She should feel bad, Bailey knew. She kept waiting for tears of remorse to come, but they didn't. Where they should have been was only anger.
On and on she ran. She was never going back to their sanctuary. It would be too haunted with their memories. But where could she go? She needed to stay safe, needed to plan.
She hadn't expected to be here. For the past few days she'd been sheltered by her allies, by the key that had been given to her, but now she had to think if she wanted to do what her parents hadn't been able to, make it home.
Her parents. What would they have thought of her now that she'd taken a life? Mobie's blood still crusted in her hands. She could see it in the light of the rising sun. They'd been killed by a tribute just like her in the Games. How was she different than the people who had killed them.
It was different, she insisted. Mobie hadn't had children, he'd had a family waiting for him, yes, but no one who depended on him. And Raivel, he'd had no one. She'd been his only family. She'd had to avenge him.
And now it would be her who made it home, by whatever means necessary.
She dared to stop for a moment, to survey where she was. She'd nearly made it to the craters where she and Raivel had first stayed. She didn't want to be there, she knew. Too many memories, too many ghosts. Yet she needed to find somewhere to stay, somewhere she could plan.
That was when she saw the entrance to the tunnel. Did she dare to go down into the dark? Who knew what awaited her there? But without any weapons or any allies she didn't want to stay out here in the open. At least in the darkness of the tunnels she could hide, just for a little while.
Cliff Jamison - District 7 (best friend of Jonas Tanner)
"So, Cliff, you're the one who started it all?" the interviewer prompted, throwing Cliff off guard. They were all gathered in the Tanner's livingroom, a familiar environment to be sure, but still Cliff felt like an outsider. In fact, he felt guilty, and being the first to be questioned didn't help. He'd figured the family would be questioned first, giving him time to prepare.
"Yeah, I suppose I am," Cliff admitted, hesitantly.
"Care to tell us about that," the interviewer pried. "We're always curious with someone who makes it as far as Jonas has where he got started.
As far as Jonas had, Cliff scoffed interiorly. Unless Jonas made it out, it didn't matter whether he finished 24th or 2nd. Dead was dead. And until Jonas was home safe and sound, if that happened, Cliff would never forgive himself.
"Well, last year, we were all sitting around as always, watching the Games on television. And every year Jonas points out all of the tributes' flaws, exactly where he thought they went wrong, which allies they should have picked, when they went right instead of going left like they should have, sleeping instead of remaining vigilent, that sort of thing. Well, finally he got so . . ." Cliff searched for a nice word for maddening . . . "persistent," he decided. "He became so persistent that I said "if it's so easy, why don't you do it?""
"Did you think he would?"
"Not when I said it, but I should have known better. So I helped him get in shape as much as I could and, well, the rest is history," Cliff ended, hoping there would be no more questions directed at him.
"Thank you, Cliff. Now Lawson, now that it's your brother you see on the screen, what has it been like watching him?"
"Well, I can almost hear Jonas in my head, analyzing each of the tributes, seeing their strengths and weaknesses. Needless to say, if I were betting, my money would be on him, hands down."
"Just because he's your brother? Or is there another reason?"
"It's like he said in the interviews. A lot of the other tributes have a fatal flaw, compassion. Forgive me for my bluntness, but we just saw it in a couple of the other tributes. The boy from four essentially sacrificed himself for his allies, taking on my brother's alliance. The girl from three and nine, they got too close too, the younger one reminded the older one of someone from home and, well, don't even get me started on Jonas's district partner."
"Lawson!" Jonas's mother exclaimed. She never could stand it when any of her boys criticized someone she perceived as less fortunate. Cliff didn't support it either. After all, as it stood, Bailey could have as much of a chance as Jonas.
"Ms. Tanner, I presume you're sympathetic towards the girl from seven."
"She's from our district and that should be enough for us to back her if anything happens to Jonas. We certainly shouldn't speak ill of her," she insisted.
"Any thoughts from you, Mr. Tanner?" the interviewer prompted. It was almost as though he was trying to avoid Jonas's youngest brother.
"Well, I'm just grateful that my son is still alive," Jonas's father replied simply. Unlike his sons he wasn't much for fancy words; Cliff was grateful for that.
"And what about you, Weston. If you were given the opportunity your brother has, can you see yourself following in his footsteps?"
"Certainly not by choice," Weston stated. "Jonas and I have different values. I support him and respect his choice to volunteer and I'm pleased that he's doing so well, but it isn't over yet. The time for lavish words and celebration hasn't come yet, and, until the final cannons sounds I'm not going to assume anything." Cliff braced. Weston was saying everything he'd been thinking.
"You don't know anything," Lawson countered. "Jonas is assuredly going to be the victor. He's superior to everyone else by leaps and bounds. It's astounding we're only at the final 8 and that he hasn't obliterated everyone else yet."
"If everyone were robots, maybe your calculation would be right. You seem to be forgetting that there are seven other tributes still alive, each of them equally determined to come home. There are seven other families doing the exact same thing we're doing. Only one of them will be right."
"Weston," his father cautioned, trying to rein his son in.
"And beyond that, there are the unpredictable factors of the Games. I want Jonas to come home, I do. I just think we all need to overcome our own hamartia and accept that there's nothing we can do and because of Jonas's unnecessary actions, now we're all left clinging to a hope that he'll be coming home instead of the certainty of having him at our side. Jonas, I'm proud of you, but until I can say that to you in person, I'm leaving." And with that, the youngest Tanner boy rose from the couch and left the house.
"He'll be back," his mother assured the cameramen, smoothing her hair over as the interview concluded.
Kingsley Neilan - Father of Ailis Neilan
"I still do not understand what she is doing in our house," Leia hissed. They had only moments before the cameras arrived; even now Kingsley could see them emerging from the orphanage a little ways away. Beside him Aliza squirmed nervously. He had told her to dress in one of Ailis's hand me downs, which she had, gratefully, much to the disdain of his wife.
"They are friends and she wanted to be here, so stop mistreating her," Kingsley insisted. He had about had it with his wife's attitude. This was, ultimately about their daughter, but she couldn't seem to grasp that, viewing this as simply an opportunity to plaster her own face all of Panem.
Their daughter had made it to the final 8. What a thrill, Kingsley thought. Just seven more tributes to kill and she could come home. But could she? Ailis had always loved being with people, having someone's company. Now, all by herself, would she be able to manage.
"I'm sorry her friend had to die," Aliza said simply, seemingly oblivious of Leia's aversion to her. Leia scoffed and looked ready for a well-spoken comeback. Fortunately they were spared any of her snobby retorts by a knock at the door.
"Look presentable, everyone," Leia fussed as she twirled over to answer it, her overly frilly skirt dancing every which way in her wake. Behind her the Hunger Games' images played on the screen.
"She's still in the tunnel," Aliza whispered and Kingsley nodded.
"Welcome to our home," Leia continued to fuss as the interviewer and camera crew were ushered in. "I'm Leia Neilan, Ailis's mother and this is her father, Kingsley."
"And this is Aliza, Ailis's best friend," Kingsley opened the opportunity as Leia sat beside him again.
"It's certainly a beautiful home you have," the interviewer observed.
"Ailis has never wanted for anything. We're certainly not as well off as the Capitol, but we do ourselves proud." Leia replied, smiling lusciously.
"And it certainly shows," the interviewer observed. "Mr. and Mrs. Neilan, your daughter's performance has been extraordinary, if a little unconventional. Let's talk about her alliance for a moment. Even though three of them have perished, they certainly made a significant impact."
"And I would absolutely credit my daughter with forming that alliance. She's a brilliant strategist. From what we could gather from the interviews, the boy from four was originally grouped in another alliance, but I'm certain Ailis won him over. And the two other girls, they played the parts that Ailis orchestrated for them to play."
"It's difficult losing allies, especially as she did, so early on, when the girl from four died. Do you agree with the strategy they used, trying to avenge her?"
"Well, it certainly got some of the stronger tributes out of the way," Kingsley put in.
"And Aliza, what do you think?"
"I think it's nice that she didn't let the other girl die alone. Even though she tried to kill her, Ailis stayed by her side," Aliza observed. "I hope that if it comes to it, someone will do the same for her."
"But it won't," Leia snapped quickly. "Ailis will be coming home. She's brilliant and is certainly a survivor. Look at her; she's still right beneath the Cornucopia, just waiting for the opportune moment. I'm certain she'll take it back and then she'll be the Capitol favorite."
Ailis Neilan – District 3
She was still at an impasse, she thought. She'd ventured down the tunnel a little further, hoping to get a better perspective on the Cornucopia. From where she had been she'd had no way to detect when Nero or Jonas was near the entrance ready to pounce or whether he was asleep. She didn't like the idea of going in blind and alone. So she had ventured down, in hopes of formulating a better plan.
Ailis clutched her rope in her hand; thanking her sponsors again that she had it. In the total darkness, it shined a little. It certainly wasn't enough light to see by, but it gave her something to focus on besides the darkness. She'd also fastened it back where she'd left to a rock so that she could find her way back. If worst came to worst and there was no better vantage point by the time she ran out of rope she would return and take her chances with Nero and Jonas.
She paused as she thought she heard a sound, the sound of lapping water. An underground stream! Was that the same one that had lead by the catacombs?
Almost immediately after, she had the strange sensation that she was not alone. She stifled a greeting; her first instinct being to greet the stranger that she presumed was looming in the darkness. Whoever it was, they were not friendly. There were only eight of them left; no one was friendly she reminded herself, bracing.
If they weren't friendly, her only option was to kill them, before they killed her. That was going to be tough given the fact that she couldn't see as much as her hand in front of her face. Maybe they couldn't either, she thought.
What would she use as a weapon, though? The answer came to her after a moment of mulling around. Keep your distance and do what needs to be done, she thought, pulling hard on the rope. She felt it come loose from the rock to which it was fastened at the top. She would worry about finding her way back later. Now she needed to stay alive.
Her eyes had adjusted enough she thought she might be able to make out the outline of a tribute, but she couldn't tell who it was. Taking a deep breath, she let the rope, now a lasso fly towards what she only assumed was the tribute's neck.
Jonas Tanner – District 7 (a few moments earlier)
Surely this infernal darkness had to have an end, Jonas thought. Or, if not, someone could have conducted a torch to him. Sponsors had inexhaustible resources at their disposal; surely someone could see the implications of sending him a light.
Unless Aeden was as inadequate a mentor as Jonas had suspected. It was conceivable Aeden was esteeming Bailey over him; his mawkishness would unquestionably only result in her demise, however. Perhaps Jonas's best advantage was to anticipate Bailey's face in the sky. After all, he hadn't seen her since the bloodbath and had no method or desire to locate her so as to accelerate her destruction. For now, his situation was not dismal, yet its improvement was essential.
They would be conducting the interviews for the final eight now, he realized. The thought of his family expressing their justified pride in his amelioration delighted him. He could see his brothers gathered in his living room with his parents and Cliff, perhaps astounded, but certainly satisfied.
It was even as he had that thought that he realized the sound of the stream he had been following had altered, sounding as though its echo were bouncing off a more distant space.
Perhaps he had encountered another path.
As if in answer, he felt something settle around his neck. A trap. Before the rope tightened he managed to sneak a hand through. Self-defense had never been his forte when he and Cliff had been practicing. Jonas's mind vied for an answer; how did he escape from this hold. The noose tightened slowly, as though the person wielding it were also struggling. Yet it did tighten, despite his arm holding firm, making it difficult to breathe. He coughed as it constrained his windpipe, fighting desperately. He struggled, but that only seemed to pull the rope tighter. No, he insisted. He refused to expire in this manner, in obscurity, disregarded by the sponsors and the other tributes.
Think, he forced himself. Sure enough, the answer came to him with his other hand. He still had his sword. He could just cut the rope, but then he would lose the advantage that he already had, finding the person at the other end. As swiftly as he could, he snipped the noose enough so that it was no longer choking him, but was still taught. Unless the other tribute could see what he had done they would assume he was still choking. He pulled, still struggling, but took a couple of steps. The rope as becoming loser and he gathered it in his hand, stumbling as he would if he were still choking. He felt a hand brush his and wasted no time. Recovering himself, he stabbed his sword through the other tributes' body, not knowing or caring who it was. They had just tried to kill him and now they were one less problem to worry about. Only after he heard the cannon did Jonas allow himself to collapse and catch his breath, stunned by how close his own cannon had been.
Flora Taplin - District 2 (Age 13, younger sister to Nero Taplin)
"I wish he hadn't volunteered," Flora sulked, only to be elbowed immediately by Tami.
"Girls, we know how proud we are of your brother," their mother rebuked them, covering any ill will with a smile. Flora sighed. She didn't care if the cameras were watching them, didn't really know how anything she said right now could affect Nero at all. It was him in the arena, all by himself. He'd already done the best he could, eliminating the one person in the arena who could have been considered a rebel, but from now on, as Flora saw it, it was up to him. She didn't want to be sitting here doing this stupid interview with her parents and her sister, but she was.
"Of course we are. Volunteering is just starting to get popular here in District two and my brother is a fine example. Just look at how he's outlasted his entire alliance and taken on every challenge that's been presented to him. In my opinion, he's the only real contender remaining," Tami recovered with a grin. Flora glanced at her father, who was obviously trying not to grimace and was just keeping his cool. He'd barely said a thing beyond how proud of Nero he was, but really, that's what this was about, bathing praises on an empty screen. Nero would only see this if he survived; in which case Flora would tell him in person how glad she was he was alive, after she punched him across the face for putting their family through this.
"You know, Nero's inspired me. I'm considering volunteering soon," Tami piped up again. It was her mother's turn to look alarmed, but she said nothing. "I mean, once Nero's home, I'll have a splendid trainer. And what could be better than having your own brother as a mentor."
"You seem completely confident that he'll be coming home, then. Is there no one you think is a threat?" the interviewer asked.
Flora bit her tongue as her sister replied that Nero could take on anything. Could he, though? Up until now he'd had his alliance to back him up, but now he was completely on his own and Flora couldn't help but worry about the duo from two who seemed to be eyeing the Cornucopia.
"Attention, Panem," a voice announced from the television. "It is with the greatest sorrow that I have to ask that you put away the festivities of the Hunger Games for just a brief moment for this important announcement. There has been a tragedy in the Capitol. Two of our mentors, perhaps more, it seems, joined in a suicide pact. It can be reported that at least two of them were successful. Late last night, the Capitol media were informed by Echo Banner of District Two that both Glade Harborne of District Two and Allorea MKenna of District Five were found dead, of apparent suicide. One of the other mentors, Aeden Sanderling, may have made a suicide attempt, Echo reported, but is recuperating under the watchful eyes of his peers. Please take a moment with me to mourn their passing, our victors of the Third and Fourth Games. May their families be comforted."
Thank you, Glade, Flora thought, as that apparently concluded the interview.
Excelcia Mercilus – District 2
"Suicide!" Echo hissed, glaring accusingly at Excelcia. "How dare you tell him that!"
"Me?! I had no part in what he said," Excelcia protested. It was true. If it had been up to her she would have published every detail of Glade and Allorea's final moments, but the President had been against that, telling her to carry out their plan, but they would have a cover up.
"It's bad enough that Glade is dead, but slandering his name after the fact, that's just terrible. And what did you to do Aeden?" Echo asked.
"Shouldn't you be focusing on your tribute and letting me worry about building our name?" Excelcia pointed out. "After all, if Nero pulls this off it'll be a lot easier for you to get vamp the Career program in District 2. That's the reason you started all of this, after all. Better tributes, better mentors, better Panem." The words sounded cheesy in her mouth, but she needed to feed Echo them because that's what she believed. She didn't quite share Excelcia's blatant passion for exceptionalism and patriotism.
"If my name is on this I want you to tell me everything, from here on out," Echo protested. "We'll do everything you said, start a more vigorous training program, rally people in Glade's name, but I need to know one thing: Did you really poison Aeden?"
"Not as fatally as I should have," she replied simply. "So don't worry about him. He won't die and you won't be blamed for anything. Your story is you simply reported Glade and Allorea's suicide, which is true from a certain point of view."
"A certain point of view?" Echo questioned.
"Echo, as a Victor you're going to find that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view. Allorea's been doomed for a while, since her games and Glade, well, let's just say he didn't hide the cuts on his back nearly as well as he thought he did. Whether I killed them or they died by suicide doesn't really matter in the end, because the truth is they are dead. That is all that matters in the greater scheme of things."
"You really knew he'd do that, didn't you?"
"Echo," Excelcia leveled with her. "I've known Glade for fifteen years. Yes, I had no doubt he wouldn't be the one coming out of there. I'm sorry for letting you believe otherwise, but I was worried you wouldn't be able to handle it. Now, go. Nero will need you."
Randyll Kelta - District 8, Father of Margery Kelta.
"It's such an honor," his wife was continuing to gush to the camera. "We've always been proud of our Margery, of course, but we never expected that she would have the honor of being in the Games. Naturally we knew she would make it far, and, while we're not surprised she's in the final 8, we're delighted and certainly are hoping that she continues to make us proud."
Sandra was born for this, Randyll thought. He didn't know how long the interview had been going on already, everything had kind of blended together, but he did know that he'd barely gotten a word in. That was just the nature of their relationship; Randyll instilled lessons and Sandra let her mouth run. He only hoped anything she said wouldn't bore the Capitolites.
"Now, Mr. Kelta, if I may, at her interview a couple of days ago, your daughter asked the Head Gamemaker what he looks for in a Victor. Based on what you've seen these past four, almost five days, do you think your daughter has what it takes."
"Beyond a doubt," Randyll replied. "I may not be as talkative as my wife, as you may have noted, but growing up I instilled one solid lesson in Margery, the world isn't fair to you, so don't be fair to it. Just look at her, she's clearly learned that well."
"And you're proud of her for this?" The interviewer asked, clearly already knowing the answer.
"Absolutely," both Randyll and his wife answered in unison.
"We've always wanted the best for our daughter. She's our only child, after all, and the way she's put aside any emotion, I couldn't be prouder. She didn't crumble after the unexpected deaths of her allies and she won't be broken, not even when Leoric eventually has to die for her to come home. Just look at what they did to that boy from 11. Instead of killing him outright, it was Margery's idea to get as much out of him as they could and then leave him in certain dire straits," Sandra replied. Randyll smiled. She had listened to him. As they'd been watching her daughter and her ally torture that boy all Sandra could say was how horrible what she was doing was and, when they finally dashed away with the business unfinished she was even more broken up. Randyll was simply grateful that she had come to her senses before the cameras had come in.
"So you don't think that was a lose end, not killing Ridge?"
"Trust me," Randyll replied. "My daughter does not leave loose ends."
Margery Kelta – District 8
"We shouldn't have left him alive," Margery hissed, hoping she was quiet enough not to be picked up by any cameras in the area. She knew it didn't do any good to second guess herself, but after not having seen Ridge's face in the sky last night, she was beginning to second guess every move they made. If he was still alive and somehow managed to recover, he would be out for blood. On top of that, he might have a ferocious mutt on his side. She and Leoric hadn't hung around to see if the mutt had taken Ridge to the skies again, but it clearly hadn't finished him off as they'd hoped.
"We can worry about him later. We stranded him in the middle of nowhere. If that wasn't his cannon earlier, which it probably was, he'll die soon enough. No one's stupid enough to help him, no one would sponsor him when we're clearly the favored team. Think about it, even the teams from 1, 2 and 4 are dwindling."
"You're right," Margery agreed, trying to convince herself over the sound of her hungry stomach. Torturing Ridge had taken a lot out of them and they were running dangerously low on supplies. Then a thought occurred to her. "You're right!" she exclaimed, more enthusiastically. "Leoric there are only one or two tributes at most at the Cornucopia. Why don't we take it?"
"Will there even be anything left to take?" Leoric questioned. "It's been five days."
"They can't have eaten all of the food there," Margery decided. "And right now, that's what we could really use. I don't think we're going to get much in the ways of hunting, there's no woods and the only mutt we've seen is that flying creature, which I don't think we're going to be able to take down. I say we take the Cornucopia."
"Sounds like a plan. I just hope no one else has come up with it first," Leoric agreed.
"With the group we've got left, I doubt it. There's the two of us, the boy from two, the pair from three. They might both take it, but I think we can take them if push comes to shove. Then there's the boy from seven who's probably still with the boy from 2 and his little district partner, who I'm sure we can take if we need to. Then it's us and Ridge, who's out dying in the desert. That's it."
"We're the biggest threat in the arena," Leoric consented. Margery smiled, wondering just how long they would be.
Dennis Hughs - Leoric Hughs' father
He couldn't believe they were already here. The games had only begun five days ago and already they were at the final 8, well seven now that the girl from 3 had just passed. Dennis had tried to ignore the body count, tried to resign himself to the fact that his son's cannon might sound at any moment. His wife had done the same, as they'd done frequently when he'd been out partying, endangering himself and others. Yet his cannon hadn't yet come; Leoric still lived.
"So, we've never gotten much of his past out of Leoric," the interviewer pried. "He seems like a determined young man, a generally nice person, yet it would seem, at least from your expressions that there's some distance between you."
"Leoric has always been very hard working," Lily piped up, sparing Dennis the frustration of having to answer that and re-hash the past. "He's learned that from our example and I hope everyone can see that in how hard he's worked in the arena, despite the trials he's gone through. He lost half of his alliance in the bloodbath, after all. That boy from nine, the one from six and the boy who fled. Then losing the boy from twelve so soon after, well, that was unexpected, but Leoric's a survivor. You can just look at him and see how tough he is."
"Thank you, Ms Hughes, but you didn't answer the question. How would you characterize your relationship with Leoric. He is, after all, your only son."
"He is," Dennis replied simply. "And we are proud of him."
"Leoric has, made some mistakes in his past," Lily started.
"Don't," Dennis whispered.
"What could it hurt? We're making a personal connection, Dennis." Lily retorted. "It's nothing that a normal teenage boy, especially one pressured by his parents as I know I pressured him, doesn't do. I wanted to keep him in line so desperately that I restricted any freedom he had. Between work and school he had no time to do anything and, once he finally dropped out of school, well, he had a bit of a rebellious streak. I think we're truly to blame, but he's been better for it. Without that streak, I don't think he would have what it takes to fight it out in the Games, he certainly wouldn't have made it this far. Now all I want is for him to come home, so." She cut herself off, grasping her husband's hand tightly. She was close to tears.
"Leoric's a strong boy and he's chosen his fights and his allies in the arena well. You'll note his is the only alliance that is currently standing. Everyone else is on their own."
"And with his district partner. It seems they've meshed better than either of them thought they would during the interviews. I seem to recall your son saying they would be going separate ways," the interviewer lead.
"Well, you know what they say, "the best laid plans of mice and men" and all that. Plans change and Leoric had the sense to adapt. If he hadn't one of them would have killed the other by now."
"Let's say for a moment, that it hypothetically comes down to Leoric and Margery. Do you think he would be able to kill her in order to come home himself?"
Dennis let the question hang for a moment. It was unlikely, he knew. With six other tributes in the arena, surely one of the others would kill either Leoric or Margery before it came down to just them. Could his son really kill someone who had nursed him back to health when she could have just left him?
"Yes," Dennis forced himself to answer, but there was part of him that, even now, even after watching Leoric kill other tributes, torture the boy from eleven, there was part of him that remembered: they left the boy from 11 alive. That part wasn't so sure that his "yes" didn't mean the exact opposite.
Nikephoros Mandep - Keeper of District Three's Orphanage
"Is there anyone here who knows Raivel?" the cameraman asked in desperation. Nikephoros couldn't help but smirk; it was hilarious seeing the Capitol groupies so out of their league. Usually they met the family and friends of the tributes at their houses or somewhere more orderly. The orphanage was packed with children, mostly under the age of 12. Those older than that were working, earning their keep. And so was Raivel.
"All right, can you just talk to us then?" the interviewer asked, exasperated after having gotten some unidentifiable liquid squirted on him.
"I'd be delighted to," Nikephoros replied, stifling a snicker. "I think Raivel's doing splendedly. He's got to be practically in heaven with all of those shiny things he's been hoarding."
"You mean he does this on a regular basis."
"Oh yeah. The kid's usually out on the streets, but he stashes all sorts of shiny things everywhere that he can call his own. None of the kids have a room here, not really any privacy, but he's got cubby holes all over the place with everything from pennies to diamonds to metal objects that he's lifted from someone. You did see that he got that diamond from the boy from 4. Twice I think. It sounded like he nabbed one in training or something and then grabbed one from the Cornucopia. That kid," Nikephoros smirked, just thinking about it.
"What do you think of the strategy he's used since the beginning of the Games? At the very start, he was the first to notice the tunnels up and down to the Cornucopia."
"That's typical of Raivel. Because of his life experience, he sees things that no one else does and he turns them his way. It would be so easy for him to just look at the bad things in life; I'd say especially now he'd be justified, but he never will. He sees everything as an opportunity, as you can see with the tunnels and his little sanctuary. Even in the Games, he managed to make something he's never really had, a family."
"And now he's all alone," the interviewer pressed.
"I wouldn't worry about it. He's used to it. He won't dwell on the fact that he's all alone now, but rather the fact that he did have people who cared about him. That kid, he's a survivor. He's kept his chin up through years on the streets and here. You know, he's never had the benefit of parents, of a family, never even really had any friends he could keep, in spite of his cheery attitude. Everyone in his life has been temporary, so he's used to this."
"But he seemed to bond so well with that little girl. He went to go get her medicine. He's got to think she's coming back, right?"
"Who knows what's going on in his squirrly little mind. For all I know he's completely forgotten about her and has his eyes on another prize, like the most important one: the victor's crown."
Raivel Aukins – District 3
It was still quiet, Raivel thought, getting anxious as he waited. The sun had risen several hours ago and was on its way down now and he was still waiting for his allies to return. They'd been gone an entire day. Why would they have left? It didn't make any sense. Bailey had known that he'd be coming back and surely Mobie wouldn't have wanted to go anywhere.
His leg still hurt, he didn't dare move for fear it was broken. It had been painful enough making his way from the Cornucopia. He was pretty certain he'd blacked out before he actually got to their sanctuary; he didn't really remember anything after getting out of the tunnels and knowing that he was close. Somehow he had made it here, though.
Maybe he should just down the medicine he'd gotten for Bailey. If she saw fit to leave him, then he didn't owe her anything. Knowing the Capitolites, it was probably all-purpose medicine, so it could heal his wounds just as easily as it could heal her double shadow.
But he did owe her something, he argued. She was the closest thing he had to family. They'd only known each other for a little over a week, but he didn't want to lose her, not if he didn't have to. He'd wait just a little longer. Surely she would come back.
"Come on, Bailey," he whispered, still hoping the cannon he'd heard earlier hadn't been hers.
Eden Therne - Ridge Threne's older sister (17)
"I don't want to," she protested as Susannah fussed about her hair and dress, trying to make her presentable for the camera people. They had only come as a formality, she knew. Her brother was bleeding out. He should have been dead, but the duo that had attacked him had been too cruel, too cowardly to finish the job. This was worse, watching him bleed out in agony, unable to do anything.
"If you say the right thing, it might still save him," Susannah insisted. She actually believed it, Eden thought. She was too much like Ridge, believing in impossibilities and things that you would tell a gullible three year old to stop them from crying. Ridge was going to die. She didn't have any hope that anything she said or didn't say could sway enough sponsors one way or the other.
"Even if I do, the pair from 8 will just come and do it again," she protested. "They're in great shape and Ridge is in no position to fight back. Even his mutt abandoned him." She'd never seen her brother quite so hopeless as he had been last night when the beast on whose back he had ridden the night before had taken off without a second thought.
"At least it scared the other two away. Look at me, Eden. Your brother is still alive. At least for another breath, another moment, another day, he lives," Susannah insisted. "I don't want to hear any more negative talk. We will be positive with the Capitol interviewer. And, if you can't say anything positive, stay silent and look pretty." With that she waltzed over to the door, sitting Eden in a chair even as she did.
They were in Susannah's house because Eden's was too wrecked with memories. She'd been staying there since the reaping, escaping Ridge's ghost, which was already haunting her every step.
"Well, ladies, thank you for taking the time to speak with me, especially in light of the difficult circumstances in which Ridge finds himself. When he gave his interview he said "the closer you are to danger, the farther you are from harm." Do you think this is what he meant?"
"Maybe. That's typical of Ridge, trying to make sure everyone is in a good mood," Susannah chirped. That was true, Eden thought, and see where it got him.
"He's certainly not giving up, though, and we're not going to give up on him. I firmly believe he has it in him to still win this," Susannah added.
"There are some who might say that he's been putting himself in rough situations from the start, running at the Cornucopia from his presumed alliance, angering the boy who just attacked him. He lost his other ally in an attempt to climb a mountain. What would you say Ridge has done right so far?"
"I think he was right to run at the beginning," Eden piped up, surprising even herself, but she couldn't bear to hear her brother slandered as a coward. "Ridge has never been cowardly, he ran because he saw three other groups charging the Cornucopia and knew what the rest of his alliance hadn't, something that must have been hard to admit to himself. They wouldn't have stood a chance, not against the group from one and two that had gotten together or against the group from four and their allies. If he had rushed in too, he would have just gotten killed then, or soon after."
"And then he allied with the girl from five and ended up getting her killed only to befriend a mutt who it seems has betrayed him."
"I wouldn't say the mutt betrayed him. It's a mutt, not a human. Besides, it scared the two people attacking him off when they could have finished him off. And now, well, now he's holding on," Sussanah countered.
"And what's he holding on to, this time. I see he's still got that coin." It was true, Eden realized as she looked at the small screen in Sussanah's livingroom. Even in his bloodied hand, her brother was still clutching that small coin, breathing in, breathing out. Susannah had been right, he was still alive. Maybe there was still hope.
"Himself," Eden replied and Susannah smiled. At that exact instant, the sun set and the fluttering of wings disturbed the screen by where Ridge was. The mutt had returned.
"See," Sussannah sassed. "He even inspires loyalty in beasts."
Ridge Therne – District 11
"You came for me," Ridge whispered, reaching his hand out to the mutt. It seemed to understand, rubbing its gigantic head against his outstretched hand. Ridge braced. It would either kill him or it wouldn't.
And it seemed as though it wouldn't. The mutt nudged something towards him. It looked shiny. Ridge took it in his hand. A key? What did this mean, he wondered. Then he remembered something he'd seen on the mutt's back, an area that had looked completely different than the rest of the arena. He had to be close to it.
The mutt nudged him, as though confirming. Slowly Ridge crawled forward until his hand hit something solid. Maybe this was the door. He forced himself to feel upwards until his finger set in what must have been the keyhole. He inserted the key and turned it. The door gave way.
"Bailey?" a voice questioned. A younger boy, limping on one leg rushed forward only to stop a couple of steps from Ridge.
"You're not Bailey," he said, his voice full of surprise. Ridge couldn't manage much more than to shake his head, he was too weak. "How did you find this place?" the other boy asked. Then he saw the key in his hands and a look of realization came across his face. "You have her key," he said, his voice quivering. "Did you kill her?"
"No," Ridge replied, in a weak voice. "I haven't killed anyone. I just wanted to get back to my sister." He squeezed his eyes closed, ready for the younger boy to not believe him, ready for him to do exactly what he should do and end Ridge's life.
"You have a family?" the boy asked. Something in the tone of his voice opened Ridge's eyes, made him want to respond. This boy, Ridge remembered faintly, he'd been an orphan, he had no one to return to, no one to fight for but himself.
"Just my sister," Ridge replied, each word bringing pain. If he didn't do something it wouldn't matter if the boy killed him or not, he could already feel his strength waning; he would die regardless, so he might as well tell his story. "Our parents died five months ago. She's been so broken, so lost since they died; all I wanted was to get home to her, to be there for her." He shut his eyes again, shivering.
"I think my family's all dead," the boy replied, his voice sad. Ridge vaguely heard the Capitol anthem and thought he heard the younger boy sigh. "Ailis," he whispered. "She was the last human bit of home." All of a sudden, Ridge felt a liquid going down his throat and heard the rip of fabric. The boy was putting a rough bandage on his hand.
"What are you doing?" Ridge asked.
"I only had a family for a little while, but it makes me see how important it is for you to get back to yours," the younger boy replied and Ridge saw a tear trickling down the younger boys face. "I'm giving you a better chance to do that." It must have been medicine, Ridge thought, as he could already feel his breath getting easier and the pain in his hand dulling. Why would this boy do this, give Ridge another chance when it meant risking his own life? What had he done to deserve this?
"Thank you. I'll help you too," Ridge promised, gratefully. "I'm Ridge, by the way."
"Raivel," the younger boy introduced himself.
Leoric Hughs – District 8
He'd expected their second attack at the Cornucopia to be more intimidating. They'd spent the majority of the day sneaking towards the gigantic pillar, stealthily hiding behind boulders so as to avoid the archer's attention. They were only assuming Nero would be the one defending the Cornucopia at the top. He might have the boy from 7 with him or he might not. If he did, it was two on two, supposedly a fair fight.
Leoric certainly had his reservations, but Margery was right, they were two of the strongest players on the board. Their collaboration was benefitting both of them, if only for the moment. They were both hungry, both in need of support.
Now they were at the base of the stairs, back where everything had begun not so long ago. Now they snuck up the stairs once again.
"Ready?" he asked Margery just as they came up to the pillar. They were still pressed to the wall when a loud voice boomed.
"Attention tributes, attention. Tomorrow morning we will be hosting a feast at the mountain peak, which will serve as tomorrow's Cornucopia. The feast will begin promptly at dawn. There will be something for each of you there, all seven of you, and we intend to be very generous. This will be the only announcement."
He and Margery locked eyes. Did they wait until the feast tomorrow? If it began at dawn over on the mountain they could get a head start now. They could be closer than any of the other tributes. Did they still risk attacking now, when Nero and any of the other tributes with him were surely on higher alert? Without speaking, they came to a decision.
Leunam Valeres – District 3
For once he had no words. Looking at the screen, watching Raivel settle down for the night beside the boy he'd just saved, Leunam brushed away a tear from his eye.
"Remind you of something?" Iris asked him, taking his hand.
Leunam nodded. "Esther did the same thing for me, nursed me back to health when she could have taken me on. But this, this is different." He met Iris's eyes, hoping she could see it too. He wasn't crying because he was worried Raivel would pay the price for what he'd done, no, but rather at what he'd found. A selfless act in the Games, especially after what had just happened among their own ranks he couldn't help but feel touched.
"I'm sorry about Ailis," he said after a moment of silence. Iris nodded. She had a thick enough skin not to show how upset she was, but Leunam knew she had hoped the girl would make it out. She'd reminded Iris of herself at that age.
"My condolences to her family," Iris said. "To have her pass just after their interview, it's ironic, isn't it?"
"Either ironic or merciful," Leunam observed. "She was, after all, the one who said she thought sacrifice was the theme of the Games. They never had to face each other." He took her hand and squeezed. Iris smiled back at him and he allowed himself to bask in the knowledge that they were united. Now if only they could spread that sentiment to the rest of the room.
"O constancy, be strong upon my side!
Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and tongue!"