Regret.
"Maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets." - Arthur Miller.
Lochlan Clarington, District Two Male.
A different direction, or a different staircase. If it had have been any other way we went, I wouldn't be alone. Tyndall would still be alive. Even if it isn't my fault, not really, there's no where else to point the finger except in my direction.
He was too kind to die, too decent. Everything I'm not, everything Alistair or Matteo or even Tatum isn't, Tyndall was. And look where it got him.
I wipe away tears, sniffling them back and swallowing the lump in my throat. Fatigue drains me, trapping me in its cold arms. I beat against the wall with frustration, digging my feet through the pool of blood clotting against the concrete. It isn't mine, I'm not sure how it got there. Effect maybe. I'm past fear, fed up of fear.
All that matters now is Tatum. I saw the faces, saw the truth of yesterday's events and what it means for my ally. I let out a laugh, painful but welcoming, filling me with a warmth that relaxes my nerves. Her stubbornness has pulled through for her. No way would Tatum let some rotten, stinking mutt do one over her. She'd fight with her teeth if she had to, so now it's my job to rescue her. She'd make a horrible damsel in distress, though. Yet another thing that draws me towards her angry, resentful attitude.
She's imperfect, but strangely perfect.
I roll my eyes, annoyed at my own sentimentality. If I go thinking like this, I'll get stupid and cause my own death before I can do any good and rescue the girl. She probably thinks I've given up on her, or if she could see Tyndall's face last night that I'm shrinking away and breaking. Maybe inside my mind is fracturing, these corridors look the same except for the staircases that branch off and the rooms inbetween. A never-ending spiral of similarities that bombard my conscious thoughts, repeating on and on.
But for Tatum, even with a few screws loose, I won't take a step back in what's the right thing to do. I can't bear to imagine what pain she's been put through, and despite it all, it makes me smile knowing what her words will be when I do come barreling through the door as some kind of knight in shining armour. She'll frown, nod her head in that scornful way, and strut off with the hatchet she cradles like a newborn baby.
But it's the Tatum I allied with, the Tatum who is my friend. So it's the Tatum I'm going to rescue.
I leave the room, shielding my eyes from the candlelight that seems intensified in the morning air. I can tell it's morning, somehow, I just know it.
With the day just beginning, I garner some hope in the other tributes either being asleep, or dazed as they walk around. After our run-in with the two careers, it's left me paranoid that round each corner there will be just another tribute standing there, eager to snuff my life out as they wield a sword and charge in a bloodcurdling scream. Nightmares predominate now, even waking nightmares that never seem to cease with time.
I round another corner, beating away cinder blocks that thud harshly against the edge of my boots.
I'm surprised I managed to find the way out from downstairs up to here. Now that I look down the corridor, apart from a misplaced beam set diagonally the opposite way, or a dead rat left to rot in the corner, each stretch of concrete and metal cells look the same.
I pass by one with blood drops in the centre, drying up and barely leaving a skid mark as my foot slides across it. This Arena's illusion as to the size of it is aggravating. I take a next corner, the glass door cuts off the stretch at the very end and I jog up further.
Within, there's the repetition of cut up furniture thrown around as if one of the patients had some kind of temper tantrum. I swiftly move forwards, frowning, and leave the next door. The more and more I think about it, the more and more I'm susceptible to letting the Arena get to me.
Tyndall didn't deserve to die, but neither do I. Maybe it's selfish to almost want to forget about him, to save my peace of mind, but it's true when really thought about. All I did, I did because I wanted to know the truth about why I'm here.
Mastermind promised me he'd let me know why it was me, and it got to the time for Launch and still nothing.
I'm beginning to believe it was just a way to shut me up. I guess I shouldn't blame him, I could rile Saskia up without having to really put much thought behind what I was saying. I never set out to be a hindrance on his ability to mentor me to a satisfactory degree, but the angry part inside, the part that wanted to tear down walls and punch something to a bloody pulp because of the unfairness of my situation, got in the way of that and all I did was bite back with sarcasm.
Is that why Tyndall is dead? I walk down another corridor, eerily similar to the one that Alistair cut down my ally, and lean against the wall. I register the tightness in my chest, maybe the beginning of a panic attack. It can't be my fault that he's dead, I did all I could to lighten up the alliance by reprimanding myself whenever I ventured into my automatic response to be an asshole and mess around with people.
I tried, I really did. My alliance meant something to me. Now one of them is underground being tortured by one of those... one of those things, and the other one is stone cold dead back in the Capitol.
I knew what to expect coming into the Hunger Games. The magnitude of my situation, what could happen to me, what I wanted to happen to Tatum and Tyndall in some sick twisted self-preservation act that meant my own survival.
But it actually happening, when there was something I could have done about it? Killed Matteo quickly, or turned around and forgotten about my own risks and saved Tyndall in some awful attempt at being a hero. If I hadn't have walked into the room, waited for Tatum, it would have been another tribute to venture into the chamber and succumb to a torturer's hand.
No matter what happens, I can't help but feel everything bad happens around me. Happens for a reason. I was reaped in a District that the reaped don't go into the Games. But there is the one thing to make up for it all, and that's Tatum. So I set my eyes forward, start walking, and try to find the staircase to take me away from here.
Alton Shelding, District Ten Male.
Davin runs his hand along the blood-stained wallpaper. A flower petal, once cream against a background of yellow, falls in a red curl. He looks over his shoulder with worried, fearful eyes. I shrug my shoulders, bringing my knife up to chest level. Against the inside of my ribcage, I can feel my heart hammering away. I hold the tremble in my lip and mask it underneath that small, twitch of a smile. Davin deals well when I'm smiling, and so do I. Almost. I almost feel as if things aren't so terrifying, that me and Davin have an actual future which won't be cut short so soon.
As the numbers go down, the possibility of that grows smaller and smaller. My palms sweat after each cannon and all I can feel is that nagging in the back of my brain. I never went in here to win, but now it's happening, now we're fighting for our lives, Davin's the very obstacle I'm finally starting to open up around and accept.
He's one of the obstacles I have to overcome.
"I think I see the stairs," he says, tilting his neck and peering round the corner. His fingers leave bloody prints as he balances himself out. This stretch of what we both thought was the luxurious side, seems to have a more sinister mystery locked away. Everything is destroyed, in the rooms and out here. The fact it once was pretty to look at, makes it that much more frightening. I don't deal well with fear, yet it's always there. In here it's a never-ending presence, an unwelcome addition to the alliance.
"We can go out this-" Davin's voice cuts out, a shriek following as something quick with disheveled hair jets past him. He throws his hands out to catch himself as his body rockets forwards, stumbling against the wall and landing awkwardly on his arm. I hear his moans and immediately everything clicks into drive. I sprint forwards in his direction. I care about him, I do, I care more about him than I really should have. More than I let on.
I take one more step and the thing that pushed him over comes back into view, turning around with wide eyes that are swamped with tears.
Raelyn.
"It's you." I try to smile, but there's something about her, the jerky movements her hand makes as she trembles with the knife, that sets my heart beating faster. I look down at Davin once more, then back up at Raelyn whose cracking with each second that passes.
"Raelyn, it's me, Alton."
She blinks, shaking her head and rocking on the balls of her feet. Kitty and Ada are dead, the memory strikes my heart and I frown. "I'm sorry about your allies."
Wrong words, Alton. Wrong words indeed.
I curse myself as her face scrunches with pain, then anger. Her eyes are bloodshot, the tone of her skin growing a brighter shade of scarlet in time to the twitches of her hand. I sense the danger, the immediate, fatal danger that my once sweet, sprightly ally presents.
I feel a pang of sympathy for her, almost a sense of anger at myself for the way I treated her. It's not that I didn't have any sort of emotion towards her, but it was better to hide it because getting attached was stupid. Well, look where I am now.
I take one small, timed footstep that she doesn't notice. Her mouth opens, tongue clacking against the roof of her mouth, then shutting close.
Davin stares up at me with both fear and sympathy. His wrist is swelling, a bright blue bruise darkening his pale skin. It must be broken. Great, another thing we need.
I take one more step forwards. Raelyn's head turns at lightning speed, spit flying out as she opens her mouth.
"You... you told me... it's your fault." She points a knife, the blade deadly as some of the light reflects the surface. I immediately freeze, blood running cold. She shakes her head, twitching and mumbling under her breath when her eyes then fall on Davin.
"My allies are dead because... because..." her face contorts with confusion and the same mix of horror and sorrow for my broken ally spreads through my body. Another step, a few more until I'm close enough to Davin... closer to her knife.
"You don't deserve him."
My limbs lock together. I try to move, my mind screaming to do something when Raelyn pivots on the spot. I see the determination, the rage, the emptiness in her when she darts forwards in one clear, precise movement. The knife enters Davin's neck before my lips can form his name.
BOOM!
In Ten, I didn't know pain. Never associated myself with it. Kept a distance.
This though, something new, tears a hole through my chest. Excruciating agony. I stumble forwards, a sob escaping my lips as the blood pumps around the knife embedded up to hilt in his throat.
Raelyn looks down at it with perplexed eyes. Her hand finds the blade, pulls it out with a sickening squelch and turns to me. Survival finally, it finally kicks in. My adrenaline rushes in one wave, and I sprint in her direction. My hands are too clumsy, brain too messed up to piece together the idea of revenge. She throws herself backwards against the wall when I rocket past her.
Raelyn, sweet Raelyn. Broken Raelyn.
I hear her footsteps against the carpet, chasing after me. I told her to be serious, I thought it was best for her. Then I realised with Davin, that I could be serious and connected at the same time. Raelyn's lost everything, she doesn't understand herself any longer.
It makes her the most dangerous person in this Arena.
I reach the top of the staircase we were going to use to explore further. There's no up, only down a concrete, chipped wall that reaches a block of light a flight down. That's when I hear more footsteps. More danger.
"Fuck!" I shout, barely able to control my anger anymore. The rush of everything, my own life and the fact I'm being chased by Raelyn of all people is blocking out the grief of Davin. But not for much longer, I need to get away... I have to...
Lochlan Clarington steps out the light. I see him looking down what must be another flight of stairs, heading to whatever lurks underground. Then up, his eyes rooted on me.
"Don't-" I plummet forwards, my legs falling from under me. The wall closest to Lochlan meets my face with the force of Raelyn's push. The stairs fly away in a grey blur and I scream with the pain as something cracks in my jaw.
Raelyn hurtles down towards me, not even acknowledging Two's presence. Her biggest mistake.
His staff cracks against her skull, bringing her down in a single crunch. Her eyes look dazed as something pours from the back of her scalp, clinging to her hair in time to the single moan that leaves her lips in a ghostly wail.
BOOM!
Her body goes limp, slumping forwards.
"You need to leave."
Lochlan stares at me with narrowed eyes, the corners darting to the down stairs, and then the direction I just came. I stare at him, baffled. He isn't killing me...
"I'm not a career, everyone should know that."
I feel the knot of grief beginning, smothering me as tears start to pool in my eyes. Losing my ally and my District partner in five minutes... I don't...
He pushes me in the direction of the up stairs, as his feet turn to the sound of more footsteps coming from behind him. Whatever his reasons, instead of heading towards his own destination, he runs back into the middle section. I stare once more, knowing I should be grateful, knowing I never will be.
I take one more step back the way I came, then another. Up, as far as I can from whoever else it is nearing this place.
No more death, I can't handle it. A sob scratches my throat, tears pour from eyes, and I slump against the bloody wall of the upstairs. With Davin gone, the future I saw is all but mine. Mine to choose, mine to give up. I'll make that decision when the pain goes away.
Calliope Cartier, District One Female.
He stands at the end of the corridor, half his face lit up by the candles that never seem to burn out.
"Calliope," Lochlan nods, politely. I bring up my sword, crossing it over from my belt, over my shoulder and pointing it out to keep a safe distance between us. If he charges, he's dead. If he runs, I'll catch him.
It's the way the Game goes. Since the thing I saw, crouching behind Megaera, I'm jumpy. Whatever it was, I hope she's lying dead in a pool of her own...
No. I shake the dark thoughts from my head and cock an eyebrow in his direction, waiting.
"Is there any reason you decided to wait for me? I saw you, at the stairs. You could have ran away."
His lips curl up, hands rising in a confused shrug of his shoulders. "Guess I needed to speak with you."
I don't like this. All my Career instincts shout at me to just charge and get this over with. The way it has to go, the way it's going to go with everyone except for Alistair and Matteo. I need... have, to find them. Before she does. Lochlan's an obstacle getting in the way.
"What would you want with me, a girl waiting to kill you?"
"A deal, of some sorts."
Curiosity gives way to paranoia, jumping up and forcing the words out my mouth before I can put sense into them. "What sort of deal?"
"I need to find my ally, Tatum. I know where she is, but I also know what she's with. The stuff it will have done to her. I need someone to help me kill the..."
I see the fear paling his face, the nervous twitch in his hands as he grasps the bloody staff. He chucks it between hand to hand, trying to smile but I see it for real. Lochlan is terrified. And he's asking for my help.
"I heard another voice. One of the non-careers-"
"I'm a non career," he interrupts, voice bitter. I nod my head, almost enjoying this. The fear is one thing, I understand the fear. It's the fact he's so... so committed to this girl, Tatum? I believe that's her name. His commitment to her is admirable, foolish, but admirable.
Can the same be said of you and Alistair? Is your commitment to him, foolish but admirable.
"You could have asked whoever it was you were speaking to."
Again, another shrug of his shoulders. "He was crying."
"And you believe crying is a weakness? You sound like Meg."
Even though he laughs, this encounter makes me nervous. Not nerves out of the chances of him getting one over me, killing me, but nerves this is all some ploy just to lower my guard. I've been there, far too many times. Been at the receiving end of some cruel jibe or prank. It's why I am who I am today: vigilant but respectable of those who I see goodness in. I judge based on what I see, because what I see, is what I know to be right.
Lochlan's care is radiating off of him, but there's also something else. Locked down, locked down so I can't see it.
"I think if you're one to cry at the sight of a dead body, you haven't got the stomach for what I need."
Interesting. True, I suppose. I barely flinch at a dead body. I haven't been accustomed to death, not since I came here. Unlike Megaera, I didn't torture kittens as I'm sure she used to do in her spare time, whenever the witch could get a new plaything to ruin-
I close my eyes for a second, composing myself. She gets to me, far too much than I'd like to admit. Megaera's death was so close, and then the mutt with it's human appearance left to waste away, crept into the room and I had to run. Megaera probably killed it. Or it could have been...
A distraction. They don't want me or her dead yet, so they broke us apart.
I sigh, and wait for him. I'm tired of standing here, debating when I know the outcome in a matter of seconds. He'll be dead, I'll be alive, and Megaera will still be out there.
"I need you to get to the point, sometime this year."
He waves his staff once, letting drops of crimson splatter against the floor. He doesn't flinch, not a single quiver in anything. "I killed a girl a few minutes ago. I plan to kill more, I plan to win. But before that, I need to rescue my friend. I can't do it alone."
"As respectable as that is." I feel my eyes locked in a trance, staring at the way his eyes swim with something I can't place. My tongue moves with words, but my focus is rooted on this strange boy. "Why would I make a deal with you?"
"I can give you something that I know, seeing you standing here alone, that you want more than anything."
"If it's victory, I kind of need you to drop dead," I laugh a little. Not that this situation is anything to laugh about, the Arena brings about its own kind of negative attitude. Not something anyone can really defuse with a joke. But Lochlan appreciates it, his face filling with colour again. Away from worry.
"Help me find Tatum, and the two of us will help you kill Megaera Cassian."
Megaera. It's always Megaera. Whether or not I'm thinking about her, it will always be about that cruel, psychopathic, sadistic freak.
The shock in my voice is hard to smother, even now, even when I know it's not what I should be presenting myself as. "You'd help me?"
"It's dangerous. You might not like to think it, but Megaera is the strongest tribute here. I don't doubt you'd put up a good fight, hell, maybe you could kill her. But with me, you and Tatum on her. She won't stand a chance."
"Three versus one is good odds, it could still result in your death. Or Tatum's."
His brow furrows, a slight hesitation. I see it, but right now at this point, nothing matters to Lochlan except rescuing this girl I never even took notice of.
"We all take risks. This is the deal."
"I could just find Alistair-" Lochlan flinches at his name. I'm about to ask a question, when I recognise the pain in his eyes and hold my curiosity back, continuing with either the sealing of a deal, or the confirmation that I'm about to kill him. "-or Matteo to help me."
"You could, or you might never find them and she'll get to them first."
"Then I better hurry and stop that, helping you will only get in the way."
A sigh leaves his lips, more blood drops, and yet I'm strangely transfixed by this deal. Slowly coming around to it, even if everything I've ever known tells me to strike him down now.
"In this Arena, anything could get in your way to finding those two. This is guaranteed, and then they'll," he points in the general area, no doubt a camera somewhere nearby, "they'll sort out the rest, bring Megaera to us. And then she'll die."
Even if it's the worst decision I could be making, even if I'm starting to lower myself to the level of all those thugs back in One that prided on brutality over getting the job done, I nod my head. "Deal."
Megaera's death means too much to me. Maybe that makes me worse than I'd like to believe, but it's what I want. She has to die, so I'll do all I can to be the one to stick my sword through her gut.
If I have to go against my very nature, so be it. Sacrifices have to be made.
Tirzah Ovata, District Seven Female.
The giant turns the corner. With it, a chair soars through the air and lands in a great explosion of sharpened stakes that pierce the wallpaper. One of its three-fingered hands smudges along the flowers, curling them with its yellow, chipped nails leaving blood stains that purge the corridor of its beauty.
Anger, a stupid foolish anger, starts to boil my blood. This isn't my portion of the Arena, I don't own it, but whatever this beast is it's ruining the tranquility of it all.
It's no forest, but it's peaceful. I can relax here, almost forget about the Arena. And look what it's doing, tearing it apart with its stupid hands and creating dents in the floorboards that form miniature craters in the carpet.
If I had the courage, I'd try to take it down. I'm no career though, I'm not even one of the stronger, more able-bodied tributes from the other Districts. I'm just a little girl whose hidden away for four days, and now the Gamemakers have gotten bored with me.
I take another delicate footstep, trying to minimize noise. Thankfully, this mutt seems committed to such volumes and masks any slight gasp or thud I accidentally make as a result of the sight. The smell, that's what makes it worse too. Like rotten fish mingled with a corpse.
I've never smelt a corpse, but I imagine this scent of rot is exactly how a decaying body would smell. I don't like that thought. I try to banish it and peer round the next corner, taking steps that manage to keep the distance. Its back turns another corner and I'm free to roam quickly and quietly down this stretch, in the wake of its destruction.
Whatever it is, it still looks human. Seven or eight feet. Arms like great, fungus covered tree trunks with the bark gone sour and pale. When I caught sight of the left half of its face, a sharp piercing yellow eye flitted this way and that, never landing on my lithe form as I danced backwards out of sight. It's human, or at least, human enough. A Gamemaker creation. Usually that thought would fill me with even more terror, but knowing this isn't some mental patient after me and just some robot or organism with the most primitive of functions, sets my fear a little way back. Not by much. It'll still tear me apart if it can catch me.
I wonder what my parents think of me, right now. I don't know what the rest of the Arena is, I never thought about or bothered to scope out the staircases I've found at the end of certain corridors. If I could cut myself off from the rest of it, the peace was easier to find and relax into. Now that it's broken, the luxury has shattered with this beast and all I held with me for the past four days has gone.
That's what my parents must hate; I doubt the fact a great lumbering hunk of muscle trying to find me matters to them. It's the fact that this beautiful decor is being ruined. My mother was a sucker for pretty wallpaper, it's one of the reasons I couldn't put up with their pointless, petty lifestyle anymore and took to the jungle like some wild, untamed girl.
If they care for me, they never showed it past buying me dresses and shoving me to the background of their parties. And now I'm tailing a thing that could pop my skull with a tiny squeeze of its hands. I'll never know how they really felt, if it was true, or if I meant more to them.
When I peer round the next corner, taking a light dip forwards just to get the right angle, I hear something. Nothing loud, everything that could make such a noise is covered with this infernal roaring and thumping as it goes about its pointless fight. The noise is still there though, a tiny echo of footfalls against the carpet.
Light footsteps, like the kind a human would make... a human...
I see the creature stop, obstructing whatever it is in front. Another bellow tumbles through the air and I let out a loud, automatic gasp. It's terrifying, even if I don't want to admit that. The beast swishes forwards, cutting the air with its great big hand as a figure shoots past it, underneath on agile feet. The boy ducks under the nails raking above his head and starts sprinting in my direction.
My direction. And the mutt turns after it's prey, those eyes finding Alton Shelding, and then finding me.
"You...!" Before I can shout the word 'idiot', Alton grabs onto my arm and drags me alongside him. He sprints, pumping his legs and arms as I flail after, trying to regain balance and swipe him off. When he gets the hint that I can keep up, I grumble and start to speed past him.
I don't like company, never have. Even if I started to realise the downsides to that, it's Alton's fault I'm now on the target list. Maybe I always was the target, but at least it had no idea where I was. I can't control the blinding transformation of fear into rage.
My head makes a little clicking noise when I snap into focus on his flushed cheeks, the way his chest puffs in and out in time to his arms and legs. We reach a corner, slow down just to turn, and then bring the pace up again.
"Why would you..." I duck under a length of wood the size of a sword thrown by my head. It skips past Alton, barely avoiding impaling him against the wallpaper. He registers my anger and mumbles an apology.
"Doesn't' matter if you're sorry, now we're both going to die you moron!"
I never could quite work out a filter. When I became angry, that was it, I was angry and no one could stop it. Maybe the fact I never found an ally was a good thing, if they were so blindingly stupid as Alton Shelding is then I did myself a favour. I've managed to combat loneliness all my life, fought with it and triumphed amongst the tips of the trees.
This stupid kid has torn apart that hope. He's thrown me right into the path of...
His hand fumbles on his hip, at first I look for a spike of wood embedded within him, and then I see the glint of a knife.
"You're not going to try and fight it are you?"
He turns to me, just as we turn another corner. I see his apologetic eyes, not quite tears, but something close. Then I realise, but it's far too late to stop my momentum. Far too late to save myself.
When it enters my arm, I shriek and everything stops. My legs, my arms, my anger. I fall to the ground and writhe in agony as blood pours from the wide gash ripped into my skin.
"I don't want to die... you're a- a... distraction...it'll stop the..." He keeps his eyes locked onto a spot over my head. The coward can't even meet my eyes... he can't...
I see spots of black and blue, then stars and light that fight the darkness. I don't plead, when I open my mouth, nothing but a sob comes out. I don't like pain. No... no I can't...
He stabs again, this time into my chest.
At first, it's like a grenade or a bomb is set off. Everything exploding into a hot inferno of pain that sends a convulsion through my limbs.
When it cuts off, a second later, the halt in time is welcome. The bit that comes afterwards starts to darken my eyes. I have no choice but to walk towards it, because there's no turning back. The way backwards is to Alton, my murderer. The beast. The Arena. My parents.
The way forwards is the safer, better option. Without regret, it's easy to take the jump. Easier to die than it is to live.
Davin Carrick, District Eight Male.
Raelyn Houchens, District Ten Female.
Tirzah Ovata, District Seven Female.
Megan. Davin was hectic, he didn't care what anyone thought about him and the more he acted up the more I loved him for it. Realistically, people like him aren't going to do well in the Games. With Celene gone, him and Alton had a little bit to continue with but I never had much plans for the pair of them. Maybe I'm just mean, having him all happy again, only to kill him in the following chapter. Whatever, he'll be missed :D
QC. People either loved or hated Raelyn. It was pretty interesting seeing the mixed opinions to her. She was always going to head down this road. Someone so optimistic, happy and energetic needed the reality check. Since it's the Hunger Games, that reality check was a lot harsher and resulted in her snapping, killing someone quite like her in some respects, and then dying herself. Without an alliance, I didn't want her going on some kind of rampage. Now was the best time.
Meg. Loners are difficult, and Tirzah was always going to be a loner. In a group she didn't really make sense, so I took her love for peace and quiet, the cold nature she has towards other people, and went with it. I enjoyed the time she was around. Even though the Arena wasn't outside, she still had quite a smooth ride compared to the rest of the group. Unfortunately that couldn't last forever, this is all I had for Tirzah, I'm sorry.
POV count has dropped to four. The chapters will still cover one day, just less to show since not every tribute has something to give.
Favourite out of these POVs and why?
Who would you like to see reach the final eight?
Who do you think will reach the final eight?
(To clarify, the remaining tributes are: Alistair, Calliope, Lochlan, Matteo, Megaera, Ward, Tatum, Kennedy, Elijah, Atarah and Alton)
Yeah I'm not entirely sure why, but this chapter took a very Lochlan-oriented style. I guess what I had to show during Day Four surrounded stuff that happened to go on near him, and stuff he had to do and say.
The Games are going fast, mainly because I'm updating fast so it's progressing at a quicker rate. We've past the halfway mark on the tribute count, nearing the final eight and in around six chapters time it'll be the finale :D
If you haven't done so already, check out my profile for the guidelines and stuff for the SYOT after this. See y'all next time!